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     On The Line, Mark Standish
     Posted: Dec 21 2013, 11:07 PM
    Quote Post
    N/A posts
    played by

    The nights were starting to get colder.

    What was it ... September? October? It couldn't be past November yet, could it?

    It had gotten so hard to keep track of time in any reasonable sort of fashion. Most electronic calendars were gone, and every day just flowed one into the other. Each day consisted of survival, plain and simple, from the start of the day till the end. Survive. That was all they seemed to do anymore. No one sang. No one showed off tricks or told stories over campfires. They just survived. Starved, and survived one more day along the lines.

    Mark peered off into the darkness that encompassed the grass-filled meadow before him. It was actually kind of quaint, the kind of picturesque moonlit meadow that would have in previous times driven him into a rabid search for drawing pens and pastels. Of course, the only paintbrush he had now was the one in his mind. All of his artistic materials had been left behind in his home when they had fled their nightmare-filled cul-de-sac with whatever he had forced his wife and family to throw into their pillowcases and backpacks with them. He had already given up on taking the car. The short drive earlier that day had shown him not only how bad the epidemic was, but also how bad the traffic was trying to leave the city.

    He had been convinced that departing on foot was their best chance for survival, and it had paid off so far.

    So far.

    Of course, unlike many of the residents of The Camp, he had not arrived with the entire contents of a camping store at his disposal. Being one of the first, they had kindly offered him a tent to reside in with his wife and kids, a luxury now unheard of to the newer arrivals at The Camp entryways. Yet, their canned foods had only barely gotten them through the first few weeks. After that, they had been fully at the mercy of the camp.

    After that, his full job had become that of a patrolman on the line.

    A can a day in exchange for night patrol. It was a step above starvation ... but it kept them alive. He and Rebecca alternated patrol shifts. Soon as he was old enough, Robert would too.

    It kept them alive, to put their lives at risk another day.

    A cough shook Mark out of his thoughts a moment as a shadowy figure slid past his post in the darkness. In normal cases, Mark would have called out, asked for identity or some sort of proof of camp membership, not that they had any sort of standard ID. But, instead, he was quick to wave Will on through as the man hoisted himself up over the flipped car frame that made up the bulk of the barricade, and prepared to drop to the other side.

    "Good luck Will. Good hunting!" Mark called out quietly to his friend. The man waved back, showed a thumbs up, and then was gone over the other side.

    Will was a resourceful guy, that was without question. He would sleep during the day, and then during the night go on these scavenger runs. Sometimes he would return with cans, sometimes with meat, sometimes with nothing at all. Mark figured at some point, the man would just not return, either realizing he could do better without the camp or being killed away from its protective but shoddy perimeter.

    Mark shrugged, and returned to scouring the meadow region over which he had charge. Supposedly, the idea was that if Mark saw a herd of infected or a band of raiders approaching the camp, he would call out, alert the camp, and then hold the invaders off until help arrived. The reality was pretty underwhelming. The only alarm he could trigger would be his screaming voice. The only weapon he had to hold off an enemy was his sharpened shovelhead spear. Still, despite the fatalities, the system had kept the camp alive. Yet each attack took its toll... and they were losing more than they were gaining, to attacks, sickness, and just plain starvation.

    What was it even all for?

    Survive just to die horribly the next day, or the next, or the next.

    Mark swallowed hard, and returned his gaze to the meadow while trying to ignore the painful knot of hunger gurgling within his empty stomach.

    He just had to make it through the patrol. Just this one, and then the next ... and the next.
    Dallas Kane
     Posted: Aug 20 2014, 08:52 PM
    Quote Post
    If momma's not happy ain't nobody happy
    goddamn housewife
    fire axe
    mother's glare
    20-August 14
    13 posts
    played by Lily
    Awards: None

    You couldn't jury-rig a low gas tank.

    Well, you could. In a sense. Make a few tweaks, modify your driving to stretch each galleon to it's highest possible distance. But once that needle hit the red, there wasn't much left to to 'cept pray. Dallas was good at praying and machines, but machines had their limitations and the Lord didn't seem to be answering much in the way of prayers these days.

    Once gas and supplies started running to uncomfortably low levels (a quarter of a tank and week left of food), Dallas has to re-evaluate her options.

    She's heard reports of a camp, not to far from where she was. Most of the time, Dallas distrusted big camps. Or little camps. Or any camp where she didn't already know people. Which was most groups. When you were a woman on your own with a baby at the end of the world, people started thinking funny, with lots of opinions on what she should do and not time for her own thoughts.

    Dallas didn't have time for debates. She had a baby on her lap, a wife and a second kid God only knew where. Together and a alive. She'd take nothing but empty gas tanks for the rest of her life in exchange for together and alive.

    A rough spot in the road shook her out of her thoughts. She was riding in an old Jeep Cherokee. Has almost no blindspots, was great for offroading it and could turn on a dime. But damn was the thing bumpy.

    Rapture stirred in her carrier and gave a little cry of protest to the bump.

    "Hush now, baby girl," Dallas whispered down to the infant strapped to her front.

    The camp has to be somewhere close.

    Wait...there. A figure standing up ahead carrying a stick or spear or some kind. Guard. Had to be.

    Dallas slowly pulled the Jeep to a halt and rolled down one of the windows.

    "Hey there!" she yelled out. "I'm gonna be stepping out of this car. I'm here to rest and to trade. I'm not gonna have a gun and you're not gonna attack me, 'cause I gotta baby and you don't want that on your conscience."

    Camp or no, supposedly friendly or no, these days you had to lay everything nice and clear out whenever meeting strangers. Lots of bad people and lots of paranoid people and lots of misunderstandings. So she'd say who she was and play nice and wait to move forward until someone gave her permission to do so.
    Chris Terse
     Posted: Mar 29 2015, 09:16 AM
    Quote Post
    27-March 15
    2 posts
    played by N/A
    Awards: None

    Run, run, run!
    That's all I could think about after running into a crowd of walkers, the man that he had just met after looking for supplies was now being viciously consumed by the walking dead. This is their world now, we're just living it. Its been about three weeks since I left my parents home and so far, its been hell. I've had to sleep high off the ground in trees, watch my back every single second. The worst part is the people, not to long before that guy I met I had to kill someone. He aimed a gun at me and when I was stepping closer to hand mine I pulled my switchblade out and stabbed him in the heart. He dropped and spit out blood, then I ran for what seemed like forever until I saw this store. I walked in and met this random guy, said his name was Will and that I could come back with him to this camp. Wait, a camp? Where there are more people and shelter, it seemed tempting and I felt like a good night rest would do me good. I noticed I had been running for awhile again because I was a ways from the store. The sound of a car was close by and I ducked into cover fast, it got closer until it came into view. A jeep Cherokee, it had some people and what looked like a car seat maybe? Oh well, I get up and follow the road it took out there in hope of finding something good or hell, maybe find them and ask to join. The sun began to die as it hit the horizon and just over this hill, light and a large wall. I became happy and ran toward it, I reached the wall but then I notice a man on top with a eerie looking spear.

    "Um, hello? I'm not here to hurt or take anything just wondering if I can join your camp?" I ask hoping not about to be skewered.
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