you're on your own, in a world you've grown [open]

[rosswood]

Who: Alex Kralie and you!
Where: Fourth floor, and later outside
When: 4/16 - 4/20
Rating: PG-13 for gore and unpleasantness
Summary: Zombie apocalypse. Alex is prepared. And for once, he's not about to die.
The Story:

4/16; so show me why you're strong

By the time Max's post went up, Alex already knew something was off, because he nearly got attacked as well. He barricaded himself in his room immediately and waited for the incessant pounding to fade away. These things are smart and sensitive, and what's more, they're hungry.

He spends the first day in his room. If he hears any human-sounding shouts, he'll only sit tight for a moment before tearing the door open and trying to snatch whoever might be out there to safety with him. It's for self-preservation, he tells himself, and no other reason. The more people that get infected, the more monstrous zombie-things he'll have to worry about.

He doesn't care otherwise. He really doesn't.

4/17; ignore everybody else, we're alone now

For once, he's actually remembered the gun Rocket gave him. It's a powerful laser-shooting thing, but loud, and he's not entirely certain how to reload it, so he's vowed to only use it when necessary. It took the entire day to get himself a gas mask from his closet, which means the mansion is not going to be forthcoming with supplies in the future. Time to move on.

He pulls the gas mask on and zips up his jacket, the one from home, yanking the hood low over his head. Gloves on his hands. Not an inch of flesh showing. Can't give these sons of bitches any flesh to feast on. Blue stripes aren't great for blending into his surroundings, but it's the only jacket he's got, so he creeps along the fourth floor, hyperalert, waiting for the inevitable inhuman sound of an approaching undead ambush.

4/18 - 4/20; and your friends are gone, and your friends won't come

Thick greenish clouds have begun to creep from under doors and into the hallway. Alex has abandoned his room entirely and set off into the outside, shouldering his backpack with its scanty supplies, creeping cautiously along with his futuristic laser-gun thing in hand. He hasn't got a lot of food, or even a lot of water, but luckily he's used to running on fumes. Turns out his gun doesn't need to be reloaded. Lasers don't have mags, who knew? He's even adapted to the kickback, but the angry roar of the thing charging and then firing tends to attract lots of unpleasant noise, so he's also armed himself with a rusted shovel he located out in the garden. It's flimsy, looks like it'll fall apart any second, but it also makes much less noise.

Speaking of noise.

Someone's screaming somewhere. He's not a savior of anyone's skin, the last few events taught him that much, but the yelling will attract more packs of the things, and they're close enough to him to pose a legitimate threat. Unfortunately, the thing about gas masks is that they're awful hard to see out of at the best of times, and Alex had to discard his glasses just to get the thing on in the first place. He's half-blind and mostly operating on sound. Just like. Hah. Just like the monsters after his blood.

Luckily, screams are easy to pinpoint. He tears toward the source of the commotion, whips up his laser rifle, and braces the stock against his shoulder.

"Get down!" he yells, the warning muffled by the gas mask but hopefully coherent nonetheless.

Then he fires.

[ooc: anyone who wants to be rescued or had the situation well in hand, thank you very much, in the last prompt is more than welcome to jump in! Prose or brackets are fine, I'll match either one!]

Comments

[rosswood]

[That rock scores a hit right under his eye and manages to knock his glasses halfway off his face. Alex yelps in pain, forgetting for a moment that loud noises cause these things to flock to the source of the sound like moths to a porchlight.]

Ow! Jesus!

[He lets go of her at once, and one hand flies to his throbbing cheekbone.]

[ateherdirt]

[Beatrice backs away, looking at him suspiciously. She doesn't think the zombies are particularly inclined to actual coherent words, but she's still not willing to trust him immediately.]

Have you been bitten?

[rosswood]

Wh - no! No, I'm trying to help!

[He says, glaring at her with the one eye that isn't stinging like a bitch right now.]

Why, have you?

[ateherdirt]

If I had I'd have a better way to attack you than with a rock.

[rosswood]

All right, all right.

[He holds up his free hand, palm out, in a relatively peaceable gesture.]

I was just gonna grab whoever was out here and get them inside, or something. Or just - away, you know? This place is crawling with those freaks.

[ateherdirt]

Did you have a plan for if I was a zombie? [She lowers her rock, but she still looks a little suspicious.]

[rosswood]

[Alex doesn't sugarcoat it. He makes a fingergun and mimes blowing his own brains out with an accompanying pscheww noise.]

I mean, unless you'd wanna turn into one of those things.

[ateherdirt]

I want to get out of this without dying.

[She hasn't decided if becoming one of those things would be worse than dying or not.]

[rosswood]

Good. Then we can go this way.

[He starts cutting a direct path back to his room.]

It's empty and safe. Unless you'd rather, I dunno, wander.

[ateherdirt]

This better not be a trick. [Are zombies smart enough to lead her into a zombie filled trap? Would they need to? She's aware the rock might not have been enough to actually take down a zombie. She's still holding onto it.]

[rosswood]

Ah, yes, my cunning trap. Leading you to safety just to screw you over.

[She wants to go there? Oh, he'll go there. Snarkathon, coming right up. He's better-armed than she is, at least.]

Have you got anything other than a rock to watch your back with?

[ateherdirt]

No. [Aggressively. Want to make something of it? She will hit you with it again.]

[rosswood]

[In return, she gets a weary sigh.]

So you're basically a dead girl walking. Great.

[Might as well be, given that she's armed with nothing but a literal rock. And speaking of "dead," there's something coming their way. Something lurching at them with inhuman speed.

He doesn't get the gun up in time, even if he manages to duck and avoid a swipe of its hands.]

[ateherdirt]

[Beatrice gets her rock up in time. She hurls it at the zombie.

She has very good aim and a decent arm. It goes flying hard and slams into the zombie's head.]

[rosswood]

[He jerks the butt of the rifle up and catches the thing in its midsection, but he finds he doesn't have to. The rock caved in the soft flesh of its head, and it's already crumbling to the ground by the time Alex rights himself. He straightens up, panting.]

All right, I'll admit that one was a good shot.

[Begrudgingly, mind. Begrudgingly.

Unfortunately, it seems the clamor has attracted some friends. He cocks the gun and braces it, mouth tightening in a thin line.]

More coming.

[ateherdirt]

You said you had somewhere safe. Let's get there.

[rosswood]

You wanna go through them? 'Cause it's through them.

[He indicates the approaching cluster of the dead things grimly.]

It's my room, and it's on the other side of a screaming death-zombie horde, so I would get a fucking weapon.

[ateherdirt]

Do you have another weapon? Because maybe we should go to another room.

[rosswood]

God -

[He has no time for this. Fuck it. His room, valuable as its contents are, isn't worth braving this. So he turns on his heel and starts moving rapidly down the hall, away from the zombie-things as they surge closer.]

All right, all right! Just c'mon - we don't got all day!