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 FEAR AND LOATHING, OPEN TO ALL MALL RATS
NPC
Posted: Feb 1 2012, 10:48 AM


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FEAR AND LOATHING
The mall had faced a two-prong attack by zombies that had essentially been waiting for an opportunity to strike (not that they are capable of such foresight - as far as we know). The crowd gathered in the department store faced the brunt of the attack while stragglers and survivors who happened to be in the lower levels or near the escalators faced a mob of the undead as well.

There were, of course, injuries though nothing serious. Once the zombies had been dealt with, the mall rats needed to separate their injured from the healthy and get people patched up. The majority of them are currently in the food court. After moving tables and chairs out of the way, they have a large space to spread out blankets and comforters and lay the injured. Medical supplies have been accounted for but items are scarce and it has become inevitable - some people will need to go out and bring back more supplies.

The purpose of this thread is for mall rats to help their injured, delegate roles to the others (barricading weak spots to prevent another zombie attack, finding supplies and fixing people, scavenging for more supplies, etc) and to discuss the future of the mall in general. If you want to add your character to the injured list, please post here and you'll be edited in by an admin or mod.

The Injured:
- ARNIE GILBERT




This post has been edited by NPC on Feb 1 2012, 10:48 AM
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ARNIE GILBERT
Posted: Feb 1 2012, 04:28 PM


30 | TIFF
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Joined: 10-February 11



He awoke on the floor with something thick wrapped around his head. Inside his skull, it felt like a hundred tiny gnomes with jackhammers were going to town on his brain. Opening his mouth to inquire as to what had happened, what was going on, and why there were bandages around his head, Arnie propped himself into an upright sitting position and managed a loud, gutteral groan. "Ohhhh, bloody hell," Well. That certainly wasn't what he'd meant to say. He continued, reaching tenderly to touch his forehead and wincing at the lightning bolt of pain that shot through his skin. "I feel like I just drank my weight in Guiness and passed out under a table overnight though not before cracking my bloody skull on a chair on the way down." It was an apt way to sum up his current condition.

Rubbing his eyes, Arnie squinted and realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. "Oy! Where are my specks?" He glanced around to no avail. Everything was a blurry mess. Sighing heavily and closing his eyes, Arnie rubbed gently at his temples, scowling at the feeling of his skull being cracked open like a walnut. He tried to remember what had happened and why he felt like he'd been asleep for eight days. They'd been watching movies in the department store, there was popcorn and Ainsley was laughing at some joke he'd made and everyone was having a great time until -

Arnie's eyes fluttered open and a tidal wave of nausea hit him so hard he thought he'd fall over. "Zombies," he sputtered. Anxiety flood through his veins and he remembered trying to fight them off with a frying pan. There'd been so many of them. The putrid smell of their decaying flesh still haunted him. "There were zombies," he was talking to nobody in particular. "Is anyone hurt? Was everyone able to make it out safely?" Turning around to look at his surroundings, Arnie realized for the first time that he was in the middle of the food court - the tables and chairs had been cleared away to make a small circle. Around him were others similarly injured. Some had bandages around their arms or legs, each of them laying on a makeshift "cot" of blankets and towels while others busily moved about from patient to patient, handing out bottles of water and offering extra pillows. Arnie's shoulders sagged. They'd been attacked - blindsided by a mob of the undead - and he couldn't help but feel it was all his fault.


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James Hunt
Posted: Feb 1 2012, 06:47 PM


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"We think so." A deep, wavery voice piped up from beside Arnie, worn wheels squeaking on the linoleum as James Hunt attempted to successfully navigate the food court on the wheelchair Ainsley had found him. The tables and chairs had been cleared away, sure, but he'd lost some of his upper body strength since his injury, and the open space was filled with milling people - some moving, some stationary or prone, but it was a crowd, and he'd never been in a wheelchair himself despite his familiarity with them.He'd rather not be out here at all, honestly; he'd only been back from his little horror show of a vacation for a few days now, still felt sick and off-balance and generally unpleasant, but what would it have said to these people if the only doctor among them stayed away from something like this, even in his condition? He'd slept for three days straight, only waking up to scarf whatever food the others saw fit to bring him or wheel himself to the restroom - he was woozy, groggy, and still ashen and gaunt, but people were injured. The most he could say was that people were going out of their way to help him when he set about doing something, and his task load here was lighter than he was sure it would have been under normal circumstances. Whoop-de-fuckin'-do."I-I'm glad you're awake." He put on a tremulous smile, rolling himself a little closer and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees - slowly, minding his ribs. "Would you mind letting me have a look at your head? Y-you look like you took a nasty knock; you might have a concussion." Just as exciting as the rest of this, to be certain; for the last twenty minutes he'd been treating abrasions and cuts, prodding joints and bones (none of which had been broken so far), and generally assuring people that no, they were not dying, and no they had not been infected, so for God's sake stop panicking you idiot. Perhaps not quite in those words, but he'd been thinking it, sure as hell. He hadn't become a surgeon to kiss boo-boos; he would have taken a job as a school nurse or a general practitioner if that was what he wanted. He hadn't performed a good surgery, clandestine or otherwise, in far too long, and while he acknowledged that he was in no shape to do so at the moment, he still felt perfectly in the right for being irritable.
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ALEXANDRIA SERRANO
Posted: Feb 1 2012, 07:58 PM


33 | DAINE
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Joined: 13-February 11



I could use a fresh beginning, too
All of my regrets are nothing new

"Arnie!" What with the current goings-on Lexi had feared the worst for the man that was, essentially, her only friend in this whole place. Having finally caught sight of him, only to see the bandaging around his head, did little to combat the worry that was gnawing at her. Picking her way through the group, Lexi made her way to Arnie's side as quickly as she could. Face flushed, whole body trembling, bloodied baseball bat in one hand, other hand firmly gripping Tobi's and leading him along, screaming baby buckled into a carrier on her front, Lexi certainly looked the part of Zombie Apocalypse Crazy Soccer Mom.

On the inside though, Lexi felt miserable; zombies attack and what's the first thing Lexi does? Gather up the kids and hide.

She'd been considering following the faint scent of popcorn to the movie night she'd been hearing whispers of, despite the fact that doing so would surely keep Tobi up all night hopped up on sugar and excitement, but the idea of mingling with a crowd of people who had grown to hate her was incredibly off-putting. Lexi was well aware of just how many bridges she'd burned by means of hormonal fits of anger and emotion and none too keen to go sully the event by stopping by. Plus, she'd have to bring the baby and who in the history of the world had ever appreciated having a screaming baby behind them at the movies? In the end, Lexi had decided to put the baby in a stroller, head out, and try to find someone to take Tobi with them to the movie, armed with the excuse that she could not attend because she needed to get the baby to bed. And armed with the baseball bat that she always kept in the bottom of the stroller. Good thing, too, because the first person she'd come across wasn't a person at all, but the zombie whose brains she'd bashed in. Panicked, Lexi had somehow maneuvered Tobi into the stroller with the baby and sprinted back for her home store. Once there, Lexi locked the place down and waited out the attack, only coming back out, baby strapped to her chest via carrier this time, once one of the other Mall Rats came by on his way to the Security Office and been able to give her the all clear. Did Lexi feel bad about holing up and waiting things out rather than rushing in to help? Yes, of course. But Tobi and Ames were her top priority. Period. No ifs, ands, or buts.

"Arnie! You okay?" Silly question, he did have his head in a bandage after all, but it was the first thing that came to mind. James didn't seem too terribly worried though and that, more than anything else, helped calmed Lexi's nerves. After having delivered her baby and keeping her alive in the process, Lexi literally trusted James with her life. His absence had been sorely noted in her book and she couldn't even begin to tell how relieved she was to have him back. "Everybody in one piece, Doctor? Anyone...bit?" Her voice was nervous and dripping with worry; Elliott was drinking himself into oblivion over the last bitten person the Mall Rats had faced. Last thing they needed right now was another Dan situation. Setting the baseball bat down, Lexi gave half her attention to her screaming daughter. Amelia hadn't quit wailing since Lexi had had to use that baseball bat and having a screaming baby in the midst of all this seemed quite the unwelcome addition.


Rexi, hope you don't mind me saying that Tobi is with Lexi. I assumed it was nighttime and she'd probably been getting him ready for bed. I can change it if you want though.

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therese bouvier
Posted: Feb 2 2012, 06:25 PM


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As only three-quarters of a nurse, Therese really wasn't ready for this kind of crap yet.Don't get her wrong: she was glad she was able to help out, but damn. When the virus first hit, she was only sixty percent through her schooling, and needless to say, months without any review didn't make her a prime candidate. But aside from the man currently tending to Arnie, she seemed to be the only person relatively close to qualifying as medical personnel within ear shot.It was...kind of horrifying, especially considering that she couldn't get something else--or, er, someone else--off of her mind, even as she wrapped up what must have been the grossest flesh wound she had ever seen. They were exposed to some pretty sick stuff in nursing school as to make patch-and-fix work was second-nature, but the amount of exposed skin on the leg of the young man before her was pretty gruesome. It wasn't particularly threatening. It was just gross."Don't look, okay? It looks worse than it is. Please--" The young kid sat up and wailed as his eyes fell on his leg, the howling wrenching into her temples as though someone were digging a screwdriver into it. She flinched and sat back, taking care to make quick work of bandaging up the cleansed wound."Just sit here, I'll find someone to give you some aspirin..." Therese stood on shaky legs and moved away from the whimpering young adult, rubbing at her forehead and moving to a table set aside for medical supplies, which she rummaged through distractedly.She hadn't yet seen him among the wounded. She hadn't seen him among the caretakers.But she didn't have time to panic. With shaky hands she took up a roll of bandages and made her way over to the doctor with no intentions of using the roll in her hand. It was more or less to make herself look busy as she scanned the food court, taking a step toward the man with the head injury and the doctor tending to him. "Everything alright, here?" template by bree!
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ARNIE GILBERT
Posted: Feb 4 2012, 02:18 PM


30 | TIFF
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He sighed in relief, shoulders sagging as though a weight had been removed from them. Never in his life had Arnie been so glad to see James. "A concussion. Probably. Think someone beaned me with a candlestick in the middle of the scuffle." Instinctively, he reached out to touch his bandaged head and winced. "No need to inspect me though, I'm just supposed to stay awake for a few hours to avoid falling into a coma then I'll be right as rain, eh?" He tried to keep his tone lighthearted and even managed to chuckle feebly at his own joke. Truthfully, Arnie felt like shite but it was the guilt that gnawed away at him. That movie night, getting everybody into one enclosed space, that had been partially his idea and now people were injured because of it. James' expertise would be far more useful elsewhere, tending to those who were more hurt than he. Arnie attempted to get to his feet, ignoring the fact that his head was pounding so hard he might actually vomit. He reached a hand into the breast pocket of his shirt and discovered his glasses had been placed there. Wiping the lenses carefully with a corner of the comforter, he placed them back on his nose.

He turned suddenly at the sound of a familiar voice and a look of relief washed over him. "Lexi, yes, yes I'm fine. You are too?" She appeared to be doing a lot better than a number of the others. He was on his feet now, shaky but keeping his balance. "All right, we're all okay," he said more to himself than the others. His eyesight seemed to be clearing and the world was coming into focus now. "How are we doing on supplies? Bandages and the like? And fresh water?" He looked from Lexi and James to the newest arrival, Therese. There were far too many people laying about injured, Arnie realized as he took stock of the situation. Some of them hadn't even been in the department store for the movie. It was then that it occurred to him - there had been two attacks. The question was on the tip of his tongue but he felt unable to form coherent words and sentences. A look of panic flashed in his eyes.

"Does anyone know what the damage is like? And Ainsley - where is she? Is she all right?" Arnie's voice caught in his throat. "Is she hurt?"


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AINSLEY MOREL
Posted: Feb 5 2012, 09:06 PM


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Joined: 13-October 11



If Ainsley had had her way, she wouldn't have left the food court or a certain Brit's side for the world, but the world didn't conform to her silly, whimsical wishes. Or, more accurately, there wasn't room enough for a teary, panicking and largely irrational woman amidst the wounded still being carted in. She didn't have any useful medical skills to pitch in with the wounded, and very quickly the ragtag team of would-be medics had gotten tired of tripping over her. Eventually, she'd surrendered the Brit's glasses to his breast pocket and allowed herself to be guided by the elbow out of the way of the bustling team. She'd ended up, more out of guilt than anything else, moving bodies while the more qualified people mended the injured. None of the faces of the dead were familiar, and that was the only saving grace of the day. There hadn't been any fatalities, not unless someone had gone downhill in the food court. It was a small mercy, and one quickly drowned out by the voices in her head that were telling her, over and over, that this was all her fault. If she hadn't left the department store, she could've protected Arnie. If she hadn't gotten so worked up over the idea, they wouldn't have had the movie night in the first place, and they wouldn't have had most of the mall's population all crammed in one place like some undead buffet. So she slung bodies, lifting and dragging with the help of a survivor she couldn't remember the name of, and tried not to let the tears overwhelm her with every zombie corpse they stacked for burning. Soon, her muscles and her heart were aching, and her companion shooed her away from their work. "Go get cleaned up, Ains" he'd said, and when she protested, added, more firmly, "we're still going to be here when you get back. Go get a drink or something. Get your head together."

With that encouragement, Ainsley had reluctantly retired her services, instead wandering aimlessly while she debated the virtues of trying to pull her weight somewhere else or curling up in a ball of guilt and self-pity in some dark corner of the mall. There were people all over, picking up the pieces after the attack. She wanted to help, but felt her whole body protest at the the thought. Eventually, Ainsley found herself back at the food court, and though every part of her said stop looking, idiot, you're only going to make yourself worse, she couldn't help but watch the hustle and bustle of bodies wandering the wounded. A group had gathered, and for a few moments Ainsley was alarmed. Someone had to be hurt. Badly hurt. But on closer inspection, it didn't look like it... on closer inspection, it was James and Lexi and Tobi and the baby and Therese and Arnie. He was on his feet and he had bandages wrapped around his head and she was suddenly walking with intense purpose, arms folded tightly across her chest as she darted between people a little less coherent than Arnie and the others. "Arnie, y-you asshole," she hissed when she got near, and she could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. At the last moment, she unfolded her arms, wrapping them tightly around the injured Brit. Discretion. Ainsley had none. "You idiot... I th-thought they'd killed you."

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Cerise Bryson
Posted: Feb 7 2012, 09:40 PM


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♥My hands Are Small I KnowAnd if we could, let's just skip the whole "Ambush me and make me fight for my life" thing, because I am so incredibly tired.~ Ms. Marvel During the time of the attack Cerise had had been nestled in one of the resting area lounges playing a DS system She had nabbed from the game stop. She had contemplated on heading to the “Movie Night” but she just didn’t feel like watching Ghostbusters. Not that it was a bad movie it just wasn’t her main choice. Though, as soon as the screaming and yelling ensued she knew there was something seriously wrong. Ghostbusters really wasn’t that scary of a movie. Wouldn’t you know it…all hell broke loose.After the horde of zombies had been taken out and the wounded sorted and taken to the court. Cerise made her own way there too. One of the other adults she had recognized but not know by name told her to go get checked over all because she took a spill. It wasn’t anything serious probably a light sprain, she had gotten them all the time in softball. Hell it wasn’t bad at all she could still walk on it it just seared a little. Just as she rounded the corner to the hall way leading to the food court she heard the screams and yells of a young male. A woman doing her best to bandage his leg. It was then the severity of the situation hit her. There were so many injured and wounded and so very few to who could attend them. Cerise furrowed her brows. She had been in the mall this whole time and not really done much but shuffle about and drag her feet. She may not be much use, however it seemed the adults could use all the help they could get. “Um..E-Excuse me…is…there anything I can do to help? Please? I...” her mouth snapping shut as she anticipated the usual speech that most adults gave kids. Ironically she was just a few months shy from being legally considered one. She knew however, they would probably just view her as a kid. this template was made by drew.Altered by BUNNY
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James Hunt
Posted: Feb 9 2012, 02:25 PM


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Of all the sounds that could have accompanied this little nightmare, a screaming baby was not the one he had been looking forward to most; he closed his eyes briefly in a show of exasperation as the squalling brat drew inevitably closer, informing him of just who was intending to drop by. He'd administered a few post-natal exams to Lexi Serrano and her baby prior to his ill-fated departure for Galveston General, and they had served to remind him just how much he despised babies - a fact he had nearly been able to forget some dozen years since his youngest child had been in diapers. Evan had been a relatively good rugrat, at least in comparison to his older sister, but the gangly squirt had still been a pain in the ass to raise, and he had been adamant to Madeline that they have no more kids for precisely this reason - he just didn't like them. That wasn't the reason he had given her, of course, but the fact remained - babies set his teeth on edge like few other things could."Not that I've seen, thank God." He smiled at Lexi, running a hand through lank hair that he had had neither the opportunity nor the inclination to cut yet. "We were remarkably lucky." Although that wasn't quite the way he saw it, frankly - all the fact that they had so many injured and not a single infected meant to him was that the entire mall was filled with idiots more inclined to run into things and hurt themselves than be hurt by outside causes. His faith in humanity was fragile enough as it was, and this was doing nothing to help that cause. He looked at Therese as she approached and replicated that reassuring smile, a key piece of his largely successful bedside manner. "For the most part, yes. No casualties, at least.""Hopefully." James addressed Arnie again, doing his best to conceal his irritation at being resisted - although if the man truly did have a more serious brain injury, what did it matter to him if he dropped dead in a few days? Let him have his intracranial hemorrhaging, then. "Y-you're going to need more rest for the next few days; too much physical activity could aggravate the injury." Not that he expected Arnie to follow his orders - he might not be able to empathize with it, but he could pick out markers of guilt on his face, and metaphorical self-flagellation seemed to go hand in hand with the feeling. Moron. "We have less than I'd like, but no one's going to be left without." He informed him with a sigh, leaning back in his wheelchair and wincing. "We're going to be left short after this little fiasco, though." He frowned at the mention of Ainsley, his sallow cheeks drawing as he reflexively looked around. She had taken to checking in with him at the clinic obnoxiously often the last few days, but he hadn't seen her since the attack. "I-I don't know." He responded bluntly, though he softened his tone in an attempt at tact.But speak of the devil, as they say - it took barely a minute after the comment for Ainsley to be clinging to Arnie like a limpet. Nothing to worry about there, then, and he restrained the impulse to roll his eyes, turning away from the emotional display in favor of a young lady whose face he couldn't quite put a name to - Cecilia, maybe? Serene? He couldn't care less."Not unless you know how to clean wounds, love." He smiled at her kindly, though he felt anything but. "Keeping proper supplies handy would be a help, maybe passing around some water." He looked back to Ainsley and raised his voice a little to be heard. "He likely has a concussion, Ainsley. I-I don't suppose I could trouble you to keep a close eye on him for the next day or so?"
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MAGDALENA LEEUWENHOEK
Posted: Feb 10 2012, 09:38 AM


27 | NINJA
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Posts: 260
Member No.: 255
Joined: 5-March 11



She crouched forward, spent by the trail of red scattered across the first floor of the mall. Blood pooled, splattered and sprayed against surfaces: glass windows, marble tiles, leather boots, denim shorts and human skin. Tightening her grasp around the handle, she thrust the tip of the blade through a girl with the missing jaw. Dark red oozed out of squelching necrotic tissue, Magdalena thinned her lip. Daughter, sister, lover, friend, enemy, stranger: they were fragments. Has been labels from whence the girl commanded her body with her heart, mind and soul. There was nothing left inside. Remorse was a fleeting matter. Emotions paid the price of survival. All emotions deadened, save the will to live another day.

Heart racing, Magdalena thundered back to the food court. Sheen of sweat dampened the dried blood on her skin. Their wounded populated at centre of the court. "Casualties?" She called out siding by Bouvier and Hunt, the two of the three people whom, to some extent, were versed with medical training. What she wanted to know most was if any of their own, regardless of their alliance to whatever faction or none, died by the hoard. Relief caressed her core, but they were not out of the woods yet. "Birdie, has anyone seen Birdie? Parker and Maxwell?" Peering through familiar faces, vultures plucked the skin and hairs on her flesh.

The Dutchwoman collected her thoughts together, segregating mind numbing emotions in an airtight jar. She needed her head clear. Time was running out. "Walkers breached the east entrance. From the looks of it, they loosed the boards and got in," Lena licked her lips. "Ben and West are started ahead with what we have, which isn't a lot. We need to strengthen the boards up as soon as possible." She pointed her gaze at each and everyone of them. "We don't want a second showing of zombies in the mall anytime soon...How are we faring on supplies?" Magdalena seamed into the the role of a leader, all the while blaming herself for not pushing the iron harder on their backs. Sighing, she kept her exasperation on check. Her stomach somersaulted. Elliott Maxwell. Despite their differences, she really could use him right now. "We need every able bodied men and women to come together in this one."

She loosed her hair from its knot. Weaving her fingers through her scalp, Magdalena fashioned her tresses in a high ponytail. "And we need to do it fast." Her fingers itched. It would've been so easy to point the blame on those who resisted adapting to the militant approach started by Foster herself. Rubbing her fingers on her palms, Lena could not point the blame on the civilians. If anything, she should have tried harder in convincing them the world was no longer spun by good will and love alone. This was her fault. Had she taken the moment to listen to her head and not the monologues of her vagina, she had much to loose venturing to see Sullivan when occassion permitted. Lena steadied her voice. "Hunt and Bouvier, are you okay with handling the injured?”

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therese bouvier
Posted: Feb 10 2012, 10:43 AM


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"Il n'y a pas-- I mean, no. No casualties that we know of, aside from these injured." Magdalena approached, and Therese felt the French slip out before she could even register there was a discrepancy. She had been listening to the conversations taking place between the frayed words and harried gasps around her, but her mind was racing in her native tongue--the only language capable of encapsulating the unbearable grief settling in the pit of her stomach.The commanding woman that had taken up residence beside her managed to divert Therese's attentions momentarily from the beguiling rake that was worrying her silly. Magdalena--a name that Therese's accent would most likely never learn to agree with--tended to have that effect on the nurse; an adroit young woman, she oozed raw power and her requisitions were accepted by Therese with little resistance.From what she had seen so far in the apparent power struggle, she and Magdalena would not reach an accord when it came to survival policies--but, damn, did that woman know how to command a room.It was these qualities that compelled Therese to reply to Magdalena's inquiries as promptly as possible (though said "inquiries" were more akin to barked orders than anything), the nurse's head shaking vigorously in response. "I...I haven't seen them. Anyone who isn't already here..."She trailed off, the implication in her words too grave for even her own conscious to handle. Therese twisted the roll of bandages in her hands, glancing about in one last ditch effort to find him."Is Dacre down there? H-he might already be helping out. I..." She glanced at Arnie's injured head and pursed her lips in defiance of the distress that burned at the back of her throat. Fuck. "Yeah, I-I can stay here with James. I think we can handle this." They had to.template by bree!
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FLO SHOFRANKA
Posted: Feb 10 2012, 12:06 PM


20 | KRYS
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Group: MALL RATS
Posts: 110
Member No.: 572
Joined: 12-August 11



Flo limped into the food court, breathing heavily and eyes searching quickly for Lena. She was a girl on a mission. A girl with a message. Her head could barely work through Romanian, much less English. She needed someone who would understand her message on the first try. Flo spotted the blonde woman and made her way over to deliver her message. "Verificati nivelul. conditii de siguranta la locul de munca. Ben are nevoie de mai ajuta si mai mult lemn."*

They had been working steadily to clear the zombies that had made their way into the mall. Flo had traded her curtain rod for a machete long ago, and it might not have been as effective as a gun but it had done the job for her. Blood was splattered across the front of her clothes, but it wasn't hers. 

She couldn't let herself think much further beyond getting the help Ben had asked for. Flo was too exhausted and too reluctant to process what she had seen and done. The lower levels of the mall were full of blood and bodies, it looked like Z-day all over again in some places. If she had been aware enough, she might have been impressed with the number of zombies she had dispatched herself. But she wasn't letting herself think about it. Especially because some of those zombies had once been faces she recognized.

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


*Level checked. safely at work. Ben needs more help and more wood.
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ALEC PARKER
Posted: Feb 10 2012, 09:14 PM


32 | GG
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Joined: 20-December 11



Good intentions.

The evening had been full of good intentions, but what they'd got was blood. Parker had intended on dropping in on the group in time to catch the movie (he'd heard whispers that Ghostbusters was on the play list - add a plate of pancakes and you had the recipe for a perfect night in Parker's world), but his intentions were violently derailed when his habitual turn around the mall was interrupted by a scream. A woman he didn't recognize was cornered by three walking dead. Three bullets later, and he'd escorted her to the nearest occupied shop and helped them lock down. By then the assault was in full swing - the survivors he encountered were fleeing skirmishes with undead in no less than three areas of the mall. There was a concentrated force at the department store. There was an influx of the undead in the lower levels. They'd been lax, and they'd reaped the rewards of their complacency tonight. The injured licked their wounds where they could. The more serious cases had been taken to the food court for treatment. Gaggles of survivors milled about, uncertain - some trying to clear the undead from their corners of the mall, some still in lockdown, some complying with the pressing neds now - to eliminate what threat was still present, and to try and secure the mall again while the survivors regrouped.

Corpses spilled from the mouth of the department store, the stench overpowering even from a distance. Here and there a body twitched, Parker and two survivors who had banded with him moved methodically, making short work of the incapacitated zombies. There were clean-up crews already on duty - the last thing they needed was a nasty surprise when they went to dispose of a corpse that wasn't quite dead yet.

But the department store hadn't yet finished with its surprises. A short ways from the bulk of the carnage Parker had found her - bloodied and spacy and sporting an arm that looked very suspiciously broken, but otherwise, it seemed, relatively unhurt. Birdie Flynn. Parker didn't know her well - had heard more about her and her talents than he had interacted with her - but nonetheless, it was a relief to find her alive. Morale would be at an all time low after this. They didn't need more deaths on their minds and their consciences. A short interview, in which they ascertained that no, she was not infected and yes, she did need medical attention, and Parker holstered his gun. "Let's get you looked at," was all the warning he gave before he hooked an arm beneath her knees and around her torso and lifted her off the ground.

He spent the majority of the walk to the food ourt in silence, his mind on overdrive as he pieced together what the attack would mean for the survivors. There would be shortages. There would be unrest. Certain people would use it to further their own agendas. Parker listed in his mind each player in the game, and tried to figure out their part in it, before allowing himself to think about where it left him. In an awkward position, he determined, and not just because he was waltzing through the chaos carrying a small, doe-eyed woman with a bashed-up arm. It'd be too easy if we'd been able to sit down and watch a movie, he thought, and the smile that lit his lips was bittersweet.

"Sorry we're late," he said as he approached the gaggle of people in the food court, careful not to step on the prone bodies that surrounded them or to trip and toss Birdie into the nearest unfortunate. His arms ached, and he repositioned her slightly, careful to mind her injury. "Could use a hand with the lady's hand, Doctor. Where do you want her?" Hunt looked little better than the rest of the crew, but Parker deferred to his expertise. He was up and about, wheelchair or not, and that was a far sight better than a lot of the people gathered. "Who's doing what, and where, Lena? There's a group cleaning up the worst on this level - how bad is it down there." A lot of things could be said for Magdalena, but she was thorough, and she was on the ball. He would've been surprised if she hadn't already started rallying the troops.

[>_> is too long omg sorry guys.]

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DACRE BRAND
Posted: Feb 11 2012, 12:49 PM


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I REMEMBER WHEN I LOST MY MIND.Dawdling. If there’s one thing he cannot stand, it’s dawdling. When he wants to do something, he does it. When he needs something done, he gets it done. He simply cannot tolerate sitting around idly. Everything Dacre does has a purpose. The day was nearly finished, all his supplies had been inventoried, the canned goods stowed away and the alcohol hidden in some area of Barnes & Noble or another. The only thing keeping him from collapsing into an armchair and lighting up for the remainder of the evening is his conscience – something equivalent to an STD in the tar-washed mind of Dacre Brand. It had started the second he stopped blowing off the stupid requests for help in the Galleria’s cafeteria—like it was the most natural thing in the world, for Christ's sake. It was like he’d stuck his fingers in boiling water and not felt the sting until it was too late—but the jerk, the psychological dissonance, the what the fuck of the situation still hadn't chased him down until he was throwing pain killers and bandages in a knapsack and zipping up his coat and hurrying out of the Barnes & Noble. He knew it didn’t make any fucking sense. He knew there was zero incentive for him to care—hell, he definitely didn’t care—whether or not Therese or the other survivors were safe. He hadn’t been here when the walkers attacked – he’d been sleeping in a 7-11 with a stab wound and a red-headed Florence Nightingale. This wasn’t his problem. This was fucking out of character. This didn’t make any sense. It was the kind of thing some sappy moronic little shit with sticky eyeliner and smeared lip gloss would do before he/she/it talked about how the meaning of life was laughter. He wasn’t doing this for any reason in particular, really. He certainly wasn’t doing it to impress an ex-girlfriend, or turn over a new leaf – oh, no, perish the thought! And yet here he was. Dacre acknowledged the older man in the wheelchair with a nod, a small, friendly gesture that passed for genuine at a yard’s distance, and moved to pull the supplies out of his bag. “You’re the doctor?” He looked the type. “It isn’t much, but I ’spose it is what it is,” he said with a shrug, extending them to him. A measly offering at best, but whatever medical supplies he’d looted earlier had been traded away for cigarettes and condoms. He shrugged loosely, glancing about the room and crossing his arms. He saw Therese from several yards away and he felt himself stiffen into paralysis as his gaze followed her. He could practically feel his ego expand when she mentioned him. Silent and still, Dacre’s stealth was impressive for a man of his obscene confidence, and like some shadow, he walked toward her and admired how perfectly fine the woman in front of him looked, before he stepped behind her. He leaned forward, keeping himself behind her, and did his best not to laugh in relief. “Were you worried about me?” he asked wryly, with all the ease of someone who had neither noticed the strain in his voice nor would particularly care. “Glad you’re safe, darlin’. If you’d gotten hurt...” He trailed off, pausing to glance in Magdalena’s direction. “What would you like me to do? We’re obviously going to need more supplies soon...at this point I doubt what we have will last very long.” He shifted on his feet, ignoring the pain in his side. “I go out a lot. We should consider pulling together some sort of scavenging group.”
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VIRGIL BLAKE
Posted: Feb 11 2012, 01:27 PM


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Group: TARGET PRACTICE
Posts: 157
Member No.: 482
Joined: 19-May 11




turn around and run away


To think, if he’d stayed in Waldenbooks and not allowed curiosity to get the better of him, Virgil would be safe, sound and know nothing of this chaotic aftermath. What were the odds? Honestly? He sat away from the rest of the Mall Rats, the wounded and the carers both, unwilling to tend to the injured. Nobody knew he’d been a hospital orderly before the apocalypse, and he wasn’t about to advertise the fact, because frankly, he’d not enjoyed the job and definitely didn’t want to revisit it. He kept re-reading the same sentence in his copy of Hemingway, the book he’d attempted to read when they were attacked in the department stores. He turned to the next page of the novel, hands shaking so badly he tore a corner. He grunted his disappointment.

Would it be that bad if he stood up and yelled for every to shut up? They were making far too much noise. He couldn’t focus properly. He’d already read this damn paragraph! Virgil ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking his head and breathing in and out as steadily as possible. Blood was in the air. Blood and fear. He could hear James Hunt, playing his part perfectly even though Blake knew the man was inwardly repulsed. That baby wouldn’t stop screaming. His stoic breathing was becoming more and more frantic. Leaving was an option, naturally, but if they spotted him going they’d all think he was a heartless bastard who didn’t care. He sighed. He had to stick around and try to help. So he closed the novel gently and put it down on the table. Standing up was hard work. Virgil lurked at the very edge of the makeshift food court hospital, attempting to recognize people. He couldn’t put any names to any faces, besides Ainsley and Arnie and James of course. The rest were people he’d either never seen or had glanced to once or twice over the months.

“I have medical training.” He said as loud as he dared, unsure who wanted to the information and too much of a follower to strike out and start helping the hurt by himself. Lena was ordering folks about, and even though working closely with Hunt would make him sick, he’d do it if it won him a few more smiles in the corridors. He couldn’t remain self-exiled forever. It was time to pull a little weight. Perhaps he should have announced his training a little sooner, but everyone had been getting along just fine without him. Everyone always got along fine without him.


TAG: mall rats WORDS: ---

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