A/N: Well another chapter, I didn't cop that there's two Fallout 3 references in this one 'till I reread it. Unless the building mentioned IS real...
Thank you to all my reviewers, I know the early chapters are hard to follow and that will be fixed, although it shouldn't need fixing in the first place. The people depicted in this chapter, actually do dress like that, believe me.
Ouch, a word usually replaced by various expletives to express pain, which was why Matthew had been using it in sequence. After taking off the dressing wrapped on his arm and visually assessing the wound 'ouch' was his response. The bite wound had scabbed over and attached to the improvised bandage, to prevent infection the bandage had to be removed.
Insert 'ouch' where ever applicable.
Rewrapping the wound with a strip of cloth torn from a discarded, but surprisingly clean, shirt. Pulling the knot tight Matthew hissed quietly. Eyeing the scissors on a large bookshelf devoid of books and full of items that could be applied to fight of infected. Clearing a space for a shard of mirror found in a corner he gingerly lifted the scissors to his head. Five quiet minutes and a few fistfuls of hair later saw Matthew with a decidedly shorter haircut.
He shrugged to himself muttering 'it could be worse' before brushing loose strands from his shoulders and stepping out of the vague circle of hair.
Looking out from behind a barred window two thoughts struck him, one 'what now' and the other 'did it just get colder in here'?
The best course of action was, do nothing. Surviving was just another word for staying alive, usually staying alive meant staying out of the infecteds way. So when the crackle of gunfire in the evening air reached his ears he cursed curiosity and went to find the source of the lightning death.
Reaching for the bar keeping the metal door locked his head suddenly burst with pain, the thud of his knees impacting the ground barely registered as he writhed on the floor, hands on his head. He could hear something calling him, a primal part of himself, pulling him away.
._.
Damnit, bloody Smokers. the group had been together from the start, survived together, now thanks to some smartass Smoker Sean and Joseph had been separated from the other three. The Smoker yanked Joseph, Sean ran to help, then the biggest horde they'd ever encountered showed up and it all fell apart. The two were hard pressed to fight off the massive horde.
"Joseph, we need to get the hell outta' here"
"where're the others"?
"don't know, there's nothin' we can do, there's no point in gettin' ourselves killed"
Joseph's reply was drowned out by the horde baying for blood, Sean tossed a pipe bomb into the crowd and yelled 'RUN'.
Leaving the ticking device behind, they both sprinted, literally, for their lives to the nearest egress. An alley, but even before they reached the end the rapport of a pipe bomb detonating and the howl of the horde rushing after them sounded.
"in the dumpster, go, go" Joseph indicated to the container to his left.
"I'm gonna' kick your ass if this doesn't work" answered Sean before they both jumped in an shut the top.
The leaders of the horde rounded the corner not seconds after the lid of the dumpster was shut and continued racing out through the winding pathway and onto another street. The two survivors listened intently for another couple of minutes before opening the lid and hopping out and retracing their steps.
"Huh, that worked" remarked Joseph "uh, I mean, yeah it worked".
"lucky you it worked, now I don't have kick your ass" Sean grinned
"oh shit"
"what, what"?
"the others…" Joseph let the sentence trail off
Starting with a jolt Sean looked at his friend "lets go".
The duo returned to the origin of the groups separation, Joseph's voice rang out then cut off as Sean warned of him summoning more infected.
"Wait, Joe, where's the car"? sean asked, his head darting examining the destroyed vehicles close at hand, Joseph followed his friends movements.
He took in a sharp breath "it's not here"
Sean grunted an affirmative as he delivered a kick to a hunter' carcass "gobshites left without us".
"well there's only one direction the could be going" reasoned Joseph gesturing towards the groups previous heading "the Statesman hotel".
"well what're we waitin' for, there's no time to waste, I wanna beat down Stuart for leaving us behind anyway".
Joining back up the two began their trek through the damned city.
A figure intently watched the survivors from a vantage point in a second story window. When a course of action was decided the figure moved to follow them by rooftops. Rushing to catch up the figure wondered how he would get down if the need for haste called for it.
"Damn it".
._.
Matthew had been watching a couple of survivors, they were interesting to say the least and he planned to introduce himself. Not yet though.
They worked well together but constantly insulted and threatened each other. Their names apparently were 'Sean' and 'Joseph'.
Sean wore a, what Matt believed to be an originally white hoodie, with a large yellow 'M' taking up the front and a bandolier of shotgun shells across his chest. The blue-ish denims, mismatched shoes and ridiculous long back hair tied into a haphazard ponytail only completed the strange ensemble. It seemed his choice weaponry was a baseball bat, bloodied like everything else on both persons, and a shotgun strapped on his back.
This 'Joseph' had a jumper adorned with a tick, a pink tick, the whole jumper was, bright or would be if not for the various stains one picks up in an apocalypse. Like his companion his clothes reflected the harried life of a survivor, red tracksuit bottoms and a air of worn shoes. In his hands he held tightly to a rifle coloured in a desert pattern, on his back was a long slender wooden stick curved at the end.
Matthew paused to adjust his coat the zipper jammed and cursed while trying to get it loose. As it finally released, his ire dissipated sighing he then searched for a way down.
Navigating the roof's circumference he found none, not wanting to lose sight of the survivors Matthew rushed to the side of the building open to the street. Lifting one foot then the other he now stood on a small ledge that ran the edge as a protective barrier, he flexed his arms and licked his lips in anticipation. Judging the distance with a glance and looking down the few stories that awaited should he miss the target, Matthew sucked in a breath.
He jumped, leaping forwards, stretching outwards… NOW.
Grasping the streetlight he let the inertia dissipate and swung around, facing the pole perpendicular to the earth. Wrapping his body around the metal he released his grasp lightly to allow himself to slide safely down to street level. Hopping off Matt brushed his palms on his leg wear gazed up to the sky and the approaching darkness. Unhooking the axe form its holster he began to trace the path of his quarry. Jogging to catch up he picked his way through the street, the way led to an intersection, not knowing where to go he decided to follow the most recently deceased bodies.
There they are he thought, they had just ran down another alleyway, picking up the pace with the sound of gunfire Matt concluded now was the best time to assist.
Sprinting through the alley and making yet another turn to yet another street Matthew could hear shouting, composing himself he dashed around the corner. Straight into the two he'd been chasing, they all jumped with fright with coming face to face, although in fairness they haven't shot me.
That thought process was cut short with the one recognised as 'Sean' shouting 'run for fuck sake' in his face and manoeuvring around Matt. Something began shaking, staring down the alley he realised why the others were running. Turning and following suit he said only one thing.
"TANK"
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