first call - backdated three hours before dawn
[ In the depths of the Darkness, gunshots echoed through the night. A young voice calls out, feminine but blunted by life’s gravity, spilling out swears as easily as her rifle ejects empty shells. ]
Francis! Louis!
[ A screech filters through, something inhuman - or maybe it once was human - before a wet schunk splatters to the ground, like maybe a butt end of a rifle smashing a skull to pieces. The angry woman lets out snarl, and again there’s another wet, crunching sound of bones breaking. Heavy footsteps slap the pavement. ]
Where the hell are you guys?!
[ For a while, there is huffing quietness on the young woman’s part. Small pebbles skitter around, and there’s a sharp ding and crash of trash cans falling over and rolling. More screaming-hissing noises, and there’s the bark of the assault rifle, bang bang click -
- and then all is left is silence.
It’s been like for a while, until later the NV is turned on, this time in video format. Here revels a young face, perhaps around eighteen, nineteen years of age. Maybe she’s older than that - the lines on her cheekbones, the circles underneath her eyes is starting to form, may indicate such. She offers a humorless smile. ]
It’s been a long time since I even touched a cell phone. And totally going video with this, just because I didn't have a video option in my last cell phone.
[ A cough. She rubs her eye. ]
I've been looking at this, and I guess this is what, some kind of weird MySpace kind of deal? Anyway, I haven't really sit down and look through all of it, but I just want to say, hi, I'm Zoey, I've been traveling with two guys, Louis and Francis. If you know where they are, please tell me, okay?
And, um . . . um . . .
[ She rakes her hand against the loosening strands of her ponytail, her bangs - hair that hasn't been washed in days. Scratched her cheek, not noticing (or caring) if there's dirt and grime and blood and gunpowder setting on her skin like make-up on a gritty, bleak film about the end of the world. She sighs, and gives a shrug and a muttered "I think that's it."
The transmission ends.
She waits. ]
Francis! Louis!
[ A screech filters through, something inhuman - or maybe it once was human - before a wet schunk splatters to the ground, like maybe a butt end of a rifle smashing a skull to pieces. The angry woman lets out snarl, and again there’s another wet, crunching sound of bones breaking. Heavy footsteps slap the pavement. ]
Where the hell are you guys?!
[ For a while, there is huffing quietness on the young woman’s part. Small pebbles skitter around, and there’s a sharp ding and crash of trash cans falling over and rolling. More screaming-hissing noises, and there’s the bark of the assault rifle, bang bang click -
- and then all is left is silence.
It’s been like for a while, until later the NV is turned on, this time in video format. Here revels a young face, perhaps around eighteen, nineteen years of age. Maybe she’s older than that - the lines on her cheekbones, the circles underneath her eyes is starting to form, may indicate such. She offers a humorless smile. ]
It’s been a long time since I even touched a cell phone. And totally going video with this, just because I didn't have a video option in my last cell phone.
[ A cough. She rubs her eye. ]
I've been looking at this, and I guess this is what, some kind of weird MySpace kind of deal? Anyway, I haven't really sit down and look through all of it, but I just want to say, hi, I'm Zoey, I've been traveling with two guys, Louis and Francis. If you know where they are, please tell me, okay?
And, um . . . um . . .
[ She rakes her hand against the loosening strands of her ponytail, her bangs - hair that hasn't been washed in days. Scratched her cheek, not noticing (or caring) if there's dirt and grime and blood and gunpowder setting on her skin like make-up on a gritty, bleak film about the end of the world. She sighs, and gives a shrug and a muttered "I think that's it."
The transmission ends.
She waits. ]