UrbanDead: Second Chances

[Dark Silver]

The tip of the cigar glowed cherry in the dimness of the room. He stared ahead, the tip of the ancient, dried out cigar drifting lazily in the air, as he worked his lips and jaw. Cigars, like most things now a days in the city of Malton, were a luxury not often found - most alcohol and tobacco had been consumed in those first nine months of the Outbreak. Occassionally, one found some secret horde, or a random, unopened pack missed in the pillaging of one of the many stores in the city - or in some random chest of drawers in the dilapidated remains of apartments and houses scattered through the city.

This particular cigar, he had found a month ago, in a former tobacco store out in the boondocks on the farside of Roywood - within sight of the Quarantine Zone - back when the Irregular's were busy training their newest additions in the fine art of Zed-killing.

He decided then, to save it for a special occassion. Even as old and dried out as the tobacco would be, such fine things, much like the Arturo Fuente Churchhill he currently held in his mouth, were things to be savored at the opportune moment. Even when the Irregular's managed to march across thirty infested blocks - three entire suburbs of chaos and ruin, picking up stray survivors to help swell their numbers - and retake the Latrobe NecroTech building in Darvall Heights, he decided not to light the cigar.

Not even after two weeks of solid operations, clearing out the Caiger Mall of any Zombies, and rebuilding rudimentary fortifications. Not even when they declared the Mall clear of infestation, did he light it.

Only now, a solid week after the Mall was back in their hands, free of Zombies, the holes in the concrete and brick walls repaired, the Trench once more cleared free, and the rooms in the basement storage area - where supplies were kept hidden and secure behind cement walls and steel doors - were thrown open. There wasn't a huge amount, but enough to start; to last for a little awhile.

Enough to start getting the word out again.

Silver reached over desk, pressing the transmit button on the hand held mic. He blow out a smoke ring, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"This is Radio Free Malton, the voice of the Caiger, broadcasting out to all survivors. You may have thought we got taken by the Horde, but not even that could put a dent in our duty to you fine folks, struggling to make it through your day - taking off the head of a Zombie or five while you try to eek out a meal on rat stew...."

A slim smile crossed Silver's lips as he took a long drag from his cigar, letting the harsh smoke burn his mouth for a moment before continuing, "We here at Radio Free Malton will always be here to help you through your day. We'd also like to announce the reopening of the Caiger Mall, under old Management, and now Zed free. You thought we were over and done with, but no Zed-head's gonna keep the Irregular's down for long."

Silver released the transmit button, turning to a disc changer that sat next to the setup, and slid in a CD - "Rush's greatest hits". He let the CD spin up, drawing power from the generator complex hosted in one of the multiple sub-levels of the Latrobe Building where he now sat. NecroTech never wanted for anything in their buildings, it was almost like they planned for everything.

Well, except for this broadcast set up. The Irregular's had pillaged a radio-station and brought this gear to the Latrobe, wiring it into the radio-transmission tower and the internal power grid. He knew other survivor groups out there kept their own safehouses, generators occassionally could be heard through the night as they found some way to fuel the combustion engines, or they found batteries, or those wind up survival radios that never need a external power source. Even after two years, the humans left in Malton never stopped listening to the air waves.

"Petro did a damn sight better job of it than you just did," Frank Zimmerman said behind Silver, a battered clipboard in his hand, "Not sure we should be broadcasting out like that until we have everything secured down and catalogued."

Silver shook his head, chewing on the end of the cigar slightly, before taking another long slow drag.

"These people have been struggling to survive for three months without a sign of hope. We both know what happened to the other malls after Caiger fell - abandoned, left to be cracked open by the Zed's. It was only worse when news that most of our team either fled on the copters, or got taken down."

Zimmerman gave a gruff, grunt, shaking his head "You know this is still stupid, Silver. We're not Petro and Melanie. We may have kept things working, but Petro and Melanie gave them hope. They had the public appeal."

Silver knew what Zimmerman was saying to be true, but that didn't mean a attempt couldn't be made - didn't have to be made. "Then we better find a new face for this place, or we better become it Zimmerman. These people have been without hope for to long - to many people have turned in the last three months, to many people died because we were busy trying to get our asses back in gear. We need to give them back hope - or we're all well and truly fucked in the ass."

Zimmerman grimaced, sighing as he threw the clipboard on the wood table in the center of the room. "Yeah, well, if we don't finish with the repairs to the front gate, and get the wall back in order..."

Zimmerman started talking about the repairs and defenses still needing to be done, the preparations that needed to be made. Silver listened, nodding when nessacry, putting his own words in as required. The Irregular's and their Militia were working as fast as they could, and people were slowly trickling in as word of mouth spread out through Cudleyton and Darvall Heights of the battles fought here. People would hear his voice on the radio - and while he was never the one to put hope into their hearts - they would hear his words, and they would come.

And this time, they wouldn't let these people down. They'd stand and fight.

For if they fell this time - there would be no more second chances.

[Agent Fisher]

Mike Williams sat on a desk, looking out the second floor window, staring through the green image of the night vision monocular. It was their last one, with only three batteries left for it. The rest of the batteries they had were needed for their radios and flashlights. He reached up, twisting a knob and turning it off, looking back into the dark room to see his friend, John Blaine, nicknamed Dagger, sitting at the door, looking down the stairs at the barricaded door. In the distance, a groan sliced through the quiet night air. Mike looked around at the rest of his friends, each one dirty, hungry and asleep. Their camouflage clothes and gear were smeared with dirt, blood, and gore. Mike shifted his C8 carbine, adjusting it for better comfort and turned the night vision back on, looking out the window again. It was only twenty minutes to sunrise, and then it’d be time to move again.

It had been two years since Mike had lived a normal life. Just a college student, average grades, average job, no woman. Out playing airsoft with his team, CAG(based on the American Delta Force), returning to find their homes and loved ones in peril, or dead. Zombies. Who would have thought? The first few weeks had been hectic. The twenty man team had lost four guys in those first few weeks. Their toys little use except as clubs. But they had made it to Brian Horne’s house and then Steve Grey’s. Each house had some shotguns, and more importantly, water and some food. The guys had loaded up their packs, grabbed their weapons and moved out. The next few months blended together, scavenging what they could, sleeping where it was safe, trading for water and food. And then the team had come across a freshly killed military unit. After making sure those who were down would not be getting up, the now thirteen men, stripped it with glee. Now armed with real weapons, their empty magazines pouches, once filled with toys were loaded with the real thing, food, water, radios, other bits of kit, the men were ready to really make a show of it.

Life was simple, roaming the northeastern section of the walled off city, protecting a group of refugees, working with out survivors. And then they heard it. On the radio. Caiger Mall. It was broadcasting. Survivors had taken it, turned it into a fortress. A place where humans could rest, be safe. The others didn’t believe it, not wanting to leave the safety of their barricaded buildings. And so what remained of CAG, eleven men in total, left for a better future.

But that future turned to ash. Caiger fell. About three fourths of the way there and their dream was gone. Jimmy Gordon, the last remaining member with military experience tried to keep their hopes up, keep them together. But he died, shot on accident by another group of survivors. Without a real leader and no hope, CAG did the only thing they could. They found a good high building and fortified it, scrounging food, batteries, ammo from anywhere they could. Until that building was compromised and Mike had to lead the team somewhere safe. Slowly, over the weeks, the team drifted more and more southwest, back towards Caiger, hoping to find a survivor group to hook up with.

Mike turned the nightvision off, raising it and looking at the street. It was now light enough to see shapes. A lone zombie wandered away from the hide house. Mike raised his rifle, looking through the mounted ELCAN scope, the radioactive material on the sight giving it a soft glow as he placed the crosshairs on the back of the zombie.

“Boom,â€

[Cynical Cat]

"You . . . should . . . go," said Shattergrave's host. The undead reached over and turned off the radio. "Better place . . . for living."

The zombie was big, possibly larger than he had been in life. Shattergrave had found him taking the stragglers from a zombie herd. He had seen Shattergrave as well, which had been a bad shock. Maintaining the charm that made him invisible to zombies was draining. That had been his first hint that it wouldn't work on all of them. The second time had almost killed him.

"Leaders smarter . . . like me," his host had said. Shattergrave hoped they weren't as smart as the lord of this improvised castle. The being who called himself "Wendigo" was huge, probably bigger than he had been in life. Huge, strong, and too cunning by far to be anything but a nightmare if he commanded a horde of feral zombies. But he identified with the humans, perhaps because he retained enough intellect to remember he had been one. There was too much pain in his eyes for him not to remember.

He had given Shattergrave refuge and the canned goods that he occasionally scavenged. Wendigo himself ate zombies exclusively, hanging pieces of corpses on razor wire like laundry out to dry.

"Go," said Wendigo. "After dark. Tell them this place still here. Refuge if they stranded. Tell them I still hunt."

"I will," said Shattergrave. "Thank you for your kindnesses."

"Go," said Wendigo.

[SirNitram]

"Graaagh!" It was one of the ferals. It waved the radio transceiver in it's normal flailing way. He wasn't sure why he had had the feral carry it, still locked on that frequency. Hope, maybe. Maybe the idea that as long as someone was listening, even the sad, docile ferals here, Caiger wouldn't die completely. The memory of it, lasting forever.. Or until the feral or the receiver wore down to nothing.

He lurched over, taking the proferred transceiver. He could understand the words. It was.. A call to return.

Mr. Z, as he was now known, let out a keening cry of triumph. It was a strange noise one almost never heard from the walking dead. But it held a single emotion: There was hope for others. He was beyond help, he knew. But that was just one. The others could still be saved.

He had to get to Caiger.

[frigidmagi]

Frigid ignored the radio broadcast. He had when Petro had made them to. It just wasn't anything he was interested in. He had taken over a book store in the mall. Dumping his bedroll in back, the comics section next to the employee's store room. It had a lock and a duct entry that was big enough for a determined man. It had saved his life last time.

It was also easy to rig the book store so he knew if anyone came in. Frigid didn't share his bunk space with anyone. The books sure. Hell, he even let families in to read to the kiddies and relax a bit on Sundays in the old days. But not the bunk space. He was the only one who slept here and everyone seemed to prefer it that way. He unrolled the string and dug out some bells he took out of the hallmark store. After he rigged up the book store he would walk the mall. Check the back ways and such. Then he would eat and try to find a decent book he hadn't read yet.

Frigid got to work. A man should always have a secure bunk space.

[Shark Bait]

Craig took a deep breath and smiled, looking down on a neighbor hood from the roof of an apartment building he had spent days setting up his plan and it was finally ready. He bent down and turned the key on a small portable generator that he had managed to scavenge just enough fuel for. As the generator hummed to life power flowed into a boom box that hung suspended over a mostly empty lot where already a few zombies milled around several barrels that he had filled with a number of volatile chemicals, next to the cd player he had suspended a cage with a few rats in it for bait. The lot was ringed on three sides by boarded up brick buildings one of which would not be standing much longer The sounds of a loud death metal cd flooded the streets, and immediately zombies began shambling to the lot several starring transfixed by the cage of rodents that were now panicking.

Craig allowed the cd to play through several songs till most of the zombies in the neighborhood were now in the empty lot he then closed his eyes for a moment before picking up an extension cord and plugging it into the generator. A series of explosions ripped through the base of one of the buildings around the lot the ground shook as a wall of bricks collapsed directly on top of the lot where the zombies had congregated. He waited a moment for some of the dust to settle, most of the zombies had been crushed or crippled. A few that were on the outer edges of the raining debris were simply buried under some rubble and were already beginning to sit up. Craig sat down in a lawn chair and picked up a bright yellow plastic detonator with two 9v batteries taped to it that looked almost like some sort of children’s toy. He smiled as he pushed the button and the ignition light came on, but as several seconds passed with nothing happened the smile faded. The detonator was salvaged from a model rocket kit and apparently was not the best of choices, at least he had a back up though. He picked up a large glass bottle that had once held scotch but now contained a volatile mix of old cooking oils as well as several other organic compounds, and tossed it off of the roof onto the zombies. He then lit a road flair and tossed it after, the oils quickly caught fire and spread at first just a small sizzle then the more as the flames caught the array of flammable materials in the lot. Finally one of the open barrels of accelerates that he had intended to have burn caught fire and the whole lot went up.

He sat back and watched the zombies burn, soon they would be nothing but ash, it had taken him days to set up this trap and even longer to scavenge the ingredients he needed to make the volatile concoctions he had just used. But some how it all seamed worth while he sighed contentedly and took a dented and faded can of beer out of his back pack, opened it and took a sip then gagged. He frowned looking at the can which he had been saving, the liquid inside had not kept in the slightest which was a disappointing considering how long he had held onto it. Craig sighed and tossed the can at the blaze before picking up a hand cranked radio and turning it on.

“Holy crapâ€

[Rukia]

Nearly four months ago:

It was chaos. The choppers whirred loudly overhead. Tears ran down Ell’s face as she made her way through the crush of people who were fleeing what had been their home for nearly a year. They had known this was coming, they had prepared, but it still didn’t stop then from panicking now. She had known that Dorian would leave with Mel and Petro, but it hadn’t stopped her heart from plunging into her stomach as she said good bye. As the helicopter noises grew fainter, she pulled herself together. Jumping up on a near by bench, she let out a high pitched whistle. A group of people running past stopped and she barked out the orders Silver had given her. A similar scene was playing out in various places through out the mall by the rest of the remaining Second. Everything became a bit more organized, and the groups escaped though the tunnels.

Ell had been assigned the Southern tunnel and was waiting for the all clear from Silver to detonate, when a woman ran up to her in hysterics. “My baby! I can’t find my son!!â€

[Dark Silver]

Zimmerman sat in a chair across the table from Silver, both men in discussion about rebuilding the ground barricades, when Melani walked in.

Zimmerman's green eyes narrowed slightly at the interruption, "Oh what the fuck Philips!" He hated being interrupted, and was one of the few times when his voice raised up, "What the fuck could you be interrupting us for this early in the morning?"

Silver himself was finishing off his cigar, nodded as Melani from the door, and cleared his throat, "Easy Z, kid never comes bugging without a reason."

[Rukia]

She hadn't seen Zimmerman on the opposite side of the desk. She stopped just inside the doorway. "Honest mistake, didn't know you were in here Zimm. Sorry for the interruption, boss." Zimmerman glaring at her made her suddenly feel inadequate, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other he cleared his throat loudly and impatiently. "Um, this morning when I was doing my last rounds for my shift shortly before dawn, I heard and saw an explosion to the southwest 'bout a day's hike or so." She added, "Might be something to look into. Thought you'd want to know." Staring straight at Silver and trying to ignore Zimmerman, she hoped they wouldn't be mad that she hadn't said something sooner.

[Dark Silver]

"A day's hike is pretty far away," Zimmerman said, looking at Elle, "A day's hike out, then another day back. Two days without whoever would get sent, not that we have any bodies, warm or otherwise, to spare."

Silver nodded, "Your right, to far, and we don't have the people. We need every warm body here to finish with the fortifications, and get new arrival settled...get them food, checked out, get them a place to bunk down...."

Silver looked Elle in the face, "Speaking of which, you been on watch since this morning, your suppossed to have grabbed some breakfast and hit the bag kid. You know the rules."

Silver rose from the chair, "Whoever set off that explosion, if someone set it off, will be long gone by the time we can send anyone. Being so far away, we're far enough away, that it won't be a problem for us. I'll have the look-outs keep a ear and eye open."

[Charon]

John was sitting in the small home that served as a fortified location. It was one of five that were scattered across Malton, and at this point in time it was the only one that wasn't infested.

John had run out of bullets and guns long ago, now he just ran most of the time, only occasionally striking at the Zombies, for the last year this had been his life, running on his own, keeping away from the zed-heads, listening in on the radio.

The call that the Caiger was retaken came through on his wind-up radio and John grinned. He'd always stayed away from the Caiger, back in the first few months, he had seen it as a disgusting display of "the Man" trying to take control again. Once he'd smartened up some, he'd been afraid of how many zombies it called to it's gates. But now, now he'd been away from other people so long he held a desire to be among his kind again.

John ran his hands through his long hair, pulling it back and tying it up to stay out of the way. His natural brown hair took up about a quarter of the length, then there was a space of bleached blond, and then a myriad of colors, from red to blue to green to purple. It had been awhile since John had gotten his hands on some hair dye, and it was one of the few pleasures he had left, so he kept it despite the risk.

Grabbing up his radio and stuffing his rations in his backpack, a regular flashlight, one of those cheap charge up flashlights that you shake to get working, and a few other essentials. He traveled light, and as he stepped outside, he already knew there weren't any zombies around. Despite the sun shining brightly, John managed to keep himself nearly invisible as he made his way to the Caiger.

[Rukia]

"I got a couple of hours." She said, suddenly feeling the all nighters she had taken to past week. She shrugged, "I could go. Hell, I might find the person who set it off heading this way. Might be a good idea to have someone who can blow shit up effectively. And if it turns out to be a berserker I haven't shot nothin’ a few days..." She shrugged again at her half joke. "'Sides, with your transmission this morning, people will be on the move, might be able to guide a few of ‘em this way, weed out the crazies...." She didn't expect him to let her go, but she was getting restless around the mall and a scouting mission seemed like a good idea.

[Dark Silver]

"Can't put them to work right away. They need to get settled. This is about giving them a place to live, not a forced labor camp."

Zimmerman's voice was annoyed, admittedly everyone who came to the Caiger was expected to do their part for the community - from working to build the fortifications, performing guard duty, or working in the gardens - but not the moment they walk into the door.

"We fixed up this place with just the Irregular's before, we'll do it again. But we need everyone we got right now, to get it done."


Silver nodded in agreement, "He's right kid. You've been up all night on watch. Go grab yourself a MRE, then hit the bunk for a few hours. If whoever set off the explosion heard the radio broadcast, they'll come if they wants to. If not, that's them."

As far as Silver was concerned, Zimmerman was right. The man was always right when it came down to it.

[Agent Fisher]

Mike ducked, going ot one knee as the explosion echoed through the air. He looked to his side, noticing the cloud of smoke. Mike waved his friends close.

"What do you think?" He asked, looking around.

"Seems pretty close, Mike. We could head over, see if there are any survivors, and if they're dead, stripping for kit." John 'Dagger' Blaine, suggested.

"Yeah, ok." He stood back up, leading his teammates through the streets, eyes scanning for zeds.

Finally, they reached the smouldering lot. His team fanned out, looking around at the buildings, then to the burnt bodies of the dead. "Explains why we didn't see any zeds on the way here." He mumbled.

"Hello! Is anybody alive?" He shouted.

[Rukia]

Ell shrugged again. "Ok, you're the boss. I'll go make a walk around the 'cades one more time, then get some more sleep I if can." She looked toward Zimmerman and added, "If you're having problems with you're front gate it's 'cause your boys down there keep slacking off and playing cards instead of doing their job. I got on 'em twice last night before I finally gave up. I got down there and did could which wasn't much, sorry."

She turned to leave but turned back and asked Sliver, "We're gonna be ok here right, boss?" She didn't like the lump that was forming in her throat and didn't stick around for an answer.

[Dark Silver]

Silver watched 'Elle leave, shaking his head.

"Young ones always get caught in the stupid shit.." Zimmerman said. But she may have had a point. "We had some volunteers on the front gate last night, working on it. She may have found them, who knows. Humans can't just work constantly though."

Silver nodded, going back to the plans, "Let's finish up here, and get down. Plenty to do, to be stuck within the Latrobe all day.


It was nearing high sun, when Silver was walking the roof of the Caiger, patrolling it's perimeter and keeping watch. Most of the men working on the fortifications had broken for lunch - a great deal of progress had been made thankfully. He seemed to recall alot less work being needed the first time when Petro decided to take the mall for their own. Then again, at that time, they had two teams of twenty Irregulars, plus the militia which numbered nearly 100 survivors. And with the quick stream of survivors looking for a place to stay that would be safe, the workforce had swelled immensely.

Not so much right now, the Caiger's fall was still to fresh in a lot of people's mind - the disappearance of so many of the Irregular's and the Emerald Guard struck them as a betrayal that was near unforgivable. The protectors had abandoned them.

Still, others remembered the good that was done here, the home they had built up - and longed for again. In the survivors who trickled in, Silver recognized many of the faces; even if he didn't know them by name. Many volunteered to work on fixing the defenses back up, remembering well the layered positions they had before - and thankfully they were further ahead than he had thought they would be. The holes in the walls-proper were repaired, sealed with new stone and brick. The front main entrance fortifications had been completed that morning, the addition of a lowered metal chain gate much like a portcullis that could be locked into position would provide a extra layer of defense that would take even a mega-horde time to break through. A funneling wall was built up leading to the entrance, a choke point that would force any approaching horde from that direction into a narrow gap, where defenders on the roof, or on platforms above to rain down death with stones, or guns, or even arrows into the Zed's.

Of course this was not the only defenses, the Trench, their protective moat and corpse drop off. The outer wall was being reinforced - razor wire from the stores lining the top to prevent easy scaling by humans or particularly agile Zombies. The external elevators were already planned for construction, he could see the areas already marked off by Zimmerman, and the pile of pulleys and cables set aside for it.

It would take time still, but every passing moment, had the Mall becoming a fortress once again - a place to call home again.

"Decimus," Silver called, Zimmerman was working on getting the "civilians" to work, getting the mall fortified. There was no need for Silver to be involved with it when Zimmerman knew how to get it done.

Decimus ambled over to Silver, standing next to his boss, towering over even the tall former Detective. Decimus was a odd man, even before his revivification - when Silver and company found him, he was putting together some form of armor from sporting pads and peices of chainmail and plate armor. Silver and Punt both swore that the result would have been unwieldy, even detrimental to Decimus - but the finished product was anything but. Minus a helmet, Decimus' entire body was covered in a thick layer of armor, one that still allowed him to be agile and effective in combat - even if it tended to be a less stealthy option. While not bullet proof, it was zombie proof enough.

"You called my brother-captain?" Decimus spoke in that hallow voice of his. It was as if the man had less emotion than wood, but Silver and the rest of the Irregular's just knew he was a a bit touched in the head.

Silver also hated how Decimus referred to him as "Brother-Captain" and the rest of the Irregular's as "Battle-Brothers". Sometimes, Silver thought Decimus' mind snapped when the Outbreak began, but he was a good fighter, and helped carry the Irregular's through more than one crap-fest. "I have a job for you. We've been here for nearly a month, but we have little idea what's out in Chudleyton. I want you to grab a couple of the Irregulars, get a couple boxes of MRE's from the store room, and scout. If you find any survivors, give them some food, tell them to head here. Think you can handle it?"

"Of course" the hallow voice droned, "I will take Jameson and Kletcher from our battle-brothers, and Markowitz and Venderhuf from the Guard."

Silver nodded, "If you see any zed's, make a note of it, radio in the location and number. Remember, this is just a scout and locate mission....we want survivors back here, before we start clearing out our fiefdom."

Decimus nodded, saluted, and moved off to get his men. He had his orders.

Silver watched Decimus go, sighing to himself. He started walking west, towards the parking garage, and the bridge built to the garden.



Zimmerman grunted his approval as the appointed work crew foremen gave him the breakdown. Everything was going ahead of his admittedly pessimistic schedule when it came to the defenses - but that was why he made it pessimistically.

The main entrance secured and barricaded, it would be a lot easier to guard this time than last - even if it was allowed to remain open instead of walled off. It would be easier to let people in through there also, instead of trying to wedge them into the elevators (whose use, to be honest, was only for letting down small groups from the roof to the ground, or vice versa when the mall was in lock down mode).

The work men were, of course, tired, but in a good way. Here they were putting in honest days work, and having it be productive - towards a greater goal than just surviving one more day. He broke the lunchtime meeting up, telling the foremen to go grab themselves a bite to eat, before getting their crews back to work, and walked out of his makeshift office; a stationary store on the third level of the mall. Strangely enough, the third and second levels of the mall received little attention from the hordes, once the mall was evacuated last time - only the first floor storefronts had been ransacked and destroyed. The rest was still serviceable. He stopped when he came across one of the second level bookstore, a medium sized storefront that was particular in that it was FM's bunk space during the last time. The survivalist was willing to bet the Marine hadn't changed his habit.

Without announcing himself, Zimmerman walked in, and called out into the dim illumination (the solar panels on the roof was damaged, and there was no time to get replacements from the storage room up there yet), "FM, you in there? Silver wants you over on the roof."

Zimmerman didn't wait for the reply, if FM was in there, he'd go. If not, well, he'd see the marine somewhere in the mall on his walk-about.

Looking down on the bottom level, cleared of trash and rubble as the first thing once people started coming in, Zimmerman allowed himself a hint of a smile. There were people there again, men and women milling about, talking with each other, children were playing. All of them were cautious still, none had let their guard down yet, but given time, they would. The Caiger still wasn't home yet to them.

Just needed some more time.

Zimmerman continued his walking tour, it was time for the weekly inventory of supplies in the armory.

[B4UTRUST]

The pen scratched against the paper in the notebook as another journal entry was written.
Subject 317 "Mellisa Dawson"
Vaccine batch #112e - multi-strain variation 2e
Hypothesis - Active Z virus cells in host do not mutate to match other Z cells when introduced. A benign Z virus cell may possibly be created to prevent a new infection from an outside Z virus source, in effect preventing infection in new hosts or reinfection in restored hosts.

Subject injected with batch #112e at approximately 1930 hours local yesterday. Subject previously infected by Z virus, displayed normal mutations associated with newly infected. Subject was injected with standard Necrotech vaccine A-3 as per control protocols. Subject's body began to rebuild damaged and necrotic tissues, restoring the body. Subject became increasingly aware of herself and regained 'consciousness' following injection of A-3 vaccine. Subject had four vials of blood drawn and analyzed. Results not promising. Subject's blood still showed lingering traces of Z virus cells hours after A-3 injection. Blood sample shows Z virus cells as dormant. Conclusion: Necrotech vaccine A-3 is still only a temporary fix. Any new infection of untreated Z virus cells into the blood reactivates dormant Z virus cells already in residence in host. Any previous mutations quickly restore themselves into host body, returning subject to previously untreated state.

Batch 112e injected into left bicep on subject. Subject's reactions normal for the following approximate five hours. No signs of reinfection or mutation. Analysis of blood samples indicates massive increase in Z virus cells in subject, however dormant cells remain as such with no signs of revival.

Subject 317 at approximately 0330 local began to display signs of agitation, aggression and noticeable loss of speech complexity. Subject restrained to lab table for further study. Blood drawn for testing.

0400 local - blood tests show dormant Z cells reactivating in presence of new Z virus cells. Comparison of cellular structure between two groups of cells indicates a progressive mutation, wherein the older dormant cells are adapting to match a similar makeup of the new infecting cells, effectively bypassing the A-3 vaccine's work.

Other analysis notes - Only two types of Z virus cells found within subject's blood, indicating that that the dominant new infection is in fact the hybridization of the new infecting strains originally injected.

Conclusion: Test failed to prevent reinfection of Z virus in subject. Delay time between injection and reinfection increased by 45minutes over previous tests. Benign Z virus variant may still be possible to prevent reinfection.

Problems to address: Making benign virus dominant enough to force change in existing Z virus cells to make them conform to it.

He clicked the pen closed and put it and the journal away before looking down at the form bound to the bench in front of him. She continued to wail that low zombie moan of unending hunger and pain as she looked at him with empty eyes, struggling to rise up and attack him. Outside the window the sun was climbing higher into the sky. It was a little past dawn. He needed to sleep.

From downstairs he heard the shuddering of the door against its frame as it was hit by a large heavy object. He glanced towards the doorway and then back at the zombie.
"I certainly didn't invite any guests. Did you?"

The zombie let out a low groan.
"I see. Well, that certainly isn't acceptable. One should inform the others when guests are going to arrive. But then again you never did have very good manners, I'm afraid."

The door downstairs splintered and gave.
"Well then, I suppose it's time I be on my way. You've been most helpful, simply a real dear about the whole situation and all. Afraid I must be off though and on my merry."

With a motion made smooth from his time of survival in the hellish streets of Malton he pulled free his machete and lifted the blade, letting its weight do the work as he brought it downwards. The blade cut through the once more decaying flesh before sticking on the bones. He jerked the blade free and brought it down again, finishing the decapitation and knocking the head away from the body.

He looked around before casually wiping the bloody blade on the corpse's shirt and sheathing it.

Shoving his journal and pen into his pack he secured it about his frame and made his way to the window. Already he could hear the footsteps on the stairs. He slide the window upwards and crawled out through it onto the narrow strip of lumber he had set up outside it. The lumber formed a crude bridge to the roof of the next building over. From there he could make his escape.

Once across he kicked the wood off the edge of the roof and let it fall downwards into the alleyway between the two buildings. No zed was going to follow him that way at least. He ran across the roof to the other side and began to make his way down the fire escape. Once on the ground ahead he slowly made his way to the mouth of the alley, careful not to make noise.

Right as he got to the entrance of the alley a zombie shuffled into view, moaning and motioning towards him. Probably summoning others. Bloody things were getting smarter. Or maybe he was just getting dumber from exhaustion and lack of enough food to properly support one.
"Bloody hell," he muttered as he stopped and began to back up a few steps.

Behind him he heard more shuffling. The damned things had trapped him. He couldn't believe it. Either he really was getting dumber or there was a more intelligent zombie out there trying to direct these. He didn't like either of the options.
"Bugger..."

He pulled out the pistol he had and chambered a round. He hated using the thing as it made a hell of a racket and always attracted more of the zeds. That and ammo was a rare commodity most of the time and not something to be wasted on a whim. This, however, was certainly not a whim. He sighted along the barrel and pulled the trigger, arms jerking a little from the recoil. The zombie in front of him stumbled backwards as the bullet took it right above the left temple. Not exactly where he was aiming, but it would do for the moment.

He charged forward, his shoulder brushing against the side of the Zed as he ducked past it before it could recover. Once on the street and in the open he took a second to look around and figure out what his options. The answer wasn't one he liked but he couldn't argue the maths. There were more zeds coming out of the woodwork and most of them seemed to view him as a tasty lunch. He turned and bolted, running for all his worth, running for his life as fast as he could, putting as much distance between the untiring zombie horde and himself as possible.

Several blocks later he paused his fleeing to catch his breath after checking that the area was about as secure as it was liable to be. Breathing hard, trying to fight the urge to both vomit and pass out he leaned against the building. He fished out his survival radio and started listening to the various frequencies. Occasionally he had enough luck to find a group that he could seek shelter with for a bit. They usually took him in because he could play medic and that was an important thing in this place.

'Caiger mall......Old.....agement.....ed free....'
He perked up as he heard the words, not quite believing his ears. The damned thing was so garbled it was almost unintelligible but he got the gist of it. His damned radio was buggered again. But the thing was so beat up and abused that it shouldn't surprise him.

The important thing though, was that it seemed Caiger mall was open again for business. He smiled to himself. That certainly solved his problems for the moment...

He got his bearings and figured out the best way. It was about half a day's walk. He better get started.

[frigidmagi]

Frigid had finished his walk around and eaten. Beans. It had been beans. Frigid hated beans, but he smiled at the folks who had dished them out and eaten them. He had been sitting on his bedroll reading a book on the 1848 revolutions in Europe. Not a bad book.

"FM, you in there? Silver wants you over on the roof."

Zimmer didn't wait for an answer. Frigid wouldn't have really given one. Nor had Zimmer gotten to close, which was good. Frigid didn't like it when they got to close, gave him goosebumps.

He picked up his rifle and loaded it. Checked his canteens, knife, and ammo. All was good. He headed for the roof.

[Shark Bait]

"Hello! Is anybody alive?" He shouted.

Craig stopped packing his bag and pulled his pistol from his holster, he had encountered raiders before that had tried to steal his weapons and supplies. If you were lucky they were stupid and just started shooting at you right away, he had a bag full of pipe bombs if that was the case. Unfortunately sometimes they played the friendly card till you relaxed enough for someone to sneak up behind you and knock you out, that had happened to a group he had traveled with for a while. Craig wasn’t going to take any chances today he reached into his back pack and pulled out his silencer and a pipe bomb that he had designed to act more like a flash bang than a frag grenade. He was not comfortable with the idea of killing one of the all too few humans still in the city, but he would be damned if anyone was going to take his shit.

He screwed the silencer onto the end of the barrel and crawled to the edge of the roof gun and bomb in hand. He looked down at the remains of the rubble pile all of the zombies he could see were either ash or charred skeletons, he had laced most of the lot with thermite and several other nasty chemicals so that was no shock. What surprised him though was the small group of people milling around in the street, they were dressed in fatigues and holding a number of respectable weapons. Craig watched them carefully, they were not formal military, though they had some training some sort of para-military group, there was still a strong possibility of these people being some sort of raiding party. A head on fight would not be a good idea but a few well placed pipe bombs could cover his retreat nicely.

Craig inched back from the edge before calling out “I don’t have any food or ammo, so if your looking for a hand out, or to steal my shit your S.O.L.â€

[Agent Fisher]

Mike had been talking softly with his teammates when a voice rang out. He looked up and around at the surrounding buildings. The rest of the team looked around, weapons held at the low ready, scanning for where the voice came from. 'Dagger' pointed to a building, having seen motion from that area. Mike nodded, giving a few discreet hand motions. The team spread out, getting behind rubble piles and any other bits of cover.

Mike stood in the open, hands away from his weapons. He looked at the area that Dagger pointed to.

"We're not here to trade. We saw the explosion and wanted to make sure that any survivors were still surviving." He yelled out, leaving out the part where if the survivors were no longer surviving they would be stripped of anything and everything useful. "If you like, we'll be going." He yelled. "But could you just make sure I'm heading the right way, I'm looking to get to Caiger." He shouted, pulling off his bowman headset to make sure he could hear any response.

[B4UTRUST]

James was at the moment avoiding the street level of Malton. Too many Zeds running around for his tastes. Traversing across rooftops, jumping from fire escape to fire escape, passing through buildings and out windows he carefully made his way across the city.

He was crouched down on the edge of a building, judging the distance required for a jump to the next rooftop when the explosion happened. The sound was loud even several blocks away, but without the normal everydown sounds of cars and such sounds tended to carry better. He was caught by surprise and nearly fell before he took a tiny leap backwards, landing off the ledge and on the rooftop once more.
"Well I'll be a right bassa, that was a helluva 'splosion. Wonda who's gone all kaboomin' on the zeds now."

Righting himself he got back on the ledge and made the leap to the next roof. Looking around he did some quick mental calculations and plotted a course that would require as few street level crossings as possible to take him to where the detonations had come from.

He arrived on a nearby roof a few buildings away. He could see a man watching the resulting blaze, and he heard shouts from nearby.
"Aye, there's people here ya numptys! Ar'ya bawsed? Yellin about like that. Iffn the zeds wereno dead we'd be swarmin' inem now, what with 'ou shoutin about lik' that yer gonna attract more of em iffna the explosion didn't do that for us. Do hafta say, that was a right good explodin'! I'd be a bit chuffed about that one meself."

[Shark Bait]

He arrived on a nearby roof a few buildings away. He could see a man watching the resulting blaze, and he heard shouts from nearby.
"Aye, there's people here ya numptys! Ar'ya bawsed? Yellin about like that. Iffn the zeds wereno dead we'd be swarmin' inem now, what with 'ou shoutin about lik' that yer gonna attract more of em iffna the explosion didn't do that for us. Do hafta say, that was a right good explodin'! I'd be a bit chuffed about that one meself."

Craig rolled onto his back and leveled his gun at the man who had just landed on his roof, pissed that someone had gotten the drop on him. The crazy man was yelling at him in a thick accent, which took him a moment to decipher, “Note likely, I spent the better part of a week herding the bastards. Most of the zach in the immediate area were in that cluster fuck, the next major pocket is in a park about a mile North East of here where I strung a cat up to a telephone pole the other day to keep em occupied. After that it should be another three or four miles to the mall, maybe a days hike all in all. You hear that down there?â€

[Agent Fisher]

Half of those in CAG shifted their rifles, aiming at the newcomer in suprise. Thankfully no one opened fire. Mike blinked in suprise at the thick scottish accent. "A bloody scott?" He muttered. He listened to the person hiding in the buildings give directions.

Mike looked back to Jenny. "Jenny, map." He called, the rest of CAG approaching him, keeping watching for any undead interlopers. Jenny pulled out a street map from a cargo pocket on her camouflage trousers. Mike consulted the map, then looked up at the two men, one he could see, the other he couldn't.

"Thanks for the directions. Any chance either of you are headed to Caiger? Never hurts to have traveling partners who know the area." He called out.

[Shark Bait]

"Thanks for the directions. Any chance either of you are headed to Caiger? Never hurts to have traveling partners who know the area." He called out.

“See that’s the thing about itâ€

[Agent Fisher]

Mike looked around the group then back up to the roof. "Well, we've all got rifles, kinda hard to holster. We could take the magazines out of our guns and come up with empty guns. That work? We can also give you some food." He called.