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Zombie Apocalypse (KebabQueen X Alex Phalin)

LUFKIN, TX.


Jason took a moment and paused, staring at the large wooden sign welcoming him into Lufkin. It wasn't a large city, more of a one-street town hidden amongst trees and open clearings reserved for farms and ranches. He'd tried his luck in Dallas, but very quickly found that the entire city had been overrun. Screechers, Burners, Hulks, Spitters... nearly every variation of the virus had been on display in the concrete ruins of that place. Any supplies that hadn't been taken by scavengers had been destroyed, and it was purely by luck that he was even able to make it out alive.


He had made the decision to try some of the more rural towns fairly early into the outbreak, but desperation for food and ammunition had pushed him toward the cities. Once again reminded of how bad of an idea that was, he made his way east, eventually finding himself in Lufkin. He'd visited the city once before, when the threat of a zombie virus was a joke, just a topic for movie makers and novel writers. When the outbreak happened, everyone was blindsided by it. Most though it was a joke, up until they ended up on the wrong side of a mouthful of jagged teeth.


Jason had spent many, many years in the military. Special Forces Recon taught him everything he knew about survival and firefight engagements, but nothing could really prepare him for the outbreak. Years of keeping his finger off the trigger when civilians were around made it hard for him to fire on the zombies at first, but he was slowly working past the conditioning that his Drill Instructor so lovingly planted in his head.


Once out of the military, he'd spent his time collecting various weapons and occasionally working armed security and bodyguard jobs. Once the outbreak started he was well prepared for it, in every aspect except mentally.


He'd been travelling alone for weeks, only once running into another group of survivors. They didn't trust him due to his appearance, and the fact that he was much heavier armed than anyone who had decided to stay in their group. He was turned away after a few hours, and never gave them a second thought. He was used to being alone, and it was certainly much easier to move and survive without being held back by anyone else.


As he walked, he spotted a large ranch property that was fairly devoid of the undead, and as he stood on the far side of the fence he eyed the large house a short distance away. There were several outlying buildings that he'd have to check before moving through the house itself, the last thing he needed was to make noise and have a horde sprinting after him. As the sun began to set below the horizon he used the twilight to conceal his movement, hopping the fence as he made his way towards the barn. His suppressed G18 was in his hand, his rifle slung to his back next to his backpack. He only really needed his pistol right now, the silencer ensuring that if he had to fire a shot he wouldn't be found.


After a few minutes of slow, calculated steps and checking every possible hiding space, the building itself was deemed clear. He moved out of the barn, heading for another small outlying building. He made sure that not only was he watching for the dead, he wasn't in line of sight of the windows in the main house. The last thing he'd need was to get shot before he got eaten.
 
(Sorry, I'm a little late!)


Emily had lived in Lufkin her whole life. She'd never been out of it and didn't plan to, not even after the outbreak. She felt as if she was safe here, in the same old walls of the same old house. They were nice walls, this was a lovely big house. She loved it here, even if she was alone, even if she had to fend for herself everyday of her life, even if she was crying everyday and sitting by the window, eyes glued to it for any sign of life. Both the living and the undead. She wanted to leave, she wanted to go far from here, get lost in some sort of utopia and never have to go back.mshe knew that wasn't possible, she was aware the entire planet had been struck with this virus. It was only a matter of time until it got to her, but she wouldn't let it, she couldn't let it. Not now, not yet.


She had plenty of food and supplies here, a farm was the ideal place to live in a situation like this one. Though most of her animals were dead - spare a few chickens, ducks and one, single cow, her fridges were still stuffed with meat and vegetables. It would be a while before she went hungry. She didn't really need to leave in all honesty, she knew this was about as good as it got for her, or for anyone. She thought of all the people who would do anything to be in her situation. Nourished and healthy, and had enough weapons and ammo to rid the whole of Lufkin of zombies. She had no idea why her husband had so many guns - he certainly didn't need them all. He rarely used them, only to shoot a bad horse or to scare off an intruder. She didn't miss her husband, not one bit. He was an abusive, drunken asshole. She laughed when she saw his battered corpse rotting on the floor of the barn.


She didn't weep for him, she wept for her family and the animals. Their lives were snatched away, never to be seen again. Apart from when she did, she had to shoot her parents, her brothers, her sisters, her children, all dead. Again. She didn't have a choice, they weren't truly alive, she hated herself for it but she had no choice. She had to do the same to the animals. Animals also rose from the dead, although most of them were docile enough, she couldn't risk it. She was no gambler. She wept for her friends, neighbours, cousins and uncles, she wept for them, all of them.mshe was fairly certain she was the only living human in the entire village, although it was only home to a couple of hundred anyway.


Although she lived in such a small town, Emily wasn't used to being so alone. She surrounded herself in family and friends all throughout her life, this was the only time she had ever been alone. All she had were the animals. She didn't kill them - she could. She would never. She needed them, to supply her with eggs and milk for breakfast. They were all she had now, so she treated them like family. Although, they already were to her, really. She looked at the clock, it was time to check the barns.


She checked the barns everyday at 10am, that's where the zombies seemed to congregate the most. No windows pointed towards the barns, and she couldn't hear outside, she it was mandatory for her to look. It scared her every time, going outside her home. Everyday showed a new hoard of zombies, she didn't even know where they were all coming from, she'd seen more zombies in a few months than she'd seen people in her life. That prospect scared her. She walked out, shotgun in hands, scouring the place for the undead. She didn't see any, but she was still cautious. She kept her eyes pealed, she didn't trusth the place. Something seemed... Off. She stayed outside, searching for signs of life
 
This was what his life had become. Sneaking around abandoned houses, avoiding the undead, hoping that the living weren't armed and paranoid. He knew things could always be worse, the way the world had become was almost as bad as some of the places that he'd been sent to fight in. At least the dead didn't shoot back.


He checked the smaller building, slightly disappointed to find it full of disused tools. The gas cans for the generator were empty, so he couldn't even improvise an explosive out of them. He cursed quietly to himself, only finding a nearly dull machete in the pile of dusty and disused tools. He tucked the blade into his belt, making sure it wasn't in a position to cut him with what edge it had.


Just as he was about to leave the building his ears caught a new sound, one that he would have missed if he hadn't been paying attention. The sound of a door opening. He cracked the door to the shed slightly, watching as a young woman made her way towards the barn with a shotgun in hand. He narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if she had heard him and was searching for him. He stayed silent, waiting until he watched her walk into the barn before sliding out of the shed. He moved silently, keeping his eyes on the barn as he made his way to the house. He knew that if he tried to fight her, or even made himself known, he'd be filled with buckshot before he could even speak.


The last thing he needed was to be a target, so he slid into the house silently through the door she left from. It was left unlocked, meaning that she probably didn't go out there to search for him. Confident that he hadn't been found out, he made sure the door was shut the same as when she left, so he didn't leave any clues that he was inside.


Once inside, the first thing that surprised him was the state the house was in. Every other building he'd entered since the dead started attacking people was in shambles, this place looked like a happy family was still living in it. He kept his pistol raised as he quickly and silently moved through the house, checking room by room for any signs of anyone else. From what he could see, that woman was the only person living here. She certainly wasn't hurting for supplies, food and ammo both. He didn't take anything, knowing that if he started to fill his backpack she'd probably catch him. Once again, the idea of getting filled with buckshot was not an appealing one.


Deciding his next course of action, he headed up the stairs and waited around a corner, knowing that he'd be able to catch her off guard. If he could get her attention without that shotgun in her hands, he might have a better chance of explaining himself and getting her help.
 
Emily was dissatisfied. Not a single zombie, she'd wasted her time for nothing. She tried to tell herself that something could have been there, so it would have been worth leaving the house to search. But really she had just wasted time, she could have sat in bed, watching what was left of television. After the outbreak, all the main stations shut down, leaving only the obscure stations to take centre stage. All they really do it tell us where in the world was most effected one day, or what famous person died the other day, or what new breed of zombie is on the loose. The man reporting this seems to be in some sort of dungeon, like something out of a snuff film. This is what the world had come to, but it was better than nothing. She stopped whining abort what could have been,mane made her way back indoors.


She admired her home greatly, she was awfully proud of it. Even more since the outbreak started. She'd watched so many shows about how to ration your food effieciently, but she didn't need to. She was in a really good position. If she just kept shooting zombies and harvesting what food she had, maybe she'd live to see the other side. Though, she doubted it. She doubted the virus would ever stop.


Logically, it would be advised to stay inside until she really needed to leave, but Emily was losing it all alone. She wanted to explore,meet new people, talk to them. She wanted to smile again. But her whole village had died, she was the sole survivor. She took some pride in that, as sick as it sounded. She missed her family, her neighbours, she missed everyone a lot. But she had to move on. She had to. She may have been missing out on a lot staying here, and beimg trapped in this house for the rest of her life sounded painful, horrible. All she could do was pray that this whole thing would blow over, and the world would go back to normal again.


She'd heard that army bases and science labs were taking people in, the two mentioned were working together on a cure for all of this. She was certain there was an outpost not far from here. People brought food to these said places, lots of it, there was plenty of room to sleep and it was almost completely safe, as safe as you could get in the middle of the apocalypse. It sounded an almost perfect place to live, and they took in anyone. But they were hard to find, and very hard to get into. The undead in that area was said to have been 10x worse than it was anywhere else, especially the science labs. She'd seen some footage of it on TV, they seemed to be almost deserted, around 50 people there. Which is nothing, really.


Emily lost herself in the thought as she trudged upstairs, aiming for her bedroom. She wanted to have a lie in, she knew she really shouldn't but she was ever so tired. She'd hardly had a wink of sleep the night before, and she'd had enough breakfast. She stopped in the middle of the staircase - she could have sworn she heard something. She clutched her shotgun, keeping her eyes peeled and focused on everything around her. She made it to the top of the staircase, an eerie feel made the air go thick, like she could hardly walk. She shook it off - partly, slowing making her way to her room.
 
As Jason hid, he controlled his breathing to the point that it was silent. Despite the open, bright floorplan of the house, and the sun streaming through the windows, he'd managed to find a dark place to conceal himself. One of the many skills taught to him in SpecOps, he'd be able to hide in plain sight. He closed his eyes as he listened, not only to the house itself but to everything in the surrounding area.


His grip on his 9mm wasn't tight, and if anyone else saw him he would look completely relaxed. In reality his heart rate had picked up slightly, the slight electric tingle on his skin from anticipation. It only picked up when he heard the sound of footsteps downstairs, along with the door opening and closing. He knew that he'd only have one chance at this, and nearly peeked the corner until he heard her starting to make her way up. He stayed hidden, using his ears rather than his eyes to locate where she was at.


For him, time had began to slow down. His perception was heightened to the point that he could hear the floor squeaking slightly under her, the sound of her breathing getting closer to where he was hidden. He took in a long, silent breath and held it, his eyes opening as she passed him. Even though he was only pressed against the wall around the corner, it seemed like her peripheral vision didn't pick him up.


From up close, it looked like she had fared fairly well. Of course, that didn't bode well, it seemed like she was the only one here but she could have been left behind while a better-armed group went out for supplies. He moved out from his spot and followed behind her, matching his footsteps to hers to mask any sound he might make. His pistol raised, he closed the gap between them until he was directly behind her.


Before he spoke, he reached over her shoulder and grabbed the barrel of the gun, pressing the pistol to the back of her head. His voice, though quiet on the off chance that they weren't alone, was deep and clear.


"Stay calm. Let go of the weapon and put your hands on your head." he instructed, his grip tight on the shotgun. He could only hope that she did as he said, the last thing he wanted was to risk having to knock her out or shoot her.
 
Emily was stunned when she felt arms around her. Instinctively, she whipped around, reading to shoot who ever was there, but she then realised whoever it was had a hold of her weapon. She was paralysed in fear, struggling, but to no use. She quickly assessed that the person was likely not a zombie, by the simple fact that they had not made any effort to attack her, but she was still just as afraid. She hadn't seen a living human in the flesh in almost a year, when the virus first broke out. She didn't want to turn around, she didn't care what was there, or what it wanted. She just wanted it to go away.


She though she wanted to meet other humans, to make new friends, to see their faces again. But now, the dies sounded daunting, scary, surreal. Like human life ceased to exist in her world, like it was all on TV and nowhere else. She calmed down significantly when she realised it was in fact a human - or a very intelligent zombie. Either way, it didn't look like she was going to get attacked. She was still reluctant to let go of her weapon. She'd set herself one rule - to never let it go far. She didn't know where it would go if this man took ahold of it. Slowly, she crouched down, deciding it was best to let go of the weapon. She placed it in between her feet, still wanting to feel the cold steel against her skin. She couldn't feel safe without it.


"What do you want? Food? Shelter? I'll give you all of that, just don't shoot me" she pleaded, southern accent piercing the air, fear evident in her voice. She spoke quietly, lowly, she couldn't bring herself to talk loudly. She didn't want to anyway, she was so used to talking quietly or not at all these last few months. The only time she'd ever talked to someone was to the animals. She started shaking only slightly, the metal of his gun pressing into her head, she was certain it was burning her, at least that's what it felt like. So foreign, so different to what she was used to. It hurt in a way.


She pulled her head back, it was too much. She knew she couldn't go far, but she didn't want to die. She slowly raised her hands to the top of her head, standing still. "There, now what? What do you want?" She said, irritated but still scared. Her voice was raised slightly now. She knew there was no point in screaming as there was nobody here, and that would only cause trouble, but that's what she felt like doing. Despite the apocalypse, she hadn't been in so much danger since it started.
 
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Even as she spoke, Jason kept his weapon on her. She was offering him food and shelter, but as far as he knew it could be a trap. He waited until she put her hands behind her head before he grabbed her index fingers and squeezed them together, a submission technique taught to him very early on in his military career. His hands were calloused and worn from fighting and travelling, yet despite that they were surprisingly warm.


He held her fingers tightly together, using his foot to kick the shotgun away from her feet. "Don't speak unless I ask you a question." he said firmly, pressing the barrel of his pistol into her lower back against her spine.


"Who else is here with you? What sort of armament do they have?" he asked, moving her towards the wall. He pressed her against it as he holstered his pistol, his now free hand checking along her waist for any other weapons she might have.


Once he was satisfied with his search he pulled his pistol again, returning the barrel to her spinal cord. "I need supplies, water, and ammunition. If you comply you won't be harmed. If you refuse to comply with these orders, I will have no choice but to open fire. Do you understand?" he asked, reciting the words ingrained in his mind from his years in recon. His voice almost sounded flat, a mix of hardwired training and exhaustion. There was a hint of some unidentifiable accent in there as well, though it obviously sounded foreign.


He moved her back from the wall and let go of her fingers, grabbing her shoulder and turning her to face him. "Stay against the wall." he ordered, taking a step back and leveling his pistol at her. His sapphire blue eyes looked like they may have been bright and clear at one point, but were now bloodshot and dull. He didn't look crazed, like some of the other survivors he'd run into. Instead he looked calm and focused. His hair and beard were matted with dried blood, his clothing torn and damaged. The only part of him that didn't look war-torn was his pistol and assault rifle, both in pristine shape aside from a few scratches and dings from use. The look in his eyes said more than his words ever could... he was dead serious.
 
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Fear was evident on her features, she had no idea who this guy was, or who he thought he was, but she didn't feel like revelling just yet. Well, nothing that would get her killed anyway. This was her house, her home. She'd built this up, worked years, a decade on it, making it what it is. She didn't feel like helping the man anymore. She hated nothing more than being disrespected in her own home, her own property, by some random intruder. It wasn't so,etching she'd usually stand for, but the circumstances were different - much more different. She supposed she didn't have a choice.


She winced, grabbing the air for her shotgun back. She realised how pathetic and childish she looked, grasping air like a baby wanting it's bottle back. She missed the feeling of the weapon, she missed the cool chill it sent down her spine. She must have sounded mad, she did in her head, like she needed a gun to survive. She needed it to protect her. She heaved a sigh, realising it would seem suspicious if she went to grab it back. All she could do was flash him an angry glare.


"Believe it or not... We are he only two people in this house. Search if you wish, you'll find nobody" she was technically telling the truth. There were no people, just animals. But she was hardly going to tell the man that, knowing he'd likely harm them for his own use. Those animals were more than hers, that was something she'd never give up. Ever. She was hardly going to give the man all her supplies, she'd probably empty out one of the fridges for him. She realised she was lucky to be in her position, and should be more generous, but her pride was injured


She slid down to the floor once the man had let go of her. She didn't know I why, but her knees felt inherently weak. She needed the floor for support. "Whatever" she breathed, not seeming to care much. Her will to live had deteriorated within the last few days. Sure, she wanted to be alive, she wanted to see this through, but she came to the realisation that she'd most likely die sooner rather than later. Even if she had all the food in the world and a home, that wasn't enough. One day, she'd die of loneliness, or one of the undead would catch her. It happened to everyone - it would surely happen to her too.


She disregarded his rules, there was a question she had to ask. It had been grating on her for a while now "When you entered Lufkin... Did you spot anybody alive?" She asked. Her voice was quiet, her words cracking a little. She spoke surprisingly softly, pitch not really altering throughout the sentence. She watched the man silently, her eyes never leaving his shoes. She had a habit of staring at people's shoes. She didn't kneo where it had come from, but she was in that sort of mood. She didn't want to be here, no, she didn't want him to be here. He was messing up her schedule. She was going to lose maybe a fridge load of food. Important food that she needed, even if she had a lot of it. Her ammo was on short supply - she couldn't afford to lose much if it. She could only give him a pack or two of bullets, she needed the rest. Water was no issue, she had a working well. There were several wells throughout the village - her guess was they didn't work. She leaned against the wall, wanting to fall asleep, or drift away. She didn't want this.
 
As he held her at gunpoint, the look on his face was one of cold indifference. He was, however, watching her reactions and facial expressions closely. Despite the way she spoke, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was on the verge of giving up. He couldn't say he blamed her.


"I already cleared the house. I know nobody else is here. There's nobody out scavenging for supplies?" he asked, tapping his index finger on the side of his pistol for a moment, a nervous habit he'd picked up at some point.


He took a step back over next to her shotgun, his boot connecting with the barrel. He saw how she reacted when he moved it out of reach, and knew that he'd feel naked without a weapon as well. Still, he couldn't risk her lunging for it. He switched hands, holding his pistol in his left as he picked up the shotgun and unloaded it with his right. He tossed the shells downstairs until the weapon was empty, and once he double checked the chamber he put the shotgun back on the floor and kicked it over to her. He hoped that it would help her relax and be more receptive to his questioning.


As she asked her question he stared at her for a moment, his jaw tensing slightly. He was silent for a long while before he finally answered.


"No. The entire city is dead from what I've seen. There's a distinct lack of the undead out here as well. I can see why you've survived this long." It was strange, he didn't even notice much in the way of dispatched zombies around her house. Either they didn't really show up, or she was diligent about clearing away the bodies.


He was having trouble believing that this woman had survived this long on her own... but then again, this was Texas. Everyone in the state was as tough as nails from what he'd seen so far.


"I don't need much, only a day or two's worth of rations. I can find somewhere else to restock, I wasn't expecting anyone to be living here." he explained. "I'll be gone in ten minutes at most."
 
She gripped the shotgun tight when it was kicked towards her. The principle was nice, she supposed, but it was worthless without ammunition. She supposed she could fling it over the undead' head, none of the, around here seemed powerful or aggressive enough to really survive it or attack back. She had the daily issue of zombies, they came from neighbouring towns and villages, none from here. They were weak, but often in great numbers, making them surprisingly hard to kill. That was without attracting attention anyway, she hardly ever used her gun, she usually used a bat or a butcher's knife. Using the gun would mean a much larger hoard. Their hearing was surprisingly good, many undead passed here because they had no idea anyone lived here, if they did, they'd flock around this palace immediately.


She sulked a little when she heard here was nobody else alive in the village. She knew that to be true anyway, at least she hoped so. But hearing confirmation was devastating to her. She felt if she stayed here much longer, she'd die of boredom, or she'd end her life. She'd never even thought of the concept before, she'd never thought about suicide before now. She hated what the world was, she was honesty so sick of it. Even if she was healthy, and wealthy, she felt far from lucky. Even if others were poor, homeless, starving, at least hey she each other. She had nobody, and she likely never would. Her fingers travelled around the tip of the gun, dipping her fingers in and out of the grooves and curves.


Suddenly, she stood up. Keeping the gun latched in her fingers, she looked over the man opposite. She felt he was likely in a similar position to her - alone. He obviously didn't have anywhere to stay, and if he did, he had nothing to live off of. Almost nothing anyway. She felt a little sorry for him, and slightly scared. She figured the blood in his hair was the blood of the undead, not other humans, but she supposed she could never really be sure. He was littered in weaponry, she thought for a small while of maybe stealing some melee from him, hoping he wouldn't notice. She'd try it out later, but for now, she went on showing him a fridge. "Follow me" she said, tone blunt and unenthusiastic. She started walking down the stairs, towards the kitchen
 
He had started to lower his weapon, up until she stood up suddenly. He put some distance between them in an instant, his weapon raised once again. His finger moved away from the trigger guard and actually rested on the trigger, up until he realized that she wasn't going to attack him. He felt a shudder of adrenaline slide through him as he removed his finger from its position, watching her with narrowed eyes.


He was on edge, but he had every reason to be. He wasn't lucky like her, to be able to hole up in a well stocked house like this. He'd lived on the road for a very long time now, and it seemed like he just couldn't switch off. He was always on edge, always aware of everything around him, never able to get more than a few minutes sleep every few hours. It was slowly starting to become too much for him, though he tried to push out the thoughts of suicide.


He followed her downstairs, watching her carefully as she walked. If she reached for any of the shells that he'd tossed downstairs, he'd have to subdue her again. It wasn't something that he wanted to do, especially since he was trying to get her to work with him, not against him. After a long while of silence he finally spoke again, though the words seemed forced and awkward. "Your house is beautiful. I haven't seen a place this well kept in a very long time." he said, his pistol lowered but still in hand.


It was then that his stomach decided to growl, a low rumble that seemed to stretch on for an awkward length of time. Once again he was reminded that he hadn't eaten in several days, and as the adrenaline wore off his hands began to tremble slightly. He tried to hide it by keeping a tighter grip on his pistol, his eyes focused on her as he followed her.
 
Emily flinched when she saw the gun again. All she could do was stand still when he held it up, and continue walking. She said nothing that entire journey, just turning around to look at the man from time to time. She gathered he was pretty hungry, she could have sworn she heard his stomach rumble. She couldn't help but chuckle a little bit. That sound was always comical to her regardless of the situation, as bad as that sounded, it was true. "Don't worry, I've got enough food to last you a while" she said reassuringly, still smiling some. She shook off the smile, deciding the tone was too serious for it. Besides, she didn't really want to piss the man off.


She stood still for a while after he complimented her home. It was strange, what a normal thing to say, probably the most normal phrase she had heard in a year. With all this talk of zombies, and the apocalypse, and dying, nobody have ever started idle conversation, small talk, nothing normal, nothing casual. Though, she supposed talk of the apocalypse was normal now, and would be considered casual. Maybe it hadn't really sunk in. She took good care of her home, she cleaned it regularly, even painted it and decorated it with new items she'd hunted up in the attic. Even if it sounded meaningless and insincere, to her, it meant a lot. "Thank you" she replied, turning around to face him, carrying a small smile.


She reached the kitchen. It was ordered in a strict and uncompromising manner. Everything where it should be. It was the most important area of her home, it needed the most protection and attention, so it was easily the best looking. She had almost a dozen fridges around the place, each home to different food groups. She decided she'd give the man supplies from each fridge. Some meats, fish, vegetables, fruit, carbohydrates, even some chocolate. A balanced diet would help the man live longer. She was having a perculiar fluctuation of moods, she didn't know if she wanted to help the guy or get rid of him. She figured if she helped him, he'd leave. But did she really want to get rid of the only human she'd seen in the flesh in a year? Before she'd do everything to meet another living, breathing bag of flesh and now she wanted the house rid of them. She finished giving him the food, closing the fridge door, satisfied she'd given him enough
 
Though he was keeping his eyes on her, every time they passed a doorway or window he checked it. It was a habit that helped keep him safe long after he was out of the military. He walked with her to the kitchen, unable to keep from staring. It was almost as if he was seeing something new and foreign to him. Having been in the open for so long, he had almost regressed to being feral, capable of survival and nothing else.


He kept his gun in hand until she laid out the supplies for him, which was the only time he wasn't staring at her. He looked surprised, staring at the food in front of him for a long while before glancing back at her. He holstered his pistol and pulled his pack from his back quickly, resting his assault rifle against the countertop. He pulled out a small box of plastic baggies and started organizing and putting the food in them, greedily taking bites as he did. He would occasionally glance up at her or check over his shoulder, working quickly until the food vanished inside of his torn up rucksack.


The bag was slung back over his shoulders and adjusted as he spoke to her past a mouthful of meat and fruit. "Ammunishon?" he slurred, quickly swallowing his food before speaking again. "I saw your armory. I need 9 millimeter and 7.62 rounds. Thirty of the 9 mil and sixty of the 7.62." he ordered, slinging his rifle back on his shoulder. He didn't reach for his pistol this time, it seemed like he was starting to lower his guard. After all, she was kind enough to give him food... even if it was at gunpoint.
 
All Emily could do was chuckle a little bit. The way he ravaged that meat, attacking it like a lunatic. She supposed this is what desperation did to people. It was funny, yet sad to see. Her face carried a sad smile as she watched the man stock up on food, she was glad to help, but it was sad to see how normal people were struggling. She was grateful that the man hadn't completely ravished her fridges, she needed those. Those supplies were worth a lot. She'd never really seen herself as rich before, but now she felt like a billionaire. It was such a strange contrast of identities, the string run into the weak, the weak into the strong. Strange situations did strange things, she supposed.


Emily's breath hitched a little when he mentioned ammo. She had virtually nothing to give, she needed everything, and she meant everything. Every once in a while she'd have to face a mega-hoard, she only really had the ammo for a few more of those. When she couldn't defeat the undead in front of her with melee, she was forced to use guns. She didn't want to, she knew that would only attract more attention, meaning she'd have to face a never ending hoard once more, but she had no choice.


"I don't think I have that much for you... I can give you what I have" she said, her voice quieter as she walked towards her study. It used to be her husband's, but Emiliy took it once he died. She hid the ammunition in various parts for the study, she used to have a lot, but now she had very little. She needed them all for herself. She wanted to be kind, but she was hardly selfless. She needed herself to survive, if anyone was going to end her life, it would be her. She walked over to her desk, tossing him a pack of the 9 mil. "That's it. I don't have anything else. Take it" it was a lie, of course. She had a few more stacked behind the flower pot, and a rifle under the desk, but she wouldn't say anything.
 
Jason watched her for a moment before following her towards the study. He found it difficult to believe her when she said she didn't have a lot of ammunition, but decided it was better to just take what he could. He wasn't like the raiders to the south, he didn't feel a need to kill her just to take her things. It wasn't like she was a threat. As she tossed him the box of ammo he caught it, moving over to the desk.


He pulled three empty pistol magazines from his vest, laying them out on the table before opening the box. He then unholstered his pistol, knowing that she wasn't going to be happy with what she was about to see. He pulled the magazine from the gun, revealing it to be empty. He only had the one round left sitting in the chamber.


Without saying a word he started loading his magazines, keeping an eye on her as he did. It was obvious he didn't trust her, and that he didn't want to stick around for any longer than he had to.


"You don't have any 7.62? That's hard to believe." he said, tucking each magazine away in his ballistic vest as he finished loading them. It was a fairly common ammunition, since so many people in Texas owned AR-15s and AK-47s. He finally finished loading the last of his pistol mags, sliding the last one back into his sidearm. He preferred to use his pistol due to the silencer, it made it much harder for the undead to figure out where he was. By the time they did, he was long gone. It was one of the reasons why he'd stayed alive in the open for so long.
 
Emily could only shrug when he didn't believe her. He was right to, of course, but she wasn't going to give up this lie, even if it was obvious she was lying. "Believe whatever you like. I don't care." She said, not moving her eyes from the floor. She leaned against her study, not looking up at him, she didn't know what to say or what to do. So she just sort of stood there, like she always did. She was slightly surprised at just how much he had, she wondered where he got it all from. It was another indication that he had nowhere to stay. He wouldn't need so many weapons if he had shelter.


"What else do you need?" She asked when he was done. Her voice was quiet, more so than usual. She'd never heard her voice so quiet, probably because she hadn't talked in so long. It was strange,mashed never needed to talk so she never did. She was still getting used to how it sounded now, it had changed a lot. It used to be full of life, happiness, feistiness. She loved her voice, she'd shout it out everywhere. Nowadays she never talked. She'd completely changed, she hated who she had become.


"Oh yes, the water, follow me" she said, pushing herself off of the table, leading him outside. She walked slowly, stopping every once in a while to look at herself in the mirror. It was a thing she did every now and then to remind herself she was human, and still alive. She led him outside to a little water pump and a well. This is where she got her water supply from. She had to clean her drains out everyday, but the water was fresh. "Here, take as much as you want" she motioned to the pump, letting him take as much as he wanted.
 
He could tell that she was lying, but since she wasn't trying to fight or resist him, he didn't feel the need to push the matter. He'd be able to get by with the pistol for now, until he came across an abandoned gun store or military outpost. When she started leading him outside he did one final check of his equipment, making sure that everything was secure. He followed her, messing with one of the straps of his rucksack for a moment. Something else he'd have to replace soon.


Once they were at the well he cupped his hand, gathering some water and drinking it. It tasted fine, so he pulled his canteen from his belt, moving his gas mask out of the way. He filled the canteen, drinking it down almost to empty before refilling it again. Water dripped from his beard, cleaning away some of the blood and grime that had collected there. Water was becoming more scarce, the undead commonly found themselves stuck in rivers and streams, tainting the water. Even after the small amount he ate and drank, he was feeling infinitely better than before.


Once his canteen was filled and hooked to his belt he dug in his pocket for a moment, looking over at her. "Thank you... I'm sorry that I had to hold you at gunpoint." he said, pulling out a silver necklace with a delicate chain. He held it out to her, brushing some hair from his eyes. "It's not much, but it's all I can offer in return. It..." he paused, wondering if he was saying too much. "It belonged to someone I knew once. I won't feel right just taking all of this stuff without payment."
 
She was slightly surprised by the offer, taking the necklace happily. She inspected it for a few moments, it was delicate, intricate. It was pretty nice looking, worthless, but she appreciated it. She fiddled with the necklace some, not wanting to put it away. She needed something to feel and play with, something small like this, it took her mind away from things, she enjoyed occupying herself. She fiddled with it for a few minutes, not saying a thing. The air was getting thick and heavy, incredibly awkward but there wasn't much she could do. Apart from talk, oh yeah. That's a thing.





"Thank you... It's beautiful" she said, managing to find herself a smile. She looked up at him, keeping the smile. She didn't really know what to say, she wanted to say something, but she didn't know. She shoved the necklace in her pocket, quickly but carefully. Now that he'd gotten everything he needed, he didn't really need to stay. "I don't even know your name" were the only words she could muster. She was truly tongue tied.


"My name... Is Emily. It's nice to meet you." She held out her hand, regardless of whether she expected a response. Which she didn't. She tried smiling a little bit, eyes darting across her land, checking for the undead. There didn't seem to be any. Just her luck, now there was nothing to distract her from this painfully awkward moment. If she was truthful with herself, she didn't want the man to leave. She likely wouldn't have cared if he was an evil, psycopathic axe murderer, she craved company - human company. One that could talk with her, even about pointless idle shit. Being alone every day was driving her mad.
 
Jason smiled slightly, though it could hardly be seen behind the bush of a beard he had. There was a sad look in his eyes when she said it was beautiful, and he watched as she put it in her pocket. "She thought so too..." he said softly before he realized it. He swallowed hard, knowing that he'd said too much. Luckily she put her hand out, and it took him a moment to reach over and take it in his.


"Jason Macreedy." he replied. It was strange to have such a normal introduction considering the fact that he'd held her at gunpoint and forced her to give him supplies. Still, the world had become a strange place.


"I should get going. It's safer to move during the day, the big hordes don't come out until nightfall." he said, finally releasing her hand. He almost wished he could stay... he felt jealous of the life she'd made for herself. A safe house, plenty of supplies, fresh water... all things that he had desperately wanted at one point or another.


He turned to leave, but paused for a moment and looked over his shoulder at her. "Oh, one piece of advice." he said, his accent obvious now. It was faint, but there was an unmistakable scottish tone to it. "When you're handling weapons, keep your finger off the trigger until you're sighted on your target. Less accidents that way."
 
Her face lit up in shock when his hand touched her own. That was one thing she didn't see coming. Her hands were small, sweaty and rough. All those years working on a farm didn't exactly make her hands soft. Though, she wasn't really Woking here anymore, the damage is done. She didn't mind oh so much, the farm had done great things for her - not only had her strength improved tremendously, she'd learnt many life skills. But those days were over, the only thing that mattered now was the outbreak of the undead. She'd use what she had learnt, but she wasn't expecting miracles. Shepherd lived for a while but she felt as if her days were soon withering away


Emily was a little confused by he advice. Did she have he finger on the trigger at all times before? She wasn't sure, she didn't think so. "Thank you" she said for the tip, even if she didn't really need it. She wanted theman to stay, but she supposed it would be strange asking him that. Instead, she just stood there, waiting for him to leave. She needed to think of something to say to make him stay. The words were coming to her head, she opened her mouth:


"Who is 'she?'" She asked, realising that she was probably his wife or girlfriend or something. She knew this question was likely insensitive, but she had to think of something. The world and changed dramatically, nothing was normal anymore, so she figured that simply asking him to stay a while should be completely out of the question, but she didn't want to come off as desperate. Even if that's exactly what she was. She only stood there for now, awaiting his response.
 
He turned to walk away, but only got a few steps away from her when she asked the question. He stopped in his tracks, feeling that all too familiar pain come back in his chest.


"Was." he corrected, turning to face her. "Her name was Alice. She was my wife." he explained, though he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Even just saying her name was enough to deepen the hollow feeling in his chest.


He finally looked at her as he spoke, though the pain in his eyes was obvious. "She was a kind person. Too kind." he said quietly. The nail of his index finger started to pick at his thumb, a nervous habit that he never seemed to be able to break.


"When the outbreak started, she was working at a hospital. People were coming in with bites... when they turned, well..." he said, his words hanging in the air. He knew he didn't have to explain what happened.


"When I heard about what happened I went straight there. The attack was over quickly, I was too late. Still, she was nice enough to wait right outside until I showed up." he said with a hollow little laugh. Though he tried to hide it, the pain was obvious in his voice.


"I made it quick. She'd already been through enough pain already. So please, take care of that for me, alright?"
 
Emily knew it, it was obvious. She only wanted to postpone his visit. She took out the necklace, lacing the chain between her fingers, running her thumb over it. It was pretty, very pretty, but she didn't feel as if it belonged to her. She smiled down at it - a human had worn this, humans, real humans, had touched this. The thought made her happy, even if they weren't here anymore. It pored that there was hope in the world, hope for the human race. Her face became sad, full of a look tha could only really be described as regret.


"No - I can't take this. It's not mine. I feel bad, take it back." She said, handing over the chain to him. She realised that would only make him more upset, but she didn't need this, he did. She could do without a small necklace in her life, even if it was the first gift she'd had in ages, she'd live without. "Your wife... She'd want you to keep it" she said, the words coming out slightly more insensitive that she'd thought they had. She didn't know what his wife was like, but what wife wouldn't want their husband to keep there things.


"You need it, Jason" the name cam out weird in her mouth, it felt strange using a human name. It was strange enough talking again, but now she was having a real conversation with someone. She wasn't going to give up until the man took the necklace back, truthfully, she didn't want it. As beautiful as it was, it would likely just make her sad to look at it everyday. Death was not a thing she usually coped with well, but in these circumstances, she really had no choice.
 
Jason watched as she held the necklace back out to him, feeling his chest tighten for a moment. After a short pause he reached out and took it back, sighing softly. "Then let me do something else to repay you. I can't just take your things at gunpoint and leave." he said quietly, running his thumb over the pendant for a moment. Though it wasn't obvious at the time, he did feel guilty for causing her the amount of stress he undoubtedly did.


He looked back up at her, tucking the necklace back into his pocket. When he was in the military, he met plenty of people that wouldn't have a problem with stealing someone else's things and running off with them. It was just something he couldn't do, however.


"I need to repay you somehow. Anything you want. I could provide security if you need it." he offered, racking his brain for anything he could do to help.


It was always a major personality trait for him, to want to help others. He joined the military in the hopes that he'd be able to do exactly that, and only found out too late that he was nothing more than a tool to be used to commit murder. It wasn't a job he enjoyed, but it was a job he was exceedingly good at. Years of training were hard to unlearn, especially when it came to the art of war.
 
Emily was glad when he took the necklace back, he needed it, and she certainly did not. She was happy for the man, happy that he had sacrificed the necklace for her and happy that he was so willing to help her out. She supposed this would be the perfect chance to leave her place, to get put, to meet new people. This could be her perfect chance to escape the madness she lived in, even if it was so quiet, so chilling, so empty. It killed her, it really did. It was so painful for her to live in such a place, she really couldn't do it anymore, she wore a little smile on her face, one that seemed like it was trying to convince someone.


"I'll be honest... It's horrible living here. I may be rich in supplies but that's about it. I've been alone, so alone for a year, everyone I know is dead, my only companions are the animals. They're not enough. I need to leave this place, I can't stay here much longer or I fear I'll do something to myself that I can't redeem. There have been talk of labs , army bases, they take people in, they give them a home, a shelter. They're not crowded, as hardly anybody actually manages to get inside, so I was hoping I could have a companion fm reach one with. Of course, you don't have to. It's a stupid idea, I already have a home, I've put a lot of effort into it, but I care not about it. It's full of bad memories. So please... If you can"


She finished, sitting back down on a seat while talking, looking at the floor. She didn't dare raise her eyes, she didn't know I why, she was afraid of seeing rejection rear its ugly head. Most people who heard her just then would call her an idiot, stupid. She didn't care. She needed somewhere to go, somewhere alive. "Labs and army bases are working on ways to beat the virus, I suppose there could be some way to help if we went over there" she said, in case the man wasn't convinced. Once she had finished, she played with the cuff of her sleeve, looking up at him.
 

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