Zombie Thursday

[velesdonnersen]

[Tarvek had been at Ilsa's Place, helping build armaments, but it occured to him he had to check on the drone-children and his not!wife, at home... and, ideally, pick up some more tools and equipment from his garage

Comments

[ooeeooahah]

[ Ilsa has been listening for Tarvek to return, but the lack of sleep overnight has been catching up with her. They slept in shifts while he was here, but with the neighbors turning, there were fewer to take watches, and more to watch for when they came. ]

[ The fact that she's worn thin means she hasn't been able to spot the shambling horde down the street. ]

[velesdonnersen]

[Tarvek looks both ways as he pulls up to Ilsa's place. He thinks he's clear. He hopes he's clear. He parks fast, and leans around to grab the various handles of the kits he's put together; He planned ahead, to ensure he could get in and out fast, in one go

[ooeeooahah]

STOP. [ Physically restraining him, Ilsa checks him over. ] Where?

[ She stops when she sees the wound on his leg... wounds, really. The adrenaline might have blunted the pain, but there are teeth embedded in the wounds. ]

This is bad, 'bibi. The tissues are going necrotic pretty fast.

[ She looks up at him. ] But there is no way I'm letting them have you. Problem is I'm not that great at disarticulation. There's an even chance I'd kill you with blood loss with the tools we have here.

[velesdonnersen]

Verdammt, liebchen, you are not going to cut off the leg. You are going to shoot me and get rid of the corpse.

I will not risk being the one to infect you, love.

[Scowls. He can feel the zombification beginning already.]

Love, there's a big airgun back in the garage. A mortar, really: I've loaded it with a good quart of nuts and screws. It will kill me and leave very little for the zombies but smorgasborg snacks. I will go out. You shoot me as soon as you see me from the upper windows. Then it's over. The zombies have a meal, and we hope... we hope Mayfield is Mayfield, and I come back. Yes?