"Alright, let's go," you whisper back. Looking back to the others, "Benn. You're driving. And, Chief? Feel up for another run?"
"Shure thang, son. Ready when you are," replies the old police officer, standing up with shotgun in hand.
"Erm... Did I say Fran
or me? I-I meant Fran or.. or.. or Doc. Becau-"
"Come on, quit being a coward. I chose you, you're going."
"But why not Fran?" Benn asks, voice becoming slightly shrill.
"Because she needs to stay here and watch over the others," you counter before Fran can say anything for herself.
"Fine..." Benn sighs, shoulders slumping, "Car's around the side. Fran? You need to come with us to the exit so you can reseal the barricade behind us." Fran nods as Benn turns away and begins to shuffle out the door. You get up and follow, finding your legs are strong enough to support yourself again.
After twisting through seemingly endless hallways and corridors, Benn stops in front of a large barricade, with a dim neon red EXIT sign hanging over head. He grabs one of the smaller pieces and hauls it off.
"Well, don't just stand there, help!" He cries indignantly. The rest of you quickly comply, and soon the door is cleared. Chief, seeing no one else is going to be the one to go out first, moves to it with shotgun at the ready. Using his hip to depress the push handle, he pushes the door outward, shotty held with both hands and aimed at whatever lay outside. He looks around quickly, then pokes his head around the door.
"It's clear," he calls back. The rest of the group files out.
"Hey kid! Catch!" Fran tosses something your way. You fumble with it for a second before finally getting a grip. "It's a walkie-talkie. I've got one here. Call back if you run into trouble or anything. Channel five," She explains.
"Great. Thanks!"
"You're welcome. Be careful!" She calls as she lets the door shut close. Looking about, you quickly spot the yellow beetle sitting nearby, doors ajar and decorated with several of the purple spikes. Benn trundles forward and piles in, sinking comfortably into the driver's seat. Chief leads Cynthia and you around the other side. After a bit of fumbling around, he finds the lever and slides the passenger seat forward.
"Sorry you twos, but I don't thank I could fit back thar," he apologize, gesturing you two into the back.
"It's no problem, Chief," you reply, holding the seat belt strap up so Cynthia can crawl through the opening. After she's in and settled, you follow suit. Chief slides the chair back into place with a
click and gets in. You quickly find yourself rather cramped, and see that even Cynthia, as small as she is, is a little squished.
Wasn't the Volkswagan invented partly by Hitler? That'd be about right. It seems like it was designed to be torturous to whoever's in the back..."Alright, let's get this over with..." Benn says as he throws the bug into gear and drives out onto the road. The streets and their buildings slide past without event or conversation, until Chief speaks up.
"So, uh, Benn. What did you do before all this crap hit the fan?"
"The sorta thing you don't tell a guy in uniform," Benn replies with a cheeky grin.
"Son, do you really think I'm gunna drag your butt to jail with all this goin' on? We got ourselves bigger problems."
"Ha ha, yea, I figured. Alright, fine. I was a hacker. Ya' know, like computers? Best of the best, if I don't say so. The government's firewalls were little more than child's play. Speaking of which, that movie scared the shit outta me. My sister has- uh...
had- a whole wall fulla dolls..."
"What? Eh, nevermind... But ya got into the government's stuff?"
"Yea. Easy peesy too. The programmers they got are amateurs. Hell, even if they were at the ready and knowing I was about to try, I could slice circles around them."
"Son, go easy on the lingo. I'm not much for computers."
"Ha... Sure thing, Grandpa."
"So... Didja happen to find anything 'bout-" Chief gestures around vaguely, "
this?"
"Well... No," Benn answers after thinking for a moment. Outside, zeds stumble clumsily after the car, many falling on their faces in a pseudo-diving attempt to catch it. "If the Feds had known anything, it was in the smallest of circles, and not put anywhere
near a computer. I've been
everywhere, but there hadn't been anything on undead and other assorted nightmares suddenly appearing..."
"Everywhere? Huh... So, Area 51?"
"Ha! A cover. Oh, sure, they do research there, but it's all on 'improving crop turnouts' or 'creating cures' for certain diseases. Mundane junk. They get the media to focus all their attention on it. No one suspects that old abandoned barn in South Dakota that covers the entrance to Area 52, -the Feds are really creative with their naming huh?- the real hideaway for aliens and the like."
"So aliens and all that Roswell junk..."
"All true. Well, mostly. There's always the few crazies that make up shit or dream it or whatever. So yea. Aliens, and a whole lot of other shit you wouldn't
believe."
"Oh really? Try me."
"Well, to start with-"
"Wait. You guys. You hear that?" Cynthia suddenly interjects, looking alert. Looking around outside, you see that this area is clear of the undead, as though they had all gone off somewhere else.
"Huh? What? I don't hear anything," Benn says, still maneuvering the car through the streets and the obstacles they hold. The surroundings are still notably absent of zombies, or even their corpses.
"Stop the car," Cynthia orders.
"Why? We're almost there!" Benn counters.
"Stop the car."
"I thank you'd best listen to 'er, son," Chief chips in. Benn slows the car to a stop, looking like a little kid that had just been made to clean his room.
"I'd like to get back to the base before dark," Benn complains.
"Shut up, man. I think I hear it," You say, trying to listen closely. It takes a moment, but you hear a faint popping sound you're able to recognize now.
Gunfire. And it sounds like it's coming from the direction of the Wal-Mart...You marvel for a moment Cynthia was able to hear it over the rumble of the engine.
"I still don't hear nuthin'," The Chief states, shaking his head.
"It sounds like gunfire. And coming from the direction of our target, to boot," you tell him.
"Wonderful. Zombies have learned to use guns. Just my luck," Benn says sourly with a roll of his eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous. It's gotta be other survivors! Sounds like they need help," Cynthia states.
"I dunno, dahlin', they might not be too friendly," the Chief cautions.
"So... What do we do? I'd rather not sit here until something comes along and decides to have a snack," Benn comments, eager to do something.
Just start up the car again and keep driving. Whoever is there is sure to be friendly. Only a phsyco would fail to realize that it would be in their best interest to be allies with other humans.
Have Benn park the car and then scout it out with one other person on foot. It's still a little ways away, but whatever is over there is sure to not hear you coming.
[C]Drive about half-way there and then walk the rest. This way, the group won't have to walk a quarter mile and risk a chance of being attacked, and whoever's ahead might not hear you approach.
[D]Call Fran on the tranciever. Maybe one of the city's camera's has an angle on what's going on.
[E]You're getting bad vibes. Call it off and head back to base.
[Z]CYOA
Choose your scouting buddy for B:
1. Benn
2. Chief
3. Cynthia
Status:
==Active Party:
Steve Ames: Bitten, patched fractured rib.
Hunger: 78% (!)
Equipment: -9mm Beretta (9/13) 0 spare clips
-Empty 9mm clip
-Transceiver
Cynthia Smith:
Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Burt "The Chief" Williams:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 6 extra shells
-Standard issue police Taser gun
Benjamin Cooper:
Equipment: -Baseball Bat
==Other Party:
Louise Shaffer:
Equipment: -None
Fran Geller:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells
-Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten:
Equipment: -None
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 54% Fuel
Total Space:
Cab-- 4
Trunk-- 3
Current Usage:
Cab: 4 (Full)
-Benn: 1
-Chief: 1
-Cynthia: 1
-You: 1
Trunk: None