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Post by Zeffa! on May 22, 2008 9:36:34 GMT -8
Her deafening roar of the motorcycle echoed through the silent streets of Marysville as it dodged and weaved between permenantly parked cars. The morning sun loomed high in the air, and it was about time to go scavenge for more food. Reagan lifted the bike into a wheelie, then, using a shiny red corvette as a ramp, went airborne, landing roughly upon a a low flattop building. She grinned a bit, pullng out a pair of fancy binoculars and surveyed the kingdom for any catchable food.
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Post by Dark Beauty on May 23, 2008 7:06:09 GMT -8
Aaron stood in his house, looking out of the barred windows unhappily. One muscular arm was leaning on the frame of it, and the other rested in his baggy jean pocket. His dark brown, hair curled lightly, since he had just woken up and did not have time to sraighten them out yet. It was not long at all - just reached to the nape of his neck in the back and to his eybrows in the front. His brown eyes scanned the city warily. His house was situated up near the top of Getchell Hill, so he could see most everything... that is, where there were not trees in the way. And there were LOTS of trees in Western Washington.
The sky was gray, as was the norm. This really was the worst place to live when nearly everyone but you were man-killing zombies.
His sensitive ears (which had become even more sensitive now that every moment was a fight to stay alive) caught the distant sound of a motorcycle. He cringed inwardly. He had run into the Reagan chick once before. He didn't like her at all. That's okay - she didn't seem to like him, either. In fact, she did not seem to like anyone at all. Why couldn't someone ELSE be immune to the airborne pathogen, as he was? ...Why couldn't Andrea...?
He refused to let the tears flow. He didn't know why he did - it was not like he had anyone to impress by his 'manliness.' Despite that fact, he kept fighting the moisture.
Some of his family had been immune as well... but they had all been killed. That hurt him more than anything else - he felt like it was his fault... like he could have protected them. He had a nightmare once that it was his Andrea that had killed them all. But he had no way of knowing. No way at all.
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Post by Zeffa! on May 25, 2008 9:09:56 GMT -8
"Run while you can!" she yelled, though it ouldnn't possibly be heard over the deafening engine. Chasing the herd of deer down Grove street. She fired a few shots from the pistol, missing with each one. Clenching her teeth together and growling, she revved the engine and sped up. At this the deer turned a sharp left, bounding away into an alley. Barely able to make the turn without flipping, she mimicked the hard left and chased after her prey. Weaving between dumpsters and other useless objects, she fired a few more shots at the deer. One seemed to hit by the way the deer twitched and slowed its pace. While the rest of the herd made it out into the open, Reagan soon caught up to the one with the limp, and gave it a coup de grace shot.
Taking a moment to breathe after that chase, she pulled out a pack and stuck a coffin nail in her mouth, lighting it up and taking a drag. "You guys are getting better," she told the deer corpse, giving it a light kick with her steel-toed spiked boot, grinning a little. "Nearly killed me with that turn."
While flicking off a few of the ashes at the end of her cigarrette, Reagan looked up at the hill. His hill. She wondered how the king of the mountain was doing today. "Maybe I'll pay him a little visit once I get you home eh?" she remarked, conversing again with the still deceased deer. "Bet that'd be the highlight of his day."
Once the ashes met the filter, she flicked the cigarrette butt away and picked up the deer body, slinging it behind her seat ont he bike and securing it with bungee cables. Straddling her baby again, she revved the ignition and sped down the street.
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