BOOM! Go the zombies! (THOSE DAMN DEAD BASTARDS)

Title: BOOM! Go the zombies!
Description: TAG: OPEN

Aurora Connors - April 9, 2012 08:16 PM (GMT)

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TAGGED:OPEN. WORD COUNT: 1078. LYRICS: Click Click BOOM- Saliva. NOTES: HEHEHEHE.<br>
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I can see it in my mind.
I can see it in your eyes.
It's close enough to touch it now.
far away enough to die!.<br>
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Placing the last stick of dynamite carefully into her duffel bag, Aurora zipped it closed and hoisted it over her shoulder. It had taken her the better part of two months to gather the explosives. Why? You may ask? Because she could. Because she was bored. Because she had a weird obsession with anything that went boom. Take your pick. Any one or all three described Rory. From the way she acted and carried herself, you wouldn't know that she was a Bio chemist, graduating at the top of her class with a minor in biology. Or did a small amount of actually teaching. Nah. In this day and age, Rory preferred to keep her profession to herself. She'd heard about the people from Area 9 and she wasn't really the type of person who would be honored to join their ranks. Nah. She liked it just where she was.
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Which just so happened to be on land for once, heading in the direction of where it was rumored to be occupied by a large quantity of the undead. Just the thing she was looking for. It was time for a little bit of Zombie a la explosion. Most people would tell her that it was just a waste using all of the dynamite she had recovered on such a stupid venture, but to Rory it wasn't. In her eyes, she was just ridding the world and a crap ton more zombies. Less chance to get bitten wasn't it? Less chance of being outnumbered. No. To her, it was a good thing. And worst case scenario? She could always just make her own damn bombs. Hoisting the bag further up onto her shoulder, Rory kept heading in the direction of the rumored group. Somewhere around Morgans point, anyways.
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After maybe a half hour of trekking, noises of her target could be heard, moaning and groaning in guttural sounds not too far ahead. Slowing her pace and taking more careful steps, Rory rounded a corner of some sort of building but retreated right away. Nearly fifteen paces from her there was a good sized crowd of what she would take to be around fifty zombies. Not too big yet not too small of a group, she mused to herself. She would have to set up the explosives, rig them with a fuse that would reach her a good twenty meters away, goad the zombies to where she wanted them, light the fuse and watch in twisted fascination as the zombies went boom, with body parts, blood and guts went flying in any and every direction. No wonder people thought she was a morbid sort of person. It didn't matter to her. Not much really did.
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Rory crouched down, slipping her bag off her shoulder and opened it, taking out the sticks of dynamite one by one, tying them together skillfully with the rope, making eight different piles. Once her task was finished, Rory crept stealthily into the wooden building and placed the bundles strategically around the first floor. Once that was done, she made sure to have the fuses altogether, tied and ready to be lit. She pushed open a window at the back of the tiny shop, and climbed out, taking the makeshift rope with her. Taking it a safe distance away, she placed it down and headed back to the building. Now it was time for the hard part. She had to find a way to attract the zombies to the building and make it away before they noticed. Or maybe it would be easy. One never knew until the task was complete.
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She leaned against the side of the building, taking a deep breath. All she really had to do was get their attention, wait long enough to see if they noticed her and run inside. She hoped that once at least half of them took notice of her, the others would realize the absence of their comrades and follow suit. Easy peasy, right? Rory really hoped. If not, then she'd be doing some target practice. Taking one last deep breath, Rory rounded the corner, stepping in plain sight of the hoard. she stuck her fingers in her mouth and blew, the shrill whistle that emitted carrying all around her. Almost instantly, at least twenty of them turned towards her unanimously and started stumbling towards her. She backed up slowly into the building, leaving the door open, stepping carefully over the explosive bundles. She snuck a quick peek out of a forward facing window and saw that the movement of the twenty or so zombies was indeed noticed by their counterparts and now the entire group was headed towards her. She grinned to herself and slipped out the back window.
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Crouching down behind it, she watched until she saw the first of them enter the building. Knowing that the others were all dumb enough to join, Rory started heading to her safe zone. As she got nearer, she realized that once she lit the fuse, it would take too long for the flame to reach the explosives. Time to come up with a new plan. She counted to fifteen in her head before taking her zippo out of her pocket and bending down beside the fuse. She glanced back at the building, able to see their stumbling forms through the window. She flicked the lighter and held it against the fuse, watching in fascination as the fuse caught, and started burning rather quickly towards the building. Then it dawned on Rory. If she didn't run, and run NOW, then she there was a huge possibility that she'd end up injured.
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With that track of though, Rory ran as fast as she could away from the building and it wasn't long before she heard the tell tale boom of the dynamite. She wasn't far enough to escape the pressure of the blast and it sent her flying forwards. She hit the ground, hard, and groaned, turning around to see the damage she had cause. She grinned to herself as she watched wood, body parts, blood and entrails flying in any and every direction. Oh yeah. It went well. Now she just hoped that it had gotten them all. If not, it was time for her to see if her aim had gotten better with her gun. She gripped the gun from her back pocket, still on her stomach facing the damage, and aimed it towards the mess. Bring it.

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KIANDRA BOUCHARD - April 14, 2012 10:12 PM (GMT)

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She needed a drink. A drink and a change of scenery. She had met a few people and the social interaction made her feel out of place. For six months she had only known the primal groans of the undead. When she slept they had been her lullaby; when she was out they had let her know she wasn't alone; and when she was alone they had made her appreciate all the things she had once had. But speaking with the living and trying to be more like them and less like the undead was tiresome. So was the insomnia. It was hard telling what was real from what wasn't. Such as her living zombie friend -was he real? Or was she making him up, too? She left the hotel without telling him; sealed off their floor so he was safe. She was wearing skinny jeans, combat boots, a black tank top, and a leather jacket. She didn't usually wear a helmet but this time she tucked her hair inside of one, pulled down the visor, checked her side for her firearm and knife, boarded her Honda, kicked to start, and left. The bike roared when it started and the way that they dead flocked reminded her that the human need for social interaction didn't vanish when your life did. Since the dawn of mankind, however it happened, humans had flocked together. There was a time that they mated for life, family was the most important aspect of living, and even until the outbreak there were people in many parts of the world that still never spent a single moment alone. Even when technology took over first world countries, people spoke on the internet, did social networking, video blogs, public journals. Females and males even went to the restroom together.
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It was a ten, fifteen minute drive from where she was. There wasn't any traffic anymore and the cars that were stopped were easily moved between on her bike. What would happen when all of the gas in the world was gone? She knew the truth, soon everyone would be dead. There wasn't enough ammo or years in the life span of a human to out number the dead. And what if the animals could be infected? Honestly, it didn't matter how smart, cunning, brave, or strong you were -if attacked by a mass you were dead. They'd eat you up, pull you apart. And what if it wasn't only just a bite? What if the contact of their blood in your open wound was just as deadly? That was how a lot of diseases worked and wasn't this just another disease? She had came here once before, after Christy died, for the view and to just get out. Maybe for a while she had thought she was going home. It was in the bottom of a beer that she knew she'd never go home. She was alone. She remembered where the bar was and remembered it could only be accessed by water. She parked a bit from the place, not wanting the attention of an army of the dead when she left. The place was infested -- overrun. Still... Kiandra wasn't afraid. It was hard to be scared of anything anymore, even of Hell, in a time like this. She scrawled in through a window and crept silently behind the bar, opening a beer with a soft hissing sound. The place was quiet away from the soft lapping of water outside. How long would it take for the lack of maintenance to kick in? The water and the weather would take Morgan's Point soon enough.
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She was half way though her drink when she heard it, a clear cut whistle. Deciding to ignore it, she took another swig. She was so much like the dead. Just another name and face that no one remembered. Anyone who had the smallest chance of remembering her was probably dead. Which made her think of Stan. Was he still alive? Even if she went to go see, she'd only be faced with memories of her sister. They had been at the mall once, but not for long. She put a bottle of whiskey in her bag and a few more beers before leaving. She had just exited the window when she heard it: a loud explosion that made the ground under her rattle. At this point, Kiandra heavily doubted that things just blew up anymore. Someone had done it. The whistle floated through her mind and instead of running for her bike she ran the other direction, where smoke billowed over the tops of a few stores. She turned a corner but quickly turned back, pressing herself against the wall. An arm landed in front of her, burned to bits and smelling. She peaked around through the falling and flaming debris and saw a woman laying there. The antagonist. She shrugged off her jacket and moved for her, wrapping the item around the girl and pulling her up without even a hello. Any dead who hadn't been extinguished by the explosion would soon be joining them. A head landed beside them and snapped rudely as Kiandra shoved the girl into an open door of another building.
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"<b>Up, up, go up.</b>" She urged the girl in a voice that wasn't from Texas. She pushed her gently in the direction of the stairs, unsure if the girl could hear. Loud noises had that effect on people. There was a hole in the roof up here, and a ladder leaning curiously through it. Something fell behind them and Kiandra turned quickly, and shot the person out of reflex. Her gun hand gun rang out loud in the small building and the resurrected fell back into the proper slumber of death. When she turned the girl was gone, hopefully up the ladder. So that was where Kiandra went. The sun was bright up here and the wind was keeping the smoke away from it. A few bits of rubble from the building that had blown laid on the roof. She turned around and was once more quick to aim her gun at the being in front of her. Only this time she didn't fire. Her mind was playing the real or not real game. Was this the antagonist that Kiandra had placed her jacket over in case she was hurt? Her ears were ringing, she thought she could hear a voice but it was muffled. She knew then that she had been closer to the explosion than she had thought. Knowing this irritated Kiandra and reminded her why she disliked the living: they did stupid things with the brains to do smart things. The dead were just trying to... survive? Was that what they were doing? It didn't matter. The dead did things without having the good sense to act accordingly.
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