[Frallon]

-45 minutes later-
Reece tosses an armful of snapped sticks into a dim fire, they ignite almost instantly, and toss shadows over the faces of the survivors. He stares into the pit as the fuel builds embers and illuminates the trees around them. They had found a good spot, not ideal, still a little close to the city, but covered from the road and any possible buildings that could have people looking down at them. It was a nice hunting shack, like someone had taken a ice shanty with them during the panic, probably on a trailer; smart move until it was weighting whoever had it down. It was cozy, like a miniature house, just enough room for five people to lay stretched across the floors; not that such a thing would help them when no one seemed eager to sleep..They'd peeled a side of the roof back, facing away from the city, for the smoke to trail out of and since then no one had moved.

Someone had to say something, get a conversation going, anything to not be so tense; of course it'd been the majority vote to head towards the death trap they'd just escaped from. Morale must be low. Reece situates himself in one of the corners and stretches out so his toes can feel the heat from the fire. His hands move inside the ruffed up bag until they retrieve a can and with disregard for whatever was selected he begins to chow down. Pork and Beans, again, sadly he knows he'll miss the taste when the last can of his food supply drops to zero; two days, everyone would be low, and he'd be starving. This campaign had been a bad move for momentum.

[Ruby Snipa]

The grim faces on the group had shown Mike that the decision to go into Denver was based their on free will, unlike his decision which was made for him. He looked into the eyes of the woman across from him and saw that she was still eyeing him warily, as was everyone else. He catiously dug through his bag for some food, a blank can, and his can opener. He set the can into the coals for about a minute. He left it set as he examined the ragtag group and used a stick to roll the can out of the fire and into the snow. As he opened the can he casted a glance at everyone in the group and then looked at his food. Baked beans with bacon. He begins to smile, but ceases as he senses a glance toward his direction.

[Zombreach]

Megan sits several feet away from the fire, her attention occasionally shifting to the Russian. The warmth radiating off the small flames barely reaches her, and she puts out her hands, rubbing them together. Like the others, she does not feel like conversation--the days events taking their toll on her. Her eyes drift to the stranger as he opens a can of food. She does not feel hungry...her stomach churning from too much stress. Instead of food, she craves drink, and she reaches into her pack and pulls out the remainder of the whiskey she had taken earlier. The bottle to her mouth, she looks at the Russian man again, taking a long swig. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she passes the bottle to Corey without so much as a glance.

[ZombifiedBrendan]

Corey sat in the corner of the small hut, knees pulled up to his chin and his face down. The only part of his face the four other people in the hut could see was the few strands of skin that the fire shown brightly through the hair that draped his sad face. He hadn't talked since they had left the city. Instead he had just walked slowly with the group not talking like he normal did. He breathed deeply in the cold air, only trying to keep his mind blank of everything.

He didn't know nor understand why killing that man had disturbed him so greatly, he had killed men and undead before at close ranges like that but this one was different. Maybe it was because he wasn't pointing a gun actually at Corey but instead the rest of the group. Maybe he knew he could of acted differently. Maybe he could have done something else. Just maybe.

The sound of glass clicking woke Corey from his trance and made him look over to Megan beside him. She wasn't looking and instead was holding a bottle of liquid out to Corey. Corey stared deeply at the liquid that seemed to play with the fire as it brushed up against it. Corey looked hard and strongly but turned away ignoring Megans offering completely and rested his forehead back onto his knees as he went back into his deep reconciliation on what had happened to him today.

[Frallon]

Reece glances up at the others over his can of food, and observes Megan as she tries to pass a second booze, he resists the urge to shake his head and looks back down at his meal. Giving her the alcohol had been a motion of trust, maybe now that he thinks of it, the decision was a bad cope to make. When the can finishes, he stands up and heads to the shannys entrance, and pokes the door just far enough to toss the can out. He takes a seat next to Anthony and doesn't say a word. Everyone needed some rest; they'd discuss in the morning.

[Zombreach]

With a light shake of her head, Megan pulls her arm back, putting the top back on the whiskey bottle. Ignoring Reece's disapproving glance, she gets up and sets the alcohol next to the Russian man. It was his to begin with, and he is going to need it more than she is in the coming hours. Having only her PGS-10, she pulls it from her pack and steps outside. The company inside the shack was not to her liking tonight and with a stranger among them, she wasn't going to sleep anyhow.

The night air was cool and crisp as Megan walks around the shanty, staring into the distance. Points of light can be seen from the city--possibly fires burning or lights fueled by a generator. She walks further, looking for a good vantage point to keep watch and finally settles on a an old oak tree--its bare branches stretching high across the plain. Pulling herself up, she leans into the trunk and settles for the night.

[ZombifiedBrendan]

Corey looked up from his hollow corner of misery to just see Megan disappear out of the door and into the cold night. As he looked out he saw the Russian man again, noticing how strong he was. Corey gulped at the thought of spending a night with this man who he was sure could rip off one of Coreys limbs. He gulped down the fear and looked back down to the ground of the lil' shanty. He shivered at the distance he was from the fire but did not move closer into the light, preferring the darkness that hid him from the peoples eyes. Everyone seemed ready to sleep and Corey was tired but he felt too scared to sleep. He thought of the prospect of going out to talk with Megan but dind't bother. Instead he laid down slowly, creating as little sound as he could. He enventually made himself to a position on his side and kept his legs tucked into his chest, creating a fetal position. He didn't want to sleep but he knew that if he didn't sleep, the thoughts that haunted his mind would remain within, gnawwing at his insides, driving him insane. He took a deep breath, shut his eyes tightly and hoped for a dreamless night.

[Ruby Snipa]

The pain was beginning to reemerge as the bottle clicked on the worn wood floor of the shanty. A grunt was all he could muster as she left the small shack. The embers of the fire were fading a little and would need to be stoked and refueled in the middle of the night. That was for someone else to do. The best he could do was lean over to his bottle and then take a huge swig.

"I'm sorry that I'm slowing you guys down Butch." He stated in a pain filled tone. "I ****ed up and if you feel that I'm going to be a burden, leave here in the morning before I wake up. I'll manage to get to my cabin out here somehow (All of the food there is either canned or frozen and the cabin is running on solar power). I'm no problem for you guys to handle in my current condition and I know you realize that tovarich."

With that he lay his head down on his pack and looked into the fire, shortly thereafter he fell asleep.

[Frallon]

Cold icy blasts of wind kicked up through the small cracks of the wooden shack and blew out a dwindling fire drawing smoke in between bodies cramped yet scattered sleepily amongst the walls. On top a one-strapped over filled backpack, cradling the plywood of his Mini Ruger 14, Reece slept in a discomfort pushing the hood of his jacket up like a pillow in his sleep and slightly shivering even through his environmental clothes. A kick of wind blew into the extinguished fire, snuffing up bits of ash, and blowing the small white flakes across the room into the sleeping mans face like a speck of snow. Dreams invaded Reece’s sound night. Nightmares forged by real occurrences straying from the path of reality and what had been. His body curls up into the fetal position as his body began to sweat and his grasp on the Ruger tightened significantly.

Snow was Everywhere.
A dense flutter on the wind kicked debris from a mounting white out and added another layer of wind direction to the already spiral layout that had conspired.
Shades of grey appeared and vanished amongst the clouds of white, showing shadows, and the tyrants that lay within them.
The flutter echoed into that of a rotor, separate in all ways from nature, and tuned in the canvas’ of white to a face that looked of stone and acted on cold intentions.
He’d left them, left them for dead, and the chopper that flew in the most unstable conditions held its own when it shouldn’t have; when the men inside deserved every bit of death that was left to be dealt.
Reece’s body was numb, almost gone, soaked from head to toe in a drift that leveled the ground. His body was spread eagle, face down in the wet unforgiving perspiration that had haunted him for months, trying feebly one last time to claim his life. A single color flooded out from the whites and blacks, red, bright and diluted it spread from the center of his body. He grits his teeth, feeling the liquid smear from the drift against his cheek, and feels for his steel 5906 in the back of his waistband. The handgun was gone, not that it mattered with only a few shots left, but more importantly the Ruger was missing. Where was the rifle, he couldn’t remember dropping it, just the gunshots that echoed in the immense beating of the chopper and that searing pain that was expected.
It didn’t matter, none of it did anymore, there was less than an hour and the dead would claim him weaponless before the edge of town even showed itself.
Reece rolled onto his back in the drift and felt tears form in his eyes as his skull began to pulse from the adrenaline that fueled his system from pain and denied him the darkness of shutting down. The white clouded over, like a body bag, and sealed the cold lips of a coming death to his cheek.
“I’m going to die.”

Reece sat up startled in the middle of the cold hut instinctively pulling the Ruger up to fend off an opposition that didn’t present itself. He panted hard to himself, moving the crosshairs over the few who’d chosen to sleep with him in the shack, and lowered the weapon back into his lap. No one else stirred as he stood up and made quick work gathering up his supplies.

The door to the shack opened, regretfully with age, and birthed Reece into the cold morning weather that sat shyly with infant sun. His breath hung on the air as he tried to shake off the dream and made round in the thick woods that safeguarded them from the territory left behind. Out at the road, Ruger slung around the Survivalists’ shoulder, he crawled out from behind the cover of trees and came up to the ditch lines the group had traveled just the night before. No new evidence of pursuers laid behind them, and while convincing in nature, the strange feeling of discomfort pattered in his brain; something wasn’t quite right yet and they were far from in the clear; it was time to move. He crawled back to the edge of the trees and made way by his own dewy footprints back to the shed for the others.

“Wake up,” Reece said loudly as he entered the wooden doorframe for his company, “Everyone up, five minutes, we’re hiking as far away as we can, now people, up!”

[Zombreach]

Megan’s eyes snapped open to the sound of crunching footsteps on the cold ground. In a matter of seconds, she located the source of the sound, the familiar shape of Reece filling her vision. Slowly letting out a held breath, she watched him as he exited the small shack and moved away from the camp. When he was no longer visible, she slipped down from her perch in the tree and made her way to the shanty, hoping to catch a little more sleep before he returned.

The inside of the small building was cold, barely warmer than the outside air now that the fire had died out. The morning light filtered in, and Megan was surprised to notice the three remaining inside were still asleep. Glancing at each man in turn, her gaze stopped at the hulking shape of the Russian. Noticing his shallow breathing, she moved to his side and placed her finger against his wrist. The pulse was weak and thready, his body feeling cool to the touch beneath the blankets. Glancing under, she saw the bandage she had placed earlier was saturated with blood, a small puddle gathering on the floor.

For a moment, Megan remained silent, looking once more to the prone bodies of her companions. As soon as Reece returned, they would have to get moving and the Russian would only slow them down…a risk they couldn’t take… Not knowing if the others would be willing to do what needed to be done, she took it upon herself to take care of the problem. Placing one hand on the man’s mouth, she used her other to pinch his nostrils closed and squeezed. At first there was no reaction, then his body began to buck as he tried to pull in a breath. Megan rotated herself and straddled his chest, applying pressure with her knees and adjusting her hands on his mouth and nose. In a weak state, it was only a matter of minutes before the Russian’s struggles ended and he lay still.

Nimbly climbing from the inert body, Megan moved away slowly. She curled into herself on the floor to bring more warmth, as the body of the dead man cooled by the extinguished fire. She had just closed her eyes when she heard Reece’s footsteps approaching. Feigning sleep, she didn’t react to his entry until he called for them to awaken.

[ZombifiedBrendan]

Sleep didn't come easy for Corey, his small body was cold in the corner and while he knew that warmth was only a few metres away from where he had hunched for the whole night, he refused to come closer to the fire that had provided them a sense of safety. He knew he would get sick but he didn't care much for it, he just didn't like the idea of socially interacting with these people, even though he knew he would enjoy it in the end. The coldness woke him from his dreams repeatively throughout the night, a slight draft going up his back of coming in from the bottom of his jeans would bring his mind back to a concious state. It wasn't like his dreams were much nicer though, his thoughts often haunted him, making him the bad guy. He felt pathetic throughout the entire night and for much of it he was awake watched the glowing embers of a dying fire. His solemn stance was one that he got little happiness from but it made him feel safe.

He was watching the fire through heavy eyelids when Reece went outside, presumably to take a piss like any leader of a group of individuals would. Corey despised Reece, the way he was so natural and born socialable. He was a polar opposite to what Corey was, or atleast that's how Corey saw it. The young man, or more so boy stayed hunched in the darker corner of the little hut as Reece went about his business. Eventually the door openned again, little in a little light. Not up for wanting to even looking at another human Corey closed his eyes hoping to fool the man that he was asleep. The sound of the door closing came before footsteps came about, lighter ones than the one he would expect for the figure of Reece. Eventually they stopped but movements continued. After a few seconds of pure silence, groans became audible. Not proper groans, but more so muted screams. Blankets struggled as fists beat down on the wood and a scuffle began. Coreys curiousity played up enough to let one eyelid open to see to figures by the fire, bathed in near darkness. One silhouette was placed on top of the other, the body of the top one pinned down the larger shape below. Hands pushed themselves onto the face of the lower body. He instantly made out the figures even though he had known only one for a little while so far. Fear gripped over Corey and instantly his eyes clamped shut, refusing to let him see the horror before him. He blocked the sight out of his mind and shut of the sounds that were being made. He had no idea how long he was like that, blocking out the outside world but eventually a shout penetrated his thoughts.

“Wake up! Everyone up, five minutes, we’re hiking as far away as we can, now people, up!”

He put down the barriers he put up around him to block out the sight he had seen but in the dark corners of his mind he would always remember the murder he had seen. It was no different from the others, ones he had even commited but this was someone who was one of them and innocent. Corey stood up slowly, gathering his things. It wasn't like he had much except for the contents of his backpack and even then it was relatively light. He snapped on the two holsters, the chest one going under his jacket that provided him the only warmth he felt at the moment. He shoved his dismal supplies into his back pack and began his walk towards the door. His head refused to look at the body that laid dead on the floor. He didn't want the image in his mind. Instead he left quickly and wordlessly, like he always did.

[Frallon]

Anthony stirred, although the question of weather he'd actually slept or not was the first question to his mind, quickly with a head rush of instinct found his wits and his toes just beyond reach of the wooden Garrand. Reece stood in the shabby door-frame, already beaming with the morning's chores, ready and adjusted but the slack on his face meant there wasn't any sure dangers to alert over. Vanella pushed himself against his bag and slithered up the wall until he stood level. "Any situation," he asked absently scratching the sleep from his eyes, "or good morning work today?"

"We're out of the water I think," Reece's voice said over the shuffling of everyone's bodies that seemed amplified ten fold in the quiet morn, "no tracks, no trackers, they probably either assume we're dead or are under so much heat that they can't spare the pursuit."

"Either way," Anthony finished for his comrade stretching his arms and back out for the day as his eyes focused, "still time to move, I'd agree; glad you saved us the time." He managed a smirk as his long-time companion came back into solid view, another encounter survived, another day to be spent out on the road; life was looking good. Taking a stride from where he slept, he moved on to the others, and noticed Megan beginning to wake a few feet from Corey; it was something else to have her sleep amongst them but her humor wasn't missed as to whom she'd slept closest to. Just as words were about to forum, witty and quick where he'd always been even from back in his service days, Reece moved quickly inside and fell to the shacks floorboards calling his partners name.

Anthony half turned towards the extinct fire, seeing Reece over the body of the one who'd claimed to have known them from the time before, but a calm panic was clouded in the huddle; the Russian wasn't moving. "He bleed out," he asked leering over the two not really showing any concern, "feel for a temperature, check his vitals, check the wound; come on man." Vanella watched for a moment, trying to guide his friends hands with his eyes, but frustration quickly surfaced. Coming to a knee beside Reece, his hands felt the dampness of the bandage, moved up to the lifeless wrist, and stopped against the large mans forehead. "Well, my medical opinion, the ****ers dead; there's nothing we can do, and we did what we could, so just sort through his **** and let's go."

Closing his dark blue eyes the groups second shook his head in a mask of disappointment, but really almost everyone understood by now this was just a ruse, and no one seemed surprised when a moment later his hands were among the Russians goods and combing the body for concealments. Resuming his course, Anthony stood up, and walked past the other two outside where he would wait until they'd had their mornings ration; he'd save his for a couple of hours for when one of the others would need a piss break; no sense wasting time that would inevitably present itself.

Reece nimbly felt along the lines of one the Russians Takarov's, dislodging the bulky pistol, and scavenging two fitting clips and another half spent inside the weapons duplicate other. Slinging his one-strapped backpack down to his side, the contents of the Russians supplies including the pistol began to mix with the groups, a transaction was minor beneficial but still held some perks; Alcohol was going to be the flavor of the month and they'd be set for a few days until their new target mark; when one was selected. The pack rustled back onto his back, a subtle heavier vibe that'd take some getting used to, and followed after Anthony past the other two in the run down shack that'd soon fade into just another lost memory.

[Zombreach]

Megan watched from the far side of the shack as Reece rummaged through the Russian's things, knowing he would take the weapons, food and drink. Although she needed to get her hands on a new handgun and katana, her mind was set on other things--two other to be exact. As soon as she was alone, she scooted over to the dead man's body and lifted up his left hand. The man's wedding band looked like little more than a reminder of better times, but the gold was worth more than paper money and there were always people willing to trade for it. Working it free with the help of a little saliva, she slipped the plain ring into her pocket and reached for his right hand. She had admired the ruby class ring on the man's hand since she had met him only a day past. With a grinding twist, she dislogded the tight fitting band from the man's stiffening finger. Preparing to rise, she glanced at the man one last time, her eyes set in a frown. There was no remorse in what she had done... just a curiousity. His face had relaxed in death, the pain from his leg and the struggle for daily survival taken from him. Satisfied that she had done the right thing, she grabbed up her pack and left the temporary shelter.

Once outside, Megan looked to her three companions. She had already relieved herself and eaten a small ration before heading into the building early this morning. Her breath plummed in front of her face, and she rubbed her hands along her arms to generate warmth. Corey as usual was avoiding her stare and Reece and Anthony stood to the side talking...also as usual. They had suffered injuries from their recent encounter, but everyone was mobile and in relatively good health. Her head pounded from the knock she had taken and she felt lighter without her most trusted weapons at her side, but overall she was well and ready to travel. Moving up to the side of Corey, she put her hand on his shoulder, knowing how much he hated it when she touched him. It was all the more reason for her to do it--getting a reaction out of him amused her to no end.

"You okay...you seem a little pale." She asked, her voice holding a touch of concern. She lifted one eyebrow and managed a half hearted smile.