Thanks to:
dr3amqu33n for Raenn Moore
Jacob14 for Taylor Schone
DarkRyder for Jonathan Guerrero
AltariaMotives for Jackson Donovan
motordog for Cooper Lennox
IAmTheStars for Kaitlin Lamb
Although some of your OC's don't show up in this chapter, they will be making their appearance in the next couple of chapters.
If your OC did not get accepted, there's a possibility I might add them much later in the story.
As for those with accepted OCs, I have already planned out much of the story, so the fates of each character have already been decided. Meaning, I have plans for each and every one of them. If you have any ideas for your OC, please PM me.
Chapters do take time to write and if I happen to not post on Tuesday, please don't ask or plead me to update. You have to know that I'm writing it out.
On another note, it's not a requirement to review (as it should never be) but I do want those with accepted OCs to review occasionally so I can know that I'm writing your character correctly. Feedback is much appreciated.
"One margarita, please," the customer sat patiently, her eyes focused on the shelves of alcoholic drinks. In front of her stood Raeann Moore, her golden blond locks tinted red in sync with the neon signs above her. Her deep blue eyes darted between the door and people who took a seat on the counter. She knew that it was about to get busy. It was usually like this during a night-shift, but Raeann couldn't take any other time because she watched over her niece while her sister was at work. Nonetheless, she liked her job as a bartender. Also, she knew it would be an easy job to acquire with a high school education.
Raeann smiled politely and nodded, "comin' right up."
Grabbing the bottle from off the shelf, she noticed the woman staring at her, eerie green eyes dilated like a cat's, mouth upturned in a frown and brows furrowed as if she were thinking. An anxious feeling tickled at Raenn's stomach and she began to feel a little uneasy, but shook it off; letting her carefree personality overpower the sudden negative vibe.
She placed the bottle on the counter and sent her a small smile, hoping she'd return the gesture to give her relief. To her dismay, the woman turned away and began sipping at her drink, the cat-like eyes darting worriedly to glance at the people around her.
Paranoid much… Raeann thought and winced at the judgemental tone of her thought. Don't do that Rae.
Two more people took a seat by the bar, waiting for Rae to tend to their needs, but her eyes glued onto the woman.
"Excuse me," Raenn spoke, tapping her shoulder lightly and the woman flinched, "are you okay?"
She glared, "I didn't know this was some patronizing service."
"I'm sorry," she apologized, taking an awkward step back.
Her face softened as she set down her drink and stared at the condensing water as if even she was amazed by her unusual eye color, "Everyone's going to die."
Raenn's breath caught in her throat and she blinked twice, suddenly finding herself astounded, "what?"
Green met blue; a dark red against the bright lights of the neon signs attached to the bar.
"Everyone's going to die. Including you if you don't pack some bags and leave this town,"
"What do you mean?" Raenn asked.
"Didn't you hear? The dead is rising, blondie,"
The dead? Was this woman serious or was she tipsy? She thought.
Raeann chuckled, "Dead rising? I think you've had one too many drinks," she replied, but her voice was shaky with tension. She's heard of a virus going around but she didn't know that it made people… come back.
The woman shook her head, obviously disappointed in her reaction. Her hands clasped around the drink and she gulped the tangy liquid in one swallow, slamming the glass down on the table and wiped her mouth in satisfaction.
"The dead is rising and when they come, they will take all of us."
=X=
A key locked in place, turning with ease. Taylor Schone glanced both left and right in the hallway of his apartment building, which was now eerily quiet, a crowbar slipping slightly between the fingers of his sweaty hand. Even his metalhead neighbor didn't play his screaming music.
He pushed open the door, wincing at the creaking sound it made and piled into the room before anyone- or anything- heard his noisy entrance.
Taylor closed the door behind him and glanced around his room. A small smirk crossed his face at the tidiness. Except for a few unpacked boxes scattered across the room, the place seemed neat and unharmed in contrast to what nasty shit was going on outside. Relief fell over him; his roommates didn't make a mess the day before. Then he realized that they would never get the chance to. Only if those looters hadn't bothered to explode their car, then they'd still be alive. But now he was alone, left with minor scrapes and bruises to take care of himself.
He limped towards the bathroom, not out of pain, but discomfort. The bleeding scrapes on his knees were uncomfortable and the thought of adding two more scars didn't make him feel tough, they only felt like a reminder of his friends' deaths.
He nearly tripped over a box of trophies his friend brought. Taylor scoffed at the thought of his arrogant friend. He'd never go somewhere without bringing something to rub in Taylor's face, whether it be some medals he won in soccer tournaments when he was 9 (though his girlfriend didn't know) or some used condoms to prove he had more sex than him.
Taylor shoved the box over with his foot and it fell over, trophies clanking together. The bathroom was empty except for a few things in the cabinet next to the mirror. He set his crowbar down and opened the cabinet, hands easily finding their way to a roll of bandage. He didn't have anything to clean out the wounds except water from the sink, but that'd have to do since his friend's girlfriend was all "holistic" and didn't like the chemical use of hydrogen peroxide.
He took a towel from off the shelf and set it besides the sink as he reached to turn the faucet. He then soaked the towel in cool water and brought it to his right knee. Dabbing the towel on his wound and then wrapping it with two rounds of bandage. As soon as it felt tight enough, he moved to his left knee, pressing gently on the wound until blood soaked the entire side he used. Then he wrapped that knee in bandage as well, ripping the rest of the roll away with a bite and tear.
He set the roll of bandage beside him and sat for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His long brown hair was glimmering with sweat despite being pulled back into a ponytail. The greenish-blue orbs seemed dark as if his emotions leaked through his eyes.
What the hell am I doing here? Taylor thought, turning his head away from the mirror and examining the bruises along his arms and legs. Why didn't I die with them?
He looked away from his bruises and shook his head to himself. Don't dwell on the past, Taylor.
He got up with a grunt of effort, his knees popping at the abrupt motion. He took his crowbar from off the sink and the bandage laying in the floor. Taking one last look in the mirror, he turned towards the door and trudged towards the kitchen.
A small black bag sat on the island and next to it was a map of California. He took the bag and swung it over his shoulder, the small scrape on his elbow burning at the movement. He then fetched a pen and began drawing on the map.
Circle on Shasta county and marked in big, bold letters "INFECTED"; the place he was staying to enjoy the Sacramento river with his friends. Places he knew were infected he circled. Modoc, Lassen, Siskiyou, Del Norte, Trinity, and Humboldt.
Infected, infected, infected, infected, infected, infected. He then wrote, "NORTHERN CALIFORNIA TAKEN BY THE DEAD".
"Damn…" he whispered, pulling away from the map and capping the pen. "This virus spreads fast…"
Taylor examined the map. If Northern California has already been infected, wouldn't the rest of the state be under some type of martial law? If I could get to Southern California, they might have a safe place. Assuming they've took the initiative to prepare.
He nodded at his plan and folded the map, placing it in the side pocket of the bag. Grabbing his crowbar, he readily ventured forth, opening the door to his apartment for the last time. He spared a glance back at the room and pictured his friend sitting on the couch, arms around his girlfriend and him sitting besides them, throwing popcorn as they watched some cheesy horror movie. That's what it was supposed to be like. But now, he was in the midst of the apocalypse with only one thing in mind.
Salvation.
=X=
On a desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night.
"What the hell…"
There she stood in the doorway, I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself
This could be heaven or this could be hell
The RV came to an abrupt, skidding stop. Music still continued to play loudly; obnoxiously, blaring through the speakers. It was a creepy relevance.
Welcome to the Hotel California.
Such a lovely place.
Such a lovely face.
What stood in the road was horror.
Bodies.
Dead, burned bodies.
California is surely a lovely place now.
Noah got up with a grunt, his prosthetic bumping against the steering wheel as he stood. He took a shotgun from off of the rack, which usually sat there looking pretty until the apocalypse. With shotgun in hands, Noah hobbled to the door and reached for the handle, glancing back at the other members.
"Why the hell are you just sitting there?" Noah questioned, scowling, "repair shop is up ahead. We don't have to drive through these bodies." He opened the door and struggled down the steps, grumbling about the inconvenience under his breath.
Saffron and Jimmy slowly climbed out of the RV, avoiding to look at the charred corpses and focused on trying to warm themselves in the sudden chill of icy air. When Charlie didn't follow after, Noah knocked on her window.
"Hey, you okay?"
She nodded and forced a smile, "I'm fine." But shivers ran up her spine at the thought of someone burning bodies. It was an unusual, morbid sight and something she never wanted to see again.
As soon as she hopped down, the group began down the street, all sparing a glance at the scorched bodies. Jimmy's face was crumpled in an obvious wince. Charlie's stomach felt weak and Saffron had avoided the topic of burning bodies altogether, whistling a soft tune to Bob Dylan's Hurricane.
Nobody talked. The air was filled with a cold silence and Saffron's whistling could barely be heard above the wind. The only noise that kept them company was the sound of their chattering teeth.
From past the turn of trees, Noah could just make out a gray bricked-building. A huge blue sign stood sturdy near the door despite its worn out look.
Shasta County Auto Repair Services
They crossed into the grass, feet crackling underneath frozen greens. A couple steps and then they were on the road again. Charlie couldn't help but look left and right; a rule she learned as a kid.
The building was faded of its color, obviously very old. Noah smirked to himself, chest puffed up in pride, "I used to get my girlie fixed here,"
He took a step back to view it, trying to remember all of his times here when his RV broke down. His wife usually complained, but he enjoyed skipping his wife's book club meetings.
He frowned when he noticed a broken window, "looks like somebody broke in."
"Maybe we should be on watch for some men in orange suits," Jimmy insisted sarcastically, hands brushing over the handgun tucked in his waistband.
As if on cue, a scream echoed through the air; child-like and full of fear.
That was enough to send Jimmy piling through the broken window. His heart sped up and it felt like his stomach was burning, anticipation rushing through his veins. At first he spotted a man, hands and face spattered with blood, bat swinging wildly. Then he spotted a girl, backing away from a biter that managed to escape from the sights of the older man. Jimmy moved quick and winced at the stinging pain that shot through his leg.
Must've cut myself on the window…
The biter attempted to pin the girl, but Jimmy lunged and tackled it. Now pinned beneath Jimmy's muscular soccer body, the biter snapped at his face, attempting to take a bite out of his "tasty" flesh. It let out a strangled snarl as Jimmy landed his free hand around its neck and lined up his gun to meet its pale forehead. Hands flailed, clenching at Jimmy's winter coat but before anything could escalate, he sent a bullet right through it's brain. Murky red blood oozed from under its skull.
Jimmy sat there for a moment, breathlessly. Then he noticed blood leaking from its neck. At first he thought it was from his chokehold, but the biter wasn't decaying yet. It was newly infected. The wound was deep and straight across the neck, cutting off oxygen from going through its body. Somebody slit their throat.
Gunshots caught his attention and he snapped his head up to see Noah holding his shotgun as a biter fell in front of the stranger. The man jumped back as the body fell and turned to Noah with skepticism.
He nodded nonetheless, "thank you," he spoke.
Noah smirked, "no problem," he puffed up his chest and laid the shotgun on his shoulder. "What're you doing here? Obviously it's important if ya' had to break in,"
Noah shared the same skeptical look and Jimmy noticed his hand was tightened around his shotgun; a good grip in case he wanted to simply bring it down and shoot without hesitation. Which meant it was already loaded.
"Just trying to find a battery," he insisted. "My truck broke down and we were headed somewhere important."
"We?"
Jimmy looked to the girl, already crouched down to her level. She hadn't moved an inch. In fact, she just stood there, staring at the ground as if she just went through something traumatic.
Well, I guess the dead walking could be pretty damn scary for a kid.
"Hey, you okay?" Jimmy asked, voice soft and careful.
No answer, just heavy breaths.
He opened his mouth to say something comforting but another voice replaced that void.
"Amity?"
She crossed her arms tightly, as if she was trying to make herself smaller; nonexistent.
"I… I'm okay," she spoke, her voice barely audible to even Jimmy.
Jimmy stood up and put his hand on her back, relieved when she didn't flinch. He gently pushed her forward, escorting her away from the biter and in the sights of the man.
The stranger first looked to the girl, a deep exhale escaping his mouth as his features softened. Then he noticed the biter on the floor in a pool of blood, mouth gaped open and gray eyes staring vacantly upwards.
He took a couple steps forward until he met the girl, creased brows and disapproving frown. He was worried. The stranger then grabbed her chin, tilting and turning her head to check for marks.
"Did it hurt you?" He asked, fingers still on her chin as he made eye contact.
She shook her head, "I told you, Dad, I'm fine."
Her father stepped back and nodded, another deep sigh of relief plowing through his mouth. He then exchanged looks between the two unfamiliar men.
"Thank you for your help," he gestured towards Jimmy who smiled in return. "I'm Lucas and this is my daughter, Amity."
Noah sent Amity a crooked smile and then returned the greeting, "Name is Noah Greggory," he held out his hand for a shake.
Lucas hesitated before taking his obligation and Noah snorted, "I don't bite."
He nodded, chest puffed and fists clenched as if trying to match to Noah's intimidation. Or rather in protection if his daughter.
"Jimmy Santana," Jimmy greeted, not bothering for the handshake.
The two men shared nods and the girl stayed quiet behind her father. She didn't look scared, or like she was trying to hide from them. Rather surprised and thinking.
"You guys sick?" Noah asked, blue eyes narrowed.
Lucas backed up slightly, bat tightly gripped in his right hand and left reaching for his shock-struck daughter.
"Of course not," He said gruffly. "If we were, I would've taken us both out already."
At that, his daughter flinched and a quiet gasp escaped her mouth.
"What about you two? Are you sick?" Lucas questioned, oblivious to Amity's understanding.
Jimmy shook his head and Noah snorted again, "wouldn't be here to save you if we were," he nodded towards a biter body, "by the looks of it; you got yourself in a trap, my friend."
"Trap? Place didn't look rigged,"
"Until we started yelling…" Amity muttered softly, blue eyes looked dull under the shadow of her hair as she stood staring at her feet.
"Sound trap," Noah informed.
"Their throats were cut, like somebody killed them before they turned," Jimmy piped up. "Maybe it's the same person that burned those bodies out in the road."
"Maybe," Noah replied and turned to Lucas, "you said your truck broke down; where were you headed?"
"South," he answered. "Heard they have a quarantine zone,"
Jimmy stuffed his gun back into his waistband, a movement he could occupy himself with to redirect his thoughts, "I came from there," he said. "It's in ruins. US Military bombed cities before it could spread."
"So, the virus originated there?" Lucas questioned, eyes dilated in interest.
Jimmy shook his head, "nobody knows where it came from."
Amity took in small, shaky breaths, "the whole world could be infected."
"Before news was cut, CDC was working on a cure. This virus could be gone in a couple of weeks," Jimmy insisted.
"Yeah, after the world is in ruins," Noah grumbled.
Amity's breath hitched and Lucas sent him a deathly glare; a warning in choice of words.
"We have nowhere to go…" Amity whispered.
Noah sighed, obviously regretting his previous words and lack of understanding to a child's mind. "That's not true, girlie," he said, his southern accent gruff and it was noticeable when he attempted to make it softer. "I've got a group a few miles back. Gated campground; biters have a hard time climbin'. There's lots of room and I don't see why we can't take you two,"
Jimmy nodded an agreement, "it's the closest thing to safe we have to offer."
"Sounds great," Lucas admitted, a small smile poking at his lips despite trying to keep an intimidating demeanor, "it's been hell without anybody but ourselves. I'll do anything to keep my stay,"
"Good," Noah smirked. "When we get back, we'll have some drinks. I've got a stash of booze callin' my name."
"We better get to the RV," Jimmy remarked. "The sun is setting and I don't like an impatient Saffron. So, if you're coming with us, I suggest we move now."
Noah nodded, "that; and the dark doesn't seem to be as dangerous as it was before."
"What do you mean?" Lucas asked.
"Well, there seems to be a killer on the loose."