Ready for another day of evil deeds and wicked practice?
"Don't hit the tires!" The two barrel across the spine of the hill at full pelt, clumsily trying to shove rounds into thier weapons and prepare them for firing at the figure in the driver's seat of the car, which was now gliding along a mysteriously unobstructed road.
"Fucking..." the male one grumbled before he could finally seat a 5.56mm shell into the port of his rifle and shove the bolt down into the chamber. The female had little problem. Her weapon was a semi-auto pistol with four remaining rounds. Simply slide the sledge back until it makes that satifying "reload" noise, and keep your fingers away from the magazine relase. A lesson that she'd learned last time that they'd tried to waylay someone in this manner.
That was embarrasing.
They fetched up on the shoulder of the next hill, which had been the foundations of a righ rise. The male rested his shoulder on a mass and took aim, as did the female, standing free behind a pylon. The car moved slowly, surveying for salvageable bric-a-brac that could be found.
They fired at the same instant.
"FFFFGMMRGKLE" said Male.
"Fuck a doodle doo!" Said Female.
One or the other had struck the trunk latch, which popped open. Although the car instantly accelerated they saw what it contained.
"That's our lockbox!" She recognized the unmistakeable red "Circle N" sticker.
"Oh, he's a dead man!" and they bolted down the hill...
[flashback effect]
There was a mound of dirt and mud and shmutz where they remembered the pharmacy being. Why and how it got there was an utter mystery. Out of the far slope of it, where they'd dug a hole, came flying bits of plywood and metal and other junk. A desklamp sailed past her. When he straightened up out of the hole he had in his hands a small orange bottle. It had nothing in it.
"Well, we are getting warm." he said to his partner.
"I dunno Spratt, there's probably a lot of those in there. Empty. How many people thought to stock up?" She said.
"It's got to be here. I remember it. He kept it under lock and key, I know exactly where it was!" He dissapeared back into the hole. "Instead of being skeptical, you could help." She did.
An hour and a half later, they'd found what they were looking for. A Beige box that looked like a cabinet but with a simple steel lock across both doors. However, more urgent, there was a large, bloated, dead, pharmacist clutching it and, resultantly, decomposing on it. All over it, in fact. Immediately the male put his sleeve to his mouth. "Oh, Jesus H Christ on a moped!". The female stifled a gag. "I guess that he died saving it."
At another time, this act of valor in saving the usefulness of narcotics would have earned the desceased a salute from the two, but it didn't occur to them now. Time was rather of the essence. "He's going to be a bitch to get off that thing..." She said, but where there's a will, there's a way. And they had the will in spades, they'd hadn't a taste since it happened.
Were they willing to outrun a car to get thier drugs back? Hell yes.
"Get to the other side of him and aim for the dirver's side!" She screamed. The two split and flanked the receding car. They had to stop running to fire thier sub-par weapons. The male had a shell in hand and ready to go. Female needed only to aim and pull the trigger.
"Next time I get the Beretta!" He shouted.
"I had to lift a dead man off that box! We're going to eat him alive!" She shrieked at the driver. They fired, missed, and gave chase again. But the car was losing them fast.
They treaded a wide avenue down a hill. The male, Spratt, had lived here before. The houses all appeared to have collapsed in the same direction. It was residential zoning for miles. They were both very quiet here.
Beyond lay a steep grade that offered a view of the industrial mains near the river, which was dark and contaminated. There were tiny features on the surface of the water, debris, that they could barely discern from where they were. They occupied themselves with the hopeless task instead of speak.
The hospital was partially destroyed, the top storey was badly damaged, but the rest seemed ok. This was not likely to hold any prize for them, as people had collected here immediately afterwards and died. The smell was overpowering, but ubiquitous enough to be bearable.
They climbed over random piles of bodies, gas masks on thier faces, approaching the Emergency doors. They found them locked shut, with a hill of bodies lain against the plastic doors. Evidently they died trying to get in. The hospital staff must have just shut them out.
They found another entrance and found it locked too. Around the building, in a secluded parking lot filled with the debris of the top floor, they found an unlocked window. The bodies found themselves strewn here too.
Inside was dark, and completely silent. They could make out indistinguishable hallways and doors to specialized wards. The smell of bodies came down the hall as well. They thought that they could see bloodspots on the floor, but they couldn't tell in the dim light, they seemed to shift colors. In fact, the two hadn't slept for days, and those spots weren't anything more than sneaker scuff on the linoleum, much smaller than they appeared to the two.
They did not split up and search individually here. They couldn't even get very far apart, thier presence in this place unsettled something hard, cold, and monolithic in them both. It was thier imagined callousness. They had been stepping all over bodies minutes ago, each one eqipped with a face contorted with horror, and not cared. It was the stillness, the blood, and the utter lack of corpses in this place.
Soon, they found a pharmacy. With combined effort, using the axe that they carried, they disengaged the part of the wall that connected to the lock bolt from the rest of the corridor wall and swung the door in. There was no light in this room. She flicked on her zippo.
There were a pair of legs in the corner of the room, on the far end. No torso, no body, just the legs. Cleanly cut below the knee.
The narcotic cabinets were full, but open. She opened up the duffel bag that she'd been saving. He reloaded the rifle and held the pistol for her while she picked the most efficient choices from the shelves. She had to think about potency, how much that they could be expected to use up, and how much that they could trade, should they encounter anyone that wasn't intent on killing them and taking it. Or conversely, someone that they didn't just feel like killing and looting. When she had done she turned to him and took the pistol off him. He was tense and tears were welling up in his eyes from the tension. The spookiest fucking place on earth.
They left they way that they came, very fast, shielding thier eyes from the pale sun. They made away to thier hideout and sampled the goods while they plotted thier revenge on The Driver.
-----------------------=========---------------------------
More later. If I feel like it.
-Ranna.
"Fucking..." the male one grumbled before he could finally seat a 5.56mm shell into the port of his rifle and shove the bolt down into the chamber. The female had little problem. Her weapon was a semi-auto pistol with four remaining rounds. Simply slide the sledge back until it makes that satifying "reload" noise, and keep your fingers away from the magazine relase. A lesson that she'd learned last time that they'd tried to waylay someone in this manner.
That was embarrasing.
They fetched up on the shoulder of the next hill, which had been the foundations of a righ rise. The male rested his shoulder on a mass and took aim, as did the female, standing free behind a pylon. The car moved slowly, surveying for salvageable bric-a-brac that could be found.
They fired at the same instant.
"FFFFGMMRGKLE" said Male.
"Fuck a doodle doo!" Said Female.
One or the other had struck the trunk latch, which popped open. Although the car instantly accelerated they saw what it contained.
"That's our lockbox!" She recognized the unmistakeable red "Circle N" sticker.
"Oh, he's a dead man!" and they bolted down the hill...
[flashback effect]
There was a mound of dirt and mud and shmutz where they remembered the pharmacy being. Why and how it got there was an utter mystery. Out of the far slope of it, where they'd dug a hole, came flying bits of plywood and metal and other junk. A desklamp sailed past her. When he straightened up out of the hole he had in his hands a small orange bottle. It had nothing in it.
"Well, we are getting warm." he said to his partner.
"I dunno Spratt, there's probably a lot of those in there. Empty. How many people thought to stock up?" She said.
"It's got to be here. I remember it. He kept it under lock and key, I know exactly where it was!" He dissapeared back into the hole. "Instead of being skeptical, you could help." She did.
An hour and a half later, they'd found what they were looking for. A Beige box that looked like a cabinet but with a simple steel lock across both doors. However, more urgent, there was a large, bloated, dead, pharmacist clutching it and, resultantly, decomposing on it. All over it, in fact. Immediately the male put his sleeve to his mouth. "Oh, Jesus H Christ on a moped!". The female stifled a gag. "I guess that he died saving it."
At another time, this act of valor in saving the usefulness of narcotics would have earned the desceased a salute from the two, but it didn't occur to them now. Time was rather of the essence. "He's going to be a bitch to get off that thing..." She said, but where there's a will, there's a way. And they had the will in spades, they'd hadn't a taste since it happened.
Were they willing to outrun a car to get thier drugs back? Hell yes.
"Get to the other side of him and aim for the dirver's side!" She screamed. The two split and flanked the receding car. They had to stop running to fire thier sub-par weapons. The male had a shell in hand and ready to go. Female needed only to aim and pull the trigger.
"Next time I get the Beretta!" He shouted.
"I had to lift a dead man off that box! We're going to eat him alive!" She shrieked at the driver. They fired, missed, and gave chase again. But the car was losing them fast.
They treaded a wide avenue down a hill. The male, Spratt, had lived here before. The houses all appeared to have collapsed in the same direction. It was residential zoning for miles. They were both very quiet here.
Beyond lay a steep grade that offered a view of the industrial mains near the river, which was dark and contaminated. There were tiny features on the surface of the water, debris, that they could barely discern from where they were. They occupied themselves with the hopeless task instead of speak.
The hospital was partially destroyed, the top storey was badly damaged, but the rest seemed ok. This was not likely to hold any prize for them, as people had collected here immediately afterwards and died. The smell was overpowering, but ubiquitous enough to be bearable.
They climbed over random piles of bodies, gas masks on thier faces, approaching the Emergency doors. They found them locked shut, with a hill of bodies lain against the plastic doors. Evidently they died trying to get in. The hospital staff must have just shut them out.
They found another entrance and found it locked too. Around the building, in a secluded parking lot filled with the debris of the top floor, they found an unlocked window. The bodies found themselves strewn here too.
Inside was dark, and completely silent. They could make out indistinguishable hallways and doors to specialized wards. The smell of bodies came down the hall as well. They thought that they could see bloodspots on the floor, but they couldn't tell in the dim light, they seemed to shift colors. In fact, the two hadn't slept for days, and those spots weren't anything more than sneaker scuff on the linoleum, much smaller than they appeared to the two.
They did not split up and search individually here. They couldn't even get very far apart, thier presence in this place unsettled something hard, cold, and monolithic in them both. It was thier imagined callousness. They had been stepping all over bodies minutes ago, each one eqipped with a face contorted with horror, and not cared. It was the stillness, the blood, and the utter lack of corpses in this place.
Soon, they found a pharmacy. With combined effort, using the axe that they carried, they disengaged the part of the wall that connected to the lock bolt from the rest of the corridor wall and swung the door in. There was no light in this room. She flicked on her zippo.
There were a pair of legs in the corner of the room, on the far end. No torso, no body, just the legs. Cleanly cut below the knee.
The narcotic cabinets were full, but open. She opened up the duffel bag that she'd been saving. He reloaded the rifle and held the pistol for her while she picked the most efficient choices from the shelves. She had to think about potency, how much that they could be expected to use up, and how much that they could trade, should they encounter anyone that wasn't intent on killing them and taking it. Or conversely, someone that they didn't just feel like killing and looting. When she had done she turned to him and took the pistol off him. He was tense and tears were welling up in his eyes from the tension. The spookiest fucking place on earth.
They left they way that they came, very fast, shielding thier eyes from the pale sun. They made away to thier hideout and sampled the goods while they plotted thier revenge on The Driver.
-----------------------=========---------------------------
More later. If I feel like it.
-Ranna.