Post by thesmoker on Mar 15, 2022 0:19:32 GMT -6
The beast let out a cold, raspy wail, breath choked out of its lungs in a cruel way as it pushed on through the thicket it had entered. There is no end of the road for it, no final goal other than to infect and spread it to those that remain. Those who were lucky. Those who weren’t yet dragged down with it. The creature had caught sight of them downwind, and followed, its gangly limbs bumping and moving against each other clumsily- for a moment, if one were to be so kind as to look at it with sympathy, it was fawn-like, Something that did not yet know how to put one foot in front of the other yet. Or rather unlearned it.
A gunshot fires randomly in the distance. The strangled thing turns and follows in the direction the sound comes from. Making it way up the side of the hilltop, it stops from the treeline. Four of them- clean, untouched, fresh. It shifts its weight in anticipation. It could attack now, but it doesn’t. It waits for the one in the lead- the oldest- to fall into its line of fire. It has long since learned that patience is far more rewarding than throwing its teeth and claws into the midst immediately. It waits a moment longer, raspy breath echoing into the streets below.
Waiting, waiting. The man hears its breath. His head turns.
“Toni?”
It bends down onto its haunches, tongue rolling back up behind its teeth, sliding down its own throat in preparation of the kill.
“Toni.”
The sticky appendage launches forward out of its mouth, as precise as a bullet. It knocks the man off balance, blowing the breath out of him before winding around his chest and arms. His scream pierces the once near silent night as his teammates look beyond in useless horror. They haven’t encountered one of these before, at least not alive. They’d seen the bloated corpses and shuttered, but never thought of what would happen if they met it in the flesh. Pulling its entire body backwards, it reels him in closer, hanging him from the top of the hill.
“Are you even listening to me?”
A hand is thrust in front of his line of sight, and he instinctively moves his head away to create space. “Helloooo-? Earth to Toni?” The other man sits across from him, leaning across the table in concern. He’s got his arms crossed, turning this way and that as he waits for his dinner company to respond.
“Oh.. What?” Toni replies flatly, looking down at his plate, then to his company, then to the TV across the bar. A Football game. He listens for a moment more, before the other continues and brings his attention back to the table. “So you weren’t listening? OK, anyways, going back to square one.” The friend cuts into the food in front of him, and takes a bite before continuing. “I went to the store today.” Toni picks at his nails, brows furrowing as the other fails to elaborate on where the story was going. “That’s riveting, Carlos. Did you buy something, too, or just dropped by for a visit?” his mouth tugs into a grin, looking up just in time to watch Carlos puff his cheeks out in annoyance. There’s quiet for a moment as the other takes another bite of food, and Toni is half tempted to go back to the game on the tv.
“I wasn’t done with the story yet. There wasn’t anymore bottled water, isn’t that crazy? People bought it all.” It was a familiar story that he’s heard all too much from different people. Empty shelves from people swarming in like locusts- all the end of the world-ers and people who thought about it too much and then made themselves scared. Toni thought it was silly, really. It’s only in DC, nowhere near Louisiana and its just a flu- a feverish and hellish one, but he doesn't recall anybody dying, just everyone being sick.
"I think it's stupid, but it isn't really crazy." He picks at his nails a tad more, before lowering them into his lap. "It's all just blowing it out of proportions." Carlos frowns again, pushing the piece of meat around on his plate as he thinks- well, Toni assumes he's thinking. He can't ever tell if Carlos is mad or thinking or just out of words to say. A few more quiet moments pass with no discussion, and Toni decides that it's the latter. "I should go. My mom wanted me to fix her sink for her." That is… less than true, admittedly, but Toni felt as if the conversation had been run dry the moment the green flu was brought up. Carlos opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, nodding.
"No, yea. Totally. We've been here for a while."
Teeth tear into fabric and clothes, and his cries drown out in the empty highway. He struggles under the beast's weight as its nails dig into his arms with the intent to bleed. It's hand hits the man's earring, the sharp corner of the plastic jewel splitting open the skin on it's knuckle. It doesn't even feel it- there's no pain, only rage as it continues to bludgeon the prey beneath it.
"It's getting worse, you know."
The park was almost empty- it wasn't entirely unusual, they had come early in the morning, most were at work or school, save a few joggers here and there. Toni runs his fingers through the bushes leaves absentmindedly, mind working away at what the other had said. "I know."
"No, It's getting really bad."
"I know."
"There was a case of it in the uptown area, you know. here, in Louisiana."
Toni's mouth creases at the thought, silent again as he thinks. The quarantine they instilled in D.C. was enough to frighten people back into their homes elsewhere. Maybe that was another reason the park was so lifelessly empty. "It's just a flu." Toni finally decides to settle on that response. Carlos sits up in his seat, glancing at the other. "CEDA says it's a flu. They aren't actually telling anybody what's happening. Did you see how they aren't letting anybody in or out of Mercy?" Toni picks at the bush some more. "Is that not supposed to happen when there's an outbreak?"
"No." Carlos replies. "It's not. Are you stupid, or just dumb? They don't just shut down hospitals."
"Sometimes they do." Says Toni. There's silence for a moment, and Carlos sighs.
"I don't think you've ever been to a hospital before."
Toni puffs his cheeks out. "CEDA knows what they're doing, so if they say it's a flu, then it's a flu. People are just freaking out over nothing." he shrugs. "It'll get bad, then better, then worse again- that's how this shit works. We just have to stay safe. If they tell us to stay inside, then we stay inside. It's CEDA." Carlos is still quiet. Toni doesn't know if the others thinking, or just frustrated that Toni isn't listening.
"I hope CEDA knows what they're doing." Toni frowns again. Fucking- Carlos, of course they do. If they didn't know what they were doing, then that means that they don't know what the green flu is. It means the sick people weren't being taken care of. It means they aren't safe, and Toni would rather be ignorant of that than stew on it.
Bone lapings snap under the pressure of the creature's appendage. The others rush towards the strung up survivor, far more effective at brutalizing than the smoker ever was. They are a barricade, the wall between it and them. The remaining three push through the horde, the sick's screams travelling over their commands and calls. It's nothing but a blur, now.
He shoves coins into the machine, and the machine spits them back out. "God, god!" Frustrated, he shoves them back in with more force, as if a harder hand would do anything close to fixing the problem or make the machine accept the coins in his hand.
"You're going to break it." Carlos trails behind lightly, hand raised to his ear to fiddle with the piercing absentmindedly. "Are you sure you're putting the right coins in?" Toni's jaw tightens, brows furrowing as he tries the machine once, twice, thrice more. "Of course I have the right fucking coins- what coins would I even be using? Peso??" Carlos grimances, lowering his hands into a defensive gesture as Toni refuses to leave the machine be.
"Hey, man- I'm just trying to help you, because apparently you're not figuring that out anytime-"
A scream rips through the store, and before Toni can turn people are rushing to the exits, a herd of them fleeing and pushing their way through doors too small. Grabbing Carlos by the arm, he pulls the two of them flat against the wall, watching as the crowd moves past. He stands on his toes to see overhead of the crowd but he can't focus on anything- There's only a blur of people and shapes and red and-
“What’s happening?” Carlos asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s everyone going?”
“I don’t know, Carlos.” Toni swallows. Wherever those people are going, it would be best to follow.
Still with Carlos' arm tight in his grip, Toni leads him out once a gap opens up in the crowd. Immediately, they're pushed and shoved around and for a moment Toni’s afraid he’s going to get trampled over. The world is spinning in his head, vague faces passing him by as he’s forcefully moved from one place to another. He lets the crowd carry him up and out of the aisle, down the main path of the store, and right to the exits. Pushing his arm back behind him, he feels around for Carlos’ hand- wait, when had he let go of Carlos’ hand?
Toni’s head swivels to look at the crowd behind him, legs bracing against the crowd pushing against him. He can’t see the other in the mass of faces. Turning on his heel, he tries to push against the flow of people, tries to call out for the other, anything to reconnect them again. Pushing into an aisle, he scrambles to get back onto his feet. It was immediately starting to settle a bit more, the crowd thinning out quickly, even if there was still chaos in the depths of the store. Gathering himself to his feet, Toni inhales sharply. Okay. Okay. I’m okay. Where’s Carlos? He moves through the store slowly, half-crawling between the aisles and peeking around every corner. In almost an instant a sharp, metallic smell hits him and instinctively he recoils, hand moving upwards to cover his mouth and nose. That’s not good, not at all.
Slowly, he moves forward, leaning over to peek down the next Aisle. Against the far wall layed a corpse, his insides pulled away from his body and strewn about along the floor. A woman kneeled in the middle of it all, gore up to her elbows as it glistened against the harsh light of the store. Toni whimpers, backpedaling as she rises from her carnage. It was tragic, and more horrifying than he could ever describe- but the man wasn’t Carlos. Taking another step back, glass crunches under his boots. As if on cue, her head swivels to peer at him from beyond her hair. Oh, fuck. Ohhh fuck.
Toni turns on his heel, dashing back from where he had just came. A Scream erupts from her and is soon joined by another voice- and then another, and another. It’s a chorus of cries and wails, the haunting noise licking at his heels as he sprints down the main path. The front doors come closer and closer and suddenly he makes it through the front door, dashing across the lot and to the car before flinging open the passenger door and crawling in. He slams it close just as the woman meets the car, her fists pounding on the glass ruthlessly and without tire. Soon another joins, and then a few more, until Toni is left scrambling away from the sides of the car, crawling from the front to the back seats, and eventually pulling himself over the back and into the deck of the vehicle. . Not seeing them doesn’t mean they’ve gone away, so he curls into himself and brings his shirt up over his eyes. Without the imagery, they almost sound like thunder- or hail. Hundreds of masses of hard ice hitting the windshield except now it will go on forever until the glass caves in. Except slowly, but surely, the beating slows, until there’s nothing but stillness.
Toni does not dare get up to look. He hunches forward even more, the blood and adrenaline still rushing in his ears. He knows he needs to get up eventually, in case they come back- but he can’t will himself to.Taking in a shaky breath, he slides his arms out from under him, hesitating before propping himself up to peek over the backseat to take a look at his surroundings.
There is so much carnage in the parking lot alone. Making it out the front doors didn’t spell safety for the majority of the shoppers, apparently. He looks around a bit more, swiveling to look out of the back window. The lot is relatively empty, aside from what remains of people. He needed to take this chance, before he didn’t have it anymore. Fishing for the key in his pocket, he crawls back over the seat again- taking more care, this time- and makes his way back up into the front. Shoving the key into the engine, he takes one last peek around the lot. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to find, Because Carlos would be halfway across the city by now. Well, he hopes he is.
Turning the key, the engine roars to life.
The survivor manages to weasel an arm out from under its tongue. With a groan, he raises his hand up before plunging something into it’s flesh. Finally, it lets out a squeal, pulling its head back sharply as the knife is removed for a second try. The tongues grip loosens, muscles and tendons underneath snapping as the knife comes down a second and third time. Peering down, it’s eye flickers lazily between its prey, the horde, and the remaining survivors. They’re struggling against the undead. There’s no need to worry- or, to do whatever is closest to worrying as the smoker can get.
It has been a few days since then. First, there were people. Those who decided to hunker down and stay put despite the growing madness that surrounded them. Toni was one of those- He couldn’t bare to leave if there was even a chance his friend had been left behind in the city. When he had first gotten home, he rang the telephones, calling Carlos’ number four times before the lines cut out entirely. After that, CEDA declared the emergency out of their control, urging citizens to either evacuate or board up their homes into safe houses. Toni knew, then, that there was no more time to wait. He had to decide, now, whether he was to leave or to stay.
Slipping his pocket knife into his pocket, he slides his way out of his apartment, creeping down the near silent hall. ’At the very least. He thinks dryly, ’I don’t have to pay rent anymore.’ He can’t bring himself to find the humor in it, letting his own desperate joke crash and burn.
The evacuation center nearby had long since closed, but he knows there’s one in Orleans. He plans it out in his mind as he makes his way down the stairs. Yes, he can cross the causeway to get there- maybe not drive, if the stalled cars in town were the same on the bridge- but it was a doable feat. if he pushed on until dark, he’d be there overnight.
His mouth turns downwards. No, he can’t afford to go out at night. He’d have to trek for multiple days- but there’s no buildings down the castaway. Maybe the cars..? He thought hard, working out the kinks of his impulsive little trek as he slipped through the back gate of the apartment block. He walks through the front yard, pausing for only a moment to listen to his surroundings. There’s gunshots somewhere, and a crackling fire.
He notices the sickly groan a moment too late. Opening his mouth in surprise, they were upon him in an instant, clawing at his limbs, sinking their teeth into his flesh from behind. He lets out a guttural wail, before twisting his body around and plunging his knife into its weakened skin. It's over as soon as it started.
His eyes glance at the corpse slung across the ground, adrenaline still lingering. You tried to kill me, had the advantage, and still lost.
"Dumb bitch." He says, even if nobody is around to hear it. He picks himself up, gently feeling his way around the deep bite that had been marked onto his shoulder blade. It hurts, badly- but that thing bit him through his shirt's fabric. None of the spit made it through, as far as he’s willing to believe. Gingerly, he presses his hand over it, pushing through the front gate of the yard and into the street beyond.
He has to get to that evacuation center.
A gunshot rings. There wasn’t a gun before, but now there is- one of the survivors, apparently. Suddenly the situation changes in it’s mind- a game of chess playing out infront of the infected and survivors, and the survivors just pulled out their queen.
Of course, it doesn’t understand the nuances of Chess, it just knows the guns can kill. Bending forward for a moment, it peeks over the hill, seeing the tongue had broken in the middle. The smoker digs its teeth into its tongue, canines carving through muscles and flesh until the rest of it tears away from its face. It isn’t productive to trip over something that is no use to use. The creature immediately begins to withdraw from the horde, rendered skittish the moment its weapon is ripped away. It backpedals behind the treeline, the survivors no longer more appetizing than its own life.
He's miserable, but still, he continues on. He has to, he’s already made it past the causeway. The longer his trek, though, The more his nervousness grows. He hasn't seen a single living soul in so long, it's hard to imagine the area around the place would be abandoned. It can't be. He won't allow himself to believe that. He's going to be saved, and treated for whatever illness has afflicted him. He'll be warm and safe and fed, and he'll shower. He just has to keep going. One foot in front of the other, he thinks. I'll get there.
His legs shake and buckle as he walks. It's only gotten worse. How he has survived so long, he does not know. Sweat causes his clothes to cling to his back. He certainly feels sticky, at least. Hes almost there. He sees it in the distance. A large sign that points to a large metal gate. It's really there, god, it's really real.
As he approaches, he realizes that It's unnervingly empty. Would military personal not be walking the perimeter? There is no talking, no signs of human life. A napkin is stuck to the ground, flapping in the breeze. And the gate is wide open. The man's heart drops. Sliding between the gate, he stumbles his way over to the front of the center. As he walks, an awful smell encroaches apon him. Its heavy and sits in the air. His face scrunches up. No. Please no. Please god no.
He turns the corner, and he immediately fixates on the dried blood that had flooded this particular street. He's frozen to the spot, eyes trailing up the blood to the horrific scene in front of him.
Bodies. Bodies upon bodies upon bodies. They're piled up onto each other, flies buzzing around them as the dry southern sun only speeds up their decay. They're pushed together so tightly. They couldn't have been infected, they were packed too closely together. They were rounded up for evacuation. But zombies couldn't have done this, zombies don't leave bullet holes. The man swallows. The military shot these people, leaving their corpses to fester. They couldn't even bother with a mass grave.
He doubles over, and vomits.
Slowly, the screams die out. But not those of a human man. The horrible choir of monsters was being picked off one by one. Feeling it had run far enough, it slows back into a leisurely stumble, turning on its heel to trail parallel to the highway it had just picked a fight at. Make no mistake- it may have retreated, but it did not give them up. It slinks around the treeline, moving towards the back of their group. The horde had been dispatched by them mostly, but they had seemingly forgotten the creature that had run.
He couldn't travel far. He's too weak. His plan was to stretch himself thin enough to get here, to salvation, but he's received nothing but the ugly truth. CEDA has collapsed. The military has abandoned them. There is no safety.
Even now, though, Toni is partially glad there was no helicopter for him to get on. The haunting reality that he was never immune, just damn lucky, is crushing him. He feels his stomach twist and turn, abdomen warm and hurtful to touch. He can't hold anything down. He's dying. Laying in an ally, his stupor turns into a frantic panic. He's too weak to get up, but his coughing turns into wailing and choking. His guts feel like they're twisting on their own. He can't speak, nothing but bile and mucus bubbles out of his throat.
His cries become a deep, guttural groan as he lays limp in that dirty ally. How long has he been laying here, retching and coughing. He tries to move, slumping over onto the ground. The building's he's sandwiched between cast shade across the ally, which leaves the concrete cold, instead of unbearably hot. It soothes the burning and itching of his skin, if only for a little bit.
It's a small mercy, really, in the grade scheme of things.
Mucus catches in its throat and the smoker, irritated, tries to clear its throat. A deep cough echos across the ally, the noise so quiet that it could almost be mistaken for the groan of the abandoned buildings.
Almost.
The armed one turns his head, eyes scanning the horizon for the source. Maybe he had just misheard, or maybe the beast had come back. Spotting the lanky figure among the treeline, he almost glaces it over as a tree.
Raising the gun up, he shoots wildly, landing a lucky shot that embeds itself into the mass of tumors on the beast's face. Immediately, the pressure in its head gives away, the smoker letting out an abrupt scream as the boils erupt into a fanatical explosion of smoke and grime. It was a frail thing- that was certainly all it took to kill it, but as it's broken body lays there, a cold air wafts across its skin. Eyes flutter open a moment later, night having set in with a deep, dark fog painting everything in front of it in a permanent night.
A gunshot fires randomly in the distance. The strangled thing turns and follows in the direction the sound comes from. Making it way up the side of the hilltop, it stops from the treeline. Four of them- clean, untouched, fresh. It shifts its weight in anticipation. It could attack now, but it doesn’t. It waits for the one in the lead- the oldest- to fall into its line of fire. It has long since learned that patience is far more rewarding than throwing its teeth and claws into the midst immediately. It waits a moment longer, raspy breath echoing into the streets below.
Waiting, waiting. The man hears its breath. His head turns.
“Toni?”
It bends down onto its haunches, tongue rolling back up behind its teeth, sliding down its own throat in preparation of the kill.
“Toni.”
The sticky appendage launches forward out of its mouth, as precise as a bullet. It knocks the man off balance, blowing the breath out of him before winding around his chest and arms. His scream pierces the once near silent night as his teammates look beyond in useless horror. They haven’t encountered one of these before, at least not alive. They’d seen the bloated corpses and shuttered, but never thought of what would happen if they met it in the flesh. Pulling its entire body backwards, it reels him in closer, hanging him from the top of the hill.
“Are you even listening to me?”
A hand is thrust in front of his line of sight, and he instinctively moves his head away to create space. “Helloooo-? Earth to Toni?” The other man sits across from him, leaning across the table in concern. He’s got his arms crossed, turning this way and that as he waits for his dinner company to respond.
“Oh.. What?” Toni replies flatly, looking down at his plate, then to his company, then to the TV across the bar. A Football game. He listens for a moment more, before the other continues and brings his attention back to the table. “So you weren’t listening? OK, anyways, going back to square one.” The friend cuts into the food in front of him, and takes a bite before continuing. “I went to the store today.” Toni picks at his nails, brows furrowing as the other fails to elaborate on where the story was going. “That’s riveting, Carlos. Did you buy something, too, or just dropped by for a visit?” his mouth tugs into a grin, looking up just in time to watch Carlos puff his cheeks out in annoyance. There’s quiet for a moment as the other takes another bite of food, and Toni is half tempted to go back to the game on the tv.
“I wasn’t done with the story yet. There wasn’t anymore bottled water, isn’t that crazy? People bought it all.” It was a familiar story that he’s heard all too much from different people. Empty shelves from people swarming in like locusts- all the end of the world-ers and people who thought about it too much and then made themselves scared. Toni thought it was silly, really. It’s only in DC, nowhere near Louisiana and its just a flu- a feverish and hellish one, but he doesn't recall anybody dying, just everyone being sick.
"I think it's stupid, but it isn't really crazy." He picks at his nails a tad more, before lowering them into his lap. "It's all just blowing it out of proportions." Carlos frowns again, pushing the piece of meat around on his plate as he thinks- well, Toni assumes he's thinking. He can't ever tell if Carlos is mad or thinking or just out of words to say. A few more quiet moments pass with no discussion, and Toni decides that it's the latter. "I should go. My mom wanted me to fix her sink for her." That is… less than true, admittedly, but Toni felt as if the conversation had been run dry the moment the green flu was brought up. Carlos opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, nodding.
"No, yea. Totally. We've been here for a while."
Teeth tear into fabric and clothes, and his cries drown out in the empty highway. He struggles under the beast's weight as its nails dig into his arms with the intent to bleed. It's hand hits the man's earring, the sharp corner of the plastic jewel splitting open the skin on it's knuckle. It doesn't even feel it- there's no pain, only rage as it continues to bludgeon the prey beneath it.
"It's getting worse, you know."
The park was almost empty- it wasn't entirely unusual, they had come early in the morning, most were at work or school, save a few joggers here and there. Toni runs his fingers through the bushes leaves absentmindedly, mind working away at what the other had said. "I know."
"No, It's getting really bad."
"I know."
"There was a case of it in the uptown area, you know. here, in Louisiana."
Toni's mouth creases at the thought, silent again as he thinks. The quarantine they instilled in D.C. was enough to frighten people back into their homes elsewhere. Maybe that was another reason the park was so lifelessly empty. "It's just a flu." Toni finally decides to settle on that response. Carlos sits up in his seat, glancing at the other. "CEDA says it's a flu. They aren't actually telling anybody what's happening. Did you see how they aren't letting anybody in or out of Mercy?" Toni picks at the bush some more. "Is that not supposed to happen when there's an outbreak?"
"No." Carlos replies. "It's not. Are you stupid, or just dumb? They don't just shut down hospitals."
"Sometimes they do." Says Toni. There's silence for a moment, and Carlos sighs.
"I don't think you've ever been to a hospital before."
Toni puffs his cheeks out. "CEDA knows what they're doing, so if they say it's a flu, then it's a flu. People are just freaking out over nothing." he shrugs. "It'll get bad, then better, then worse again- that's how this shit works. We just have to stay safe. If they tell us to stay inside, then we stay inside. It's CEDA." Carlos is still quiet. Toni doesn't know if the others thinking, or just frustrated that Toni isn't listening.
"I hope CEDA knows what they're doing." Toni frowns again. Fucking- Carlos, of course they do. If they didn't know what they were doing, then that means that they don't know what the green flu is. It means the sick people weren't being taken care of. It means they aren't safe, and Toni would rather be ignorant of that than stew on it.
Bone lapings snap under the pressure of the creature's appendage. The others rush towards the strung up survivor, far more effective at brutalizing than the smoker ever was. They are a barricade, the wall between it and them. The remaining three push through the horde, the sick's screams travelling over their commands and calls. It's nothing but a blur, now.
He shoves coins into the machine, and the machine spits them back out. "God, god!" Frustrated, he shoves them back in with more force, as if a harder hand would do anything close to fixing the problem or make the machine accept the coins in his hand.
"You're going to break it." Carlos trails behind lightly, hand raised to his ear to fiddle with the piercing absentmindedly. "Are you sure you're putting the right coins in?" Toni's jaw tightens, brows furrowing as he tries the machine once, twice, thrice more. "Of course I have the right fucking coins- what coins would I even be using? Peso??" Carlos grimances, lowering his hands into a defensive gesture as Toni refuses to leave the machine be.
"Hey, man- I'm just trying to help you, because apparently you're not figuring that out anytime-"
A scream rips through the store, and before Toni can turn people are rushing to the exits, a herd of them fleeing and pushing their way through doors too small. Grabbing Carlos by the arm, he pulls the two of them flat against the wall, watching as the crowd moves past. He stands on his toes to see overhead of the crowd but he can't focus on anything- There's only a blur of people and shapes and red and-
“What’s happening?” Carlos asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s everyone going?”
“I don’t know, Carlos.” Toni swallows. Wherever those people are going, it would be best to follow.
Still with Carlos' arm tight in his grip, Toni leads him out once a gap opens up in the crowd. Immediately, they're pushed and shoved around and for a moment Toni’s afraid he’s going to get trampled over. The world is spinning in his head, vague faces passing him by as he’s forcefully moved from one place to another. He lets the crowd carry him up and out of the aisle, down the main path of the store, and right to the exits. Pushing his arm back behind him, he feels around for Carlos’ hand- wait, when had he let go of Carlos’ hand?
Toni’s head swivels to look at the crowd behind him, legs bracing against the crowd pushing against him. He can’t see the other in the mass of faces. Turning on his heel, he tries to push against the flow of people, tries to call out for the other, anything to reconnect them again. Pushing into an aisle, he scrambles to get back onto his feet. It was immediately starting to settle a bit more, the crowd thinning out quickly, even if there was still chaos in the depths of the store. Gathering himself to his feet, Toni inhales sharply. Okay. Okay. I’m okay. Where’s Carlos? He moves through the store slowly, half-crawling between the aisles and peeking around every corner. In almost an instant a sharp, metallic smell hits him and instinctively he recoils, hand moving upwards to cover his mouth and nose. That’s not good, not at all.
Slowly, he moves forward, leaning over to peek down the next Aisle. Against the far wall layed a corpse, his insides pulled away from his body and strewn about along the floor. A woman kneeled in the middle of it all, gore up to her elbows as it glistened against the harsh light of the store. Toni whimpers, backpedaling as she rises from her carnage. It was tragic, and more horrifying than he could ever describe- but the man wasn’t Carlos. Taking another step back, glass crunches under his boots. As if on cue, her head swivels to peer at him from beyond her hair. Oh, fuck. Ohhh fuck.
Toni turns on his heel, dashing back from where he had just came. A Scream erupts from her and is soon joined by another voice- and then another, and another. It’s a chorus of cries and wails, the haunting noise licking at his heels as he sprints down the main path. The front doors come closer and closer and suddenly he makes it through the front door, dashing across the lot and to the car before flinging open the passenger door and crawling in. He slams it close just as the woman meets the car, her fists pounding on the glass ruthlessly and without tire. Soon another joins, and then a few more, until Toni is left scrambling away from the sides of the car, crawling from the front to the back seats, and eventually pulling himself over the back and into the deck of the vehicle. . Not seeing them doesn’t mean they’ve gone away, so he curls into himself and brings his shirt up over his eyes. Without the imagery, they almost sound like thunder- or hail. Hundreds of masses of hard ice hitting the windshield except now it will go on forever until the glass caves in. Except slowly, but surely, the beating slows, until there’s nothing but stillness.
Toni does not dare get up to look. He hunches forward even more, the blood and adrenaline still rushing in his ears. He knows he needs to get up eventually, in case they come back- but he can’t will himself to.Taking in a shaky breath, he slides his arms out from under him, hesitating before propping himself up to peek over the backseat to take a look at his surroundings.
There is so much carnage in the parking lot alone. Making it out the front doors didn’t spell safety for the majority of the shoppers, apparently. He looks around a bit more, swiveling to look out of the back window. The lot is relatively empty, aside from what remains of people. He needed to take this chance, before he didn’t have it anymore. Fishing for the key in his pocket, he crawls back over the seat again- taking more care, this time- and makes his way back up into the front. Shoving the key into the engine, he takes one last peek around the lot. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to find, Because Carlos would be halfway across the city by now. Well, he hopes he is.
Turning the key, the engine roars to life.
The survivor manages to weasel an arm out from under its tongue. With a groan, he raises his hand up before plunging something into it’s flesh. Finally, it lets out a squeal, pulling its head back sharply as the knife is removed for a second try. The tongues grip loosens, muscles and tendons underneath snapping as the knife comes down a second and third time. Peering down, it’s eye flickers lazily between its prey, the horde, and the remaining survivors. They’re struggling against the undead. There’s no need to worry- or, to do whatever is closest to worrying as the smoker can get.
It has been a few days since then. First, there were people. Those who decided to hunker down and stay put despite the growing madness that surrounded them. Toni was one of those- He couldn’t bare to leave if there was even a chance his friend had been left behind in the city. When he had first gotten home, he rang the telephones, calling Carlos’ number four times before the lines cut out entirely. After that, CEDA declared the emergency out of their control, urging citizens to either evacuate or board up their homes into safe houses. Toni knew, then, that there was no more time to wait. He had to decide, now, whether he was to leave or to stay.
Slipping his pocket knife into his pocket, he slides his way out of his apartment, creeping down the near silent hall. ’At the very least. He thinks dryly, ’I don’t have to pay rent anymore.’ He can’t bring himself to find the humor in it, letting his own desperate joke crash and burn.
The evacuation center nearby had long since closed, but he knows there’s one in Orleans. He plans it out in his mind as he makes his way down the stairs. Yes, he can cross the causeway to get there- maybe not drive, if the stalled cars in town were the same on the bridge- but it was a doable feat. if he pushed on until dark, he’d be there overnight.
His mouth turns downwards. No, he can’t afford to go out at night. He’d have to trek for multiple days- but there’s no buildings down the castaway. Maybe the cars..? He thought hard, working out the kinks of his impulsive little trek as he slipped through the back gate of the apartment block. He walks through the front yard, pausing for only a moment to listen to his surroundings. There’s gunshots somewhere, and a crackling fire.
He notices the sickly groan a moment too late. Opening his mouth in surprise, they were upon him in an instant, clawing at his limbs, sinking their teeth into his flesh from behind. He lets out a guttural wail, before twisting his body around and plunging his knife into its weakened skin. It's over as soon as it started.
His eyes glance at the corpse slung across the ground, adrenaline still lingering. You tried to kill me, had the advantage, and still lost.
"Dumb bitch." He says, even if nobody is around to hear it. He picks himself up, gently feeling his way around the deep bite that had been marked onto his shoulder blade. It hurts, badly- but that thing bit him through his shirt's fabric. None of the spit made it through, as far as he’s willing to believe. Gingerly, he presses his hand over it, pushing through the front gate of the yard and into the street beyond.
He has to get to that evacuation center.
A gunshot rings. There wasn’t a gun before, but now there is- one of the survivors, apparently. Suddenly the situation changes in it’s mind- a game of chess playing out infront of the infected and survivors, and the survivors just pulled out their queen.
Of course, it doesn’t understand the nuances of Chess, it just knows the guns can kill. Bending forward for a moment, it peeks over the hill, seeing the tongue had broken in the middle. The smoker digs its teeth into its tongue, canines carving through muscles and flesh until the rest of it tears away from its face. It isn’t productive to trip over something that is no use to use. The creature immediately begins to withdraw from the horde, rendered skittish the moment its weapon is ripped away. It backpedals behind the treeline, the survivors no longer more appetizing than its own life.
He's miserable, but still, he continues on. He has to, he’s already made it past the causeway. The longer his trek, though, The more his nervousness grows. He hasn't seen a single living soul in so long, it's hard to imagine the area around the place would be abandoned. It can't be. He won't allow himself to believe that. He's going to be saved, and treated for whatever illness has afflicted him. He'll be warm and safe and fed, and he'll shower. He just has to keep going. One foot in front of the other, he thinks. I'll get there.
His legs shake and buckle as he walks. It's only gotten worse. How he has survived so long, he does not know. Sweat causes his clothes to cling to his back. He certainly feels sticky, at least. Hes almost there. He sees it in the distance. A large sign that points to a large metal gate. It's really there, god, it's really real.
As he approaches, he realizes that It's unnervingly empty. Would military personal not be walking the perimeter? There is no talking, no signs of human life. A napkin is stuck to the ground, flapping in the breeze. And the gate is wide open. The man's heart drops. Sliding between the gate, he stumbles his way over to the front of the center. As he walks, an awful smell encroaches apon him. Its heavy and sits in the air. His face scrunches up. No. Please no. Please god no.
He turns the corner, and he immediately fixates on the dried blood that had flooded this particular street. He's frozen to the spot, eyes trailing up the blood to the horrific scene in front of him.
Bodies. Bodies upon bodies upon bodies. They're piled up onto each other, flies buzzing around them as the dry southern sun only speeds up their decay. They're pushed together so tightly. They couldn't have been infected, they were packed too closely together. They were rounded up for evacuation. But zombies couldn't have done this, zombies don't leave bullet holes. The man swallows. The military shot these people, leaving their corpses to fester. They couldn't even bother with a mass grave.
He doubles over, and vomits.
Slowly, the screams die out. But not those of a human man. The horrible choir of monsters was being picked off one by one. Feeling it had run far enough, it slows back into a leisurely stumble, turning on its heel to trail parallel to the highway it had just picked a fight at. Make no mistake- it may have retreated, but it did not give them up. It slinks around the treeline, moving towards the back of their group. The horde had been dispatched by them mostly, but they had seemingly forgotten the creature that had run.
He couldn't travel far. He's too weak. His plan was to stretch himself thin enough to get here, to salvation, but he's received nothing but the ugly truth. CEDA has collapsed. The military has abandoned them. There is no safety.
Even now, though, Toni is partially glad there was no helicopter for him to get on. The haunting reality that he was never immune, just damn lucky, is crushing him. He feels his stomach twist and turn, abdomen warm and hurtful to touch. He can't hold anything down. He's dying. Laying in an ally, his stupor turns into a frantic panic. He's too weak to get up, but his coughing turns into wailing and choking. His guts feel like they're twisting on their own. He can't speak, nothing but bile and mucus bubbles out of his throat.
His cries become a deep, guttural groan as he lays limp in that dirty ally. How long has he been laying here, retching and coughing. He tries to move, slumping over onto the ground. The building's he's sandwiched between cast shade across the ally, which leaves the concrete cold, instead of unbearably hot. It soothes the burning and itching of his skin, if only for a little bit.
It's a small mercy, really, in the grade scheme of things.
Mucus catches in its throat and the smoker, irritated, tries to clear its throat. A deep cough echos across the ally, the noise so quiet that it could almost be mistaken for the groan of the abandoned buildings.
Almost.
The armed one turns his head, eyes scanning the horizon for the source. Maybe he had just misheard, or maybe the beast had come back. Spotting the lanky figure among the treeline, he almost glaces it over as a tree.
Raising the gun up, he shoots wildly, landing a lucky shot that embeds itself into the mass of tumors on the beast's face. Immediately, the pressure in its head gives away, the smoker letting out an abrupt scream as the boils erupt into a fanatical explosion of smoke and grime. It was a frail thing- that was certainly all it took to kill it, but as it's broken body lays there, a cold air wafts across its skin. Eyes flutter open a moment later, night having set in with a deep, dark fog painting everything in front of it in a permanent night.