pheliskougra | The Last Stand

The Last Stand

It's a dark stormy night might be a cliché in story-telling, but it's also stark reality now: the patter of heavy rain and the crack of thunder rousing you to conscience.

You are inside your sedan, face-first into the deployed airbag. Your chest hurts a little from the yanking of the seatbelt, but besides that minimal discomfort you seem uninjured.

The car is halfway into a ditch beside the road, the left-side light still on. The engine is stopped, and the whole of the car is askew, stuck in an odd angle. There's a crack on the windshield, passenger side, and the rain is washing off what seems to be blood.

You remember... a person, running into the road right in front of you. No time to stop, and you only had a glimpse before hitting the person, losing control of the car and crashing.

Probably you should do something about your current situation.

Who are you?

Why were you going to Union City?

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Stephen appears to be neither dead nor a zombie, today is looking up! Annabelle hurries through the door, hoping that this encounter will lead to finding out what the hell is going on.

The young man (blonde, athletic build) quickly leads them down a hallway, with the groaning and lurching sounds of zombies not far behind. Soon they find the now, familiar reinforced doors, and can slip inside for safety.

Monica reacts with all the composure someone might expect. "Where the hell is Roger?" Yes, nearly hysterical.

Steven visibly cringes before answering. "HERC took him and all the doctors along with the wounded to the stadium. They made it into a quarantine camp, for the wounded to be sorted... you know, who's turning into a zombie or not."

Monica's reply to the news is a long string of curses.

Hmm, the safehouse seems to be one infirmary ward along with the associated facilities, restrooms and showers, a couple offices. Likely they have running water, and surely, no shortage of beds, only a dozen people having taken refuge there.

Annabelle gently bangs her head against the wall, just once.

It just FIGURES, doesn't it?

Monica shrugs off her backpack, sets down the shotgun and falls on her face into a bed. She'll just be there cursing into the pillow for a while, okay?

Steven rubs his head sheepishly. "Hm... sorry?" Not much he can say or do, right?

"Probably not your fault," Annabelle says with a sigh. "Damn bureaucrats."

Steven shakes head. "They're trying to find a treatment of some kind... its seems to be a disease, a virus or bacteria."

He will also introduce the others, nurses, orderlies, and a couple paramedics, including himself.

"That's something, I suppose. People have got experience dealing with diseases, even if they were nothing as bizarre as this."

"Bizarre doesn't even begin to describe it. People catch it, fall sick, die, and then come back." He shakes head. "HERC researchers think some people are naturally immune, and maybe the immunity can be shared... if it exists."

"Let's cross and fingers and hope that's the case," Annabelle says with a frown. "If it can't....there's no nice way to stop the disease from spreading."

"So... you're all just sitting here?" Kelly, having removed her backpack, and seized an apparently-unclaimed bed.

"Pretty much." Steven nods. "HERC was very clear on that, until they find out what is happening and why, they can't let anyone leave the city."

"Sensible," Annabelle replies. "Doesn't make things any easier for us, though."

"Okay." Monica's sitting up. "How do I get to the Stadium?"

"You can't." Steven shakes head. "The place is locked up, tight, with the fuckloads of zombies." Then he blushes a bit. "Sorry for the language."

"I'm going. I didn't get this far to give up now." Stubborn, Monica is.

Annabelle knows stubborn when she sees it.

"I can handle fuckloads of zombies," Annabelle says with a grin. That's not to say she'll be HAPPY about it, mind.

Kelly sticks tongue at her. "You really enjoy playing hero."

Steven shakes head. "You three are crazy."

"Why not, I'm damn good at it?" Annabelle teases Kelly.

"Crazy is as crazy does," Annabelle replies, tone wry. "Someone's got to be mad, or nothing would get done."

"Well, if you are going, better start off in the morning. And use the fire stairs, as long as you don't let the zombies in." Sensible plan? Kelly and Monica seem to agree, both already taking off shoes and preparing to relax.

"Sounds good to me," Annabelle replies with a nod. Relaxing sounds nice, even if cuddling with Kelly isn't likely to happen.

Well, there is a number of privacy screens for the beds... people would be crazy without some privacy while confined.

Kelly is flashing Annabelle a meaningful grin...

Annabelle flushes faintly and answers that meaningful grin with one of her own.

Message received, as it were. It shouldn't take too much skullduggery to scoot two cots together and arrange for some privacy.....

Really, should not be a problem: two beds close together, if needed they can tie them together, fill the gap with folded sheets or blankets, and presto, they have a double bed for themselves. Of course, getting to privacy might take a while, people are bored crazy in there and will pepper the group with questions... even more Annabelle if she mentions being part of Aeon Society.

Annabelle may neglect to mention that tidbit of information, if only because it's likely to prompt questions she can't answer.

Eventually though, the slew of questions will fade, right?

Eventually, and not too long, actually: dinner, and the survivors break up into smaller groups, some people going up to the roof for fresh air, some going to bed with books, some staying to chat in low voices.

Kelly will draw Annabelle to their private 'nest', and kiss her girlfriend lightly, tenderly.

Annabelle returns the light, tender kiss in full, savoring the feeling of it.

A lover's affectionate touch is something that's still new, wondrous, and rare for her.

Kelly probably notices it, and will work to get Annabelle more used to it.

Right now, it means undressing, slipping into bed, and cuddling skin-to skin under a light sheet.

That feels very nice. If Annabelle were physically capable of purring, she would be right now.

She sighs in contentment, idly kissing down Kelly's neck.

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