They Breathe... (Zombie RP)

He'd remained quiet during the altercation best he wanted to, face stoic and emotionless as he watched the two bitch at each other like a married couple. Two different people asked him about his plans for the future, and since dumbass and his car obsession was gone, he shrugged, and scuffed around on the dirty and unwashed ground as he wandered around the gas station, soon finding a hatch in the ground and opening it. Under that was a locked manhole, which he turned a can of duster upside-down and froze the lock, and broke said lock with a rock and a well-placed hit, and grabbed the cover with again that mechanical arm, heaving and dragging it away. Immediately, out came the smell of gasoline, and he wrinkled his nose and stepped back, letting the immediate plume of hell drift before taking a deep breath and tossing a littler gravel piece in. It plished and clicked, and he nodded a little, stepping back a second time, and running inside to get the vaccuum. Some jury-rigging with shitty gas-station duct tape and tire tubing later, and he turned it on, and brought the empty gas cans over. One by one, he filled them, breathing little as he could manage around the stinking pit, until the vaccuum produced no more gas. It was enough for six of the five-gallon jerry-cans of his, and three of the others', plus full tanks for them both. He traded one of the full odd-shaped ones of his for a jerry-can of theirs, even though it was empty. They got gas, he got a nice fit in his truck bed and even weight distribution.

"The short answer for where I'm going is Canada, but not along the cities," was his reply as he dragged the Immortal into the empty gas-tank under the gas station, and dropped the body in, where when it rose again it would be contained (after all, a twenty-foot gap was certainly something), before grabbing a spray-paint can in bright red and spray-painting a skull over it crudely. It worked. "Long answer is I'm going way up in the boonies where the Immortals won't go in Summer 'cuz of sun and can't go in Winter 'cuz they'll freeze solid. You guys are welcome to follow me, but I'll be callin' the shots when we get there, and it won't be a democracy. I can farm, I can hunt, and I'm gonna live until I get too old to make it up there. It won't be pretty, but it'll be living." He dragged the manhole over again. "If you got any dead in a place you plan to stay, stick 'em in a pit like that. Gas stations are real good at that, and they're everywhere. If ya drop a car on top of the manholes when it's full, too, nothin' gets out." A point to anyone who wanted to take it, something he'd learned. He walked to his truck again, and sat on the tailgate, rummaging briefly before pulling out what looked like a kebab of some sort of jerky and eating a few pieces. "I won't make anyone come along, but anyone who wants to, tell me, so I can count how many spots I need and grab more seeds next town over. I'm guessing you, miss... I didn't catch your name, sorry. And maybe you, Dan, it seems. If Molly's the sensible girl in the back she's welcome." He didn't mention Jerry. He couldn't quite figure out Jerry, and if he didn't work he didn't eat. Io, so far, was a petulant child who would not make it alone, and might kill them all in a group, and clearly didn't even have the sense to knock out Immortal-bloody glass away from himself. Frankly, he wasn't welcome unless he shaped up. "Currently I don't have enough space for everyone, but I could manage to get a full cab truck, especially if one of you is up for hotwiring."
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In the lot of the hardware store, there were plenty of work trucks, some beaten, some new, most looking totally functional. Some had two seats, some two and a cramped backseat, and some had plenty of room for five. There were different bed sizes, some covered and some not, and minivans and sedans and a number of regular cars as well. This town had been abandoned pretty early on, and there were still places to loot, depending how much time you felt like being there. Mason's steps left prints in dust, and where his truck had been was plenty obvious by the tracks.

Jerry whistled long and hard at the vehicle Io had brought, obviously interested in it. But before he could volunteer to take it off their hands, the pink haired idiot had peeled away from the group in search of something more functional. Jerry hated cars anyway, but speed was something he could get behind.

He listened to Mason talk about going up north, frowning when his name was excluded from the list. He had half a mind to point his gun at the beast of a man, but saved it for a later time. Or maybe Mason was into that? Maybe he should point the gun some more. Did he still have duck tape in his bag?

The man started sifting through his pack suddenly,almost losing some apples in the process. Yep. Still had duck tape. Sweet. Nothing like the apocalypse to get a little kinky.

"I'm up for it," Jerry said with a grin, inviting himself along anyways. No way in hell would be miss an opportunity for TRUE and PASSIONATE love, even if the only thing he found attractive about Mason right now was his lumber jack looks.

shkey

Elena let out a little giggle at the mention of little Snickerdoodle, and she wondered if he was as capable of a fight as Mason claimed he was. It would be best to err on the side of caution, however. "I'm sure me and Snickerdoodle will get along fine. You're lucky I'm not my mother though. Poor thing was so allergic to cat fur." She stopped herself there, surprised at how casually she brought up her mother, to a stranger no less!

"Well, I hope your friends are safe at least," Elena added quickly, hoping to not make the situation awkward with what she had said. She gripped on the strap of her backpack and pulled it closer to her chest, giving Mason an uncomfortable smile.

"Guess you got lucky then. You'd have to deal with it if you were allergic. And yeah. So do I." It was a neutral statement, not awkward or saddened. Three years acknowledged the reality they probably weren't, or had already hunkered down somewhere and were safe without him. Both were outcomes he couldn't really be surprised at, and he took neither offense nor hope from Elena's statement.


To Mason, Dan was clearly the leader of the group, and he looked over to him. He decided if he needed help, he'd ask for it, at which point he began rolling a couple of the empty and abandoned cars into a little funnel shape, pointed towards the underground tank, and found a cheap radio inside. Some sacrifice of batteries later, and he had a radio he'd stick behind the manhole on the other side of the funnel, hopefully just to trap some of the threat. Even if it filled completely, there wouldn't be a way for them all to get out, so this would make the area just that much safer for other people. Then, he took care of his own, and introduced Elena to the cat, who, when Mason made some motions and tapped at the seat she'd be in, picked up the tab of the wet-food and carried it to the backseat, and then waited for Elena to get in.

Finally, it came to Jerry. He wouldn't leave a guy behind, and so sighed, and moved some things under the tarp covering his stuff. A little spot was cleared for the man to sit. "If you're coming, that's your spot until I get a bigger truck," was his simple statement, no negotiations, no alternate offers. Stay here, ride with the others, or get in the back.

Moving the cars and placing the radio had taken four minutes, and introducing Elena and clearing a spot only two. He checked on the others, horde and all its screeching starting within earshot, and at the size he seemed nervous, rightfully so. Were they done yet?, he wondered, looking at the other group. The songs still auto-DJed on the radio would be a good lure as it sang peppy pop songs in a tinny tune, and he wanted to be gone before Immortals could see the cars. He stood on the roof of one of the other cars and got a glimpse of the blob of pale coming up the road. "Four minutes max," was his statement, looking towards the other group. He turned the key in his own truck and tossed Elena a map wedged behind the steering wheel, and moved it so the truck was ready to move down the road.

So the crazy one was regretting his decisions? A brief smile crossed his features. "Alright."

He dug around the footwell of his truck briefly, withdrawing a large bag of what sounded like rocks. He stuck a rock in his sling, whirled, and hit. Rock, whirl, hit. One stone, one Immortal. Was it fast as shooting a gun? Perhaps, at this range. He certainly seemed to feel no need to get any closer. One got the feeling he wasn't good with guns and noise, or couldn't reliably hit, or perhaps it had something to do with the fine motor control and kick of a firearm. Whatever it was, three seconds an Immortal was impressive, and certainly when they tripped over the temporary corpses of their kin in waves of angry zombie, there was time bought. Of course, he'd prefer not to use his throwing-stones like this, when if someone just hadn't been a dumbass and had done the sensible thing in the first place they'd all be fine and looting, but beggars can't be choosers, and he'd gotten a companion out of it.

"It's impressive how much stuff you have loaded in that other car. You people are rather good at packing." A crack, and he hissed as one of his stones hit the asphalt, but as it shattered and broke blacktop too, he shrugged, watching it go off like a little frag grenade. Well, that had been oddly effective, looking at the traffic jam of Immortals it made. Not so good at healing with obstructions, apparently. Only problem was the noise. He snapped a few more down, just to make a wall of bodies, and looked around for any more. So far just the horde, how many could there be? He reached in the pouch again and grumbled. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. None. Out of rocks, and he REALLY didn't want to waste his good hunting bullets on these bastards. He probably had another few pouches in there, but he'd given them easily another minute, maybe two, in the minute it took him to run out. And he hadn't broken a sweat yet. After all, it was mostly the mechanical arm doing the work, he was just leaning to properly angle things. "How much longer do you need?" Luckily as the Immortals got closer, he could use shittier rocks, as they didn't need to go so far, and he stepped off the car (altitude no longer needed), grabbed good-sized rocks, and kept it up, breaking them against asphalt to bring as many falling down as he could.

"They must have heard the gunfire." Io stated plainly as he loaded yet another box into the new vehicle. "Must've all been hiding in the buildings. Couldn't have known how many were actually here, you can bitch about it in the car ride." He tossed the last of the bags in and stared confused as the hulkish man seemed to be throwing rocks at the zombies.

"I meant mow them down with your fuckin' truck but... Guess that works too." He muttered as he looked to Dan, watching the man fire shots off into the heads of a few unfortunate immortals. "Why are you bothering with a silencer!? They clearly already see us!! No use in being careful!" Io yanked the gun from his holster and fired in the direction of the masses as he backed towards the front of the car.

He yanked the driver door open and looked towards Mason and back to the Dan and the others. "Look, not sayin' you gotta follow us but bigger groups tend to do better out here. Whatever you choose, up to you. WE'RE gettin' the hell outta here. Keep up if you're coming too."


Io hopped into the front seat of the van, revving the engine and leaning out the window. "JERRY, MOLLY, COME ON. GET IN A DAMN CAR AND LETS FUCKIN' GO!!" He shouted, looking back as the horde was nearly upon them.