But Time Goes On

[Roger Stone]

(OoC: C was the "OHSHIT,CYNTHIA!GOGOGO!" option, not the "Go for the car yourself" option I think most of you were thinking of. Oh well... Goodbye, caution!)

"Stay here!" you order offhandedly, gaining your feet and sprinting for the opening. Calls of some kind of protest come from behind you, but you ignore them; you've only got one thing on your mind.


"CYNTHIA!" you yell, growing nervous as there's no reply. You leap out the cluttered hole in the busted barricade, hardly noticing the twin hammers that strike your upper arm and right side. You hit the ground with a stumble, but press on anyways, tearing across the scant twenty feet and to the driver's side door, which is protected from the crystals. Yanking it open, you see Cynthia curled up in the floorboard on the passenger's side, scared but apparently alright. You can see, however, that most of the windows on that side of the truck have been shattered, as well as the tip of a particularly large spine sticking through the door.

"Are you alright?" you ask, suddenly lightheaded. Cynthia just nods into her arms, not daring to raise her head up to look at you. You climb into the driver's seat, and pause.

If I drive the truck up to the front to give them cover, they might get a shot off on the tires, and then there goes the ballgame, folks. Seeya later, alligator... Don't... Don't forget to write.

You shake your head vigorously, trying to clear the darkness trying to edge into your vision as well as speed up your mind that was all to quickly becoming sluggish.

That wall doesn't look too tough... Maybe I could ram through it. It might damage the car, or it might not. Not to mention us....

You get a sudden urge to just crank the engine and turn tail.

What? No, I'm not going to just run....

R... Rrr.... Rrrun.

What the fuc-

Run.... Run. Runrunrunrunrunr-

I don't have time to go insane right now, thanks! Gotta do something!


Drive up to the front. It'll give the other two cover to get in, and it's the only reasonable option right now.
Drive round back and attempt to ram through the wall there. The tires would be protected from the needles, but who knows how badly it'll damage the SUV and it's passengers?
[C]Just get out of here. You can't risk trying to help the other two.
[D]Just give into the darkness and pass out. Screw the rest...
[Z]CYOA


Current Time: 9:03 PM (Dawn at 6:03 AM)


Status:

SPOILER: Click to show

==Active Party:
Steve Ames: Bitten, hit twice by Murdocks: once in the right forearm, again in the right side.
Hunger: 96% (!)
Equipment: -9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips
-Empty 9mm clip
-Transceiver

Cynthia Smith:
Equipment: -Large kitchen knife

Anya McNeil:
Equipment: -Nothing

Alroy "Rat" McNeil: (Pronounced sorta like "Elroy" but with a twist)
Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh (HA! Actually spelled that right. ^_^)

==Other Party:
Louise Shaffer: Dead
Equipment: -None

Fran Geller:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells
-Sharpened Rapier

Samuel "Doc" Morten:
Equipment: -None

Burt "The Chief" Williams:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (6/8) 6 extra shells
-Standard issue police Taser gun
-Transceiver

==Vehicles:

Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 29% Fuel
Containing: Baseball bat, Chief

Your Expedition: 85% Fuel, Minor Damage.
Containing:You, Cynthia, basket of food

[Tbone110 The Amurican Bastard]

AA

[Song Nai]

A

[praetorian]

A.

[Will]

A...

[The Goddamn Batman]

A

[Roger Stone]

(OoC: I'm disappointed no one thought to try to find a back exit of the store. It would have made this a whole lot easier. Too late now though...)

Cranking the engine, you put it in reverse and start to back up the short fifteen feet to the entrance. Immediately, the trickle of wild shots that had been hitting the car increases into a torrent of flying shrapnel. You lean over, making yourself try and drive blind in order to make yourself a smaller target. The SUV jerks as you clip the corner of the building, and directly after that it dips forward and right as the tire there takes a hit.

runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunr-

SHUT THE HELL UP!!

-unrunrunrunrunr...

You chance a glance out of the now shattered driver's side window. You'd been smart to duck down; several lucky spikes had been flying through the car directly over you. You see you'd managed to maneuver the vehicle in front of the breach, and hit the brake. You slam the horn, dimly wondering why your arm had grown so heavy.

UNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRU-

Please... quiet........ When... when did I get so... so tired...

NRUNRUNRUNRUN...

The last thing you see before your dark-rimmed tunnel vision cuts off completely is Roy dragging Anya frantically towards the truck.

========

Black turmoil, swept clear by brilliant flares of agony. The voice in your head that isn't your own yammers on endlessly. When you come up, you catch brief snippets of conversation and occasional flashes of image, only to have them slip away as you sink back down. You manage only small snatches of lucid thought.

And through it all: fire.

Glorious, terrible, fire.



So this is it

A face looming over you worriedly, as pale as the moon. And you're moving. The hum of the engine...

I've died

A sensation of being pulled forward, then rocking back. The fires roar painfully.

Alone...

"...-roken down. Shit!"

"What? NO! It can't be busted! He's going to d-"

Just myself...

"-o's that? You see that? A car!" The thump of something being slammed shut. Then, more faintly:

"HEY! HEEE-"

And the flames

You're in agony. Being carried. Unintelligible conversation. You can't understand it. Someone else moves up in your mind. Screaming, from outside. The taste of something cool and delicious. Then, you slip back down.

God...

Moving again. Faster now. No longer leaning.

Let it end...

Stopped now. Agony once more. Yelling... Frenzied yelling...

Stop the pain... Please... It's so hot. I'm burning up...

"-im down here! Pull the shirt back... Yes good, now, on my mark, pull them out.... Ready, MARK!" An explosion of pain. The worst yet.

"Oh... Good god..."

Darkness again.

Please.... Please... End it all...

An eternity later, the flames die off, and you slip into an oblivion.

========

''He's coming around!" The sound of approaching footsteps.

"Alright, alright, just be careful. We don't know if he's still-"

"He's not... Steve? Can you hear me?"

I know that voice...

You open your eyes with some effort, momentarily dazzled by the light. You try to bring your arm up to rub them and are puzzled when it isn't able to. You try to sit up next, but with no luck. There's some sort of pressure keeping you down.

"Just be easy, buddy. Talk to us." The tone is complacent, but you can detect an edge of wariness. As your awareness comes flooding back, you're acutely aware of a dire thirst. You open your mouth to speak, but only manage a hoarse croak. Your tongue feels like sandpaper.

"What? Steve, say it again. I didn't understand you," a voice requests, nearly pleading.

Your sight clears, and you see several familiar faces crowded around. Cynthia, Fran, Roy, Doc, everyone's here. Except....

"W-.... Water." The sound that come from your mouth is completely alien to you, so cracked and dry.

"Water! Quick, someone get something to drink! Oh thank god, you're alright!" Cynthia embraces you roughly, her eyes tearing up in relief. She pulls back and turns to accept a cup from Doc. She puts it to your lips, and you drink greedily. The cold water soothes your raw throat, and you drain the glass quickly.

You try to get up again, only to find yourself unable to. You look down to find several thick belts wound around the cot, securing you in place. You look up at the others, somewhat confused due to your still sluggish state.

"Sorry, man. But you kinda flipped out on the way back. Just a safety measure." Roy, with a nervous half-grin. Now that you think about it, they all seem a little on edge.

They know. Maybe not quite all of it, but they're sure there's something wrong with me. Wonderful...

"Well, I'm fine now... Mind untying me?"

"Uh, sure. I guess..." he complies after a moment's hesitation.

Ask about what happened. Last thing you remember, you were outside the gas station...
May as well explain what's 'wrong' with you now. They have the right to know.
[C]Ask to be left alone for a while. You're still tired as hell, and a little sleep would do you wonders.
[D]Request some solitude. You've got a couple issues you need to investigate, namely that voice that decided to show up earlier...
[E]Wait a second... Where's the Chief?
[Z]CYOA

Current Time: Day 4. 5:24 AM (Dawn at 6:03 AM)

Status:

SPOILER: Click to show

==Active Party:
Steve Ames: Bitten. Hit twice by Murdocks: once in the right forearm, again in the right side.
Hunger: 83% (!)
Equipment:
-Empty 9mm clip
-Transceiver

Cynthia Smith:
Equipment: -Large kitchen knife

Anya McNeil:
Equipment: -Nothing

Alroy "Rat" McNeil: (Pronounced sorta like "Elroy" but with a twist)
Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
-9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips

Fran Geller:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells
-Sharpened Rapier

Samuel "Doc" Morten:
Equipment: -None

==Other Party:
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Status Unknown.
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (6/8) 6 extra shells
-Standard issue police Taser gun
-Transceiver

==Vehicles:

Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel
Containing: Baseball bat.

Your Expedition: Totaled.

[Will]

B and then A, if possible. If not then just A.

[Song Nai]

A

[The Goddamn Batman]

E

[Tbone]

E

[Veta]

E.

[Roger Stone]

"Wait a second... Where's Chief?" You ask, finally realizing who was missing. You get nothing but shifted stares and dodgy looks. It's clear no one wants to be the one to have to break the bad news.

"You're talking about the cop, right? Well... He's out there. Somewhere." states Roy. "When we were coming back, the SUV gave out. And soon after, like a gift from god, he comes rolling up in that Volkswagen. After a bit of talkin' -and also you spazzing-, we realize we can't all fit in that tiny little car."

"My brother may be a goof, but he's no clown," Anya chips in.

"So he goes and volunteers to stay behind, and gives me the keys. I tried to decline, to talk some sense into him, but it didn't do a thing. He told me he'd either call once it was safe to come and get him or work his own way back here on foot. The look in his eye told me he really believed he'd be alright, that he didn't think he was signing his own death warrant, so I just let him go. We drove back here and..." Roy gestures vaguely.


Ask about what happened. Last thing you remember, you were outside the gas station...
May as well explain what's 'wrong' with you now. They have the right to know.
[C]Ask to be left alone for a while. You're still tired as hell, and a little sleep would do you wonders.
[D]Request some solitude. You've got a couple issues you need to investigate, namely that voice that decided to show up earlier...
[E]Get up and to the car. You're going after the Chief.
[F]Give Chief a call on the transceiver. It might blow his cover if he's hiding, but you can't just go running off after him.
[Z]CYOA

If E, who do you take? (Up to two; you need to save one seat for the Chief if you find him.)
1.Cynthia
2.Fran
3.Alroy
4.Anya
5.Doc


Current Time: Day 4. 5:25 AM (Dawn at 6:03 AM)

Status:

SPOILER: Click to show

==Active Party:
Steve Ames: Bitten Hit twice by Murdocks: once in the right forearm, again in the right side.
Hunger: 83% (!)
Equipment:
-Empty 9mm clip
-Transceiver

Cynthia Smith:
Equipment: -Large kitchen knife

Anya McNeil:
Equipment: -Nothing

Alroy "Rat" McNeil: (Pronounced sorta like "Elroy" but with a twist)
Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
-9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips

Fran Geller:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells
-Sharpened Rapier

Samuel "Doc" Morten:
Equipment: -None

==Other Party:
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Status Unknown.
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (6/8) 6 extra shells
-Standard issue police Taser gun
-Transceiver

==Vehicles:

Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel
Containing: Baseball bat.

Your Expedition: Totaled.

.

[Will]

B.

[Veta]

E, 2. 3. Might as well go for some more character development.

Nope, it was A when I started updating. No way in hell I'm scrapping that 17k mother.

[Song Nai]

A

[Tbone]

E 2, 3.

[Roger Stone]

"I don't like it, but I'm sure he can handle himself. So what happened? Last thing I remember is passing out on the steering wheel."

So they began telling the tale, most everyone chipping in at some point. It was slow at first, but began to pick up steam as they began learning to tactfully pick up where another left off...

========

Alroy has his sister by the wrist, practically dragging her off her feet to get to their way out of this mess. The Expedition's horn is blaring; no doubt Steve urging them forward. He reaches the back door of the SUV and rips it open, throwing Ann inside. She lands in the floorboard and stays there, hands covering her head.

"GO!" Roy yells as he jumps in. When they fail to peel out of the station, he risks a look up front, and sees Steve slumped onto the wheel, bleeding heavily from his two injuries. Swearing heartily, he climbs to the front, and miraculously doesn't take a needle for his trouble. In an act of desperation, he's able to roughly shove Steve's limp form into the passenger's seat. Cynthia moans quietly, having finally looked up to see him in his sorry condition.

Roy maneuvers himself into the driver's seat, and promptly slams the accelerator. The SUV shoots out of the storegrounds and onto the street, heavily favoring it's right side. The Murdocks had managed to get two tires, but soon the car is well out of their range. As the distance increases, everyone generally relaxes and crawls into a seat. Cynthia tenderly moves Steve into a more stable position, managing to get both herself and him in the same seat. She makes a point of not touching the protruding crystals, largely by instinct.

"Any idea where to go? I mean, you guys do have a hideout or something. Right?" Roy asks in a strained tone. His normal good humor is nowhere to be found.

"The Civic Center. There's help there... You know where that is?" Cynthia carefully tears Steve's clothing back, fully exposing the wound. Steve moans in pain, eyes fluttering open and coming into focus for a split second.

"Not exactly, but close enough." Roy pulls a right, playing to their crippled transport's adantage.

Cynthia looks helplessly at the protruding spikes and the blood flowing around them. It's John all over again... She can feel hot tears rising up, as well as a steady thrum of unfocused rage deeper down. Don't die. Please... Not you...

"Hey, you said there's help at where we're heading, right? He'll be fine." Ann leans up and puts a hand on Cynthia's shoulder, voice laden with comfort. Cynthia later comes to think she may have heard a tinge of jealousy as well, but it doesn't occur to her now.

Cynthia says nothing in return, and Anya pulls back, biting her lower lip and believing she'd just been ignored. The trip continues on with little said, the only sound being the uneven chug of the engine. It doesn't sound healthy.

Some time later, Steve groans in pain, bringing Cynthia's attention back to him. His face is drained of most it's color save two red spot high on his cheeks, and sweat had appeared on his brow. She quickly places the back of her hand to his forehead, letting out a desperate groan.

"He's burning up.... How much farther?" Cynthia demands, her address whipping to Roy.

"I- I dunno. Can't be more than a cou-" Before he can finish, the engine gives one last guttural clunk before dieing entirely.

The vehicle slows to a gradual stop, rocking back on it's springs. Steve groans again, louder this time.

"Well? Start it back up!" Cynthia orders, now on the edge of hysterics. Roy didn't need to be told; he had been doing just that.

"I'm trying," he says simply, turning the key fruitlessly. The engine remains resolutely mute. "It's busted.... Shit!" He slams a fist against the wheel in frustration.

"What? NO! It can't break down! He's going to die!" Cynthia shrieks, now fully panicked. Roy closes his eyes and rests his head in his hands, completely at a loss. Cynthia, seeing that the car can- in fact- break down, slumps over and begins crying into her lap.

What a sorry piece of shit you are, Rat. The guy saves both your lives, and this is what he gets in return. A inglorious end of bleeding to death as you there sit helpless. This is what happens to everyone that helps you! It was the voice of Roy's best friend Alan, who had recently met a similar end in rescuing him and his sister. Roy can still remember the way Alan waved as they left him to die. But it had either been that, or have to rekill him himself when he turned...


Pull yourself together! You are not going to let him go like Bates did. You've got to try to get those things out, and close the wound! Come on! Before Cynthia could do anything, however, Ann called out, heralding their salvation.

"Wait, look! Who's that? You see that? A car!" Ann quickly hops out of the Expedition, slamming her door behind her. She begins to flag down the passerby, waving her hands wildly in the air. "HEY! HEEEY!"

"Anya! Don't, you don't know if they're not just some psychopaths!" Roy roars, leaping out next.

"Wait, I know that car..." Cynthia says quietly to herself, not quite daring to let herself hope it's who she thinks it is. After making sure Steve is stable, she slips out as well.

The yellow beetle pulls up and draws to a stop, it's harsh headlights cutting off. The driver steps out, and speaks in a slightly southern drawl.

"'ey, Cynthia, 'at you?" Chief asks, not quite believing he had the luck to stumble across his quarry.

"Yea, come quick! Steve's hurt bad, and our car just broke down! He's unconscious," She calls, waving him over.

"You come on; I'll need help carryin' 'im," Chief says to Roy as he hustles past. The young man passes his cane to Anya before following the old cop. The two of them work Steve out of the car as gently as they can. Despite their best efforts, he cries out in agony anyways.

"Grab 'is legs," Chief commands, hands positioned under Steve's armpits, holding him up. Roy is quick to comply, and together they begin to transfer Steve to the other car. Cynthia hovers nearby worriedly.

"Now listen 'ere, son-"

"Roy."

"-Roy. With Steve layed up in the backseat, there's no way we can all fit inter there. Now, we don't have time to argue this here so-" Before he could finish, Steve's groans escalate alarmingly into a bloodthirsty scream, and he begins flailing violently.

Roy, in his surprise, drops his end. Steve breaks free of the Chief's loose hold. He lunges at Roy, who barely manages to stumble out of his grasp. Anya lets out a startled scream, drawing Steve's attention to her. Before he can try for her, the Chief is on him, looping one arm around his neck and using the other to force his right hand into his back. Cynthia, thinking fast, makes a break back towards the decrepit SUV.

Steve's free hand whips blindly backwards, clawing at the Chief's face. Chief just grits his teeth and bears it; he's got an idea as to what Cynthia went back for. It takes all of the strength Chief's got to hold his captive in check, but he can, if only momentarily. Just when he feels his body is about to give out, Cynthia returns, a bloody chunk of raw meat held in one hand. She shoves it into Steve's screaming maw, and he greedily swallows the thing whole.

His struggles slowly stop, and almost as quickly as it started, he falls completely limp once more.

"What the f-" Roy asks in stunned awe, shocked at the suddenness of the attack.

"No time ta explain, s- Roy. He needs help, 'n fast."

"No, really, what the hell just happened?"

"Fever craze. He was delusional, probably thinking you were a zombie or something. The stuff I just fed him had a sedative in it, now hurry!" Cynthia lies smoothly, understanding that now was likely the worst possible time for them to find out what Steve is.

"Alright, whatever." That's not it. No way, Jose, that was no fever. But whatever he is, he saved my ass, I've gotta return the favor...

Roy grabs Steve again, and between him and the Chief, they manage to get him laying down in the backseat of the Bug. Cynthia sits on the far side of the seat, cradling his head in her lap. At her feet is a small plastic bag, one taken from the basket of goods they had acquired from the grocery. Anya waits outside the car, looking from the Chief to her brother, realizing there wasn't enough space. She was about to bring this little problem up when Chief offered the keys out to Roy, a serious look in his eye.

"Roy, son, take these, and get the others outta 'ere. There's not enough room fer all'a us."

"What? You can't stay out here! You'll-"

"Damnit, Roy! We don't have the time ta argue! Now I'm not planning on buyin' the farm just yet," he says, pulling his shotgun from the beetle. "If I need some help, I've got myself a walkie-talkie. Take them!" Chief orders, shoving the keys into Roy's hand. Roy studies him for a minute before giving a sigh.

"Fine, fine. I get your point. Good luck." Roy sits down into the driver's seat, and Anya in last, reluctant. Roy cranks the engine, turns the car around, and starts driving back the way the car came. The Chief stands in the road and watches them go.

"Roy-"

"Don't even, Anya. He's staying behind. Question me, and I'm liable to turn around..." She didn't.

The surroundings flew by as Roy sped through the streets. Cynthia steadily chewed her nails into the quick, resisting the urge to ask how much further every twenty seconds. As they drew closer to their destination, Roy's knowledge of where to go grew thin. He had known the general area of it, but not the exact location.

"Keep going straight, then the next left..." Anya spoke up suddenly, voice retaining a somewhat far-off quality. Roy followed her navigation without thought, not bothering to question how she knew the way. He was pretty sure she had never been there either, but he went along with it anyways.

Her directions were impeccable, and soon the center comes into view.

"Annie, I could kiss you right now!" Roy exclaims, his former goofy grin returning.

"No thanks, dog breath. Now keep it down, I've got a bit of a headache..."

Alroy skids the car into the lot, screeching up to what looks like the front entrance.

"Let me out, I'll get the others," Cynthia says, already leaning Anya's seat forward before she can even get out. Ann manages to slip out, and holds the car door open as Cynthia scrambles from the back. "DOOOOC! FRAAAAN! BEEENN!!! SOMEONE!" She yells frenziedly, running up to the door. Meanwhile, Roy begins the arduous process of extracting Steve from the backseat, Anya helping gamely. Together, they manage to get him free, and begin carrying him towards the door.

Fran opens the door, having relieved it of it's barricade. From over her shoulder, the trio can see Doc toddling up with a huff.

"What? What's going on?" He says as he comes up, seeing Fran helping them bring Steve in.

"Steve, he's been hit by the two of the Crystalbacks' shots," explains Anya.

"Whatsit? Sorry, miss, I didn't catch t-" He stops midsentence as he finally takes a good look at the limp body being ferried by the others. "Good lord, he's been hit by the Murdocks! Quickly, quickly, come along!" He turns and begins jogging back the way he came, wheezing heavily. The others follow along easily enough; the old coot wasn't setting exactly a straining pace.

"Where's the Chief?" Asks Fran worriedly, foregoing the usual 'Who are you' in the time of crisis.

"He stayed behind. Not enough room," Cynthia explains aptly, saving Roy, who the question had been aimed at, from answering. Doc, who had been allowed to lead the way, sweeps into his office and tosses the blanket and pillow from the sole cot inside.

"Here, put him down here," he commands before rushing off to his cabinet to go rooting around for tools and supplies. He comes back with an arm full of things, which he promptly dumps into Anya's arms.

"Pull the shirt back." Doc no longer looked like a doddering old man. The ball was in his court, and he seemed large and in charge, full of a vitality that had fled from him long ago. Cynthia swiftly follows his direction, pulling Steve's suffering shirt further apart from the wounds.

"Yes, good. Now.." He plucks two pairs of tongs from the scrambled mess and hands one each to Roy and Fran. "On my mark, pull them out." The two each latch onto a crystal gently, setting themselves for the task. Doc dives back into the tangled ball of supplies, coming out with a flask and a suture and thread. The suture he places in his mouth, holding it between his dentures. He unscrews the bottle, and the smell of alcohol seeps out.

"Ready.... MARK!" Roy and Fran yank the spikes, and Steve screams hoarsely in pain. His spine arches up, raising him from the table momentarily before falling back down. Doc doesn't waste a second in deftly filling the holes with the vodka, enticing another cry of pain from his patient. He sets the open bottle aside, taking the suture into his left hand. Brashly mopping the first wound clear with a bit of Steve's shirt, he goes in to sew it up. Before needle hits flesh, however, he freezes, staring at the gaping hole. Only it wasn't, really. Not anymore.

"Oh.... Good God," he mutters. Before his very eyes, the hole (which was most certainly right around where the young man's kidney would be) was knitting itself up from the inside out. It was rather slow- if left alone now he'd likely still bleed out- but none the less, it was fixing itself at a competitively accelerated pace!

Morten sets aside his momentary astonishment in the way only true professionals can and goes in with the suture. Quickly, that wound is closed, and he moves to the one in the lad's arm. He pours the vodka in, and seals that opening with uncanny speed, but not fast enough not to catch an eyeful of the phenomenon repeating here as well.

"There... That's all I can do for him. We don't have any penicillin, or I'd give some of that to him. It's up to his body to work its own problems out," Doc states, pulling back. "Here, give those to me and away with you. It's no good to have all of you hovering over him like vultures. Shoo!" he says, gathering up his tools from the others. They all file out slowly, with only Cynthia hanging back.

"Is- Is he going to be alright, Sir?" She asks quietly, sounding like she is somewhat ashamed in doing so.

"Missey, I don't rightly know... But if I were a betting man- and I'm not- I'd wager he'd pull through. Now hurry along. You look like you could use some sleep, among other things."

"Well? Vamoose," he says once he sees Cynthia hasn't left.

"...Do you think it'd be alright if I stayed here?" Doc looks at her shrewdly for a moment before giving in.

"Aw hell, I was young once... Sure, if you'd like. Just come get me if something happens, alright?"

"Yes, of course! Thank you, Doctor!" She gushes, lighting up.

"Bah," Doc waves it off, even though he the gratitude had brought him back none-too-gently to a time when he was younger. When he left the room, shutting the door behind him, he left happy for the first time in days.

========

"You're a lucky man," Doc muses, "She was in here the entire night, and I doubt sleeping in that chair was all to comfortable." Cynthia blushes and looks off into the corner. Doc laughs a rustic laugh and takes his leave, deciding that now that the tale was finished and the patient ok it was time to go.




May as well explain what's 'wrong' with you now. They have the right to know.
Ask to be left alone for a while. You're still tired as hell, and a little sleep would do you wonders.
[C]Request some solitude. You've got a couple issues you need to investigate, namely that voice that decided to show up earlier...
[D]Well, now that you know what's happened, it's time for breakfast. Your stomach says so.
[E]You're good to go, and raring to get back out there. There's doubtlessly more things that need doing. (Get another Mission from Fran. Aka 'Get weapons', 'Get gas', ect...)
[Z]CYOA

Current Time: Day 4. 5:41 AM (Dawn at 6:03 AM)

Status:

SPOILER: Click to show

==Active Party:
Steve Ames: Bitten; Hit twice by Murdocks: once in the right forearm, again in the right side.
Hunger: 86% (!)
Equipment:
-Empty 9mm clip
-Transceiver

Cynthia Smith:
Equipment: -Large kitchen knife

Anya McNeil:
Equipment: -Nothing

Alroy "Rat" McNeil:
Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
-9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips

Fran Geller:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells
-Sharpened Rapier

Samuel "Doc" Morten:
Equipment: -None

==Other Party:
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Status Unknown.
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (6/8) 6 extra shells
-Standard issue police Taser gun
-Transceiver

==Vehicles:

Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel
Containing: Baseball bat.

[praetorian]

I'm going to say A.

[Veta]

D.

[Tbone110 The Amurican Bastard]

A then B, sleepy time.

[Will]

A

[The Goddamn Batman]

A, tell 'em and then maybe kill 'em should they decide to get rid of you.

[Roger Stone]

With Doc's departure, the others look ready to do the same. You take a deep breath, and let it out slow.

Now would be the best time...

"Hey, guys? Wait a minute. I've got something to say." You stand and face them. "About my 'spazzing' earlier. It... It wasn't a fever dream or whatever." Cynthia grabs your shoulder tightly, but you shrug her off. She clearly doesn't think telling them is all that good an idea.

"I'm infected." Anya gives a small gasp, while Roy only grimaces. Fran gives little reaction whatsoever; this isn't news to her. You begin to pull down what remains of your tattered shirt, meaning to show the bite. Once you get a look at it, however, you get a shock: It's faded, becoming little more than a scar. Unlike when you first encountered Fran and the others, it's now hard to notice unless you're actually looking for it.

"So why aren't you some mindless shambling corpse now?" questions Fran. "As far as I know, there's no little bouts of cannibalism before you go full zombie. It's all one step..."

"I... I think I can control it. So long as I eat raw meat- beef would do- it stays quite." Now Fran gives you a scrutinizing look, as though trying to tell if you're bullshitting to save your own skin. Anya's eyes are slightly wide, and she's once more taken to chewing on her lower lip.

"Alright, I've heard enough," Roy interjects, "Fran, was it? We can't just let him go running around. I'm sorry, man, you saved both mine and my sister's life last night, but you're dangerous..."

"...I... I think he's telling the truth, uh-"

"Roy."

"Well, if he's lying, he doesn't know it... So, you really think you've got something different, Steve?"

"I don't believe this!" Roy throws his hands in the air, looking exasperated. "Ann, come on. We can't stay here." He makes to take her hand, likely to lead her out the door and leave the building, but she pulls back, shaking her head.

"No, Alroy. There's people here. Real people. The first we've seen alive and safe in four days! Not to mention the food and shelter here. I'm not leaving..." Roy sighs, shoulders slumping.

"Fine... We stay here. Happy?..." He turns to face you, reaching into his jacket pocket. "Here, this is your's... But just stay where I can see you, alright?" His usual cheeky grin is returning now, nervous and weak, but there. He pulls your pistol from his jacket and hands it over. You take it carefully and place it in it's holster.

"You can trust me, Roy. I've got it under control," you say, looking him in the eye.

"Whatever. Come on, Ann. May as well go get some breakfast. I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep in this morning," Roy says, moving for the door.

"Ha, that's a first!" She quips, following. You see him give a playful shove before they're around the corner and out of sight. This leaves just you, Fran, and Cynthia in the room. Fran gives a huge sigh, looking accusingly at you.

"That was a stupid, stupid thing you just did, you know that?" She's clearly somewhat ticked off. "They could have left. And where would that leave us? Without the Chief, it's just you, me, a teenage girl- no offense, Cynthia,- and and 80 year old man who can barely sustain a light jog, much less fend off zombies. We need them, and more specifically, Roy!" She stops here a moment, realizing she'd rasied up to a shout. She takes a few seconds to breath, then continues.

"Sorry. Lost my temper there for a second... Listen, I don't really care what you are, but you could have just scared off who is likely the most physically capable person here. Be glad it worked out this time, and think the next one, alright?"

"Sure... Sorry," you mumble, a little stunned by the outburst. Seemingly satisfied, she shakes her head slightly and makes for the door.

"I'll be in the monitor room..." she mentions before exiting.

"Well, I guess you're going to run off too, huh?" you joke to Cynthia.

"Actually, I'm pretty tired... I was going to go find somewhere to lay down for awhile. You kept me up all night with your moaning," she teases, having already reached the door. She starts to leave, but looks back.

"I'm really glad you're alright though...'' she states quietly before slipping out, shutting the door behind her.

Go hunt down some food. You're starting to get hungry again...
Your threads are barely hanging on your body. Maybe there's some old duds around here someplace.
[C]Go check out the Monitors with Fran. There might be something interesting...
[D]There's one person you haven't spoken to yet. Find somewhere quiet and try and contact The Other.
[E]You're still pretty beat. Go find somewhere to curl up for awhile.
[Z]CYOA


Current Time: Day 4. 5:55 AM

Status:

SPOILER: Click to show

==Active Party:
Steve Ames: Bitten; Hit twice by Murdocks: once in the right forearm, again in the right side.
Hunger: 88% (!)
Equipment:
-Empty 9mm clip
-Transceiver

Cynthia Smith:
Equipment: -Large kitchen knife

Anya McNeil:
Equipment: -Nothing

Alroy "Rat" McNeil:
Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
-9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips

Fran Geller:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells
-Sharpened Rapier

Samuel "Doc" Morten:
Equipment: -None

==Other Party:
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Status Unknown.
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (6/8) 6 extra shells
-Standard issue police Taser gun
-Transceiver

==Vehicles:

Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel
Containing: Baseball bat.

[Veta]

Z. Sneak out and find food and Chief. Bring the transgiver.

If not, at least A. 88% hunger isn't good, specially if it closes 100%.

[Song Nai]

A

[Tbone]

A&B

[cogs]

Actually, I agree with T.

A and B.

[Will]

B.

[Roger Stone]

(I'ma say B won. Hooray for avoiding anything slightly difficult! Tis the Amurican way.)


Time for some new clothes... Surely there's something around here. You make a quick exit of the impromptu clinic and take a random left. After a while of wandering and several disappointingly empty rooms, you find something. Or, rather, someone.

Just another empty room you think, about to close the door. Before you can, however, a sneaker poking out around a corner catches your eye. Venturing further in, you find what is clearly a body beneath a sheet. Another lays directly beside. You move to pull back the first sheet, only to be shocked by what's beneath.

Christ... It's.. It's Benn! What... Why didn't anyone tell me? You look to the other form, noting the more womanly figure. And... Oh God. I wouldn't be surprised if that were Louise. I hadn't seen her in ages. I wonder ho- Before you can finish the thought, however, The Other moves forward lustily, thrusting you into darkness.

=======

You come to some time later, your vision turned to the ceiling. You sit up violently, a horrible weight settling in your stomach both figurative and literal. Before you are little else but a pool of blood and torn rags. You bring your hands up, knowing before you see that they'll be covered in blood.

"Oh Christ..." you moan, horrified at what you've done. There's not even any bones! Holy god.... You glance over at the other body, not in the least relieved to see it's unscathed. You turn back to the bloody mess in front of you.

Christ... Fucking Christ!... Alright, relax. You can fix this...

After a moment of looking about, you find the sheet that had been covering Benn cast hastily to the side. Grabbing it, you mop up the blood as best you could and shovel the ripped clothing, shoes and glasses into the sheet. Gathering your bloody bundle up, you dart out the door. You look frantically room to room for a place to stash the evidence.

Soon, you come across a room with several washers and driers lining the walls. Thanking your stroke of brilliant luck, you dash over to a random washer and stuff the burden inside, closing the door after.

Well, that's one problem. Now to fix myself up... A glance around the room reveals an industrial sink. You rush over, hands flying for the faucet. You rapidly scrub the blood from your hands and arms first, then moving on to your face and neck. You keep going well after it's gone, swearing you can still feel it on you. Finally, you pull back and halt the flow of hot water. Looking down, you can see several flecks of crimson adorning your clothing.

Well, I was going to change anyways. It's funny! Hahahaha!

Your forced crazed cackling comes to an grinding stop when you perceive a second laughing along with you. Determined to hold onto your sanity, you turn to the task at hand. A short search turns up both a plain white T and a pair of bluejeans. You start to pull your old shirt off only to have it fully rip, apparently having had enough punishment. After shedding your shredded jeans, you don the new outfit. Clean at last, you take a shaky seat onto the nearest dryer, trying your best to blot out the knowledge of what you've done.

Soon, you're recollected and fully convinced that you did not hear that other set of laughter. You get to your feet.


It's time to go hunt down the Chief, wherever he is.
You're dangerously low on all sorts of supplies. Time for another outing.
[C]Go check out the Monitors with Fran. There might be something interesting...
[D]Maybe you did hear that voice... Find somewhere quiet and try and contact The Other.
[E]You're somehow not all that tired anymore, but a bit of extra sleep can't hurt. Go find somewhere to curl up for awhile.
[Z]CYOA

Current Time: Day 4. 6:47 AM

Status:

SPOILER: Click to show

==Active Party:
Steve Ames: Bitten. You also feel stronger somehow...
Hunger: 0%
Equipment:
-Empty 9mm clip
-Transceiver

Cynthia Smith:
Equipment: -Large kitchen knife

Anya McNeil:
Equipment: -Nothing

Alroy "Rat" McNeil:
Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
-9mm Beretta (5/13) 0 spare clips

Fran Geller:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells
-Sharpened Rapier

Samuel "Doc" Morten:
Equipment: -None

==Other Party:
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Status Unknown.
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 1 extra shell
-Standard issue police Taser gun
-Transceiver

==Vehicles:

Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel
Containing: Baseball bat.