(Untitled)

[chosered]

[There's a huff, and a frustrated noise from someone who never seems to get frustrated at any other time.]

5, 405, 110 - these numbers don't mean anything.

All I wanted to do was see if I could find George's house and now I'm totally turned around.

[Zombies have yet to be noticed, because a one Kenny Potter is distracted]I've lived here all my

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[whitetwoguns]

What the fuck are you doing?

[whitetwoguns]

[It's the pressure that has his pulse beating at his temples. The pressure to protect not one but two men being maimed makes him sweat bullets. Nothing to do with the fact that he'll be in a van with the man he loves and the young man he fucked. Different time, different circumstance. Be fucking cool, Dimick.]

C'mon. It's not worth it. Y'always can get another.

[The old man pulls to a sharp halt. E break on and gun in hand, Larry leans to open the door to the seat behind him.]

Get in.

[And here are some deadheads. Great.]

Incoming, kid.

[orangetoughguy]

[Yeah yeah younger man taller thinner prettier brighter eyes and that stupid mouth and whatever yeah. Freddy doesn't pay it any mind. He has a job to do and that job is taking out a couple deadheads to keep them safe. Larry might think his job is to protect two other guys but Freddy here thinks his job is to protect civilians. When he's with Lawrence Dimick only, he really is just Freddy Newendyke. With a third party unlike Pink and very much like Kenneth Potter? He's Officer Newendyke.]

Get his bike in the van.

[Freddy says to Larry, almost like an order...more just a firm request. Yeah. Look he understands the attachment between a guy and his bike, and it's a nice bike too. But also, you never know when you're gonna need a ride in this place. That's two gas tanks they can keep on them. The kid (the older one) is stepping out of the van, rifle ready to go. His aim is dead fucking serious as one zombie loses its head with a single high caliber round.]

[chosered]

[Kenny definitely doesn't know anything about shooting anyone or anything - the most he knows about guns is how to basically use one, from getting a lesson from his father, but that was once, and they were shooting bottles, and Kenny wasn't very good at it.

He gets in the van halfway, and then turns to look at his bike and go to get it]

I can help with that.

[whitetwoguns]

[Bike too? Freddy said he wanted to help people. Okay. Well, bikes apply as well.]

Roger.

[Two shots a head hit and a shoulder graze to another. It only makes the fat lady tumble into another ugly looking son of a bitch. Larry holsters the gun in his waistband to hoist the bike.]

Just get in.

[The bike is going in the back.]

[orangetoughguy]

Save your bullets.

[This he says to Larry because those hand guns are far better for personal protection than rifle shells. No need to spend them now. Maybe it's cause the kid wants to show off by doing all the work, maybe. Maybe not. For certain it's not to put himself in harm's way so Larry can truly decide who's worth more, that young creature or this one with the funny nose. Pumping the rifle again Freddy takes out another two. With all the noise the deadheads know fresh meat's around. More are coming.]

Sorry buddy.

[He takes out what has to be a twelve year old kid whose face was already half missing. The kid's got a leash in his hand but there's no dog attached to the end...Fido's on the prowl. An undead Fido.]

[chosered]

[Kenny tries to watch and decides that in fact, he can't. Instead he loads himself into the truck and feels decidedly useless.]

[whitetwoguns]

[All the old man wants is some space to act. He'll trust in Freddy to keep him covered as he throws open the doors to the back seat to lug the bike in. For it's style he thought it would be lighter. Come on, old man. Lug it on in so they can get a-rolling.

And where is Fido? Larry is not watching his feet at all, he has his eyes on the ugly, smelly, looming crowd that's gathering about the van. Fuck.

Oop. There he is. Not much of a tail to wag just rippling exposed bone.]

Jesus Christ.

[Now the old man is able to shove the whole damn bike in.]

[orangetoughguy]

Got it in yet? Tight fit?

[No, those words don't mean what all three might think they mean. Freddy's coming back around the van because the rotting crowd is far away enough to--holy shit. The dog, some kind of basset hound, looks up at them to whimper and roo roo.]

...Buckle up.

[And stay inside oh hell no! The dog immediately lunges at them, teeth bared and jowls flapping with some green foam slime shit. Freddy turns his rifle around to beat that fucker off.]

[chosered]

[Kenny gets up on his knees to look and at the words buckle up, he sits back down and does so, because oh my god it's a zombie dog]

I've never even read anything like this.

[That's a soft comment from Mr. Potter]

[whitetwoguns]

C'mon.

[Both of the back doors are slammed shut now. Bike secured as it's going to be. Now Larry can take out his gun because it's a defensive moment. Sure he may not even use it but to have it ready puts his own mind at ease.]

Let's get out of here.

[Freddy is fending off the dog but there are others all around making their way closer.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Yelp! But the sound doesn't come from Freddy. It comes from Fido whose head goes flying out of there only to land on the sidewalk....and keep barking. Freddy got the neck, not the brain. Whoops. Enough of that though, he slips right back into the passenger side.]

Hit it. [The accelerator, he says this to Larry. Then Freddy looks behind himself to Kenny Potter, once The Other Boy.] You okay?

[chosered]

[Kenny's eyebrows go up a little, and he is remarkably calm for someone who was just chased down by zombies. But even his unflappable calm is a little shattered, evidenced by his hands, which are just barely shaking]

Thanks. For getting me. I'm fine, see? Not a scratch on me.

[whitetwoguns]

[Back on in. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Huffing and puffing Larry puts the gun on the dashboard ad slams the door on his side. Freddy? Check. Kenny? Check. The goddamn motherfucking bike? Check.]

Buckle up.

[Tires squeal like a stuck pig as they peel out. A few zombie types bite the dust against the bumper. It can't be helped. Blood is pumping in Larry's chest and ears. Donna Summers sings about feeling the love inside the van. Lady, if you only knew.]

[orangetoughguy]

Good. You know how to shoot a gun?

[Should be obvious why he's asking. They're outfitted like a little police army in there which would make sense since Freddy raided the central bureau station. He's buckling up as advised too and noting the irony of Donna Summers' words in passing.]

[chosered]

[He's all strapped in]

I've done it before.