Fantasy Zombies & People & Radioactive Animals, Oh My!

[.angel.]

Maya wandered the dusty streets, burned and beaten houses that she could only assume were once cookie cutter and “the American Dream” lined her path. She didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, only to find a decent place to spend the night that had working locks and maybe untouched windows, a rare place to find indeed. She had been going on about three days straight no sleep and she was feeling it in her bones and definitely her reflexes. She knew she had taken an inventory check just an hour or two ago, but she kept having that itching feeling to continue to check. She pushed it away though, knowing it was only paranoia at this point. Her eyes lazily wandered around, tracking windows and alleys between the houses, seeing as the houses were barely a persons wing-span apart. But before she could really stop her self, her mind started to wander, past finding shelters and watching for the rotting dead. To home. Her mom and dad.. her dog.. god she hadn’t taken a moment to even think about them. Her parents both passed a few years before this apocalypse was even a thought. Her mom was battling breast cancer, stage 3 when diagnosed and fighting hard. Mariah would like to say she handled her death pretty well, almost expecting it sadly. Her father was a different story. Her father died via suicide. He fell into a deep depression after her mother’s death, understandable though seeing as Mayas’ mother was his soulmate, or so he used to always say. But her dog! Damn did she miss Ren. Serenity was her pup of 4 years, a gift for her 18th birthday. Her parents thought she needed a companion for when she moved out, and were they right. Maya tried to keep with with Ren with this all started, but sadly she ran out one day when she didn’t find a secure enough place, ironically she dipped through the dog door without Maya even realizing it till the next morning.

Before Maya even realized it she was tripping on what she thought was air for a moment. She looked down to realize she was of course tripping over mostly consumed carcass or what appeared to be a dog of some sort. Classy. She cringed and kicked the carcass aside with her boot, looking up and around at her surroundings. She realized how many zombies seemed to dabble the area in front and to her left of her. “Well shit,” She mumbled, her other hand gripping her axe “Just another day I guess.” She sighed and she slowly backed up, wondering if she caught any of their attention. Of course as she expected, she drew at least a fews eyes “Fuck it.” She cried as she turned on her heel and sprinted to her right, the street seeming open and almost endless as she sprinted down it. She was worried she’d cut her face, her axe swinging back and forth with her momentum as she moved. She realized how loud her feet were as they hit the cracked and crumpled asphalt, a tiny panic hitting her as she realized how much more attention she could draw to anything. More zombies, people, any kind of fucking animal affected by some illness or not. She did not need anything more than the small group she was already dealing with.
novacid

 

[novacid]

​

The sun was fucking hot, scorching down on him like some sort of spurned deity. He dragged his feet, not bothering to pick them up; he would die anyway, of course, like he should have right from the beginning. It was a fluke that he had even survived this long and from he stood, literally, giving up seemed like the way to go. He had a few sips of water left, no food, one tiny, useless knife and a blanket. His skills were limited to finding and hiding, and occasionally talking someone out of killing him.

Like the last group he'd run across – they took nearly everything he owned, but left him alive, and with just enough to continue on barely surviving this god forsaken apocalypse. People had a hard time hurting Samson, but they never seemed to hesitate to rob him blind. What was this – the sixth time he's had to start over?

A snarl on his right snapped him back into the deadly reality. At least he was fast. His feet moved without confirming what to do with his brain, and he started to sprint. The bag he carried slapped against his back as he ran, and a comical sight he may have been, if anyone was around to see him. The animal, foaming at the mouth, bleeding at the feet, growing a second tail and an extra arm, tired quickly, and Samson thanked the sun for that.

During the day, the deranged creatures that roamed this side of paradise were slow, sluggish, easy to tire, but at night, you were dead. No question. That was his law; never be out after dark, and today was looking like it may be his last. He continued back to his slow crawl, but when he saw a town forming on the horizon, he nearly had a heart attack.

Not wanting to waste energy, he continued at a walk, even though he wanted to book it there. It could be a town of crazies – those unharmed by the radiation, but wild none the less. Or it could be chock full of dead men walking and their reborn blood hounds. He shuddered, trying to remember when this first happened, how safe it was in his psychotic grandfather's bunker. There had been two years of food and only him. Almost two years he stayed underground, paling his skin and getting lazy, until finally, his supplies ran out, as anyone other than him would have predicted.

Not him, not Samson Jones, former Twitch famous GameStop representative who never had to live a real day in his life. Sure, he kept active and healthy, but only for the sake of attention. What Leo wouldn't? When chaos happened, it killed everyone he'd ever known. He had already been in his grandpa's bunker, trying to figure what size television would fit best. If there was ever an apocalypse, had had said, he still wouldn't go without a TV.

He laughed at himself now. Fucking idiot.

Finally, the shadow of a building covered him, and he dropped to his knees, knowing he could stay in the shade forever if he didn't force himself to move. Enjoying the semi-cool for a few minutes, he pushed himself up, weary, starving, exhausted and – wait, what the hell was that?

Someone ran by him, and he noticed that others were noticing the sprinting form.

“Well, shit,” he mumbled, scrambling to run after the woman, yelling after her, “Hey. HEY! You're gonna get me killed!”

 

[.angel.]

Maya hadn’t fully comprehended the fact that someone was talking to her until she heard the familiar pounding of feet that seemingly wasn’t hers. Her eyes popped open as she looked back, a panic over taking her. Of course she was going to attract people.. why wouldn’t a woman running for her life and the start of a hoard not attract anyone? She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to last, her lungs burning for that break and maybe a little cool water. But she didn’t have time for that. Not right now at least. “Me? Get you killed? Mon Dieu!” She huffed heavily, only gripping her axe tighter.

“Why..” She paused to pant, her lungs begging for a break “Are you following me? Your gonna get yourself killed..” She managed, having to pause every few words. Damn, you’d think she would be more in shape these days. She allowed herself a moment to think. Why would a random man start following her? Well, firstly, the hoard. Duh. Maybe he’d jack her shit and run once they were safe, maybe he'd kill her. It would be a break.. no, death is not an option. She set a serious face, her brows lowering as she quickly scanned around, trying to find a place she could scramble up “Low roof low roof..” She muttered breathlessly, stumbling with her tired legs “Shit!” She had to pick herself back up, maybe more mentally than physically. Keeling over wasn’t the best idea right now.

She has to figure out if she was going to help his guy live or leave him to die. Her eyes caught a car, a broken down SUV that looked rusted and easily raided. Busted windows, a dented hood, but what caught her eyes was the porch of the house. Just short enough she could pull herself up on “Come on!” She yelled behind her, her eyes widening at the sight of her chasers. The group only asked to grow, the droning moans and growls she was used to only getting louder, their numbers larger. She quickly veered off to her right, sprinting up to the car. She hopped up on the hood and half jumped up onto the roof of the car. She licked her lips as she took a hard swing at the roof with her axe, testing it’s strength before quickly jumping up onto the porch’s roof and awkwardly scrambling up onto it.

She looked over to the dark haired stranger, kneeling down and offering a hand to him, her other one grabbing at the blunt side of the axes head to help stabilize her. The panicked look on her face almost begged him to take her hand, not wanting to see another person taken down. She couldn’t handle it.

 

[novacid]

Her voice floated back to him - was that...French? He couldn't resist a grin, but then a small rock flew into his cheek, bringing him back to the moment.

Samson ran harder, his toes catching on nothing and sending him flying into the dirt. His face ran through the dust and gravel, but he quickly scrambled back to his feet. Trying to gain his speed back, and too out of breath to yell back, he noticed the sounds behind him were getting louder. The group following them was gaining bulk way too fast for him. Panic started to build in his chest, and he kept his eyes trained on the girl in front of him. His brain stumbled; this was the end. After all of the bullshit he'd survived this far, this was how we going to die. Chasing a girl down.

Without warning, she took a sharp right. Skidding in the dry road, he nearly fell again, but took the corner and followed. She was climbing onto the roof of a car, he saw, despairing. She knew what she was doing. If it had been him, he would have ran, and ran... and ran... until he collapsed and was killed. How exactly had he survived this long? In all fairness, he'd never encountered an actual horde before, only stragglers - it was other live and breathing, regular humans that kept putting him through the ringer.

The fear that pounded through every inch of him was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Running felt like a dream. He managed to shimmy his way up the car, and when he looked up and saw the woman's hand, he thought he would burst into tears. She was saving him, and he was the happiest damsel in distress he'd ever known. He crawled up onto the roof, staying on his knees for a moment, letting the fact that he was alive rush his mind. Quickly, he stood, still sharing her panic, "I... you- I-" he held up his hand and threw up over the side, then blushed miserably, trying to gain his composure but fear still drove him, "I'll shower you in gratitude later - swear it - but now what do we do?"

 

[.angel.]

Maya helped pull him up, landing flat on her ass once he finally got up there. Her stomach turned, a raging battle with her lungs that demanded air. She breathed heavily, almost gasping for air. She swore she had asthma or maybe she was just out of shape. She coughed, getting up from her knees and half crouching. She looked over to him as he tried to piece together words.. and then those words spewed right out of his mouth. She cringed as she watched the contents of his stomach escape to the ground below. It made her wanna throw up. She knew she couldn’t though, what little food and water she ever found was necessary. She swallowed what bile tried to rise into her mouth, that mouth feeling so dry all too suddenly. “Gimmie..” She huffed “Gimmie a second..” She carefully slid her bag off of her back, pulling out her water and hastily taking a few glugs. God did she need that. She put it away and slid her bag back on, putting her knife away into her back pocket.

She mumbled quiet prayers, maybe a few curses, of course in French, seeing as they’re the only prayers she ever knew thanks to her grandparents. She mostly stood up, keeping kind of low so she wouldn’t just fall off “Now..” She paused, her breathing finally steadying a little “We wait..” She pulled her axe out of the roof, the panic still strong in her chest but a little at ease to know she’s not going to immediately die. She clutched the axe tightly, glancing over his features. The great-fullness was surely there.. fear.. panic..similar emotions she was feeling. She bit at her bottom lip and faster then she even realized, she was putting her guard up. Of course that guard was at his neck, ready to slice and dice in a second “Why did you follow me? What are your intentions? Why didn’t you stay where you were so you wouldn’t fucking kill yourself?!!” She grunted angrily, her face getting that same determined look she had only moments ago “Si cet idiot essaie quelque chose que je te jure maman, il est mort!!” She half mumbled, her accent thicker than she would’ve liked but it did her justice.