Alaster picked up his bat (the zombie basher)and walked over to emily. If there was one good thing he was going to do in all of this it would be to protect her till death he put an arm around shoulder as to help as a crutch if needed and held his bat in his left (main) hand and waited for the sickly girl to notify him that she was ready.

And then Murph walked out the front door taking the lead. If i had to give that man props for anything it was his ability to lead, and his bravery of the unknown or had he just been hiding his fear to keep everyones hopes up the whole time.

"That man is going to lead us to our safety or our deaths but i couldnt ask to be lead anywhere by a more noble man as he." Alaster mumbled to himself and waited for Emily to be prepped and ready to go. HE glanced over to Amber and gave her a reassuring nod as she had forgiven him for his comment from earlier and seemed so much more understanding of the situation as earlier.

Mac had to remind himself that courage is sometimes being afraid and facing that fear. That was the thought that kept him going as he took up the rear and made those first steps out of the door. Kind of felt like being born. Not knowing whats happening, the light hurts your eyes, but once your eyes adjust, you see a bunch of people you don't know yet you look to them for their strength. The main difference is, they are looking to you for your strength too. Just then he had a horrible thought....You begin to die the day you are born
Keeping everyone's back covered, he keeps his gun at the ready and his finger off the trigger, cause with only six shots, he can't afford to get trigger happy. Which reminded him....

"Just a suggestion for later on, we need to find a few more guns and rounds. Anyone that can handle a gun, I think, should have one. Not to scare anybody, but I get the feeling Im going to need rounds or a new gun before we get to Wrigley."

October 26, 2014
O'Brian's Pub - 12:05 PM

The band of survivors huddled at the still locked front door of O'Brian's Pub. Tommy Murphy was surprised at just how difficult it was to force his hand to unlock, unbolt, and open the door; in the end, though, the potential terror of outside was deemed less than the certain death of waiting inside.

The companions made their way, single file, up the short flight of steps that led to street level. The sun was bright and harsh, causing everyone to blink against the glare; ten days of poor lighting made even a slightly overcast day seem like staring too close to the sun. A slightly cool wind blew leaves down the street in a grim reminder that winter was coming soon.

Strangely, the rustling of those leaves was the only sound to be heard aside form their footsteps. There was no traffic, no voices, no human noises at all. The street itself was desolate and empty, with a few overturned cars - some burned - blocking the way. However, such obstacles were easy enough for individuals on foot to maneuver around.

With no immediate threat presenting itself, the group sets out, headed east on Cornelia. As they picked their way past a gutted pickup truck, a white sedan with a blue stripe (and disctintive light bar on top) comes into view - a police car had crashed into a building near the corner of the street. The driver's side door is open, but no occupant is apparent.

Suddenly, motion becomes apparent from one of the alleys. It is a human form, but slightly hunched... and it simply feels wrong. It takes a step, pauses, then makes a pained shriek and charges at a dead run towards the survivors!

As they were walking, Jake carefully eyed every street and ally, searching for other surivors and... whatever may try to harm them. Suddenly he heard snarling for one of the deserted allys and saw what looked like a person emerge from the darkness. It was making strange gargling noises and it looked hideous. It started to run towards them at a very quick pace.

His instincts taking over, Jake quickly reached for the bottle and lighter he had been carrying since they had left the pub, with the intention of lighting the cloth hanging out of the top of the bottle and throwing it at the creature.

(((OOC: So I guess I'm going for an explosion here, hopefully it hit's the zombie. Can you roll a hit check or something?))

Note from GM: I have edited this post to reflect a combat intention. You intend on attacking the zombie with a molotov, provided that it doesn't eat you first or get killed by someone else. I doubt that you throw the molotov if either of those cases happens.

"Well, I guess now we know these things have no problems with Sunlight! Murph, you got whatever might come through those flames covered?"

Adrenaline pumping through him, Mac fights to keep his hands from shaking. What the hell was wrong with him? Oh yeah, that's right! This is for real. Real life and Death stuff. Sure hes had the gun for years, but hes never actually had to shoot and kill a person before. If he has to make the choice though, he'll kill anything it takes to keep him and the others alive!

Mac, his gun up and aiming, scanning other possible venues of attack. His left hand steadies his gun hand, readying himself to split one of those ugly whatzits' melons open.

The second she realized what was happening, Emily froze, and whatever color she still had left drained to a sheet white. Her palms suddenly sweating, her already-feeble grip on the pool stick slipped and she leaned heavily on Alaster for support, fearing her legs were about to give out from underneath her.

Oh my god, I'm gonna die.

The eerie quiet of the streets was quick to infect Murph once the group was outside. His eyes led the barrel of the shotgun, looking back every now and again to make sure that the others were staying close, as he navigated through the devastation… Can you even call it that? It’s only cars and fixtures and crap…Where are all the bodies? … He only nodded when the bounty hunter made the recommendation to be on the watch for police vehicles and the like and, the further away from O’Brian’s they got, the more Murph realized that he was even trying to breathe quietly…

Chicago’s never been this quiet, he thought, his eyes flicking from the overturned pickup he’d just skirted, to the survivors behind him, and back to the way ahead again, Not even an echo of something farther away… is everything like this… there’s got to be other people somewhere, right?

Jesus, what am I doin’ out here? Over the barrel of the shotgun, the mechanic spied the wrecked squad car and, following a quick scan of the surrounding area, motioned to the others that he was heading that way.

…As quiet as he had been, hoping to catch the faintest sound of anything other than the wind and the rustling of autumn leaves and trash in the empty streets, it was movement that snatched at Murph’s attentions first – just as the group had begun to cross in front of an alleyway, the weird shuffling jerk in the shadows of that backstreet instantly drew a scrutinizing eye and the trained barrel of the Browning – and when Tommy Murphy heard a sound other than that eerie-too-quiet-Chicago he wished to God that he hadn’t. The figure that Murph had, at first, thought to be human stared at them for only an instant, then screeched out the most bloodcurdling yowl the mechanic ever heard… That ain’t human… and charged toward them.

“Make for that cruiser!!!” Murph shouted as he brought the shotgun snug to his shoulder… He turned his head to check the positions of the others and add a ‘Move! Move! Move!’ to his previous command and saw one of Jake’s molotovs lit and arcing over his head and no follow up orders came from Murph’s mouth, just a blistering expletive as he was forced to rethink his gut reaction and, instead, try to backpedal out of the blast radius of that friggin’ whiskey bomb before he could take a shot at that… thing…

“Dammit! I didn’t say cook me,” he growled, backing away as quickly as the progress of the others allowed and trying to get a lock on the… don’t call it a zombie… that’s just crazy… before the molotv hit…

((OOC: Okay, Murph’s still dead set on covering the others as best he can while they make for the squad car (or whatever seems safer, now, if that’s not an option). He’ll try to keep himself between the flesh eater and his people as best he can and blast the thing if it comes screaming out of the flames or something… Murph’ll hold fire until the zombie’s in the shotgun’s ‘medium to short (optimum) range’… wanna make sure that that critter gets taken down with one shot if possible… conserve ammo, you know.))

This post removed by GM.

This post removed by GM.

October 26, 2014
Cornelia Avenue, 800 block - 12:10 PM

As the creature steps from the shadows of the alley into the direct sunlight, it hesitates for a moment as if disoriented, but quickly resumes its headlong rush at the party.

Jake lights his makeshift molotov and throws it in a perfect arc, where it explodes against the stomach of the creature, engulfing it in flames (and very nearly including Murphy in the explosion). However, the creature bears little notice to the damage; it screams in either pain or fury and continues to charge.

At the last possible moment, the Browning in Murph's hands roars, catching the attacker in the left temple. The force of the blow spins it completely around in midair before it crashes to the ground and lies still.

The flames contiue to burn for several moments as the remainder of the alcohol is consumed by the fire, and the air is filled with the smells of burned flesh and hair. Thankfully, the creature's momentum caused it to roll over enough to somewhat hide the fact that it is now missing a large chunk of its head.

The corpse on the ground stares out from its one visible eye, and now appears much less threatening. In fact, in another time and place, this young woman's lifeless body could be that of Emily's sister - she was about the same size, coloration, and had very similar curly brown hair and dark eyes. It is a horrifying glimpse at mortality, to say the least.

Soon, the fire burns out, and all is again deathly silent.

In that numb moment after the shotgun went off, Murph’s heart was pounding so hard that he was afraid it might thump right out of his chest and go bouncing down the street. As he stared in disbelief at what had been a monster just a minute ago but was now just a dead girl missing half her head, he felt a bead of sweat trickle from his hairline, run down his forehead, and into his eyebrow… then realized that he was sweating all over despite the coolness of the autumn day…

Too hot to be October, he thought, desperately trying not to look at the body, now, but as yet unable to take his eyes off of it… her… He wanted to think that, maybe, it was just the flames that had engulfed the thing and his proximity when Jake’s Molotov hit the thing… just a girl…… as it charged them from the alley. That thought was dashed, though, when, as Murph lifted a hand to mop the sweat from his brow, the heat turned to a sickening clamminess that reached to his core and made him want to throw up. The sweats had less to do with the temperature and much more to do with the realization of what had just transpired in the horrifying seconds that had just passed.

We just burnt and blew away a teenage kid! A shuddering breath, sounding as unsteady as his knees suddenly felt, blew past his lips as he finally allowed the Browning’s barrel to track away from the smoldering corpse…

Correction, Sergeant; you just eliminated a threat! That ain’t no kid… Might’ve been a girl once… but now… just a…
“Don’t say zombie,” Murph whispered. Another quivering breath passed his lips trying to replace the one he’d just blown out but, halfway down, it met the acidic spout of bile, bourbon, and Red Bull that was working its way up his throat. The mechanic gagged, covering his mouth and nose with his freehand as he scrunched his eyes shut, choked back the imminent emptying of his stomach, and, at last, forced himself to back away from the horror of what his mind didn’t want to believe his eyes were seeing…

Even as Murph turned his back on the thing, part of him wanted to look back… see if it had maybe changed… but, somewhere inside, he found the determination not to and, opening his eyes, set them skimming the street to find where the other survivors had ended up. One by one, he framed them in his sight and offered each a silent nod as he got his feet to work and made his way to join back up with them… Amber… Alaster… Emily… Jake… and… Mac… I heard someone call him Mac, didn’t I?.. Everybody’s still standing, anyway… looking about as freaked out as I feel but still standing… Good.
“Everybody okay?” he managed to ask, scanning their faces again as he got closer and, maybe, spending a second or two longer dwelling on Emily’s than he’d intended… He blinked to snap himself out of it and glanced back over his shoulder to where the ‘don’t call it a zombie’ lay beyond the debris in the street… Coulda been sisters, he thought, recalling what was left of the creature’s face and wishing he hadn’t… He pumped the empty shell from the shotgun and swallowed another lump in his throat before his eyes swung back around to take in the party again.

With fingers that might have been shaking just a bit, Murph fished a cigarette from his pocket and poked it between his lips but didn’t light it… he blinked at Emily again… squinted a little at Jake… and then let his gaze move on to the squad car that had been the last ‘checkpoint’ he’d designated before that thing charged out of the alley at them. “C’mon,” he said, motivating his feet towards the CPD cruiser, “let’s see if we can find anything of use in that wreck and then get movin’ again… Don’t wanna stay in one place out in the open for too long, I guess…”

((OOC: Okay, pretty much just a ‘reactionary’ bit and a ‘let’s keep movin’ bit from Murph, here… The plan, as far as he’s concerned, is to search the squad car, grab whatever might be useful (ammo, weaponry, etc) and then reform ranks and toddle off towards Save Rite… plenty of room for interjections, suggested changes to the gameplan, etc… backposts and such as necessary))…

WHOOSH!

Then the unmistakable sound of a shotgun blast. Mac was frozen in place, shaking from head to toe. Even after Murph checked with every body to make sure they were ok to move, Mac was still stationary for a time.

Then he suddenly realized that his arms were still holding his gun up, shaking and tired, though they were. Finally he relaxed, relatively speaking, his stance.

To let them know he was ok to move, he let loose a bit of gallows humor by saying, "Well, mental note to self: Head shots work, fire, not so well."

With that he took up his position in the group, readying himself for the next freak to come along.

"Ready when you are, Murph."

Murph said, “C’mon", motivating his feet towards the CPD cruiser, “let’s see if we can find anything of use in that wreck and then get movin’ again… Don’t wanna stay in one place out in the open for too long, I guess…”

Mac wanted to say 'Nice Shot' but Murph's facial expression and gagging episode told him it wouldn't have been welcome.

Emily paused for a second, then stepped foreword with him, but cast a look over her shoulder at Alaster.

"Not to be rude... I know I fell apart a bit, but I'm not a cripple. I don't need someone holding my hand because they think I'm weak, because I may be a worry-wart, but I am not deffensless. Please, leave me to take care of myself, or you'll see exactly what I'm capable of."

With that, she faced foreward again and took a deep breath to steady herself, extremely glad she didn't have a tickle in the back of her throat.

"I-" Alaster had began to reply to Emily but she had turned away before he could retort. Besides she was right, he couldnt hold her hand throughout this event. She was a big girl and could handle herself "Im sorry" Alaster had mumbled before continuing on.

Murph was nearing the car still a bit shaken up about the zombie. And that look on his face if i hadn't of known I'd have said he knew her.

Alaster caught up to Murph and patted him on the shoulder. "Hey i need to talk to you over here." Alaster motioned to an area a couple feet away from the Police Cruiser. "Don't worry they can handle themselves with an empty car."

(predicting a positve response)

"You don't have to continue being strong. I saw the way that whole ordeal shook you up and its alright to say hold on a minute or ask someone to take the lead you need a breather. We all gotta act on our strengths and we all have a leadership quality about us. So why dont you let me take the gun I'll take the lead and you can be close to Emily. I've seen the way you look at her man although it may not be a romance you are looking for theres something there thats more than just friendship."

“Head shots work,” Murph heard Mac’s voice behind him, “Fire. Not so well.

Ready when you are, Murph.”

“The fire hurt it,” Murph answered numbly, his gaze sliding sideways but not quite making it all the way around to find the bounty-hunter, “It just didn’t cook it enough before I shot her…” He blinked and turned his eyes back towards the squad car, “…it,” he corrected, resting the shotgun against his shoulder. “I don’t think sh… it liked daylight much, either… Hesitated for a second when it came out of the shadows…”

A few more steps passed by and the mechanic heard Alaster and Emily’s voices behind him. He couldn’t hear the words, really, just murmurings… tone… inflection… that kind of thing… and honestly, Tommy Murphy could give two craps about what they were saying, but, at that moment, it was preferable to what was looping in his head so he let himself listen for a second, lowering the shotgun into a ready position again as his eyes swept the streets and re-checked the car’s windows to make absolutely sure he couldn’t see anything moving in there as he led these people closer and closer. In those last few yards, the Browning was snugged to his shoulder and his stance lowered just a bit… the still unlit cigarette rolled from one corner of his mouth to the other, and Murph and the shotgun were all set to get up close and personal with the squad car windows when he realized the chatter behind him had died down and replaced by footsteps that were moving faster than the others… He had already halted his own progress and was in the midst of turning when a hand landed on his shoulder… Murphy tensed from head to toe for an instant, grimaced when he fought the instinct to bring the shotgun the rest of the way up, then relaxed enough to finish turning and take in the younger man through narrowed eyes.

"Hey, I need to talk to you over here," Alaster said, motioning to an area a couple feet away from the Police Cruiser.

Murph’s gaze flicked to the suggested area, slid back to Alaster, and then past him to the others who were still a few feet back…and softened a bit.

“Don't worry they can handle themselves with an empty car.”

Murph rested the gun again, held up a hand motioning for the others to stop… “Hold up, folks,” he said, still flat and numb, “Please.”

((Please?))

“Man,” he sighed, his eyes sliding back to Alaster, “we’ve all ate, slept, and s*** in the same one room for ten days. Don’t look like we’re gonna be changing that much anytime real soon, either. There ain’t no need for privacy. Talk to me here.”

((Assuming Alaster proceeds as posted… minor liberties taken with Alaster’s actions if that’s okay…))

“You don't have to continue being strong,” Alaster started…

The cigarette rolled across Murph’s lips again and he might have blinked.

“...I saw the way that whole ordeal shook you up,” the carpenter continued, “and it’s alright to say ‘hold on a minute’ or ask someone to take the lead when you need a breather….”

Murph blinked again, and offered a faint nod before he let go of the shotgun with one hand to retrieve a lighter from his pocket. He lit the smoke, put the lighter back, took hold of the shotgun again, and lifted his eyes to meet Alaster’s once more, but said nothing.

“We all gotta act on our strengths and we all have a leadership quality about us. So why don’t you let me take the gun? I'll take the lead and you can be close to Emily,” Alaster’s voice lowered a bit, then, and he leaned in a bit closer. “I've seen the way you look at her, man,” he almost whispered, “although it may not be a romance you are looking for, there’s something there that’s more than just friendship.”

Murph took a long drag on the cigarette. Held the smoke in his lungs as he let his gaze let go of Alaster and pan across the others… his eyes stopped on Emily and he blew the smoke out through his nose, took another drag, and returned his attentions to Alaster.

“Strong, huh?” he cracked a staid smile, “You think that’s what this is all about? Me trying to be strong? Show everybody I got a pair?” The smile broke into a humorless chuckle as he plucked the cigarette from between his lips. “You got it all wrong, Alaster… I ain’t strong… I ain’t trying to be strong… In fact, I’m scared as friggin’ hell! Right now, I’m just trying to keep breathin’ and make sure the rest of you do the same cuz you were all crazy enough to follow me...”

He shook his head, taking another drag on the cigarette and looking past the carpenter at the others. “You wanna know why I decided to come up here, in the first place,” he asked, not waiting for an answer, “Because I was sick and tired of wasting away in the dark and, honestly, I thought whatever happened up here had to be over by now… for good, bad, or ugly, I figured it had to be… Hell, how long can craziness like that last, right?... So, thinking I’d come up here and find nothing, I figured why not try and get the girl some help if I could… But, guess what? Nothing turned into this…” Murph snorted and took a final drag on the cigarette, his eyes scouring the scene around them, before he flicked the still burning butt away and threw his hands up in exasperation. He gestured to the corpse they’d left in the street with the shotgun; “Friggin’ turned into that!”

He turned as if he was about to walk away and, in fact, did make about two strides before he whirled around, glowering at the carpenter. “And what the hell are you talking about, anyway?! Spend time with Emily… something more than friendship?!?!

I look at her the way I do cuz I’m wondering whether she’s gonna die from starving in the basement at Patty’s or from all the blood she’s coughing up! The last friggin thing I’m thinking about is romance or friendship… especially with a girl that’s young enough to be my baby sister…” Murph was in Alaster’s face, now, jabbing a finger at the younger man for emphasis. “I don’t know that girl any better than I know you, man,” his finger veered from Alaster to indicate the zombie corpse, “or any better than that girl who’s head I just blew off!”

You called it a girl…
Murph swallowed hard, then, gritting his teeth and doing his very best not to succumb to the urge to just pop Alaster in the mouth and call it end of discussion. He managed to back away from the younger man, at least, and get both hands back on the shotgun to keep them from going anywhere else.

“Did you see it, Alaster?” Tommy Murphy asked after a moment. “I mean, did you get a really good look at what that thing looked like before Hammo’s firebomb hit it?” He didn’t wait for an answer to this, either. “Neither did I! But you know what? I got a good g**damn up close look at it after it stopped twitching, man, and I didn’t see no friggin’ monster! I saw a g**damn girl! A girl who looked enough like her,” he practically growled these words, his finger shooting over Alaster’s shoulder to point at Emily, “that it could’ve been her sister for all I know!

That’s why I’m upset, you friggin’ moron! That’s why I looked at her the way I did! That’s why I look at all of you the way I do! That’s why…”

Murph was shaking, now, and his eyes felt like they were on fire… and he was afraid that if he said anymore he’d either beat Alaster stupid or put the shotgun in his own mouth and eat the next round personally… “Stop tryin’ to get in my head,” he managed to snarl out as he turned and stomped towards the cruiser, “shut your mouth and get your a** back in formation…”

((OOC: Like I said, fluff for the most part… just good old fashion RP goodness… Murph’s definitely not in any mood to have heart-to-hearts, atm… Regardless of the immediate actions of the others, he’ll “sweep and clear” the squad car and proceed with his own plan… He’ll do his best, for a while, not to look at the rest of them, either… particularly avoiding eye contact with Alaster and (considering that he was angered in to saying what he said/admitted about that zombie) Emily...))