The man outside had proclaimed, in a voice that was slowly becoming naggingly familiar, that he was not going to eat them. Well… he had recited a bible verse that at least indicated that he wasn’t. When he stepped inside the hardware store the tiny smile that he spread across her lips when Tom had laughed at her comment slipped off her face.

Father Ted… God do you have a sense of humor…
Murph was stepping forward to go through the introductions, and go over their situation. When Murph ticked over her name she offered the briefest of nods to the man holding the elephant gun. The next moment she turned on her heel, returning back to where Mac was laying in a puddle of his own blood.

She pushed back the tears that stung against her eyelids as best she could and looked at Emily when she came to inspect the wound and offer whatever assistance she could to the man. “Let me know if you need any help… my hands are relatively steady…”

One of her hands, still stained with Mac’s blood, rose to a plane level with the ground, it shook a little bit but not enough to prevent her from working.

Truly the tears trying to impair her vision were a bigger threat all things considered. Her emotions were so shattered at this point she wasn’t even sure what they were for; Anger? Fear? Grief?

Focus Amber… focus and help Emily out. Just avoid the good Father as much as you can. Avoid him and keep your mouth shut, no need to cause any hassles.

God… I need Joshua. I’ll play nice with the stupid Father if you’ll just promise me that Joshua is okay… that he isn’t laying like Mac… this isn’t how it is supposed to go…

This wasn’t how my life was supposed to go. Why? Why did it all have to go like this!!?

God where is my son!?
The image of that little toddler from that movie flashed through her mind, he tottered down the hall with the syringe in his hand calling for his mother. Her hand began to shake a bit more, and she quickly clamped it shut into a fist, her eyes clenching tightly at the same time, spilling a few tears.

“No…” she groaned a little. Behind her she heard Tom still talking, and took a deep breath.

It’s not over yet…

Sure about that?
She shook her head at the voice in her head. Slowly her dark eyes reopened and she looked at Emily. “Let’s get to work then…”

October 26, 2014
Ace Hardware - 1:50 PM

Emily shook her head at the various discussions taking place. "Murph," she stated, "he needs to be stitched up before he goes anywhere. Otherwise, there's a good chance Amber's work will be for nothing, and he'll die anyway."

He might die no matter what, the thought occured, but Emily ignored it.

Alaster was apologizing, like it hadn't been a group decision to not murder Jake the moment he was hurt, and like it was his personal fault that she'd been hurt. "Forget it," she snapped, a bit harsher than she had intended. Still, couldn't the man see that there were more pressing issues right now?

Some preacher (religious fanatic?) had come to join them, but Emily ignored him in the face of her task. He had shot zombies, that was good enough for her right now. Amber offered help, which the med student gladly accepted.

"Help me prop his upper body up a bit while I work, so that gravity can work with us, not against us."

Once that was done, Emily began digging in her pack, producing iodine, bandages, scissors, and a needle and thread. The next step was to cut Mac's shirt back and carefully remove Amber's field dressing, which predictably began to weep. After that was done, the med student began carefully cleaned the entire wound with the iodine.

She shuddered at the sight within - Mac would have to be stitched up to prevent fatal blood loss, but fully closing a wound of this size worried her, as well - there was an excellent chance that the anaerobic bacteria whould thrive and create a wonderful pocket of infection. Still, this was his only chance.

He had been lucky, if you could call it that - the axe had barely missed the major blood vessels. Emily knew that this would require more than one layer of stitches - the deeper tissue would have to be repaired before the skin could be pulled together.

After the first couple of thrusts of the needle within his chest, Mac groaned. Emily opened her pack again and pulled out a vial and a syringe, then gave the bounty hunter a measured injection. He visibly relaxed.

"Morpheine," she stated simply. "If he fights, it'll be worse."

With that, she resumed her work.

**********************

It took the med student a good forty-five minutes to stitch and bind the wound, time that the rest of the party spent nervously watching either her efforts or the streets. Finally, Emily administered another injection - this one, penecillin - and proclaimed the job to be finihed. She wasn't entirely happy; the stitches were much too large and sloppy compared to those of a real surgeon. Mac would have a doozy of a scar, provided that he survived.

Still, she was proud of her work, and was reasonably sure that, as long as he took it relatively easy for a bit (and didn't get an infection), that Mac would live.

Amber had helped Emily sit Mac up, cushioning his body with her own as she held him still and offered a palm as a makeshift shelf for the ‘doc’ when she needed it. As she sat there curled up tightly around the man to keep him still her mind wandered off.

It bounced around her past, often pausing only long enough to curse her for her decisions. Now and then it would remind her that those decisions, as bad as they often were, had brought her Joshua, and that they were therefore worth it. But in the darkest corners of her mind it screamed out in response that she didn’t have her son now, so what was the point of it all?

It bounced around the present as well. The guilty feeling of relief she had that Emily had had the sense to bring morphine and that she didn’t have to divulge the presence of her own stash of goodies. She thought about how dirty she was, especially as Mac’s blood soaked through her clothes and slid against her bare skin. Thoughts were bounced over all of those with her as well, wondering what they were like before all of this had happened, how they were holding up (hopefully better than she was), how they would all end… Special thought was given to the latest member. She could still hear her grandmother’s voice reciting his ‘message.’ Every bible quote she overheard him parrot to one of the others while the doctor worked dropped a bucket into a deep well inside of her. Each time the bucket was pulled up it was soaked in dark angry bile. The feeling was strange, but somehow refreshing as well.

Back in the bar she had been numb, the reality of what was going on in the city had not sunk in. It was like being cut with a very sharp knife, you could see it go into your skin, you could see the blood beading up along the edges, but it would not hurt until later. Leaving the bar had been like pulling that blade from her arm and running it under cold water. The pain had hit her hard and suddenly. It had been so overwhelming that it had turned off most other emotions. Terror had been running her body and her mind for hours now. Finally feeling some anger, even if it was somewhat misdirected, was a relief and she grabbed onto it like a lifeline.

Finally Emily finished her work. Amber gave her a soft smile, “Nice job Emily… he’ll do much better now.” She then turned her eyes to Tom, who had gathered up a wheel barrow by now to cart Mac around in.

“Tom… we’re ready for that now, if you could help us get him up and into it. I think my a** fell asleep on this hard tile, going to take me a moment to get these legs really moving…”

She let them take Mac off of her and stretched out her legs a little before standing up and watching them put Mac carefully into the wheelbarrow. When that was done and they had started pulling everything together for their next stop she moved closer to Tom and opened up conversation with him again.

“Sorry about your shirt...” she said, glancing down at herself. She was simply covered in blood, most of it slowly drying to a dark brown now. “Even the little tool belt wouldn’t help make it sexy now I’m afraid…”

Tom's gaze followed Amber's and he looked at the blood-soaked Dawson's shirt wrapped around her lithe frame. "I don't think the tool belt would've been what made it sexy, anyway," he said, smiling softly as his eyes lifted and his hand reached out to brush fingers across her cheek...

With a small smile she nodded to him, “Smooth talker…”

But it seemed to work as she stepped into the short distance between them. Her fingers rested on his arm lightly and she lowered her eyes so he could barely see them through the lines of her dark lashes.

“Tom…” her voice dropped to a whisper just for him. “I know the Father helped us out there, maybe saved our lives… I know he’s got a nice bit of hardware resting under his arm there that we can use… I know that moving in numbers is probably best… and I know I don’t have it in me to turn anyone away right now. But… honestly?” whatever personal space he had left she moved into easily then, “Honestly Tom, I’m just trying to live right now. I’m trying to find things worth living for. The last thing I need right now is him telling me how I should be living.”

Her eyes rose up to his then. The dark pools did not flicker with the sexy flirtatious gleam he had seen at the bar so many nights, nor did they stare at him with the flat desperation they had been giving him for days now, instead they flashed with something he had never seen before: anger. “And I wanted you to know that if he tries… if he tries he’ll be eating my fist.”

The firmness in her voice matched the anger flashing in her eyes.

October 26, 2014
Treasure Island Foods - 2:00 PM

The survivors load Mac (somewhat unceremoniously) into a wheelbarrow, gather their belongings, and move out of the Ace hardware. It is more difficult maneuvering the wheelbarrow than anyone had orignially anticipated; broken glass and the corpses of the infected lay in the way. Murph is forced to drag one of the bloodied, stiffened bodies far enough from the door to allow access for the makeshift transport.

As he does so, the mechanic tries to not look at the fixed, lifeless face of what had recently been a young man in his twenties. No longer driven by whatever force motivated the murderious actions of the zombies, the body simply looks gaunt and tired.

Interestingly, you realize that the body of your former companion, Jake, is not among the dead here. Does he still live? The thought of his axe attack compels more than one nervous glance over a shoulder.

Nothing molests the group in the trip across the street, and soon, you find your way past the couple of abandoned vehincles inthe parking lot to the front of the store itself.

It would seem that the survivors will be three for three in attempts to easily enter abandoned businesses. However, while the drug and harware stores were unlocked, the reason this grocery is so easily accessible is that most of the plate glass storefront has been shattered out. Shopping carts are scattered about - some upright, some capsized, still others mangled and crushed.

A stench is wafting from the inside of the store, but the source of the odor - from decomposing meat, seafood, and produce, or from something more sinister - is not readily apparent.

Much like the stores across the street, it is obvious that there is no electrity here, though the store itself is not so stuffy due to the sudden "ventilation additions".

The mechanic shouldered his shotgun and extended a hand when the Reverend was close enough to accept it. “Tom Murphy,” he said by way of introduction. Even as the Reverend reached to accept the proffered hand, Murph continued… “Amber,” he said, tipping his head back to indicate the dark haired woman who stood behind him, “The kid’s name is Alaster, the Doc’s Emily, and the Doc’s patient is called Mac.

I appreciate the assist, Father,” Murph offered a somewhat grim smile as he shook the older man’s hand, “Figure we’d have been toast if you hadn’t shown up.”

Teddy clasped the man's hand in his own. It had been a while since he had seen another human, let alone shaken their hand. It was good to feel that warmth again.

"Father Theodore Gregory, though I trust a man with a good catholic name like that is already familiar with my work." He said, a small grin cutting across his bearded face. "And it was merely God's will I arrived when I did, your thanks is unnecessary."

Theodore Gregory? Murph’s brow furrowed for an instant as his mind connected the familiarity of the face with the name the stout, white-haired man had just offered, Father Ted? No s#!^!
“Right,” Murph nodded, offering an almost familiar smile, “Father Ted… the preacher from TV… I thought I recognized you…”

Murph let go of the televangelist’s hand then and cast a quick glance over his shoulder as he heard Amber and Emily prepping to take care of Mac’s wound, then, just as quickly, returned his attentions to the Father after a brief scan of the street beyond the broken window.

“Sorry to say, Father,” Murph shrugged, “Despite the catholic name and upbringin’, I ain’t much the devout parishioner… Hell, I ain’t been to church in probably five years or better… Seen ya on cable in the middle of the night more than once, though…”

Ted paused a moment before continuing, "Now tell me son, just how were you planning on saving these poor unfortunate souls?"

Murph flicked another glance over his shoulder then, the faint smile all but disappearing from his features, and studied the others for a long moment… How was I planning on saving them?.. How was I planning on saving them?... The mechanic’s brow furrowed a bit and his mouth twisted into a contemplative scowl as he turned the question (in all the ways it could be asked) over in his mind… See what happens when you volunteer for s#!^? You volunteer and, then, all the sudden, the s#!^ you volunteered for is your job… So, Sarge… how are you planning on saving these poor, unfortunate souls? You even have a plan? I mean, you’ve done great so far, right? Only about three hours out of the basement and you’ve got one worse than dead, another with a friggin’ axe wound to the chest, and you’re running through ammo and options…
The mechanic sighed, then, and rubbed at the back of his neck as if to ease a knot of tension that had tied itself there; “To be honest, Father… I ain’t entirely sure.” He forced himself to meet the reverend’s eyes again, abandoning his contemplation of the others. “We’ve only been outside for a couple of hours,” he started to explain, “and were gonna see if we couldn’t hole up at Wrigley and come up with a better plan from there. Thing is, the Doc, there’s got pneumonia, so before we could think about digging in, we had to do somethin’ about getting’ her medicated… The Save Right next door was the closest place to do that, so…” the mechanic shrugged, foregoing the play-by-play, “… here we are.

Things didn’t quite work out the way I was hopin’, as I’m sure you can see and, given the way things are now, I’m kind of leanin’ towards makin’ for the harbor, now, instead of the stadium. The way I figure it, we’re gonna get our man stitched up, make a run for some provisions,” he nodded towards the grocery store, “and then haul our a**es down to Belmont. I’m hopin’ that there’s still a decent sized boat or two, there… Figured I’d put ‘em all on board, set out to open water, and, at least keep the lake between us and those things until we could figure somethin’ better…”

The preacher man didn’t say anything in the pause that followed Murph’s summary; he just stood there, nodding his head and grinning that little grin as if he was expecting the mechanic to say more… like he somehow knew that Murph had plans beyond what he had just spoken out loud and was waiting for the mechanic to divulge the rest before he said anything. A look of uncertainty (or was it secrecy… guilt?) flashed over Murph’s features and he glanced back at the others again, his gaze fixing on Amber as she cradled Mac to hold him still while Emily worked away with the needle…

You gonna tell him about that plan, Sarge? Tell him what you’re thinkin’ about doin’ once you’ve got them all safely hunkered down on that boat you’re dreamin’ of? Tell him what kind of suicide you’ve got in mind so you can try to save her soul or sanity or whatever?
…There was an almost imperceptible shake of his head, then, and a wistful smile that played on his lips as he forced his eyes away from Amber and back to Father Ted… No, he wasn’t going to tell anyone about that plan. Not just yet, anyway…

“Just workin’ on a wing and a prayer, right now, Father,” Murph shrugged again, hoping that the older man wouldn’t read anything more into it, and trying to turn the subject away from his plans. “How about you? What kind of plans do you have?”

Ted nodded slowly as Tom talked, not pushing him despite the obvious hesitation to reveal more. This was no time to take confession.

"My plan? My son my plan is God's plan. I have remained in the city seeking his goals for me, and he has led me to you in your time of need. When one gets to be my age, they stop doubting what is surely providence..." Ted trailed off a moment, thinking of the others he had tried to save. He had mistaken God's signs and led them to death. He would not move now if he was not absolutely certain it was God's will.

"A boat would perhaps be a wise idea, as I doubt these demons possess the faculties to pursue us across the water..." He grinned toward Murph, a twinkle in his eye, "...and this would not be the first time God has led man to escape a scourge by boat now would it?"

Ted shouldered his rifle and turned to the rest of the group as they gathered themselves up. Though he'd only just met them, Ted was reassured these people were the reason he had been in this city this day. What happened next was up to God.

Murph couldn’t help but offer Ted a grin in return; “No sir, I don’t suppose it would.” The mechanic’s head swiveled around to check on the progress Em and Amber had made, again, and estimated that they were probably close to getting Mac finished up. “Not sure we’ll find a boat big enough for the whole two-by-two thing, though,” he said, then, his gaze flicking to Ted before skimming the store to locate a wheelbarrow, “I’ll count us lucky if we find one that’ll sleep the bunch of us comfortably. Excuse me, Father.”

((OOC: The last bit of Amber’s last post fits in here… Murph’s fetched the wheelbarrow and come back to where the others are, other actions as posted by Meri and… picking up here)

“…And I wanted you to know that if he tries… if he tries he’ll be eating my fist.”

Murph arched a brow at that and the corners of his mouth hitched up into a small grin… Had someone get over-preachy with you before, huh, baby?… Something else from her past that he hadn’t had time to learn or figure out about her back in the real world, he figured... Hope I get to learn about it, sometime… He glanced over at where Father Ted stood, then back at Amber and offered a faint nod. “I think, right now, he’s probably more concerned that we live as opposed to how we go about doin’ it, Amber,” he said softly, “but I’ll keep that in mind and see what I can do about keepin’ things from gettin’ there, alright?”

Good to see some fire in your eyes again, he thought as he reached out a hand to touch her cheek, even if it is from bein’ pissed. You keep that fire, baby, and you keep livin’.
“You just stick close,” he said with a wink and a reassuring grin, “and we’ll get through all of this… Chuck E. Cheese, remember?”

He let his hand fall away, then, and turned to where the others had situated themselves around the wheelbarrow that was serving as Mac’s stretcher… “We ready, people,” he asked, nodding when the responses were all affirmative. Murph’s gaze panned toward the grocery store across the street, then, and he drew in a deep breath… “All right, then,” he said, slinging the SLP in order to free his hands as he moved towards a corpse that would block the wheelbarrow from reaching the door, “let’s move out…”

He reached down, trying not to look into the zombie’s face as he grabbed a hold of the blood and gore spattered sweater it wore because he knew it wouldn’t look like a zombie anymore… He couldn’t help but look, though… and couldn’t help but think of Jake, either, as he dragged the body aside… About the same age, I guess, this one and Jake… poor kid looks tired… Jesus… what’s goin’ on here? What the hell’s doin’ this to people?!… It took him a second to let go of the kid’s face, even after Murph let loose of the body, and when he did, his jaw clenched… Gotta get outta here… take that boat, point it north, and find us someplace in Canada where there ain’t no people for this to have happened to… His gaze swung back to the others then and he nodded for them to proceed. He moved to get the door open and hold it until the wheelbarrow was through and, as he watched the, file out of the hardware store and into the street, his eyes met Amber’s again… get Josh and just get outta here…
~*~*~*~*~*~

Outside of Treasure Island Foods, the party came to a halt and spurious glances were cast about at the sight and smell of the darkened store’s interior… it looked and smelled like hell or worse and every one of them was hoping that the stench was just from rotting food. Hunger had a way of boosting optimism like that, Murph supposed, because, despite the way the place looked and smelled and the things other than food that he knew could very well be waiting in there to greet them, he was more than ready to go in there and raid the shelves in order to fill the hole in his belly…

“Okay,” Murph almost whispered as he tore his eyes away from the murky aisles beyond the broken windows, “we make this quick… We go in, grab enough to get us through a few days or so, and get out… breathe through your mouths not your noses and the smell shouldn’t hit you too bad… keep it light, portable, and non-perishable…”

((OOC: Okay… Grugg and Eöl collab at the beginning… wrapping this post up there and figuring that we’re proceeding per the QA discussion re: raiding the store… if we need more info/coordination on that, let me know…))

October 26, 2014
Treasure Island Foods - 2:05 PM

Just a week and a half ago, Treasure Island had been a chic place to shop for groceries - it billed itself as the "most European supermarket" in America. Sure, you might have paid a little more to shop here, but many were happy to do so for the chance to obtain the highest quality ingredients for authentic ethnic cuisine. And hey, you could still get your Corn Pops and Cheetos in the same trip!

Now, the place was a mess. Broken glass, rotting meat, decomposing produce. With no power, the store appears quite dark further back inside. In short, this place looks far from safe. Unfortunately, starvation will kill a person just as surely as a murderous attack; the survivors have to eat.

Father Ted agrees to stand watch with the injured Emily over the still unconscious Mac (in his wheelbarrow). The trio moves to just inside the broken out windows so as to stay out of direct sight from the street, but in a position to flee quickly if need be.

Murph, Amber, and Alaster go over their "shopping list": canned goods, mostly - meats, vegetables, fruits. Some dry staples that will require minimal cooking - beans, rice, pasta. The plan is to splt up and rush through the grocery store, grabbing as much as possible in the least amount of time.

In retrospect, it is perhaps not the wisest plan they could have come up with.

The store is filled with shadows, prompting Mac's flashlights to be used to examine labels. Two or three entire sections of shelves are turned over, causing additonal difficulty in mavigating the store. The stench is much worse inside; clouds of flying insects surround especially the meat and produce sections, but there are multiple bloody spots on the floor, as well as a half dozen corpses scattered throuhout the building.

It is Amber who, while grabbing canned meats, spots the movement first. Off to her right, up high. The barmaid calls out a warning - a warning that possibly saves Alaster's life. The carpenter looks up in time to see a shape lunge from atop one of the shelf units - a shape that was once human, but as it goes airborne, the identity is reveled by the unearthly shriek that these creatures so love to emit.

Unable to stop the attack altogether, Alaster is able to sidestep the blow somewhat, and while he is knocked back into the shelving, he does not go down.

Naturally, the shriek does not go unanswered - several shrieks sound in reply from the stockroom in the back of the store. Another comes from the manager's office at the front of the store, frighteningly near the location of Ted, Emily, and Mac.

Alaster is locked in deadly combat. The rest of you have moments before the attack comes.

Amber had liked the way that her threat to punch the priest had made Murph smile. He hadn’t gotten angry, nor did he seem tired of her complaints, best of all he had not tried to talk her out of her anger, instead he had smiled at her, touched her and told her, again that he would work to make it work out.

As they marched over to the next store and went through a few quick instructions she wondered if he would have been this perfect if the world had not been falling apart around them.

Not that it mattered in the end, she mused, because it was falling apart.

She held onto the little fire of anger she felt toward the priest and the warmth that tingled deep inside of her whenever Tom threw one of her smiles at her when they had walked into the grocery store. As the glass crunched under her thin shoes, and the bodies, the blood and shadows only got worse, however it became harder and harder to hold onto those warm feelings.

Amber moved down the aisles as quickly as she dared, reaching out to grab at cans and boxes that seemed to be good choices given their situation as she went, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness as she searched for the grouping of canned meats that should be down this aisle if the blood stained sign was correct.

Finally she spotted what she had been looking for just ahead. The familiar labels tucked into the shadows: oblong blue cans with large yellow letters spelling ‘SPAM’, smaller cans wrapped in white paper with little red devils dancing along their sides, the varying shades and sizes of the cans of tuna and salmon, and mixed in with these familiar labels were others from Europe that added to the rainbow of wrappers but would all no doubt feed them. But they were fully in the darkness, she would have to step into that darkness in order to get them.

For a moment she froze there, unable to fathom the thought of stepping completely into the dark.

You only have a few precious moments in here Amber… step forward, grab some cans and get out… it isn’t safe here…

I know it isn’t safe!! That’s why I don’t want to go…
Around her she could hear the other’s though, pilfering the shelves and realized she could not face them if she came back with nothing. Taking a deep breath of air while still in the slight dim as if the air with some light in it were somehow less tainted than the air she was about to walk into she took those few precarious steps toward the meats.

With one strap propped on her shoulder she opened the bag wide with that arm and with the other simply began grasping at items and shoving them into the dark hole. Her heart pounded as she did and she desperately tried to turn herself off, to let herself wander into autopilot for the next few minutes, even if that meant splashing the warm feelings Tom and Father Ted had begun to fan with cold water.

Numbness was starting to work its way into her cells when she reached up, absently reaching for a glass jar of caviar on the top shelf of all things when she catches sight of something dark moving in the shadows above her. The next instant any numbness she had felt was gone as a surge of adrenaline flash floods her system. In the darkness it turns into a shrill scream of terror. The shadow disappears out of sight, but the crash and the scrams from the next aisle leave little doubt about where it went. More screams rise out of the shadows, most of them lacking the element of humanity hers had held.

Oh God! The shadows… the shadows are going to eat me! I knew it… I knew it… they already ate Joshua and now they want me…
The surge of adrenaline would not allow her to stay fixed in the shadows for long though. Her hand dropped to curl around her bag as if it could protect her somehow. The glass jar of caviar tipped off the shelf as she did and crashed to the floor, breaking and releasing its salty contents across the floor. Amber paid it no mind and instead turned back toward where the light was and ran.

((Goal: Run as quickly as she can into the street. I would assume she shoved the hatchet into her bag when she began stuffing it with food, the crow bar is still attached to the back of the bag with duct tape but honestly if something were to try to attack her before she gets out to the street either the hatchet or a heavy can (whichever she grabs first) would be like likely means of defense. Also she's at least temporarily not giving much of a care for anyone else right now))

"Whoa, what the hell?" That scream came from the top shelf. D*** I barely moved out of the way.

Alaster heard more screams from the back of the store as Alaster pulled out his bat. And then he heard glass breaking from an aisle over.

"Amber?" No reply "Amber you okay over there?" Alaster called out in a medium voice as he rounded on the other zombie. Shuffling of feet quickly and slowly getting fainter. "D**** Amber I might need you here and you are running off." Alaster said as he took a large swing at the approaching zombie. "I just need to get out of here before the rest of them get up here. I can't take em' all and especially not in a darkened aisle. C'mon Alaster think. THINK!"

((Alaster is swinging atthe zombie trying to take it out as fast as possible. Wasting a +1 for attack rolls.))

With Emily keeping watch over Mac just inside the store and Father Ted standing guard over them both, Murph offered a quick nod to Alaster and Amber (whom he really wished he would have tried to talk into staying up front with the others) before turning his eyes on the ever-darkening depths of the wrecked and rancid Treasure Island. “Okay,” he breathed, unzipping the Cubs pack, pulling Amber’s purse from it’s interior, and readying both containers to accept the boxes and cans they hoped to salvage from the shelves, “let’s make this quick… grab it and go, right?” There was another, momentary glance at Alaster (who nodded) and Amber (who tried her best to smile and nod and not think about the shadows that clung to the stores guts)… That’s it… try not to think about it, baby… Murph thought, offering her a quick smile in return as, without another word, he got his feet to move him into the aisles and tried to keep the thoughts that tormented him at bay, too.

I dunno, Sarge… You sure this is Purgatory and not Hell? Sure looks and smells like Hell in here…

Yeah, yeah… Shhh… I’m tryin’ to listen…
Shushing his own mind into silence seemed to work for a time. As he worked his way up the aisles, hurriedly shoving cans and boxes into both pack and purse without more than a passing glance at what the labels said the contents might be, his inner voice was quiet and his ears keen on the sounds coming from the other aisles… The tentative footsteps, the muffled scrapes and clunks as items were taken from shelves and secured in packs, and, once or twice he even thought he heard someone’s heart pounding but, when he listened closer, he couldn’t be entirely sure that it wasn’t his own… either way, with Amber and Alaster out of sight, those sounds made him feel a tiny bit better about not being able to put eyes on them.

Not so much that he got complacent about it, though. In situations like this, simply hearing what was going on was a far cry from being able to see, and, when Amber’s horrified scream tore through the dark, fetid air of the grocery, Murph cursed himself for not having insisted that all three of them stay together in the same aisle. He cursed aloud, having already dropped the can he was holding and bolting for the next intersecting aisle, when an all too familiar inhuman wail cut the air behind Amber’s scream… “Dammit,” he growled, situating his packs and reaching for the machete as he ran, “Everybody out!”

“Whoa,” Alaster’s voice, now, “what the hell?”

He fleetingly caught the sound of light and fast footsteps beating a hasty retreat to the front of the store… Good girl! Run!… Then, as that God-awful zombie howl ended with a powerful thunk and shaking of shelving units as bodies were slammed into them… Crap! Al! …and more unearthly screams rose in answer to that first one, Murph sprinted harder, hoping to get to Alaster and out of the store with the rest of the party before those things did. Murph was glad to see Alaster standing when he rounded the corner into the aisle where the carpenter had been foraging… not so glad to see him squaring off with the zombie…

“S#!^, kid,” Murph said, coming into the aisle a step or two behind the younger man with his machete in hand, “Don’t play with the f***in’ thing! Drop it and let’s go!!!”

((OOC: M’kay… I’m thinking we drop this first zombie because we kind of have to, so, Murph will assist Alaster with this one, hoping to take it down long enough to haul a$$ up front (cut it off at the knees with the machete, beat it unconscious with the bat, or whatever)… Once there, if Ted, Mac, and Emily haven’t already evacuated the store, Murph will assist there, too…))

"Excuse me, Father."
Ted nodded as Tom took his leave of the conversation, returning to the young lady he had introduced as Amber. They seemed to have a strong bond that much was obvious, much closer than either of them seemed to be to the rest of the group. Ted resolved to keep an eye on the pair of them, God had brought him here to provide for this people, whether it be through fire support or moral guidance. Ted would bring his new flock into God's good graces, and in return they would all recieve His salvation.

The mechanic had had a plan, and though he had only just met him, Teddy knew God wanted him to follow this man. In trying times past God had chosen many to speak as his prophet, and if there was any reason for these people to have survived other than divine providence Teddy could not fathom it. Millenia before God had sheltered the faithful within a great ark, and for all the church's talk of the need to move forward, it appeared God was still as traditional as Ted.

The wounded one, Mac, had been loaded into a wheelbarrow, and the group made their way across the road to Treasure Island. A familiar rumbling in his stomach reminded Ted of his burning hunger. He had become so distracted in the action he had forgotten why he had come to this area in the first place. God truly does work in mysterious ways. Teddy checked Maria, ensuring she was loaded. Where God’s next test would come he could not know, though he imagined it would be sooner rather than later. He would not allow further harm to come to his charges, he, nay God, would not allow it. He had already lost so many. He would not fail again.

The sickly girl slowed upon entering the grocery, settling down alongside the wheelbarrow that so gracefully carried their unconscious friend. Tom, Amber and Alaster quickly set about amongst the shelves, searching for easy to carry supplies to sustain them on their trips to the docks. Though Ted’s hunger gnawed at him, he reassured himself the few minutes he would have to wait before eating would surely not kill him. God would provide him the strength to stand sentry a little while longer.

”Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” he spoke to himself. Isaiah 41:10. The good book comforted him once again. God’s words filled him with a new strength, and he turned to comfort the young girl (Emily? Was that her name?) when a loud clattering sound caught his attention. Before he could see the cause of the noise, the unnatural shriek of the damned identified the culprit. The next shriek concerned him more however, as it seemed to come from right beside him, echoing out of a doorway further along the front of the store.

Ted wheeled about towards the new noise, drawing his ivory inlaid rifle up to his shoulder. His thoughts turned to those he was protecting. There was no way he could outrun these abominations pushing that wheelbarrow, and in her current state he doubted the girl would be able to escape. The others needed to get back here, quickly.

”EVERYBODY OUT!”
The call echoed from the aisles, echoed by a terrifying symphony of shrieks from the rear of the store. Ted turned to Emily, keeping one eye on the doorway the closest shriek had come from.

”Child, if you have strength in you yet, take hold of our downed friend and make your way toward the exit. Tom will be here soon…”, he trailed off a moment before continuing, ”…I will ensure nothing follows you.”
Teddy pulled Maria back to a firing position, hoping he would be able to provide enough time for Tom and the others to return and ensure a safe escape.

” The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” He heard himself mutter as his finger slid onto the trigger. ”The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”
He would not fail God again. He would not fail these people. He would redeem himself.

(OOC: Teddy will blow the ever loving s*** out of anything that isn’t one of the group that comes through the store. He’s immediately focussed on the one from the “manager’s office” but one that’s dealt with he’ll cover to rest of the group as they make their way out. He’s not leaving until everyone’s out of the store, though he’ll try to convince Murph of Alaster to cover the rest as they escape.)

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh—but smile no more.

October 26, 2014
Treasure Island Foods - 2:15 PM

Amber's teuous grasp on sanity finally slips, and she flees Treasure Island in abject terror, heedless of anything but escaping the shadows.

She steps down hard on a jutting piece of glass, but her panis is such that she does not notice the broken shard not embedded in her foot - flight is all that occupies her mind. Once out of the store, she turns north, so as to avoid any shadows cast by the buildings, and flees down the middle of the street.

Meanwhile, Alaster is locked in melee. Forgoing his gun, he connects with a solid swing from his bat, which staggers the zombie, but does not kill it. Fortunately, Murph is there in moments; the mechanic levels his shotgun at the zombie's head and pulls the trigger. The SLP deals frightful damage, essentially elimintaing the monster's head. The two survivors run for the front of the store.

Two zombies exit the manager's office and rush towards Father Ted and his two wounded charges. These are more agile than big African game ever dreamt of being; he fires the Holland & Holland rifle, but succeeds only in blowing a gaping hole out of a counter. At the priest's beckoning, Emily attempts to move the wheelbarrow, but the front tire hits a hole and sends Mac's unresponsive form sliding to the ground. With a look of panic on her own face, Emily breathes, "sorry, Father," and starts to run, herself... leaving both the priest and the wounded man behind.

The shrieks from the back of the store continue, but oddly, they do not grow any closer. Momentarily, you can hear thumping, splintering sounds, and it becomes more clear as to why - it would appear that the monsters are
locked in the stockroom. Perhaps this will give the survivors a chance to flee.

Murph calls out for Amber, but at that moment, a new shriek pierces the air as another zombie leaps from a shelf above in an attampt to pounce on the mechanic! Murph manages to avoid the attack, and even attempt a point blank shot in return, but misses, sending dry cereal raining to the floor beneath. Alaster is unable to reach the zombie in the narrow isle, and must impotently watch the fight unfold.

The mechanic smashes with the butt of the SLP, staggering the zombie, and Alaster has had enough. With a cry of "duck!", he fires the Browning, ripping Murph's attacker apart with buckshot.

Ted fires the second barrel of his rifle and drops one of the zombies from the office, but the second continues its rush. The man of God strikes it with his empty rifle, but it ignores him, instead electing to pursue Emily. A glance over her shoulder informs the med student that she is not fast enough to escape, and so she turns, levels the pistol, and fires - killing the pursuing zombie.

Meanwhile, Amber has placed a large distance between herself and the store, but she continues running - until she finds herself face down on the pavement, feeling pain in her right leg. Jarred to reality, she rolls over and looks up...

...into the face of a small child also picking himself up.

The child can't be very old; a little boy of three, perhaps four, years. Dark curls frame a thin face as he blinks against the brightness of the sky and gazes longingly into Amber's eyes. He is lost, alone in this desolation. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

He shrieks, a terrible, tiny sound, and leaps for the stunned woman.

The, suddenly, stops, as a blade erupts from his tiny chest. He convulses once, twice, then dies.

Confused and horrified, Amber looks up into the face of an honest to goodness, knight in shining armor. A bearded man in chain mail, carrying a sword and shield, stands over Amber. "Get up," he urges. "We need to move, quickly."

As if to punctuate his statement, more shrieks can be heard from side streets nearby. Those near the front of the grocery store hear more splintering sounds; there can be no way the stockroom door will hold those within much longer.

The knight spots those exiting the grocery store and calls out. "This way! Come on!"

The sun had felt good on Amber’s skin, its warmth and light seemed to eat away at what had been bothering her.

What was it that was bothering you Amber?
She couldn’t say for certain at that moment, the adrenaline was too strong for rational thoughts. She only knew that it had something to do with the shade, that if she could just stay in the sunlight she would be okay. So she had followed the patches like the yellow brick road, further and further from where she had been.

There were noises behind her, but she gave them no heed, let the shadows take whatever is left back there so long as they left her alone in the sun.

Suddenly it seemed that the world began to slip away from under her, for a moment she floated in the heavy atmosphere and then the pavement rose up and slammed into her. There were tingles of sensation along her right side, she supposed that tingling was pain, surely the nerves along her body were sending out pain signals, but the receptors in her brain were too filled with panic to fully receive them.

Her eyes rose up from the pavement and she found herself staring into the desolate face of a young boy.

Joshua…
Lost and alone, the boy needed her. She had come out of the shadows and the light had rewarded her with her son. Amber rose up a little and opened her arms up toward him.

“It’s okay… come along…” she whispered and actually smiled a little bit as he seemed to come forward.

If she heard the small scream that came from him it obviously did not startle her, for she continued to smile and hold out her arms for him. That is until he stopped suddenly, the bloodied edge of a blade jutted through his chest.

A tiny scream fell from her lips as the blade disappeared out of view and left a dark spot on his shirt that only soaked up more blood. Instead of moving closer to her he fell to his knees, shuttered a few times and then collapsed to the ground beside her.

“Josh! Oh God no… no no no… no Josh… no Josh come back to mommy!” The tone in her voice became shrill, although there was not enough air in her lungs to make it loud. Clambering up onto her knees she gathered the small limp body into her arms, cradling it against her chest. “Come back…”

It was obvious that the child would not though, even as she tried vainly to refuse the fact in her mind. Dark wild eyes glistening with fresh tears tore from the lifeless face she held in her arms. The first thing they fixed upon was the knight standing before her, his sword dripping with blood.

Joshua’s blood…
“You… you killed my boy! You killed Joshua!”

With the skill only a mother could really have she hoisted the body onto her hip, holding it close to her and rose to her feet, her free hand gathering up the hatchet that had fallen out of her bag when she had fallen. Still holding the poor lifeless body close she rounded on the knight and began wildly swinging the hatchet at him.

“You killed Joshua! How dare you!? You’ll pay I’ll make you pay!” Air had refilled her lungs and she screamed hysterically at him.

“You… you killed my boy! You killed Joshua! You killed Joshua! How dare you!? You’ll pay I’ll make you pay!” she screamed.

Brian looked at the woman who he had just rescue wildly swing a hatchet at him while holding the dead ...thing. Not that he should have expected gratitude in these times. Surely some crazed mothers burned to death holding the bodies of their young killed during the black plague in 1348. There were so many parallels one could draw actually if one thought about the two period... But back to matter at hands. He hoisted his shield up to protect himself from any wild (and extremely lucky blows ... I mean if you attack with a hatchet you hold the shaft at the bottom and do short swings and fast blows) hits. Time for a reality check - really.

"Listen up lady. That thing stopped being a boy ten days ago. It is now a disease ridden monster and if you haven't noticed - it us versus them!" He shouted in his best sensei addressing a new recruit voice. "Now grow up! They're playing for keeps out here missie!" Brian looked over and saw other people exiting the store. He has heard the gunfire after he had left the hospital where he had been trapped for the last fortnight. The monsters didn't use guns, but survivors did. People would have to gather, move out of urban centres and into defensible positions so other could come and civilization could be rebuild. History just went medieval on their collective asses.

"This way! Come on!" Brian shouted out, "Yes I am wearing armour and Yes this is a sword! Long story! Can you help here because I rather not hurt this lady."

Alaster heard the scream outside. "You, you killed my son!"
That was Ambers voice had she truly found her son?

Then as he quickly moved outside Treasure Island he saw him. It was almost a glare at first and Alaster had thought it he was upon a silver motor bike. But when his eyes adjusted he saw the glimmering shining armor.

Wait armor? Seriously ARMOR? How the hell does this man keep up with those undead b******s!?

Alaster put his thoughts at bay as he continued over to the man. That's when he noticed the trail of blood leading to Amber. Alaster stopped putting shells in his gun (2 were placed in the shotgun) and charged over to the girl who was now swinging her axe wildly at the armor clad man.

"What the hell have you done! Did you hurt her?! Alaster screamed as he aimed the gun toward the man who had raised his shield and yelled something across at Amber. "I swear to God if you harmed her I'm going to break your legs so Murph can have all the time in the world to do what he wants with you!"

((Not going to well for Mr. Shiny armor man.))

Brian is a bit surprised at the acquisation that he hurt someone. "Hurt her? I just saved her life and she attacks me." he shouts back still blocking any attack with shield. Americans!