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KARI RADAKIN
Posted: May 5 2012, 05:26 PM


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OBADIAH EVANS
Posted: May 23 2012, 07:07 PM


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Obadiah was using a crow bar to jimmy open the file cabinets in the Walmart pharmacy office and wasn’t being very quiet about it, as the two dead walkers lying at the door could testify. Seems the crow bar could open more things than just the file drawers. He had spent his first 30 minutes searching the selves for pain killers, antibiotics and ant-inflammatory drugs. He hadn’t had the time to rest his bad knee and now it was swelling to the point that his jean leg was binding on it.

He knew that this place would have been stripped clean and he wasn’t disappointed when he found the shelves of the pharmacy near empty.
All of the best drugs were gone from the shelves and from the pharmacy area behind the counter. But there was one drug still on the shelves that he quickly scooped into his backpack…Hemorrhoid cream. Obadiah wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had known a couple of bodybuilders that used it before competitions to help removing excess water from their skin so they would appear more cut. He laughed at it then, but now he was hoarding the shit like gold.

He had finished his search of the pharmacy, cursing all the old people that had used the drugs. He was about to head back outside when his eyes landed on the locked records room. Seeing the room he froze as an idea filled his head and a smile crossed his face…records…names ….addresses.

Someone had already broken the door halfway down and a quick pull of the crow bar, the lock popped and what was left of the door swung open. A few more minutes and two brain smashed zombies later and all the drawers were open. Obadiah flipped through one of the folders, glad that it this age…the age that was…had not gone totally paperless, the government had still required paper backups for Medicare and Medicaid reporting. Four or five pages into the first file and Obadiah knew he was facing a major task. His backpack would never hold all the files, so he headed for the luggage department and scored a rather large wheeled duffle bag. It was dark purple with light colored purple flowers all over it, probably why no one had taken it. Funny how even now some people could be picky. His next stop was the book department, he had seen the name of some of the drugs in the file and although he knew a few of them, the rest were Greek to him, (actually Latin but who gave a shit anymore). Obadiah was on a roll and found a hefty sized medical drug dictionary.

Trying his best to be as silent as he possible, Obadiah started back to the file room. Having seen a few walkers near the rear of the store, he was being more attentive to his surrounds. A quick look over his shoulder toward the entrance, he thought he could make out a figure hanging in the shadows. Bullets were becoming more and more precious so he would have to wait until the zombie came close enough to use the crow bar.

Once back in the file room, after closing what was left of the door, he grabbed handful after handful of files stuffing them into the duffle bag. Looking up, he saw more movement outside of the door, ‘Shit’ he thought as he waited to see what would appear at the hole in the door.
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KARI RADAKIN
Posted: May 29 2012, 12:36 PM


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OBADIAH EVANS
Posted: Jun 3 2012, 06:04 PM


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One minute, then two minutes passed and nothing appeared at the door, Obadiah breathed a sigh for relief. At a maddening pace he dumped the last of the files into the duffle bag; he had become paranoid of being trapped in the small file room with a horde of blood thirsty creatures at the door. Moving through the pharmacy, he took notice that more of the zombies were filing into the front of the Wal-mart. “Damn evening shoppers,” he said under his breath, to which his stomach gave a low rumble. Patted his near empty belly, he replied, “Yup, I know,” and slowly headed to see what, if anything was left on the food aisles.

The going as even slower with the duffle bag, even with wheels, but Obadiah didn’t want to attract any more attention than was needed. A couple of times he stopped as a few walkers crossed in front of him not more than twenty feet. As they paid him no mind, he wondered just what was bringing the dead back here. Was it some lasting memory? Some acting out of a daily routine? Or could it be the smell of the rotting meat that was becoming stronger the closer he got? The stench was almost unbearable as he resorted to covering his nose and mouth with his bandanna.

Obadiah skipped the frozen food and bread aisles and headed to the canned foods, hoping that something was left. Turning into the aisle marked coffee, he cursed as all that was left was decaff. Grabbing two of the large cans of the stuff and whatever was left of the dry creamer. Sugar was gone too, but there was an assortment of the fake shit left, that went into his backpack as well.

Next were the canned fruits. The aisle was all but bare; nothing could be seen remaining on the shelves. Obadiah squatted and duck walked his way along, scanning the bottom shelf hoping that something had been missed. He was in luck; two cans had fallen over and rolled to the back. He had to almost lie down to reach them. With both arms extended as far as he could reach, he finally got his fingers round the cans. Pulling them out, he inspected his prize, ‘Gooseberries in light syrup,’ he read, ‘what the f*** is a gooseberry?’ He was disappointed but at the same time delighted, he had been hoping for peaches.

Obadiah’s quick look to the far end of the aisle revealed one of the dead had decided join him. The creature stumbled a few steps and stopped to turn and gaze at the empty shelves. Obadiah took this as his cue to slowly move toward the other end of the aisle. But just as he started to move, he caught sight of more cans on the other side of the aisle. These stood in a neat row, three, no four cans deep at least.

With the zombies attention elsewhere, Obadiah bellied crawled across the floor and swept the cans out and into his backpack. As the last can rolled in, it was all he could do not to laugh as he saw the words ‘Canned Prunes’.

Easing to his feet with one arm in the straps of his backpack and the other hand on the rolling duffle bag, he headed away from his fellow shopper. Rounding the end of the aisle he was shocked as he almost came face to face with a young dark haired woman holding a rather ominous weapon in her hand. With the space on an aisle between them and she holding a weapon, Obadiah could use his backpack to hold off an attack maybe long enough to free his machete, but the call was going to be all hers.
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KARI RADAKIN
Posted: Jun 6 2012, 10:28 PM


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OBADIAH EVANS
Posted: Jun 11 2012, 08:04 PM


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Obadiah held her with his steely gaze, letting no emotion show. He was taken aback by the sound of her voice at first, but soon it clicked in his head. Of course it had to be that he had not heard another living person’s voice in what was it how? How many days? Or had it been weeks? Since the dead had started walking around, time had lost some of its former meaning. There was nowhere any longer to rush to. No job to go to, no major appointment that had to be made. Now instead of time being measured in minutes and hours, one day just melted into the next. Sometimes you got to sleep and sometimes you huddled in some out of the way place and listened to the sounds of the dead. Like the sound that was coming ever closer behind him at this very minute.

“I really don’t want to fight with you either,” Obadiah said just loud enough for the young woman to hear him. “We can stand here and let these rotting dead get us or we can work together.” Obadiah looked over his shoulder back up the aisle he had come from. “I say we get what we can and hopefully get out of here.”

Obadiah tried to smile, hoping it would put the girl at ease. She could have more information about where some of the others might be held up. He had slowly and steadily working his way through Houston searching for that one remaining piece of his past.

“What do you say?” he held out the backpack, but not far enough for her to grab it “I got some canned prunes and some gooseberries.” His left hand had released the handle of the duffle bag on wheels and had made its way to the small of his back where one of his 9 m. m. pistols was nestled. “Are we going to work together?”
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KARI RADAKIN
Posted: Jun 14 2012, 12:16 PM


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OBADIAH EVANS
Posted: Jun 20 2012, 07:22 PM


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Obadiah nodded in acknowledgement but had little time to say more than, "I'm Obadiah," as Kari darted away. Slinging his pack into place, he headed after her. Watching her scavenge the aisle for whatever was left, he mused about how being young with a pretty face use to be all a girl needed but in today’s world young and pretty could get you killed or worse, not only her but also him. Men had a tendency to lower their guard around girls such as Kari and that could get them killed. But Obadiah had long ago overcome that flaw. In this new world everyone still alive was a potential enemy regardless of sex or age.

Obadiah watched the ever moving and seemly closing in walkers as Kari grabbed what she could. He had already got his prize…the medical records and now casually picked over the spices and staple goods. He had most of what he needed back at his temporary hide out. He had stumbled onto the place about a month ago he guessed, he remembered one full moon since then and he had spent a few days moving most of his goods into it.

It had been quite a while since he had seen another living person and a couple of days company might do him some good, that is if he could persuade Kari. Besides he wanted to know what she knew about this area of Houston. He had gotten a lead some time ago that perhaps the people he was looking for had been headed this way. He would have to be careful how he went about it, he had already picked up on her distrust, something he too all too well. He remembered another young woman who had disappeared on him inside a homeless shelter and the young man that had left him in the sewer. Not that he blamed them; it was the distrust or the fear. To team up with another person was always a risk, there was a chance they would try to kill you and take your stuff.
Early on more than a couple of people had tried that with him and more than one paid with their lives. That was the ones that he had felt sorry for, the others him had left bleeding for the flesh eaters to have.

Obadiah could afford to take chances, maybe that was because he had already accepted the fact that there was no getting out of this Hell on Earth and that it was not these flesh eating abominations, but they, the living, that where the true walking dead.

Watching Kari as she scrapped any and everything into her backpack, he asked, “How long has it been since you have eaten a good meal?”
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