S T R E E T LEVEL--OPEN

[Elliot J. Hawk]

Elliot's blood ran cold as he hid. He was crouched uncomfortably behind a pile of sand bags. Only a few feet from him, a dead, and he meant permanently, body lay thrown over the sandbag wall from the force of the bullet in its head. He refused to look and see if it was male or female, because then it became real. He held his breath as he heard walkers shuffle pass. They moved so slow, but when they saw fresh meat... Watch out! They moved like undead cheetahs. This made him vaguely wonder what had happened to all the zoo animals.

They were probably all wild somewhere now. Like in the woods and city streets. Actually, he doubted the last one. Animals wouldn't be dumb enough to wander walker infested streets. Like he was doing now. Elliot raised his shaggy brown head a bit and peered over his shoulder. There was a break in the crowd. If he could slip out of the so called shelter safely and then crouch and walk quickly, then maybe, just maybe, he would make it.

Was it really worth it? He had come all this way into the city for stupid pop tarts and tennis shoes. He could explain the tennis shoes, his were wearing out. But the pop tarts? That was just because he loved them. They were so good. Any flavor, really, expect the exotic ones like fudge sundae and crap. He had lived on them in college, and now, in a cruel twist of fate, he was again. Elliot turned gently, wincing as glass and debris crunched under his jeans.

He crept up onto one knee, and looking around furtively, he sprung out of the sandbag shelter and crouched on the sidewalk, his finger tips brushing the dirt and sand beneath him. And who knows what else. He took one step forward, hardly rising from his crouch and kept looking around. He spotted a supposedly deserted alleyway not far from where he was and he hurried to it. Of course, his hurry avoided disturbing walkers by remaining low to the ground. It was like he was in a sprinter's crouch, ready to shoot forward at the sound of the gun-in this case, walker.

He slinked around the corner of the alley and sank to the ground, his legs shaking too badly to hold him up any longer. This sucked. He heard a noise. Elliot sprung to his trembling legs and whipped the small pistol out of his waist band. His body shook, but his hands were steady. He had been going to be a doctor and had been trained to keep his hands steady. "I have a silencer and I'm not afraid to shoot." It was a lie. He was very afraid to pull the trigger.

[Kaye Wells]

HERE WE GO AGAIN; WE'RE SICK LIKE ANIMALS WE PLAY PRETEND
Kaye Bishop Wells ,

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SO TAKE IT EASY ON ME; I'M AFRAID YOU'RE NEVER SATISFIED
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“What the fuck man!?” Kaye harshly whispered, swatting the gun away and pressing her fingers to ‘shhh’ him. She pulled him down being the garbage can. This shaggy headed spaz was obviously a little younger than her. She whispered, less tension in her voice. “Pulling a gun like that? Pop a bullet off, man that’s like ringing a hot damned dinner bell!” She shook her head.

What are the odds running into another living person? She fought the urge to sigh. Kaye knew he wouldn’t shoot her. Or she hoped at least. People and bullets had become valuable assets these days.

Kaye had volunteered to go into the city for batteries or a generator or any thing else electronic. The prison had plenty of food, running water from the well system and enough toiletries for 1200 people, so a camp of under 20 was good for a few more years. Kaye was the fastest in camp. Also, the bravest. She’d rather go herself and know it was done right then have someone skimp on the search. Lazy people half doing things ticked her off. Especially when something big like electricity is involved.

She extended her hand to the stranger. “Kaye. I’m from Prison. We gotta good set up. You a loner or on search?” She asked and shrugged. “We could stick together. Safety in numbers as they say.” She’d do the kid a favor and offer. She looked down at her own tattooed arm and hand.

This guy looked pretty clean cut. Not someone she would normally be talking with two years ago. But the end of the world changes people. Kaye was no longer a drugged out stripper. She was useful. Respected. She wasn’t a whore or a druggie, she was a valued contributing member of society. She totally dug that. She looked and saw several walkers passing by the alley, luckily not coming down it. They were sniffing… They couldn’t stay here much longer. They, after all, didn’t smell dead. She gripped her baseball bat with nailes stabbed through it and pulled a machete out of her bag she wore over her shoulder. She also had a hunting bow and arrow across her back.

She came prepared.

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TAGGED ,
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OUTFIT ,CLICKIES
NOTES ,YAY my little lion hearted ex slut is here to play!
CREDIT , This thread template was made by LIMA of Caution 2.0.[/blockquote][/right][/size]