This whole thing with the virus was supposed to have been over, but no. That would've been too easy. And the closer they drew to where it all began, the more obvious it was that this wasn't...quite the same thing. Sam wasn't sure how the term began, but somewhere along the way, people had named the grotesque, decaying figures the Infected and he'd started referring to them as that now.
Broken glass, bodies on the street, abandoned cars. Busted store windows. The scenery hadn't changed for miles; the only difference was the ratio of survivors to infected. Right now? It was looking like zero survivors and way more infected than was making him comfortable. Frankly, Sam wanted to turn back because it wasn't like they didn't already have the rings-cutting off the head of the snake and all that-but it was true that they didn't know how much this had to do with any of it. It was probably a good idea to investigate.
Or maybe Dean was stalling. Sam suspected this was the case, but he'd go along with it, at least until it became obvious they couldn't stall anymore. He supposed he owed Dean that.
Stalling via taking on a zombie apocalypse. That this made as much sense to Sam as it apparently did to Dean had to say something.
He glanced out the window. There was already a crack in it from where one of those things had launched itself onto the car like a frigging giant flying squirrel. The window hadn't broken, though. Small favors. Getting dragged out through a car window was never fun.
Digging out his phone, he peered at the screen and then waved it at Dean. No reception. There'd been reception in the earlier areas, but not here. "Guess we're starting to hit ground zero."
Dean glanced over and nodded, then focused on the road.
"We're gonna have to park her and hoof it on foot then."
Soon as this was over, he was taking his car for some R & R she desperately needed; there were some big dents from ambushes they'd run into a few days ago and he wasn't too keen on driving around with cracked windows. So far he'd been able to outrun any hordes but once they were on foot, it was gonna be different, and parking the car right smack in the middle of ground zero meant that they could possibly get swarmed and trapped, even if they got inside the car. Dean pulled off the main road. So far they hadn't run into too many infected in the last mile or so - he guessed they had been pulled toward larger groups of survivors making a whole hell of a lot more noise than he was with the Impala. Dean pulled off the side street at the first parking structure he could find that, heading to the second floor. Some corpses but more or less abandoned.
Dean slid out of the car, heading for the trunk and glancing around.
"Better take whatever we can carry and see what we can find on the way there," Dean said, hefting the duffle bag of weapons and food and water. "We'll do a quick sweep but...Sam, we're not exactly CDC or nothin'. Good chance we're not gonna be able to hit the reset button on this."
What they could do was try to save a few folks and determine if this was some kinda freaky side-effect of that Croatoan virus.
Great. On foot. Yeah, it'd be safer and far less dangerous in the long run-you really didn't want to be inside a flipped car when there were things clawing to get you.
Sam let out a breath and reached towards the backseat to grab his own bag. They'd moved everything they needed there. It was bad idea to stand around peering into a trunk, rummaging for supplies. "I know. But we can either stop all of this, period, or we can check out the smaller picture in the meantime and see what we can do."
Not so much a hint as a statement of fact. They both knew where the other stood on this and Sam didn't have to say anything else about it. As much as he wanted to push because he hated this feeling of being caught in limbo between doing something and doing nothing, it'd been-what, a couple of days or so? Dean needed time.
Besides, technically nothing could kick-start for real until Lucifer had him.
Though apparently, the dead could start rising everywhere.
He peered out the window, then cracked his door open cautiously, gun in hand. "Come on."
Dean holstered his pistol, going for the machete. Push came to shove, he'd rather rely on a gun for the whole distance thing, but a machete was a lot quieter and didn't waste ammo. The gun was a last resort.
He led the way, heading toward the stairs. Sound carried pretty far when you didn't have the background noises of people living their lives in the city - without the traffic or just the general background noise, you could hear a whole lot you'd normally miss before. Something was rustling, scraping, and he couldn't tell yet if it was under them on another floor of the parking structure or what. The door to the stairs was closed, Dean taking up position and exchanging looks with Sam.
All the crap in the horror movies with the monsters getting stuck behind doors for that "boo" moment? All ridiculously true in his experience and he'd long got used to the fact that a closed door didn't mean much if he didn't clear it was safe himself. The things had a habit of getting stuck, wandering around until some schmuck barged in assuming it was empty.
On three, Dean mouthed to Sam, hand on the door. He didn't turn it until he was sure Sam was covering him and they were ready.
Broken glass, bodies on the street, abandoned cars. Busted store windows. The scenery hadn't changed for miles; the only difference was the ratio of survivors to infected. Right now? It was looking like zero survivors and way more infected than was making him comfortable. Frankly, Sam wanted to turn back because it wasn't like they didn't already have the rings-cutting off the head of the snake and all that-but it was true that they didn't know how much this had to do with any of it. It was probably a good idea to investigate.
Or maybe Dean was stalling. Sam suspected this was the case, but he'd go along with it, at least until it became obvious they couldn't stall anymore. He supposed he owed Dean that.
Stalling via taking on a zombie apocalypse. That this made as much sense to Sam as it apparently did to Dean had to say something.
He glanced out the window. There was already a crack in it from where one of those things had launched itself onto the car like a frigging giant flying squirrel. The window hadn't broken, though. Small favors. Getting dragged out through a car window was never fun.
Digging out his phone, he peered at the screen and then waved it at Dean. No reception. There'd been reception in the earlier areas, but not here. "Guess we're starting to hit ground zero."
[Dean. :| ]
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"We're gonna have to park her and hoof it on foot then."
Soon as this was over, he was taking his car for some R & R she desperately needed; there were some big dents from ambushes they'd run into a few days ago and he wasn't too keen on driving around with cracked windows. So far he'd been able to outrun any hordes but once they were on foot, it was gonna be different, and parking the car right smack in the middle of ground zero meant that they could possibly get swarmed and trapped, even if they got inside the car. Dean pulled off the main road. So far they hadn't run into too many infected in the last mile or so - he guessed they had been pulled toward larger groups of survivors making a whole hell of a lot more noise than he was with the Impala. Dean pulled off the side street at the first parking structure he could find that, heading to the second floor. Some corpses but more or less abandoned.
Dean slid out of the car, heading for the trunk and glancing around.
"Better take whatever we can carry and see what we can find on the way there," Dean said, hefting the duffle bag of weapons and food and water. "We'll do a quick sweep but...Sam, we're not exactly CDC or nothin'. Good chance we're not gonna be able to hit the reset button on this."
What they could do was try to save a few folks and determine if this was some kinda freaky side-effect of that Croatoan virus.
Reply
Sam let out a breath and reached towards the backseat to grab his own bag. They'd moved everything they needed there. It was bad idea to stand around peering into a trunk, rummaging for supplies. "I know. But we can either stop all of this, period, or we can check out the smaller picture in the meantime and see what we can do."
Not so much a hint as a statement of fact. They both knew where the other stood on this and Sam didn't have to say anything else about it. As much as he wanted to push because he hated this feeling of being caught in limbo between doing something and doing nothing, it'd been-what, a couple of days or so? Dean needed time.
Besides, technically nothing could kick-start for real until Lucifer had him.
Though apparently, the dead could start rising everywhere.
He peered out the window, then cracked his door open cautiously, gun in hand. "Come on."
Reply
He led the way, heading toward the stairs. Sound carried pretty far when you didn't have the background noises of people living their lives in the city - without the traffic or just the general background noise, you could hear a whole lot you'd normally miss before. Something was rustling, scraping, and he couldn't tell yet if it was under them on another floor of the parking structure or what. The door to the stairs was closed, Dean taking up position and exchanging looks with Sam.
All the crap in the horror movies with the monsters getting stuck behind doors for that "boo" moment? All ridiculously true in his experience and he'd long got used to the fact that a closed door didn't mean much if he didn't clear it was safe himself. The things had a habit of getting stuck, wandering around until some schmuck barged in assuming it was empty.
On three, Dean mouthed to Sam, hand on the door. He didn't turn it until he was sure Sam was covering him and they were ready.
Dean turned the doorknob and pushed it open.
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