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Quhanta

Striving For Survival

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As Sarisha climbed up the ladder, it emitted a slight groan as the rarely-scaled metal adjusted under her light weight. No doubt, it had done the same for Winston and any others who had found their way on to the roof. If the metallic creak hadn't caught his attention, the sound of the teenager's feet shuffling across the rooftop certainly did. From where Winston rested, which was on the roof of the filling area and not directly atop the gas station, he craned his head around and rested a cautious hand on his Beretta, but didn't draw it.

 

All things considered, the soldier seemed rather comfortable and lax about the situation. In his hand was a book, though it would obviously get harder and harder to read as it got later and later in the evening. An unlit cigarette hung loosely from between his lips and his eyes showed a sort of resigned alertness, as if he was fatigued but forced himself onwards. He let out a small cough and sat up, picking up his rifle by the receiver and walking to the edge of the filling station roof so Sarisha wouldn't have to climb up (again) to where he was.

 

He half-crouched at the edge of the roof, leaning over and smiling politely as Sarisha offered him a blanket. He took it wordlessly and threw it over his shoulder. "Heard a groan, but no commotion. Everything alright down there?" His voice carried with it a certain air of authority, though one more natural than trained. The soldier, as experienced as he might've been, didn't seem to have any desire to take the reigns of the "group". In fact, one could say he seemed rather disinterested in the entire affair.

Edited by Arctic

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Charlie shook the mans hand, smiling. "I'm Charlie... I could use somethin' t'eat, I don't care what it is. Anythin'. Beef sticks, jerky, a sandwich- I'd go for a ball of damn lettuce right 'bout now." Charlie laughed a bit, sitting up a little. For a half-starved teenage drummer, he was in a good mood.

 

Yuri rubbed the bags under his eyes as he sat on the toilet, making sure the door was locked. He reached into his gopack, pulling out a Tuffbook, opening it up on his lap. He began to type in his information to one of the hidden old Soviet satalites set up in space. Getting a video feed, he zoomed in to his home on Moscow. It was over run... And he saw that the door to his old house had a blood trail leading out of it. He quickly closed the Tuffbook, seething quietly in the bathroom. He was using all his power not to try and smash the unbreakable lap top against the wall. Yuri calmed him self, and began to close the Tuffbook- Gently this time. He slid it back in his gobag, making sure it was logged off and turned off. He slipped the key to the custom Tuffbook into his back pocket and washed his face and hands. He then stepped back out into the garrage, rubbing the back of his neck and sitting quietly near the coffee machines.

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"We have one new addition to the group./COLOR" She stated bluntly. "He was most likely holdup in the school or a far away house. He was starved, but Lien took care of that." Sarisha looked closer at him. He appeared tired, but forcing it away. She held up the case of Red Bull and grinned.

"I was hoping to go shift for shift with you up here for the night. You look dead, so I can take the first one, if you'd like." She realized that she would have to go back down to the truck to get her rifle, but she could do that after a bit.

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((Sorry 'bout that.))

Lien wandered off to continue with what she was doing earlier before she had gotten distracted and picked up her notebook and pen again before aimlessly wandering the isles.

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"Another one," Winston said softly to himself. He didn't sound particularly pleased, but overall his tone most closely resembled indifference. He listened as Sarisha continued on her vein of discussion and he nodded quietly. "If I had to choose an energy drink, Red Bull would be it. Still, can't have more than one. Bad for the mind. Overactive mind equals hallucinations equals itchy trigger finger equals bad aim. Thanks, though, I'll definitely have a bit." He paused and held a gloved fist up to his mouth, coughing once and clearing his throat. The soldier looked over his shoulder at the house across the way, then turned his attention back to Sarisha.

 

"As far as shifts go, I'm not sure what to do about that. Not exactly comfortable with any one of you up here in the darkness. In the rare occasion we've put a civ on duty, it's never ended well. I could stay up the night, but I'd be dog tired tomorrow. Problem is," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "these houses around us have infected in them. Probably not many, but I know at least one saw everyone moving around over here." He paused and ran a head over his mostly-bald scalp, sighing.

 

"Then there are a few things bugging me. One, this town is too quiet even for how small it is. Two, there were jets earlier. They were circling above. No idea why. That isn't something fighters do, especially this low to the ground. Three, the starving guy - it hasn't been long since wildfire. Couldn't have been starving, but if he was hungry and groaning then he might have a medical condition. Hypoglycemia, maybe. I don't know, I'm not a doctor. Could be problematic." Winston rolled his shoulders and gave an absent shrug. "Overall, I'm just here for the ride and you seem pretty keen on playing leader. I might meander off come morning if I think you folks are safe."

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Sarisha listened to Winston quietly, with a stern face. She looked to the houses as he pointed, and listened to his concern about the jets, feeling some herself. When he said that he might be leaving in the morning, she spoke up.

"One: The Red Bull was for you, I have insomnia. Additionally, I would most likely be able to shoot better than your city civilians." She looked around, and then re-focused. She shifted her weight onto her left foot, and then put her fists on her hips. "Two: The infected are most likely all at the church or the school, if not in their houses. Three: That boy looked like he'd been without food for two days, so he should be fine. If not, I see no problem in personally putting a bullet into his scull." Sarisha paused and a morbid grin flashed onto her face, slowly creeping away as she spoke.

"Four: There is nothing we can do about the jets, right now, so why worry? Finally, five: If you do pan on leaving in the morning, I have a request. I am to take our new Soviet friend to two places tomorrow morning. I don't quite trust him, and I would like to request that you come along. I don't know you well either, but I'm sure that you have more honor than to shoot a woman when her back is turned." Sarisha stared at him sternly. She noticed a zombie, in the window across the way, with her perifferal vision.

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"You're either a sociopath or you're acting tough if you think you could put a man down that easily," Winston commented absently, his expression somewhat scornful. "In any case, I'm not worrying about the jets, I'm saying that what they're doing is against every rule in the metaphorical aviator's handbook. Low flying in tight formation. Unless they're the Blue Angels, then they've got no business doing that. Something is up." The soldier tore off a red bull and cracked it open, kneeling down and taking a sip. He held the can quietly. "Soviet friend? Mmh. Ah, right. The stiff who came up here. Yeah, there's something up about him. Didn't flinch a muscle with a loaded rifle pointed at him." Winston took another sip of the red bull and paused for a moment, thinking over his next words carefully.

 

After a moment, he sighed and looked Sarisha in the eye. When he spoke, it was almost in a paternal voice, as if he was lecturing his own daughter. "I'm a grunt, kiddo, and right now I've got no cause. I'm not going to shoot a kid in the back just because I feel like it. Only if they're a threat to me, and even then I'd try to find other ways. I don't particularly like killing, and I strongly suggest you and every other wannabe hard*** follows suit. Not to be harsh, of course, but if I had a nickel for every time I found a once-gung-ho, wanna-be killer recruit hunched over a toilet and vomiting after his first tag, I'd be a really rich man. Anyway, sorry I went off on a tangent there. Yeah, I'd be happy to come if I need to. Don't want anything to happen. Still. If you don't trust him and you want to play leader, might as well just dismiss him now. If he doesn't listen, you tell him that you have a sniper. If he still doesn't listen, come talk to me and I'll deal with it." Winston took a sip of Red Bull, holding his HK 417 by the barrel with the stock placed on the roof. He peered down at Sarisha.

Edited by Arctic

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Mak grins and nods. "Alright Charlie be back in a sec. I'll going to see if there is something for everyone to eat." He says walking around the store collecting items that have expired or rotted and brought them back to the table. "Ok we have cold cans of soup and beans, Some ramen, about three apples and other foods." He says sorting the food.

 

((edited))

Edited by Shadowwolflegend

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Sarisha grinned a bit.

"Definitely a sociopath." She muttered and then listened to Winston go forth. When he was finished, she cleared her throat.

"Don't call me 'kiddo'. I dislike it almost as much as 'little girl'. I didn't ask to play leader, it's my truck and people seem to be listening to me. All I wanted was a bit of back-up for reassurance that I wouldn't die." Sarisha drove, accent thicker toward the end. She stared at him for a moment and then climbed the second ladder, to where he was.

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"Well, if you'll pardon my saying so, I'm not prepared to work on the side of the bad guy. Psychotic, neurotic, psychopathic, sociopathic - don't want anything to do with people of the sort." Oddly enough, Winston's voice was casual and relaxed as he said this. He stood and took a seat on a small ventilation unit on the filling station roof, taking another sip of Red Bull.

 

"I call everyone younger than me 'kiddo'. I'd suggest you get used to it, elsewise I could say 'kid', 'girl', 'girlie'. Least 'kiddo' isn't condescending, right? Besides, you are a kid. A big kid, but still a kid." He took a sip of the energy drink, adjusting his seating and laying his military rifle over his lap. He coughed a couple times, cleared his throat and continued speaking. "Anyway, you did ask to be the leader. First thing you said to me was 'I'm driving' - you assumed command automatically. Had to fight you away from that idea. You're awfully twitchy, too. Itchy and a little paranoid, I'd say. Not bad qualities to have, but you should know when to keep 'em in check. Just a suggestion," he chuckled.

 

Despite the most likely annoying nature of his lecture, Winston still maintained a somewhat fatherly, friendly air about him. He seemed to be talking from experience. "And if you didn't wanna die, you probably shouldn't have meandered in to a supermarket. Heh. Most people would head there. Food, guns, police protection. Markets, shops, authority. Everything gets swarmed." He took another sip.

Edited by Arctic

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Sarisha sat down on the ground and listened to Winston speak. She sighed.

"When I take 'Ivan' to the Kawana's Center, I'll stop at the Pharmacy and get my meds. Calm yourself. And... Well... It is my truck." Sarisha reached into her pocket and pulled out a few loose, wrapped Halls. She handed them to him as she spoke. "Here. You need these more than I do." She looked around and then re-focused, her right eye twitching a bit.

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Winston grinned at Sarisha's gift, chuckling. "Heh. Thanks." He took them, unwrapping one and popping it in to his mouth. He tucked the rest in to one of his pockets and leaned forward slightly, setting the Red Bull off to the side. "Maybe it's just me, but I don't really see the value in 'I' and 'my' anymore. I mean, if we wanted to, we could get a vehicle a lot better than your truck. Military humvees don't even have an ignition key. I mean, your truck has sentimental value, sure, but you've got to figure. You're, what, sixteen? I'm middle aged. I've been driving for as long as you've existed and then some. Can't be relying on personal possession if we want to survive. Have to act communally. That means you get to use this rifle," he jerked the HK 417 a little bit, "if you need to. But only if you need to, because I'm the most familiarized and most trained with it as it stands." He shrugged a little bit. "Anyway, you mind explaining to me what 'Kawana's Center' is? I'm not familiar with the area."

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(Why the hell did you light a fire in the middle of the store?)

 

Sarisha didn't really lie the thought of someone leaving her behind and taking off in her own truck. She squinted at the ground and then returned her gaze at Winston.

"The Kawana's Center is a community center used for breakfasts, Tai Kwan Do, and IHW. It's right next to the ball field. Ford's Pharmacy is close, so we won't be going out of our way to get there. If you're coming." Sarisha imagined the park that used to be outside the Center. She used to play there, but it got torn down. Her right eye twitched again.

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(Supply* There is no break room. It's a convenience store. When they're on their break, they go outside. Put out the fire please.)

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"Any particular reason that the guy has to go to the community center, or is it just for some unspecified outing? I understand the pharmacy, not so much an event hall." Winston reached over and took the red bull, sipping it. "Like I said, I'll come if you need me to come. Otherwise, I might go take a look around on my own."

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Sarisha listened and looked around. Focusing on Winston, she replied.

"He said that he needed a manifesto of the residence in this town. I don't know why, but if I take him, I might find out."

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"Then he's looking for someone or he's looking for an item that might be in that someone's home," Winston replied softly. "To be completely honest, if it's so important to him, I think he should go alone. No use risking life for the unknown, particularly if they're being secretive about it." He gently ran his thumb over the barrel of his rifle - not as a threat, of course, but just an unconscious movement of thought.

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"He doesn't know where it is and I need my medication. Unless, of course, you would like me to go without?" She half-grinned and examined her surroundings again.

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Yuri sat outside the story, clutching his Springfield. He figured this place was as much his home as it was theirs, for now. He stood patiently, clutching the rifle and monitoring the empty street.

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"It's a small town. I'm sure you could give him directions. As for medication, whether or not you want to take it is your prerogative." Winston shrugged absently and took a sip of the Red Bull. "Just make sure it doesn't make you drowsy or disoriented. Anyway, I'll tag along either way."

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Charlie, as weak as he was, found him self passed out on the counter in an awkward position, one leg sprawled out, the other sticking off the table, both his arms hanging off the sides, and his jaw wide open, letting out a quiet yawn. He just, sort of... Laid there, not really doing much. Just sleeping. It wasn't even night yet.

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Mak sighed at the poor kid and gave him a slight nudge to try and wake him up. "Hey kid wake up we're probably going to be having cold beans for dinner tonight unless you plan on sleeping instead." He states using a can opener that he picked up while getting the food and started opening a can of baked beans.

 

(( brings back memories of old western movies for some odd reason xd.png ))

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(It kinda does)

Charlie rubbed his sunken eyes, looking over and quietly nodding. He threw his legs over the counter, sitting upright. He continued to rub his eyes, then slapping his hands on his knees and blinking slowly at the tile floor as his vision began to clear from just-woke-up blurry. He then slowly slid off the counter, stumbling a bit and falling on the ground. His back slammed against the counter. He kind of just yawned. "Gimme a minute, I'll stay down here..."

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"It doesn't make me drowsy, it makes me normal." Sarisha stifled a giggle from a fond memory. She looked around at her surroundings again. She spotted a zombie approaching the store form the right. "Right there." Sarisha stated, pointing.

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Winston spoke more quietly. "Yeah, I saw. Just let him pass by. No use gathering attention to ourselves. Hopefully everyone down there is inside." He picked up his rifle and laid it over his lap, prepared nonetheless.

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