The most he got was a dazed, confused groan, although that was loads better than back at the buses.
"Sammy?"
Dean's voice was scratchy, the single word heavily slurred and muffled by his brother's shoulder. Right now he was just realizing he could feel anything at all, the heaviness still there like he had concrete everything, but his head. His head. It didn't feel right. Everything felt crappy, like being in a fog except he couldn't shake it. Dean moaned again, eyes fluttering as he tried to open them, some part of him still registering his brother's voice despite the slowly clearing haze of the drugs. Dean's first real thought that he could actually hold onto was I think I'm gonna puke, except he couldn't even tell if he'd already done that or if that option was still on the table. Couldn't remember nothin'. Dean's brain just stalled on trying to figure out if he'd thrown up yet and it took a long couple of minutes for him to start stringing together the next thought
( ... )
He leaned forward, inching as far as he could without standing up to grab the old white t-shirt hanging off the edge of a rickety table. It wasn't necessarily clean, but it didn't look dirty, either. His gaze flicked briefly towards the door as he tore a strip off the shirt. He didn't trust that lock at all. He knew they needed to barricade the door, but there wasn't anything to do that with. It wasn't as if he could push a heavy drawer up the stairs or something
( ... )
Dean's eyes were only half-opened, still unfocused. There were a lot of blurs in the front of him, one of them moving in front of his face.
"Uh..." Dean said intelligently. It came out as a vague grunt.
Whatever it was, he was sure he'd be cool with it. Dean couldn't help feeling like he'd nod off again, the black haze still so slow in clearing that he'd stopped paying too much attention to it. Sure, he didn't feel like he could keep lunch down, but so what? If he got sick, he got sick and if he didn't? Well, he could work with that too. Feeling so heavy made him cool with just about anything, and even if he couldn't exactly focus on the thing in Sammy's hand - much less look right at it and recognize it for as a pair of scissors, and make the connection it didn't belong in his goddamn leg - he was sure he was gonna be chill with whatever happened next. He was flexible like that. Dean just couldn't get himself to care. The drug-induced darkness, heavy and pressing in on him, seemed a lot more interesting
( ... )
[backthreading with permission ^^;;; - Running in from here]
"Not much further," she called back, giving Sasuke a moment to catch up. Not only would the houses offer protection, but they might have valuable information. And she'd much rather make a stand in the less crowded area than in the center of town in the thick of it all.
The pain was beginning to spread up the side of Sasuke's neck, something that made the comparison to receiving Orochimaru's seal even stronger. At the same time, in comparison to the pain of a juuin this was nothing -- Sasuke could move and think clearly. The worst of it was a slight stiffness around his shoulder
( ... )
Sakura dearly wished there was more light to see by. When Sasuke got closer, she couldn't make out much of the injury. There was blood, but it was mixed in with the same nasty remnants of the dead he'd been all but covered in during the fight
( ... )
Inside Residence #7sasuke_of_soundAugust 12 2009, 00:39:36 UTC
By the time they hit the next turn Sasuke was reasonably certain that this wasn't a normal hunger -- his stomach felt so hollow that it was as if he hadn't eaten in a month. The pain in his shoulder was spreading at the same rate as well, and when he swung the shovel to knock back a particularly fast shambler the flesh felt oddly ... loose was perhaps the best way to describe it
( ... )
[From here. This thread chronologically takes place before the Sam and Dean one above.]
Somehow, they had all managed to make it to a semblance of safety. There were still zombies around, but they weren't nearly as fast as the nurses or orderlies, who had apparently given up the chase. Peter wasn't sure where they were going to go from here, though. Did Sam have any sort of plan, or had it only extended as far as getting his brother to safety?
"Let's lean him against this wall," Peter suggested, motioning to the closest house with his head. He didn't start moving yet, though, since he wasn't going to do anything with Sam's brother until Sam actually confirmed that he was okay with it.
Speaking of which, Peter had to admit that he was extremely relieved that his own brother wasn't in Brian's condition. Peter frowned at the barely conscious man that he was holding up with one arm and then glanced at Sam. "What happened, anyway?"
Nathan watched the three, having just barely caught his breath. The smell lingering in the air wasn't a pleasant one, but Nathan took in large gulps of air, eager for what he assumed was a short respite. Looking from Sam to the sedated man, Nathan frowned a little. Considering they were carting him around, they were damn lucky to have gotten out of that scrape... but that was Peter, he reminded himself. Never stopping until he saved everybody.
It was almost frustrating, and yet after having his younger brother gone for so long, to be faced with a situation that was so unmistakably the work of his heart-on-his-sleeve younger brother made Nathan want to smile.
If he had to chance a guess at what this guy's problem was, he would assume the man was drugged. Nathan wasn't sure, exactly, how that could have happened, so he waited, watching Peter's friend, still trying to remain alert to the group's surroundings, just in case.
Either the nurses had been hindered by the fire or they'd decided it wasn't worth the chase, but they weren't there anymore and Sam didn't stop to question why.
He ducked onto the doorstep of one of the homes, not exactly a safe zone, but a short reprieve for now. He propped Dean up against the wall so that Peter could let go if he wanted; Sam held on, though, unwilling to stray even that far from his brother. He could feel Dean breathing, steady enough for now. His gaze darted out into the streets, not looking at Peter as he answered.
"Sedated," he said. "I think. I found him like this."
The zombies were slow, but that didn't mean they weren't advancing. They needed to go inside, but when he turned around, he realized he could actually see shadows of something moving through the distorted glass decorating the front door
( ... )
It seemed like whatever Brian had done to get sedated, it had been pretty bad. Peter didn't recall anyone else remaining out of it for this long, or being in such a bad state that they couldn't even walk or function without help. It probably wasn't his business to ask how it had happened, though, and Sam had already explained that he had no idea
( ... )
Comments 45
"Sammy?"
Dean's voice was scratchy, the single word heavily slurred and muffled by his brother's shoulder. Right now he was just realizing he could feel anything at all, the heaviness still there like he had concrete everything, but his head. His head. It didn't feel right. Everything felt crappy, like being in a fog except he couldn't shake it. Dean moaned again, eyes fluttering as he tried to open them, some part of him still registering his brother's voice despite the slowly clearing haze of the drugs. Dean's first real thought that he could actually hold onto was I think I'm gonna puke, except he couldn't even tell if he'd already done that or if that option was still on the table. Couldn't remember nothin'. Dean's brain just stalled on trying to figure out if he'd thrown up yet and it took a long couple of minutes for him to start stringing together the next thought ( ... )
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"Uh..." Dean said intelligently. It came out as a vague grunt.
Whatever it was, he was sure he'd be cool with it. Dean couldn't help feeling like he'd nod off again, the black haze still so slow in clearing that he'd stopped paying too much attention to it. Sure, he didn't feel like he could keep lunch down, but so what? If he got sick, he got sick and if he didn't? Well, he could work with that too. Feeling so heavy made him cool with just about anything, and even if he couldn't exactly focus on the thing in Sammy's hand - much less look right at it and recognize it for as a pair of scissors, and make the connection it didn't belong in his goddamn leg - he was sure he was gonna be chill with whatever happened next. He was flexible like that. Dean just couldn't get himself to care. The drug-induced darkness, heavy and pressing in on him, seemed a lot more interesting ( ... )
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"Not much further," she called back, giving Sasuke a moment to catch up. Not only would the houses offer protection, but they might have valuable information. And she'd much rather make a stand in the less crowded area than in the center of town in the thick of it all.
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Somehow, they had all managed to make it to a semblance of safety. There were still zombies around, but they weren't nearly as fast as the nurses or orderlies, who had apparently given up the chase. Peter wasn't sure where they were going to go from here, though. Did Sam have any sort of plan, or had it only extended as far as getting his brother to safety?
"Let's lean him against this wall," Peter suggested, motioning to the closest house with his head. He didn't start moving yet, though, since he wasn't going to do anything with Sam's brother until Sam actually confirmed that he was okay with it.
Speaking of which, Peter had to admit that he was extremely relieved that his own brother wasn't in Brian's condition. Peter frowned at the barely conscious man that he was holding up with one arm and then glanced at Sam. "What happened, anyway?"
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It was almost frustrating, and yet after having his younger brother gone for so long, to be faced with a situation that was so unmistakably the work of his heart-on-his-sleeve younger brother made Nathan want to smile.
If he had to chance a guess at what this guy's problem was, he would assume the man was drugged. Nathan wasn't sure, exactly, how that could have happened, so he waited, watching Peter's friend, still trying to remain alert to the group's surroundings, just in case.
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He ducked onto the doorstep of one of the homes, not exactly a safe zone, but a short reprieve for now. He propped Dean up against the wall so that Peter could let go if he wanted; Sam held on, though, unwilling to stray even that far from his brother. He could feel Dean breathing, steady enough for now. His gaze darted out into the streets, not looking at Peter as he answered.
"Sedated," he said. "I think. I found him like this."
The zombies were slow, but that didn't mean they weren't advancing. They needed to go inside, but when he turned around, he realized he could actually see shadows of something moving through the distorted glass decorating the front door ( ... )
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