"Oh man he's out of the chair." Jazz jerked the shopping cart back, where they had dumped the hunter. Erika closed the door in haste, they shouldn't be making so much noise. Everyone may have vacated, but they didn't know that. Cautiously, she opened the door again, waving at Jazz slightly.

"Stay here Jazz.."

"But what if you die!" He whined frantically.

"I'll be fine!" She hissed back softly, creaking the door open and stepping in. Jazz was nervous about this. The smoker wasn't tied to the chair, something was wrong. He must be loose, and now Erika was going to die a horrible and grisly death. His anxiety could only be comforted by petting the greasy hair of the captive hunter, and soon he heard the creature purring. Looking down in slight surprise, he slowly removed the tape, careful not to hurt him. The hunter seemed to contemplate fighting, but instead casually sniffed his hand before growling gently. Jazz took that as a warning, and went back to petting his head. The purring in his chest returned, causing Jazz to sigh in relief.

Erika slowly let the door close, it slowly slid back leaving only a crack to safety. It left only a small margin for Jazz to dive in and help her if she were to be attacked.

Hell, she had taken the damn guy prisoner, hit him in the head with a vase.

He must be pissed.

'I'm going to die.' she thought to herself, straining her ears. She was an excellent sneak, used to slinking around and being silent. She liked to think herself somewhat of a predator, and enjoyed occasionally going on forest walks simply to see if she could stalk people successfully. She could, and it only affirmed her confidence and cockiness. She listened hard, her eyebrows furrowing slightly while her eyes opened widely, her head on a swivel as she snuck around. She slowly got past the door, peering down the hallway to the bathroom. Everything was so quiet. The whole apartment still stank of him, that mouldy smell, Where was he? She peeped around more, slowly skittering forward. She didn't bother to look to the kitchen, assuming he would have already struck if he was there. She started to maker her way to the bedrooms and bathroom, only to have some huge wriggling rope coil around her slickly.

"Well, I found him." she called to Jazz, who answered with an eager 'yeah?'

"Where is he?" Jazz enquired.

"He's.. chill." she said uneasily, trying to keep a calm, cool, collected, and above all bored tone of voice. If she was going to die now, she didn't want Jazz rushing in to try and be the hero, only to die too. That would be bad. She didn't squirm much, calmly walking and leaning back, almost enjoying being pulled. He had caught her around the lower waist, closer to her hips. She just seemed to be lazily lounging as he pulled, slowly walking while resisting slightly to make him work. It was very plausible that he was confused by this, as most victims of his tongue and strangulation were always squirming and fighting frantically to escape.

"Do you need any help?" Jazz called back, continuing a nervous and shaky pace of his hand sweeping motion over the hunters head. He was still idly purring, letting his empty sockets sag as the eye lids didn't fully close. It didn't have anything to close over anyways.

"Maybe." She said calmly, trying to muster up as much apathy as possible. 'The world has gone to hell, we are all going to die anyways' she continued to repeat to herself, watching as she was slowly dragged closer and closer. Jazz stood up in a straighter posture, feeling anxious and antsy. He scooted forward, letting his hand drop from the hunter. The creature rumbled in protest, but he stayed closer to the crack in the door, hearing the smoker pull in his prey. "If I start screaming and dying just take the liberty to break in and start shooting rainbows at his face, tall people hate rainbows because they hit' em in the face when they walk outside."

"O-okay.. I'll try." Jazz stuttered out. He tried to peek through the crack, but only stood still, almost too scared to clamour in. Maybe Erika did have this under control. He slowly started to shamble back to the hunter in the grocery cart, but decided against it. Instead he simply sat on his ass, laying on his back after sighing loudly, staring at the ceiling as if it was gay pay-per view porn.

While Jazz waited patiently, Erika was finally face to face with the enormously tall man. He stood at a good height, 6'8", looming over her short form. She was only 5', she was screwed. Hell, they both were screwed, Jazz only stood at 5'3". They were both short, and these two captive sick men towered easily over them. She looked up at him, nearly shaking in her boots. She wondered vaguely if the virus allowed them to smell fear. He probably couldn't, but the eyeless one might be able to smell fear. The smell of the smoker was almost over powering, and she refrained from breathing through her mouth. She would much rather get spores through her nose, then have to taste his smell. It wasn't that bad, but still a little overpowering. It was more along the lines of someone who just stank in general, he smelled terribly of body odour and rot, and god knows what else was on him. He was growling deeply, his face twisted in rage as he heaved raggedly. His shoulders were squared, his head bent down slightly, making him look more menacing. Like the predator he was. She was probably shaking in his grasp, which must have gave him the momentum and confidence he seemed to be carrying with him. His coughs were few and short between, he was too much in a sour mood to care about coughing right now. They had left him, alone, and angry. He never wanted that to happen again, and would show them the result if they were to abandon him. Erika watched as his arm raised, holding it up at a high and harsh angle. She braced herself, and his arm swung down violently as she pulled her head closer to her shoulders and shut her eyes tightly.

His hand connected with her face, making a satisfying sound, and as he continued the motion, he dug his nails into her skin. He left beautiful marks of red on her cheek, and raising the same arm, he back handed her. The other arm came up, slapping her across the cheek and leaving scratches as well, some of them oozing blood subtly. Quickly drawing his hand back up, he gripped her chin violently, crushing his fingers into her face and digging his nails into her skin. She squinted her eyes slightly, feeling the pain course through her body. This was nothing, the pain almost felt good, it was a feeling she needed to remind herself that these things were actually happening. It probably didn't help that she was a masochist by nature, able to withstand huge amounts of pain from doing idiotic stunts on her own or with friends. He screamed at her roughly, his free hand clawing down her collar bone, shoulder and neck. His own violent gaze was countered by a glare from her, and she stayed quiet, only grunting or yelping occasionally from bring scratches as he started to draw blood.

Jazz was in after he heard the yell, kicking the door in and charging at him, yelling colourful words at the infected. Just as he went in to kick the smoker in the knees, his arm drew back, and punched the boy straight in the face, right in the nose. He reeled back, flopping to the side like a stunned fish. His hands shot to his face as pain tingled through him, his mind spinning as the nerves fired off. He didn't know zombies could punch. Holding his nose while his head throbbed, he felt something warm trickle through his fingers. What was it? Reaching his tongue up he tasted blood. Sweet and metallic. That son of a bitch had drawn blood! Jazz held his nose painfully, sitting up numbly while slowly crawling to the smoker to attempt another rescue. Blood dripped on the floor, and he began smearing it with the knees of his pants as he crawled along. Just as he started to near the creature, the smoker kicked him away with force in the ribs and he tumbled back, coughing and in pain.

"I tried" He whimpered out weakly, holding himself while crawling to some other part of the room.

Erika simply took what he threw at her, a slap to the face, a hand on her throat to attempt to choke her air supply, bloody shallow scratches on her neck or shoulders. As he was about to bring down another hand across her cheek something hit him in the head. Something big and heavy. It was a jug of half empty juice. Erika recognized that juice box, it had gone rotten a few months ago, and she never bothered to throw it out. She made a disgusted sound in her throat when it hit him with the cap open, spraying and soaking them both with the rotten elixir. It was chunky with bacteria, and stunk worse then both the hunter and the smoker combined. She gagged in her throat as she felt it slide over her neck and off her left shoulder. The smoker was taken aback, and his tongue snapped off while he was in the process of gritting his teeth angrily. She tumbled down in a frenzy, hitting her head on the floor with much force. The room spun, the room spun violently. She saw spots in the corners of her vision, and as Jazz nursed his wounds in triumph, the smoker got up, and crawled onto her. The beast straddled her waist, arms raised aggressively. He yelled in her face, blood dripping onto her cheeks and neck from his ripped off tongue. He brought another hand up, seeming to calm drastically, only to swing it down towards her cheek.

Jazz screeched at him, and he became distracted, his hand veering off course and instead hitting her breast with a smaller amount of force then anticipated. He froze for a moment, staring at Jazz as his hand rested on the females chest. He could feel those same feelings return. Burning up on the inside. He seemed to have found himself, letting his hand rest idly on her breast as she tried to recover from hitting her head. It was highly unlikely that she had a concussion, but righting herself seemed more difficult then she could understand. Jazz watched them, a hockey puck at ready if the smoker decided to continue his assault. He dropped his other hand, resting both of them upon her breasts. It seemed that the feeling he was receiving over powered his need to kill and his anger. He rolled off, cowering back in the corner of the kitchen by the fridge, where he had fallen asleep. He held his hand to his mouth, blood dribbling through his fingers and dripping onto the fancy black vest he bore.

Jazz seemed to have recovered completely, feeling compelled to bring the new captive in and seal themselves here until their new companions could either adjust, or they could kill them. Dragging the shopping cart in, he closed the door, locking it. The hunter was asleep, seeming exhausted from his previous endeavours before being toted around in the car and being dumped into a shopping cart. Erika slowly righted herself, her head throbbing. She looked at the smoker, giving him an apathetic blank look. He shied away from her, looking away from her steady gaze.

He was guilt ridden.

At least he could feel some sort of emotion.

Erika righted herself, helping Jazz get the hunter out as he screeched and struggled, being awoken was a difficult thing for a hunter to grasp. It was evident he wasn't a morning person.

"You alright? I wasn't dying, just a few slaps and a few cuts. Is your nose broken? Broken ribs?" She enquired curiously with much caring, looking him up and down to see if she could see any deformities or broken ribs through his sweater. His nose seemed to be fine, but was gushing blood steadily, dripping down the front of his sweater. His knees had smeared blood spots on it, where his pants had caught the little droplets of blood from the floor.

"I'm fine, just a little sore. I didn't know that he could punch.." Jazz muttered angrily, rolling his eyes and shooting the smoker a glare, who glared back, only to ultimately look off to the side in what could be seen as guilt.

It had to be guilt.

What else could it be?

"Well.. Don't hide anything, if this is really happening then we need to survive, right?"

"Yeah, of course, but I don't want to be all depressing, like those classic horror movies."

"So, you want to go through this like 'Shawn of the dead'?"

"Yes." Jazz laughed softly, more blood gushing out his nose, his hand flying to his face to try and hold all the blood in.

"Oh, even during the apocalypse nose bleeds are still sexy." Jazz laughed at his own joke, even more blood gushing forth. Erika laughed with him, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Nose bleeds will never not be sexy, even in an apocalypse." She smiled at her companion as they scooted the struggling hunter around.

"well.. Let's tie him to a post, shall we?" Jazz had his shoulder, and Erika had his legs, and as Erika followed his motions to tie him to a post, he struggled even more.

"Put him down here" Her voice was so calm, so surreal. Like none of this had ever happened. She had shallow scratched all over, and a few deep ones on her cheeks. Her neck was going to have terrible bruising, and as for the rest of the cuts, they only bled a very small amount. All of her wounds were very superficial.

Jazz did as told, gently placing the man as Erika went off to get another roll of duct tape. She kept the stuff fastened everywhere, as it always came in handy for the strangest circumstances, such as this one. On her return She said to prop him up against the support beam in the side corner of Jazz's room, and as Erika held him, Jazz taped his body in place. After a good ten minutes he was strongly fastened, and could lean freely without the risk of falling forward.

"I'm going to clean myself up and then see if the news has anything to say." she murmured softly, putting an accomplished hand on the shoulder of her male companion. Erika flitted off to the bathroom, cleaning herself up and changing clothes, as she stunk of something terrible. After that she flopped herself on the couch, slowly scanning through the channels for anything that would be of any help to them. She could hear the smoker getting up, and soon he was standing across the room from her.

Possibly fighting the urge to either eat her or grab her tits again. She laughed at the thought.

Instead he started to slowly scoot closer until she finally acknowledged him. With a heavy sigh of defeat, she patted the couch beside her.

"C'mon lord stench you right disgusting motherfucker." She said in a soothing and assuring tone. He lightened up slightly, and still only scuttled to the side of the couch, seating himself as far away from her as possible.

He still felt guilty.