Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

"Hay, what you got there!?" Said Larry, looking suspicous.

"Just nothing, a gun, a just something incase we meet some wild animals" Replied Harry.

"Well pass that handgun, I went to shooting camp" Larry smiled. "'Shooting camp'" Harry laughed "These are real guns, then can kil-"

"Just give him a goddamn gun Harry" Said Dave "I diont trust any of you SOBs but Im in no state to fight at the moment"

Harry sighed and handed Larry a handgun. "Good, good. Where we going anyway?" Said Larry.

"Phily" Snapped Dave. "Why the feth we going to Phily, I mean there are alot better places to go then Phily!" Larry shouted in reply.

"Listen you son of bitch, Im in charge, so I choose where we go" Dave stopped talking, as a dreadful howling emerged from the night and suddenly all across the city, more and more dogs started howling. A long agonising wail. Larry shuddered.

Anyone mind if I join in a bit later on (when I am home from work)?

no, feel free to join in more the merrier!

As the rig sped along the rapidly darkening streets, Steve began to notice them. Dogs, in groups of 3 or 4 would run along the pavements nearby, watching intently. after maybe 100 yards they would slow down, before dissapeering into the dusk. Another pack would then appear and track them. The city had already been quartered up into territoires for the dogs. More importently, they were speeding through every one in the city, and it wouldnt be long before the dogs came to investigate....at a more...personal level. He reached over the back of his seat and grabbed up the hammer, wincing as he moved his stomach.

OOC: can this have werewolves? or big ass mutant dogs? just a wondering?

Name: James Keeper
Age: 36
Physical Characteristics/Abilites: 5'10'', white, male, average build, greying sandy blonde hair, English. Heavily scarred over his left arm and upper torso.
History: Ex-army engineer. Medically disqualified from service after being injured in an accident whilst on service. Moved to the USA to live with his wifes family on their farm in Washington (are there farms there? I have no idea - some other suitably remote location anyway ).


Name: Sally Keeper
Age: 8
Physical Characteristics/Abilites: Child sized. Brown hair.
History: Child of James Keeper.

----------------------------

Sally was quiet now; seemingly coming to terms with the way the world had changed. More than could be said for himself, thought James as he pulled the small cart containing his daughter and some scrounged supplies behind him. Each step kicked up a small cloud of dust which drifted slowly down to earth. He didn't even want to think of what the thick layer of ash and dirt contained.

He paused and wiped the sweat and grime from his brow and adjusted the straps on his gas mask slightly, turning to check Sally still wore hers. They were nothing like as good as the army issue gas masks he had used a few times in the forces, but they were better than nothing. The tracks left by his boot prints and the carts wheels disappeared back into the distance. Even with all his engineering skills he had not been able to get any of the vehicles he had come across to work and it was slow going but at least he had found the cart to spare his daughter the effort of walking, and it was far easier than carrying her, as he had done for the first few days until he found the cart.

He pulled the small survivor radio from a pocket on his webbing and checked the signal again, scanning the frequencies and noting the relative strengths on a small chart and compared them to several other columns of figures. There was no doubt about it, they were coming from Philadelphia.

He tucked the chart and radio back about his person and shrugged his shoulders in the harness he had rigged to pull the cart, adjusting the load, preparing for the long journey ahead.

Now all he had to do was get there...

ghosty wrote:As the rig sped along the rapidly darkening streets, Steve began to notice them. Dogs, in groups of 3 or 4 would run along the pavements nearby, watching intently. after maybe 100 yards they would slow down, before dissapeering into the dusk. Another pack would then appear and track them. The city had already been quartered up into territoires for the dogs. More importently, they were speeding through every one in the city, and it wouldnt be long before the dogs came to investigate....at a more...personal level. He reached over the back of his seat and grabbed up the hammer, wincing as he moved his stomach.

OOC: can this have werewolves? or big ass mutant dogs? just a wondering?

You will see soon. As in, right about now soon. As for the guns, the only one loaded is my H&K and a hidden one. The one Lord-Loss has is a revolver with two rounds in the cylinder, but he has to pull the trigger 4 times to get at them.



Dave braked, and the bike spun a 180.

"Dammit all to Hell." he whispered. No doubt about it. The dogs were following them. And they were getting closer.
At the head of each pack, he could see beasts that resembled the thing that had attacked him, and tore his body up.
The wound had only just closed, and they were definately getting infected. It was only by luck he'd survived.

He spun the bike back around, and raced towards the rig.

It pulled up short, and Harry popped out of the right side door.

"What's up?"

"Problem. Well, one of many that form a larger web of problems that collective lead to a little thing I like to call the
'What Will F*ck Us Up Next?' list. The major one right now is we're gonna get killed if we don't hunker down for a day or two."

"Nice to know you made a list. So, whats the plan, Oh Fearless Leader?" replied Harry

"Why do I always have to come up with the plans? Can't one of you numbnuts make one up once in a while? I need a break to regenerate the creative juices." Dave shot back.

"You're also the guy who constantly complains about having to be the only one who makes plans, even as he makes said plans."

Dave grumbled. He looked around, and found a spot that would do.

"That bar. I'll open it up, you park the big rig right in front of the doors."

He gunned the bike, spun it a 180 again, and speed towards the bar.
He powerslid it it, and came three inches to touching the wall. Dave stood up, pulled the weapon he'd hid from the others out of his pack, and brought
the butt down hard on the glass. It cracked, but did not shatter. Striking three more times, he acheived the desired effect. Replacing it, Dave drew the H&K.
Flipping the TacLight on, he swept the room.

After Dave had done that, he swept the upstairs portion of the bar. He found bodies up here. People stopped ead amidst drinking, eating, or playing pool.
Dave looked away. After a moment, he looked back. He worked the balls up to do it for about five minutes, reciting a litany under his breath.

"Please don't be Captain Tripps, Please don't be Captain Tripss."

When he was close to one, he rolled it over, and examined the body.

His prayer had not worked. The neck was fat and swollen, bruised purple. Mucus was caked around the mouth and nose.

He looked away. He forced himself to reexamine the body. It was exactly like in the book and his dreams.

He searched the upeer bar. In the back was a window leading to a fire escape. He opened it, and began the grim task of moving the bodies.
They were heavy as hell.

"Dead weight." He said aloud, and chuckled at the morbid thought. As he pushed them out the window and of the fire escape, he tried to pretend the gross
"splat" he heard was fruit that was in their pockets, not their bodies.

Try as he might, it didn't work.

When all the twenty some bodies had been moved, Dave leaned over the fire escape rail, and puked.

Dave searched the closets and bathrooms next. He found none in there. He considered it a blessing.

Dave walked towards the door, and signalled the others to park the rig. Dave turned, and vaulted over the bar. He tried the taps, and found them full of undrunk beer.

He filled a bucket with this, and went upstairs. Leaning out over the fire escape before the others found him, he dumped it.
Taking a .22 shell out, he sliced the top off, and dropped it onto the pile. He tore a piece of cloth from the scrubs he still had in his pack, lit it,
and let it flutter down to the corpse pile. He closed the window, before the smell could waft in. He pushed a bookcase infront of it, to prevent
them thinking anything was back there. He heard them call his name, and returned downstairs.

They had moved Steve to a nearby couch, and put a spare coat on him.

Harry spoke up first.

"What now?"

Dave screamed, finally letting go of his emotions for a moment.

"Larry" he breathed, "pour us some beer. Harry, check the storeroom for some food. I'm gonna see if I can get to the roof."

They stood, surprised at how quick he had recovered. Before he could shout again, Harry pushed Larry in the dircetion of the bar.

Dave went back upstarirs, and found a locked door leading to the roof.
He went back downstairs, grabbed the hammer, and returned to bust open the lock with one swift strike.

He went outside, and could see them. At least a hundred dogs, hungry, scared, and led by demonic, twisted, perverted version of themselves.

He drew the H&K, switched on the laser sight, and knelt to take aim. He squeezed the trigger three times, and saw two connect.

A demonic German Shepard dropped to the ground, a bullet in the brain pan.

A second round tore into a bulldog, taking it through the hip, but it got back up, limping to rejoing it's pack that had suddenly scattered.

He took out the box of 9x19mm Parabellum rounds, slide the magazine clear, and inserted another three rounds. He replaced the magazine, and put the box
back into his backpack. He heard running from behind, and knew that two of the others had come to see what the noise was.

He turned to see Larry and Harry staring at the gun in his hand, and the dead demon-pup.

"Found any food? If we throw it far enough, we can draw them away from the bar." He asked.

Harry grabbed him by the collar and bent him over the edge.

"What the hell are you playing at you schizo f*ck!?" He screamed in Dave's face.

He eyes spoke more then he could.

Harry pulled him back in, and went backstairs.

Larry stood there, not sure of what had happened.

"You get the beer?" Dave finally asked.

He nodded his head.

"Then why are we standing here Senor Gonad McNumbness?" Dave stormed off downstairs, Larry hot on his heels.

Dave drank the beer fast. He couldn't taste it that way. It was warm, and he'd never been much of beer guy anyway.
Harry nursed his, and Larry just looked at it. Steve was halfway done. They found some ice and put it in his to make it easier for the injured man.

"I think I know what happened." Dave said at last.

He felt everybodie's eyes turn on him, surprised.

"Stephen King wrote a book, Called The Stand. Sorta like this. A man is unknowingly infected with a deadly disease at amilitary test lab.
Fiding out about this, he escapes before quarantine can be implaced. Taking his wife and kid he flees to Texas. He dies and crashes into a gas station.
The men hanging out there examine his body. All three necks are swollen and bruised, and looked like a tire. Mucus coats there mouth and nose,
making it impossible to breath. The bodies infect the men, who infect others, etc. etc." He paused, gathering his thoughts. The beer made it heard.

"I found a few bodies upstairs. They looked exactly like the description. In the book those who got infected, they got what became called Captain Tripps.
A super flu with 99% communicability, and 99% fatality rate."

He looked at them, and they stared as though he had just claimed to be Satan and was going to rape them in the ass.

Steve spoke first.
"So we're in a Stehen King novel?"

"Best i can come up with."

They sat and digested the information as best as possible. Hard to do when you might be a character in some stupid novel or roleplay.

Their thoughts were exactly that.

Steve, pondered on this for a few minutes, before asking
“Why are their psycho Dogs then? Did this novel say that the dogs became obscenely large, and most of their fur fell off? Or that they gained a hunger for human flesh? Don’t look so surprised, we all know it’s true. “Steve smiled, in an uncharacteristic way, malicious knowing etched onto his features.”These dogs, gak, they don’t seem to give up do they?"
Larry seemed to work it out faster than anyone else.
He had noticed how Steve’s eyes, throughout his speech, were fixed on the window. Larry turned slowly, and looked, knowing he wasn’t going to like what he saw.
"gak"
A Massive Great Dane stared straight back at him. Its muscles were bulging through almost translucent skin, veins popping and covering its body like twisted vines. Its eyes were milky white, and no pupil seemed to exist, thick ropey strands of saliva dripped from its slack mouth, where rows of jagged yellow teeth with rotten strips of gore sodden meat and a disgusting, swollen, pink tongue sat. The Beast watched them intently.

Dave saw the huge hound, and reached for his Gun. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, more dogs were moving up to the windows, the doors. "Harry, did you throw any food away from here?" he asked slowly. The pained look on Harrys face told him otherwise. Steve clambered to his feet and picked up his 10 pound hammer. He fastened his Gasmask to his face. At the hysterical and quizzical looks from the others, he growled "not gonna let them feth my face over anymore than it is already".

Larry pulled the pistol from his pocket and cocked the trigger. The barrel of the pistol danced in time with his shuddering, but he breathed in a few times, and his aim steadied. Harry pulled the KA-BAR from his belt and looked around furtively. "What now?"


OOC: im hoping to have a bit of a fight here, so let’s not finish it in one post.
Whoever initiates the fight, Steves gonna fight like a berserker , so madly swinging a hammer and punching viciously is in order.

His muscles burned after so long pulling the cart - it seemed like he had been walking for days and it probably was something close to that. He had crossed most of the state pulling his daughter behind him, avoiding larger towns and cities where he could, and scrounging supplies where he found them. His breath was somewhat ragged as he hauled his load up the rise, but he finally crossed the ridge and saw the start of the urban sprawl of the next big town along their route spread before him.

Half the city was invisible beneath a pal of smoke and drifting dust and several columns of smoke and fire rose into the air. Sally piped up from her comfortable pile of quilts in the cart "Daddy, can you hear something?"

"Hear what, sweetie?" James replied, trying to listen to whatever it was Sally had heard.

"It sounds like a car!" said Sally excitedly.

James strained his ears and just managed to pick up the sound of racing engines in the distance. "Can you tell where the sound is coming from?" he asked - this was one of the first signs of life they had encountered on their treck (even abandoned cars and houses had almost all been empty - something James was quite happy about given he had his 8 year old daughter in tow) and James was loath to miss it; or to walk into something bad.

Hel looked back at Sally, and saw her frowning in concentration; trying to sense where the noise was coming from. She shook her head. "It's ok baby, perhaps we will be able to see something".

The both turned to look out over the city. The engines could be heard more clearly now. One of them suddenly changed pitch, as if the vehicle was slowing down rapidly.The other engine also faded as it slowed down. Silence returned for a few moments before the engines briefly started up again and then abruptly halted.

They stood there watching and listening for some time but heard nothing new. Suddenly a new column of smoke started to rise in the general direction the engine noises had come from. Sally and James glanced at each other and then returned to watching the city. Soon after, 3 shots were heard and the noise of animals in distress errupted over the city.

Sally squeeled in sympathy and fright, her eyes wide over the top of her gas mask, and James gently calmed her. When no more noise was forthcoming, either man made or animal, James withdrew a map of the city he had taken from a petrol station (he had never quite got the hang of the american habit of calling a liquid fuel "gas") and consulted it, looking for a route that would take them near where he had heard the noises, but at a safely removed distance so they could determine what was going on.

His route plotted, he turned to Sally "Hungry kid?" he enquired. Sally nodded. He pulled the cart into a patch of cover, opened up some of the tinned food they had and started to cook it over a gas stove. Somewhere down there was a route through to the source of the signal, and he wanted to know if those other people had something to do with it...

"Gak!!!"
"Where the in the fething warp is everyone!?!"
"ok, clam down, they might be in the city."
{OOC: I am in Philidelphia now. same char, though, but I restart}
"what if they are not in the city?"
"they are!!"
"what if they are dead?"
"What, feakin' zombies?"
"you should take a gun."
"I will"
{OOC: this guy is talking to himself}

James had carefully worked his way through the city, attempting to stay downwind of where he thought the animal cry and shots had come from. He paused a couple of blocks from where a thin stream of smoke was still rising besides a building with a (van/truck/thing - OOC: I was not sure what you guys were driving) parked outside.

His eyes flitted over the buildings lining the road as he selected one that would give him both a good view and be a relatively easy climb. With one selected, he hid the cart behind some bins and helped Sally to her feet, hurrying her up the external fire escape towards the roof.

A few minutes later, and after giving Sally a boost and scrambling up after her, James was on the roof, his eyes taking in the details.

"Sally, I want you to hide here, behind these air conditioner units, OK?" Sally nodded "Stay quiet, but be ready to run if I tell you." Sally's looked frightened even with the gas mask covering most of her face. James smiled and gave her a quick hug before worming his way towards the edge of the roof facing the street.

From his vantage point, James could see a large group of dogs surrounding the building a few hundred meters away. He saw something huge move up towards one of the windows. James pulled his binoculars out and examined the sceene more closely. The view jumped much closer and he could see the immense dog pawing at the window. He shifted his gaze and peered through the window. He could see frenzied activity as several people started pulling out various clubs and weapons.

James lay there and thought for a moment. His brow furrowed as he tried to decide what to do. He did have some weapons, and the training to use them, though he was rusty from lack of practice (not to mention being mainly an engineer rather than a soldier) and slowed by his career ending injuries.

The biggest problem was that he had his 8 year old daughter with him, the sole surviving relative he had...

OOC: I am not looking to join up with the main group as of yet - I aim to shadow them for a while longer before deciding if they are safe to join. I will aid in the coming fight in ways that will not give away my position or attract the dogs to me or my daughter. Perhaps using the 2 tear gas grenades my character found in a crashed police van during his trip over the state.

FYI - my character has a 9mm pistol with a couple of mags, and a long police rifle, whatever the current model of semi/automatic police rifle is in the states. Again with a couple of mags.

Larry was bored. I know that sounds weird, Its the end of the world. But there's not much to do in a pub. Apart from drink and play on the vending machines, but that got boring too. His one amusement was shooting the dogs outside. That sounds mean, but if they were ever going to get out of this dump, they would have to shoot enough dogs, for them them to get out there quickly. There was one problem, every day more and more dogs would come to the building. Following huge demonic pack leaders. Teeth and claws stained with blood, they just sat there and ... waited. That was the most scary thing of all. They just waited. And every day a new pack would arrive, they would find a small area away from the other dogs and just wait.

Dave had gotten it in his mind, that if he killed enough of the pack leaders they would all run. Sadly it didnt work like this. Whenever Dave killed a pack leader, the packless dogs would just find a new demonic leader and join his pack.

So outside the building, there were several 'master packs' which contained a large number of dogs. Sometimes these 'master packs' would attempt to attack the building. Thats when Dave would bring out the big guns, a browning machine gun, from World War 2, it was 60 years old and worked fine. Harry found it in one of the bedrooms. Along with loads of ammo. So Dave would perch on top of the roof. Screaming as he sprayed bullets into the approaching dogs.

It had been five days since they all met up. And they were trapped.

The Hound seemed to reach a decision, its huge head, turning away from the window, before it padded out of sight. Larry let out a long sigh. "well that could have been close, i wouldn’t have wanted to go toe to toe with him." no sooner as he had said it, the massive hound exploded through another window to Dave’s right, howling and barking viciously as he landed. Suddenly, all around the pack of dogs were throwing themselves at the windows, pawing at the door handles, snarling and barking, caught up in the sudden fury of the hell hound.
Dave span round and squeezed of 3 shots, 1 went wide, another went through the window behind the dog, and the third ricocheted of a table before punching through a glass window into the frenzied dog mass. Steve was then crashing forwards hammer in hand. Another window smashed to the left, and a small terrier leapt through, froth pouring from its rabid mouth. Harry kicked it hard, sending it somersaulting backward. The Great Dane chose its target and leapt howling through the air, colliding hard with Larry, sending them both over a moth eaten couch. Steve let out a roar and smashed his hammer into a nearby greyhound that had climbed through the hole the Dane had left. The hound yelped, but fell to the ground instantly dead. Harry had managed to throw his quarry back through the window, which he was now trying to board up with a pub table. He heard sudden screaming, and saw Larry gripping onto the ears of the hellhound, the only thing he could latch onto to stop it ripping into his face. Dave threw his bayonet at the hound, the blade punching third rib down, into the chest cavity. The thing didn’t even notice. Steve yelled over the increasing noise "DAVE TAKE ITS LEGS OUT, NOW"

The voice of command jerked him into action, and Dave vaulted over the bar and, grabbing the hammer Steve had thrown in mid run, collided into the Danes back legs, throwing the whole thing off balance. Steve had a small yappy dog in both hands, and was proceeding to pummel it into the wall. An Alsatian catapulted through another window, and bit deep into his shoulder. Dropping the dead dog he grabbed his new opponent in a head lock, before briefly surveying the room. Dave had managed to piss off the dog, and had averted its attentions onto him. Larry had scrambled clear and was aiming his pistol at the Behemoth. Harry was fighting a losing battle with a pair of Labradors, who had almost pushed their way past his makeshift shield. He felt brief pain and looked down to see the Alsatian had bit into his side. This wasn’t going well.

Larry shot the huge dog through the face. "Take that you dick!" he yelled at the dead dog.

Looking around he could Dave had finished off his opponent and was helping Harry block up the windows. Steve was fighting a giant Alsatian.

Without thinking Larry charged across the room and kicked the Alsation in the stomach before taking aim with his pistol and firing five shots into its warped, blood covered head.

Slivermk2: We're not in Philly yet. we felt it best to a start a story in a small town, then advance to Philly.


The Dane circled Dave. Harry was still holding the table to the window, but losing. It's teeth bared, the Dane stepped forward, a growl issuing from it's throat.
The hammer in his left hand, Dave pulled his H&K out.

"BAD DOG!!" he yelled, and squeezed two shots into its skull.

Before it had fallen he moved towards Harry's side, and threw his body against the table. It got stuck enough that they could move away for a breather.
Rather then take one, Dave turned, and fired two shots at the dog that had Larry and Steve.
Two rounds took it in the stomach, and Steve curb stomped it.

No more dogs were forthcoming. Dave fell down and leaned against the bar.

"Man's best friend my left nut." he complained.

Steve grabbed at his fresh wounds, and Dave swore. Not that it was anything new.

He looked at the dead Greyhound and spoke.

"I used to own two. Their usually very nice." Harry chuckled.

Dave stood, and went up stairs. They heard a scuffle, a thump, and then a loud crash. They turned and saw he had pushed a pool table down.
It was remarkably well intact. He turned, and they saw another come down. Several bar stools soon followed.

Working together, they barricaded the doors and windows. The pool tables, hen stood against something, would take alot of hitting befoer falling over with the bar
stools set behind them as props. Moving the bar tables and chairs, they did the same all over the bar.

"Everybody, listen up." Dave commanded.

Three heads snapped to consider him.

"We're heading out. We've wasted enough time here already. Steve, look for some medicine and whiskey.
Harry, gather the pool cues, night stick, and the sawn off I showed you in the security office. The ammo too. Don't care what type, just get it.
Larry, gather up the canned food, and see if you can find any booze we haven'tdrunk to make some Molotov's with.
I'm gonna see the damage from the roof and look for a way out." Without a word, they set off to do there assigned tasks.

Steve limped, He had been stupid to charge in like that, his wound now weeping more blood then before.

Uh uh kid. You didn't fight. That was me.

He shook his head. The voice of Ghosty had invaded his thoughts again.

Shut up. Shut up and go away. He thought

Oh no. I'm gonna be here for a long time comin kid. I'm gonna be there when YOU kill them. One by one. HA HAHAHAHA!!!

The manical laughter slowly faded as Steve went about his work. He tried to convince himself he wasn't crazy, but he found it very hard.

Larry guzzled the last of the beer, not able to part with it. He had found quite a few substitues though. He tore pieces of bar clothe up, and soaked them in the alchohol.
When Dave gave the word, he would use them.

Hary tore the office apart looking for spare shells. He had found enough for six reloads. He continued tearing the room apart, looking for something,
anything that might help him. He had a nagging sensation in the back of his mind. Something was here, and dammit, he needed to find it!
Sitting down to take a break he found it. A book. Not just any book. THE BOOK.

The cover depicted a man walking across a desert, his eyes blazing red. THE STAND: Complete Uncut Version by Stephen King. He chuckled, and opened the book.
He flipped through it, taking notice when he found a picture. One stood out. A man being chased by rabid dogs or wolves. He scanned it, looking for something particular.
He found it. A shpping cart. The used book had a ketchup stain on theat particular portion. It had dried to look like a small child. He didn't know why it held signifgance. He shrugged, and put the book in the bag he was using to hold the shells. He would examine it later, see if he could find a meaning in it later.

Dave scanned the rooftops. They could easily make the jump to other roofs, but Steve wouldn't. He would have to take back alleys and fire escapes.

"Why not take the rig?" He said in a bad Austrailian accent, mimicking a question he would be asked.

"That's what drew the dogs to us numbnuts." he replied to his own question.
F*ck. He thought. They'd be travelling light, and he'd have to lose the bike. He had finally gotten good at riding it when they had holed up here.

Thoughts raced through his mind. Options, and all their possible outcomes, were weighed and considered.
There seemed to be only one which ended well.

Taking hold of the machinegun, Dave opened fire, not bothering to fire in bursts anymore. He tracked each dog, making sure that each round counted.
He stopped aiming for the pack masters, and took out the small fry instead. When the gun ran dry, Dave reloaded it, like a machine. He opened fire again,
taking more and more dogs by the second. The remaining dogs got the idea, and ran for cover.

Dave stood, and let the gun cool. A glint in the sun caught his attention. Dave squinted, and saw it again. He dropped to the ground, fearing sniper fire. None came.
Slowly, Dave pulled out the binocs he had stolen from the sports shop. He looked, and adjusted the zoom. He saw the glint, and where it was coming from.
Almost a mile away from the bar, someone had set up a position to observe them without attracking the dogs.

"Smart bastards..." He whispered. He could see nothing else, so he ditched the surveilence efforts. He went back downstairs, and found that the others had
followed his orders to the letter. Harry had bundled up twelve pool cues, and had a bag filled with ammo and the nightstick poking out.

Larry gestured to the bar, where there stood rows of ready to toss molotovs.

Steve held up a few pill bottles, a box of Band Aids, and pointed to where three bottles stood on the ground.

"We can't take the rig anymore. That's what attracked the dogs in the first place." he paused, mulling over his words. " Instead, I'll draw them on the bike,
while you guys take the back alleys to get as far away South West as possible, sticking to the highways. Stop every night to make camp. Find an overpass or
something to camp under. If I haven't caught up with you by the fifth night, consider me dead and bloated. Get to Philly, do whatever you can for Steve, and try and
find others. Try and find out what happened. And please, for the love of God, don't do anything stupid. Like let Larry have mate with a bull.
The last thing we need is his slowed child running around with super strength."

Dave drew up a map for them, and then led them to the roof. He helped them arrange their packs to evely distribute weight. As they made their way down the fire escape,
Dave took hold of the machinegun. He went downstairs and opened the big rig's cab. He set the gun down, and started the engine.
As it coughed into life, Dave accelerated in the opposite direction of the others, trying to draw the dogs as best as possible. In seconds they were biting at the mudflaps.
The truck approached a gas station. Dave grabbed the gun, kicked the cab door open, and jumped out. He remebered to tuck and roll.

As he hit the groun, he opped up as soon as he stopped rolling. The gun was still working. he hip fired, spraying the gas pumps with fire.
He hit a propane tank nearby, and saw as the place went up in flames. Dave droppd the gun as he saw the dogs die in flames.

He walked back to the bar. His ankle had been reinjured. Dave got out the bike, and took off. Once again, he moved the opposite direction.

Harry heard the explosion as he and Larry helped Steve crest a steep hill. He turned and saw a fire ball blast into the air.
He heard Larry speak.

"Bastards too tough to go out like that. His fine." Harry tried to convince himself, but couldn't. Neither larry or Steve had seen the wounds and the way they took their toll
on Dave. He had used the alcohol constantly, trying to numb the pain.
He had managed to fool the other two into thinking he was sober, but Harry had seen him secretly drink when the others slept.

He hoped Dave didn't do anything stupid.

"If you're dead you bastard, I'll kill you." He vowed to himself as he caught up with Steve and Larry. it was a long road ahead.

FYI: Don't mention my character for a little while. I want to tell a side story with him, so act as though heis dead and bloated.

OOC: I was not sure, hence I only mentioned it once. Also changed a couple of other bits related to the location to fit in with everyone.

The fight had been short and brutal and James was glad he had been some distance away. He glanced over to make sure that Sally was OK. Her face peeked out around the air conditining units she was hiding behind and James slipped down his mask to smile at her before turning back to his visual.

The bar had been quite for some time, despite a few dogs prowling around the now barricaded windows. James scanned the intervening streets to ensure that nothing aproached where he and his daughter were hiding, but could not see anything that concerned him.

He caught a sudden flash from the corner of his eye and ducked, thinking that someone was shooting towards him from the bar. When no bullet or gunshot followed, he risked ducking his head back above the parapet and scanned the bar. A shadowy shape stood behind one of the upper windows. Another flash of light and it suddenly clicked: There was a man in there looking around with a pair of binoculars and more specifically looking straight at him.

"Damn!" He exclaimed, dropping back down.

He was pretty sure that he had been spotted, and he did not want to risk someone finding him before he knew whether he could trust them or not. James crawled back from the edge and around to where Sally was waiting. He quickly reassured here as he ushered her down from the roof and back to the cart. "What did you see daddy? There was lots of shooting and screaming and barking!" she quizzed, her eyes wide as they decended the fire escape. "Are there people over there? Are we going to help them?"

James gave a quick (slightly sugar coated) account of what had happened and finished "I don't know if we can trust them enough to go and help them... they might be dangerous, and there are still too many dogs between us and them to get through. We need to get somewhere safe and think what we are going to do next."

Sally retreated into silence as her father told her how the dogs had attacked the people, trying to square her knowledge of cute, fluffy doggies with the new concept of them attacking people. But then, she had not seen the horrible, blood drenched and wild looking monstrosities as they poured into the building in search of blood.

James quickly lifted Sally into the cart and took up the ropes; pulling the cart from behind the bins and seeking somewhere they would be safe from the dogs but still able to observe the men up the road.

They spent the night in an abandoned Hotel. They found a few cans of tinned food. Carrying them upstairs to the room they shared. They ate in silence, then stored the rest in Harry's bag. They decided they should do a rotating watch, every four hours, someone would wake up and replace the other person on watch. There were no dogs in the area. But it was a way to look out for Dave incase he came by the Hotel. He didnt come and in the morning they all rose from there slumber. And in silence once again started there journey on foot. They stayed in lots of places on there way to Phily, they also saw alot thing ... not always good things. Steve had gotten worse and worse. It was on there 3rd day since Dave left that he couldnt walk anymore. So me and Harry went out and found a wheel barrol to carry Steve in, It was cold and wet but it would do.

It was on the 4th day since Dave left, when distastor struck.


(OOC: It would be awesome if we could go to washington after Phily.)

OOC Washington.....like......no....it all adds up... FALLOUT 3? actually that’s not half bad ;P I vote for Washington too BTW we know Steves gonna die....he’s not gonna make it. I mean, maybe when he could walk, but now he can’t? Well poor sod.

The group had found a small hut on the edge of town, and it was seemingly abandoned. Inside, there was streaked grime and sh*t covering the walls, the whole place stank of farms. As they hauled Steve into the bedroom and dropped him onto the moldy four poster bed, he mumbled "Hello me, meet the real me."
They looked at him in confusion. He seemed to slip from consciousness and presently was snoring quietly.

Steve waited until they were gone before he opened his eyes cautiously. he saw his gasmask, an object which had become the focus of his paranoia. To him, it was everything he wasn’t. It stared into his soul, it told him what to do. With a dead look in his eyes, he grabbed some rope, and began to make a slipknot. Time to end this, once and for all.


As Harry and Larry made their way back into the dining room, Harry muttered “He's probably delirious. Poor feth" Larry had clambered onto a stool and was fumbling through a small cupboard which had a small first aid symbol on it. Most of the medicines inside were out of date, but he found some morphine to give to Steve. He clambered the stairs and opened the door to the bedroom. Steve’s gasmask was hanging from the ceiling, a slipknot wrapped round his neck. Larry looked around desperately. No. Steve had disappeared. "HARRY!"

Harry had burst in, hearing the yell from Larry, took one look at the mask before he ripped his Knife from his pocket and cut it down. He found himself teary eyed and he blinked away the stinging droplets. Larry was shaking considerably, but he quickly moved over to the four poster. On the bedside table, there was a small and crumpled letter, with shaky, scrawled writing dotting it.

"Dear Harry, Larry, and Dave (im sure you will find him again) Im so SorRy but i CaNt take this any more.
I coUld have made it to Philly, but it seems that i got stuck with a knife. Ghostys fault, not mine. Im not the viOlent one.
he is.

Im sorry to say, the voice inside my head has been there for too long, it tell me to kill you. I cant think straight. Im doing the right thing. There was a girl, a nurse i think. i was friends with heR. find her. plEAse.

All the best (I hope you find whatever your looking for in Philly, Dave)

Ghosty.

Harry walked over the shattered window, and his gaze traced onto the open countryside ahead. He could be anywhere out there. Who's Ghosty? Something felt very wrong about this. He had stopped being able to walk, so how had he managed to break a window, and disappear into the darkness of the night without any of them hearing. Whats more, he knew that Steve couldn’t make it without meds. As this very idea formed in his mind, he heard a knocking on the front door. he froze, before signaling to Larry to see who it is. If it’s Dave...

Larry was halfway across the dining room; the front door was just round the corner, when he heard the door being knocked on again. Something felt very wrong about this. In a apocalyptic wasteland, why would anyone bother to knock before entering? Knock Knock Knock. What’s more, Dave didn’t strike him as the kind of guy who knocked before entering. Knock Knock Knock. Something about that knocking seemed strangely familiar. He got to the front door, and pulling the pistol from his belt trained it on the door. The sudden silence made him nervous. Making up his mind, he grabbed the door knob, twisted hard and wrenched the door open, his pistol aimed at the anonymous knocker.

There was know one there. He looked around outside quickly, but he couldn’t see anyone. Muttering darkly too himself, he went back inside, shutting the door behind him. He was back in the dining room, at the foot of the stairs when he heard it again. Knock Knock Knock. It occurred to him that you didn’t have to be outside to knock on a door.

The hammer struck him hard across the back of the head, and he went down without a sound.

Harry sat on his bed, facing the stairs for several minutes, before he realized that something was very wrong. He crept downstairs. Their backpacks had been ransacked. All the meds were gone. Where the hell was Larry? He found him lying on his back clutching his head, and moaning in pain. “You ok mate? Who hit you?”
Larry groaned “felt like being hit by a brick wall…”
“We gotta grab our stuff and stay up in the bedroom; whoever robbed us might come back”

They moved together, cautiously into the bedroom, before barricading themselves in.
This was pretty disastourous.

OOC: is that a good disaster lord loss? Now there’s a crazy nutter running around with a hammer. He’s out there, waiting, stalking…… ^^

He never should have come here. Harry didn't even like America. Why hadn't he just stayed at home? Finished his HSCE? And now he was going to die in this Godforsaken country. If he didn't go crazy first.

Larry leaned against him, dragging his feet.
"Harry..." He moaned.
"What?"
"The...the guy..."
"Yeah, I know. We gotta get outta here before he comes back."
"No...he...he never left."

Harry froze. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Stiff as a statue his ears picked up a sound. A slow, purposeful slound. Somwhere, somewhere nearby, he could hear the steps...slow, patient steps...

Dave stood on the steps to his old house. He needed to know his family rested in peace.
He walked slowly up the steps to the porch. He was surprised nobody had ransacked it yet.
*Creak*
It still made sounds in the same places. Funny the things he remembered now, but never noticed before.

He pushed the door open, and entered the living room. The smell of the bodies hit him hard.
He found his parent's in their room. His hand flew to his mouth, and he stifled his crying.

Dave nodded grimly, and setaout the unnescaryily grim task of grave digging. He took a shovel from the garage, and dug a hole in the back yard,
big enough for both his parents. The sun had begun setting when he finished. Dave rentered the house, and took his mothers body.
heheld her in a fireman's carry, across his shoulders. He unceremoniously dumper herinto the hole. He did the same for his dad.

He went inside, took a bottle of Tabasco and some Oregano, and used it to consecrate their grave.
The hole filled with dirt, each shovelful serving to remind Dave othat this was real, not a bad dream.

"I'm not a priest, but I will say a few words." Dave hesitated.

"You raised my as best you could, just like your other sons. I know I wasn't as atheletic and as good at speaking other languages as Jordan, or as smart and
musically inclined like Al, but you always beleived in me. Even when you thought I was hopelessly lost." Dave considered his next words carefully.

"Dad.... when a friend of yours asked about me, you said I fall down alot. And then, you said.... you said I always get back up.
You raised me to never stop trying to be good at what I wanted to be good at." Tears rolled freely down his cheeks.

"Mom.......... you taught me to be a goodjusge of character. I evesdropped on you on the phone once.
You said to Aunt Jo that I could tell who someone really was. And I let them know. Even though it ended more often then not, badly."

He tried to calm his heart. It beat a million miles a minute.

"I promise, to never forget you. Gods have mercy on your souls."

Dave chopped a few branches and tied them to make crosses.

He went into his old room, and cried. Hed lost his parents, and probally his entire family.

Dave slept for a day, and lay still for three hours.

He finally gathered the will to get supplies and move out. He searched Al's room.
He found his brother's pills. Pills from when he'd been diagnosed. He put them in a ziploc baggie he found.
They might be useful. For what, he did not know.

Three.
BLAM
Four.
Two left, reload.
HOULLLLLLLL!!!!
"HAHA!!"
BLAM!!!
Let's see here, 13.
I hate dogs.

I'l leave it too EF to decide the outcome with this scary Ghosty crazy man.

Dave heard a moaning outside. He sidled up to the window,and pulled the curtain open to afford him a peak.

Outside, someone was stumbling towards the house. They were dirty and bloodied.

"Not unlike myself." Dave chuckled.

Suddenly, their head snapped up, to fix their eyes right on Dave.

They shone like an oil fire. It threw its head back,and screamed loud. Dave clutched his ears, feeling something seep from between his fingers.
The scream would put a banshee to shame. He looked at it, and saw it charge for the door.

Dave went to his pack, and pulled out the guns. He held the Lupara in his right hand, and the H&K in his left. He ran to the living room.
The creature was up the steps when it saw him.

Dave trained the Lupara, and fired one barrel. The spray hit the body, and tore into its left shoulder. It staggered back.
He cocked the second hammer, and retrained the shotgun on the fallen body.

The beast sprang back up, and jumped through. Dave pulled the second trigger, and the spray caught it full in the chest. It flew back five feet, and lay still.
Dave slid the Lupara into his belt, and switched the H&K into his right. He vaulted the window, and fired three shots point-blank into the beasts head.

It lay very still.

Dave shrugged, and fired one last time into it's chest.

He went back inside, and reloaded the barrels of the Lupara. He reloaded the magazine, and put it back in.

"F*cking siren. Guess you ain't gonna be doin any performances at the opera any time soon, eh bitch?"

He grasped at his ears, and cursed. The eardrum had ruptured in his right, and he tried to walk with some semblance of balance.
It would take at least two weeks to heal. He went into his old room, and searched for something to use. He found the old cane he'd made and planned on
giving to his grandfather, and took it.

Dave lay down on his old bed. It was alot softer then sleeping on the floor of a bar or the cold ground. Dave fell asleep.

He awoke, the bad dream fresh in his mind. He didn't know why it kept happening.

He kept seeing Steve attack Harry with the hammer, before fighting Larry. It was a long bloody fight in his dreams.
He hoped it was just that. He could not tell the victor.

Dave gathered the food he could, and found his dad's old sleeping bag from the army. He loaded up onto the bike, and tried to maintain balance.
He went back into town, looking for the trail of the others. They had done as he said, sticking to highwyas.

But they'd made their trail... less then subtle. Painted on a wall on the concrete dividers were directions to where they were bunked.

"Goddam it. You guys are arguably the least sneaky people ever. Also, arguably, the dumbest."

He restarted the bike, and followed the directions.

When night fell, he had noticed three other such signs. He took out the sleeping bag and set up a lean-to.
He crawled into the sleeping bag, the Lupara in hand.

He slept fitfully again, but when he awoke, the dreams had not persisted into waking life again. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He loaded the pack back up, and demolished the leanto. He remounted the bike and spent the next four hours riding.

The engine died.

"Knew it was too good to last. F*cking dildo." He had entered a stretch of highway where he could find no other cars to siphon gas from for three miles now.

It was to far to turn around, but he was loath to give up the bike. He trundled it alongside him, cursing and complaining.

Three hours later, and fiften miles of hauling the Harley, Dave found an over pass that he could set acamp up at. He set the bike down, and lay down to breath.

"Goddam thing weighs way too much." He whispered. Dave turned his head, and saw a few cars fiften yards out of the over pass.

He rested a few more minutes, and got the equipment to siphon gas.

When he got therehe heard voices. Dave stopped dead.

"Someone'll pass by soon enough, and then we'll take them down. I swear I heard an engine. Prolly a Harley." he heard a mid range voice say.

"But make sure not to damage any goods. Or any women they got."

Dave slowly retruned to his camp, and took his guns. He checked to make sure that they were loaded. He loosened the KA-BAR's catch and checked
to make sure that the bayonet was still in his boot.

He took out the Molotov that had been carefully wrapped up, so as not to exploded while he carried it. There were five others left when he used this one.

As he made his preparations, he couldn't help but remeber a saying he'd read, ironically, in a Stephen King book.

Battles that last five minutes can spawn legends that live for a thousand years.

It's companion followed soon after.

Five minutes worth of blood and stupidity later...

He wondered whcih one would be said about him? And who would be saying it. for that matter. He slid the Lupara into his belt, and held the Molotov in his right.

When he reached the cars again, he listened closer. He tried to make out where they were in relation to him. He was gald that He'd brought the Molotov.
He lit it, stood up, and tossed it at them. There had to be at least thirteen. It struck two, and they srpang up and ran around like a chicken with its head cut off.
He aimed his H&K at the group.

"I do not Aim with my Hand!" He squeezed the trigger, and one bullet found it's mark in a startled young man of medium bulid.
He grabbed at his stomach, face a mask of pain.

"He Who Aims with his Hand has forgotten the face of his father! I Aim with my Eye!" Two more rounds were fired, one burying in the young mans head, the other
striking a fat black man in his thigh.

"I do not Shoot with my Hand! He Who Shoots-" Dave fired three more, mssing twice. It hit an old man in his foot.

"With his Hand has forgotten the face of his Father!" He had them in disarray. But the tide would even out.

"I Shoot with my MIND!" With the last word, one of them fired a Remington at him. It missed, but a few pellets grazed his weapon amr, throwing off his aim.

He grunted, and spoke the last of his litany.

"I do not Kill with my Gun! He who kills with his Gun has forgotten the face of his Father!" Dave fired three more times, and he fired the last round.

He dropped the pistol, and dropped behind the car.

He pulled the Lupara and popped back up.

"I Kill with my Heart!"

He fired the shotgun, and it's spread did it's work.

The last of them went down. if they weren't dead, they were certainly wishing they were.

He picked the H&K up, and reloaded it. He advanced on the survivors, and unceremoniously executed them. One bullet to the head of the remaing six.

He walked to the guard rail and threw up.

The last of the litany remained with him. His heart felt heavier then it had when his family had died.

He ransacked their bodies, taking the shells and gas. He refueled the bike and continued on his way for a mile, before turning in.

He didn't sleep at all.

I see a man.... He has a cart... "Hey, mister!!"
Two shots fire. I fall to the ground. Why am I wet?
Blood.
I ask the man if I can come with him......

James had been following the group for some time as they moved along the highway, their less than discrete signs (and indeed tracks) making the process easy. Indeed, he had seen signs that others had followed the trail, and he had even had to suddenly rush off the road as he spotted a large group of people laying in ambush at one of the overpasses ahead.

It took several hours to pass around them, all the time ensuring that he was not spotted.

Just as he rejoined the highway, he heard a cry "Hey, Mister!" and looked up to see a small boy hurrying towards him. He could not have been more than 12 or 13. Just as suddenly the boy jerked and fell to the ground. 2 shots rang out across the countryside and James threw himself to the ground, calling for Sally to get down in the cart and hide under the covers. Despite her wide eyed horror she did what he said and dropped back into the belly of the trailer.

He quickly shrugged off the straps he used to pull the cart and swung his rifle around, switching off the safety in a single movement as he brought the gun up to a ready position and scanned the ground in front of him but couldn't see where the shots had come from.

The kid was bleeding heavily from the gunshot wounds he had taken and had fallen facing James about 20m away. As James watched he seemed to try and say something... his face getting paler and paler as his life trained away. James thought it looked like he was trying to ask if he could come with them...

Harry stared straight at the figure, who had stopped moving. He felt terrified, more terrified than ever before, partly because he couldnt see his assailent properly, and partly because his assailent maybe a person who they had fought to save for days.
"Steve?"
No reply. The figure shifted its weight.
"Steve, c'mon mate its your buddy harry. Why dont you come out of the shadows?"
The figure remained impassive, but the light from the moon shone upon him, and harry saw a pair of savage eyes stare back at him, reflected in the moonlight.


"Ghosty?"

The figure seemd to react, Letting out a gutteral howl, it charged. the collision sent harry flying into a wall,and he felt his nose break, blood streaming from nostrils.
Suddenly Larry attacked, leaping onto his oponent before its gruesome hammer could be brought to bear.

"we need to stop the blood first"
josh, feeling pain was on the bottom of a cart.
He was asleep form pain.

Dave got up that morning, his stomach growling. He ate not because hewanted to, but because he needed to. Every bite of the canned peach was like ashes in his mouth.

He spent an hour that morning thinking of his plans for the future. A future from before the apoc.

He would finish highschool. He would find a trainer to teach him more about pro wrestling. He would work in the Cruiser Weight division at a local circuit, till he could
try and get into Ring of Honor up in New York. From there he'd wrestle for a few years, until he tried getting into WWE's Developmental Territories.
He spend however long they wanted him there. Eventually Dave would go onto the ECW brand and take a stab at the championship. Regardless, he would go onto
Smackdown or Raw, and begin a quest for US or Intercontinental titles.

He laughed at his stupidity. To think he would have a Championship Belt about his waist.

Dave rode out, thoughts heavy with self loathing. He nearly missed the sound of shots. Dave, riding on a hig road, could see two people pinned down in a street far below.
He yanked out his binocs, and looked for who fired their gun. He saw a muzzle flash, narrowly missing the man's foot. Dave drew the H&K. He waited, repeating the litany.


He saw another muzzle flash, and fired at where it came from. He heard a grunt. For three more minutes, no more gunfire came.

Dave got on the bike and rode on, still looking for the others.

Larry felt pain as he smashed his fist into Ghosty's chin. "feth you Ghosty!" he screamed as he yanked the hammer from Ghosty's hands and threw its across the room. Larry turned back to his opponent who had regained his balance. Ghosty smiled revealing a mouth full of broken teeth and for the second time in his life, Larry though he was going to die. Muscular arms wrapped around Larrys neck, he couldnt breath and Ghosty was too strong. Larry could see Harry crawling across the floor, hammer in his hands. And just as about Larry was going to loose consciousness, Harry smashed the hammer into Ghosty's knee. Screaming in pain Ghosty let go on Larry, Harry was standing up now and caught Larry as he fell. "Crazy fething bastard" Harry said as Ghosty limped out into the night.

Dave had grown used to seeing bodies on the ground. Some dead of the apoc., others by his guns.

He had not grown accostemed to seeing them pop up off the ground yet, though.

He spunout, and crashed. the bike landed on his bad leg. He heard a loud noise, and saw that the tires had blown out.

"MOTHERF**KER!!!" Dave screamed as jolts of pain lanced up a down his right side.
Dave crawled out from the bike, and pulled his Lupara. His vision had gone hazy, and he struggled to clear it. Dave spoke, trying to instill bravado into his voice.

'Stop right there Mother**cker or I'll pump you so full of lead you sink to goddam China!" His voice cracked on the last word. He hoped that the rest was beliable.

Dave cocked the hammers.

"One more step bitch, see if i don't!"

The figure stopped approaching. Dave eased his finger out of the trigger guard.

"First you stab me, then try and shoot me? Jeez, some friend you are." Dave focused, and Steve came into view.

Dave released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and let his arm drop.

Steve helped him to his feet, and dave took the cane and some supplies from the wreckage.

Dave limped along before something struck him.

"Where are the others?" Dave asked. His left hand, the one not holding the cane, pulled the H&K from where it hung, in his belt. He made it look as though he was grasping his side.

"You always have to know don't you?" Steve replied. Dave turned, and stumbled out of the way just in time to miss the swing of the sledge.

Dave dropped his grip on the head of the cane, and took hold a few inches up, as though it was a sword.

"They chased me off. Had too, after I nearly killed them." Steve swung again, horizontilly. Dave jumped back, and grimaced as pain reentered his body.

He shoved the pistol back into his belt, and grasped the cane in two hands.

Steve had to strike in slow, straight lines. The cane was light enough for him to swing fast, and it was strong enough wood to take a beating.

"Now now Steve. Member what happened last time?" Dave swung in, dropping his right hand from the cane to strike with a quick knife edge chop to Steve's throat. it lacked real power, and was meant more to distract then harm. As Steve tried to get out of the way, Dave brougth the cane down over Steve's head.

The wood splintered, and Steve stared dumbly for a moment.

"Owww...." He began, and then dropped. Dave quickly tied him up and took out a pill to give to Steve.
He dragged Steve behind him for a few miles. The highway eventually gave way to several smaller roads, and Dave abitraily selected one. After a further two miles, he dropped, unable to walk anymore.

"Goddam...... you need to lose weight..." Dave complained as he sucked in great amounts of air.

He heard shoes on pavement and immediately drew his pistol. He looked up and saw Larry and Harry.

"Oh thank God...." Dave passed out from exhaustion.

He awoke, lying on a couch. It smelled of old colledge sweat and desperation, but he was glad to be lying down.

It had taken more out of him then he thought, carrying his pack while dragging Steve.
Dave rolled off of it, and pushed to his feet. He heard voices coming from a kitchen, and limped over.

Harry and Larry were talking, and he interjected.

"Where in f**k are my guns?" he rudely spoke.

They stared in astoniment, and Harry wrapped him in a bear hug.

"Oh Christ...." He groaned as he heard his back crack. harry set him down.

Larry wrapped him in a hug too, but not nearly as bad.

They spoke for a few minutes on what ahd happened and where his stuff was.

Dave took out a can of peaches, and they split it.

As he was finishing his third of the food, Dave thought of a joke.

'I swear to God, i've eaten so many peaches, I s**t a cobbler last night."

The guys laughed and nearly choked on their food.

Harry spoke next.

"Didn't know you had a sense of humor."

"I used to do gigs as a comedian at the end of the month for some spare cash believe it or not."

They laughed at that too.

Larry went into the living room, and lay down on the couch, leaving him and harry alone.

Dave noticed the bruises on Harry's body.

"What happened?"
"He flew off his rocker. Tried to kill us, and tore through a good bit of our supplies."
"Where is he now?"

"Basement. Tied to a chair. Far away form any weapons."

Good Dave thought.

He got up, and checked outside. It was just begining to get dark out. He found Steve's hammer, and went outside. He foundatree with just the right branches, and used the sledge to break them off. He brought three inside. He set to work with his knife, sharpening one end, and making the other rounded.

Harry watched, intrigued, but did not wish to disturb Dave.

Dave next began to scrape the bark off. The shafts were sticky with sap as he set them against the wall. They would dry out, and become harder.

"What's that all about?" Harry asked.

"When was the last time Larry used the gun?"

"When we were attacked by dogs."

"I know that he had plenty of other times to use it. But he found out it's much easier to shoot a wild animal then a person?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Yeah."

"And that's why you got so hurt. These will fix that problem somewhat."

Dave and Harry bs'ed the next few hours, before Larry woke up and took watch. They slept.

Dave awoke a few hours later, sore. He got up slowly and stretched. Taking a look at the shafts, Dave smiled. They had dried out wonderfully. He set back to work.

After three hours of crafting, Dave was pleased to say the staves were finished. A blunt end for subdoing, a sharpened end for hunting and killing.
He'd forgotten the joy he took in making wood items.

He tossed one to Larry, who twirled it aroun before hitting it on his forehead.

They spent the rest of the day making preperations or travel, and how to deal with Steve.

Dave held up a small pill, and smiled.

They had started to come together pretty cohesively" Dave thought.