Liberal Arts Wing (Rory/Luce)
There was almost 10 of them now. Luce was a bit baffled but ultimately intrigued by the prospect of so many people having survived and that were now able to band together as a pack. Several of the older men had waged a bit of proverbial war over leadership and dominance, but it seemed that debate had been momentarily put on hold so they could even endure their way to the college.
Her throat ached more than anything; no pain in her calves or side from continuous full-on sprinting, but an onset of weariness was beginning to creep into her general being each step down the Liberal Arts wing, forcing herself to stay on high alert for the Infected. Muhlenburg was ghostly, abandoned, unlike her last memory of Cedar Crest being a frenzy, but coming here still felt like she’d been full-circle across the world.
Walking alongside the tall, dark and strangely amiable man that was Rory, Luce had an inexplicable longing for Felicity’s mellifluous presence and idle chatter. As though Rory was a prime example of Alpha Male, ready on a dime to shoot anything despite grievances not to, something was wrong with his eyes. They were not like Gyles…but she couldn’t profile him right now - damn, she needed to kick that habit. Splitting up was meant to help them make sure this was good territory, perhaps become acquainted with others, build trust.
Checkpoint: The Breakroom
She had passed with flying colors it seemed as the obviously United Kingdom-born male provided both his and the red-head’s identities - Gyles and Felicity. Whilst Luce redressed rapidly she thought over the prospects of being in a trio. Perhaps that had been where her and the other survivors she’d chanced creeping through the small city with had gone wrong; they’d thought pairing up was better than taking on too many other tag alongs to worry about. A note-worthy revelation for later…“Luce,” she then offered at length and smiled despite herself. For some inexplicable reason things felt a bit right now, some of the tension eased out of her shoulders like a temperamental knot loosened.
Felicity’s freckled hands seemed to be doing strange, repetitive little motions, chocolate irises flickering at Luce, then the floor as she spoke to her with a slight interest. She curiously did not let that nervous flicking go toward Gyles and Luce’s smile warmed. Felicity was glad to have found female company. She gave candid, though brusque answers to the leggy female’s inquiries, brushing only slightly on the events that had transpired at Cedar Crest - a fresh cadaver from one of the labs had gone tearing, naked and savage through the halls - scrambles of people had been ushered out beating and thrashing for safety - no better than the reanimated corpse. She laid out her .40 S & W, rummaged from a fallen police officer (not even from being mauled, but trampled), and the kitchen knife she’d taken from ducking out through the cafeteria so her new allies could assess her defense, however meager.
Her hand wrung in circles, twisting about each other in habit as she counted out the sequence in her head. Gyles had given a nodded and moved, leaving Felicity back to her own devices as Luce dressed herself once more. In truth, the red head was glad to have another female in the group – it was the first time she had seen a girl survive. Not that she was sexist or anything, but in the groups she had seen before, the girls had either been killed or split off. Maybe that’s why so many of the groups had been willing to protect her. Maybe she was lucky and she had just met some incredibly kind people. She honestly didn’t know.
At first, Felicity kept quiet, her eyes flicking occasionally to Luce across the room as she thought of questions she wanted to ask the female. Finally, she worked up the courage, taking a seat across from the blond and spoke, all the while her fingers going to and clutching her number 8 necklace. It was understandable that Luce grazed over her first contact with the infected, and the story of how she got there, but when the female started to pull out her two weapons, chocolate eyes widened.
“W-wow…” She muttered, looking at the police gun and flicking her eyes to Luce with a small, shy smile. “You swiped this then?” She asked, forgetting that now that the infected roamed, laws were hardly the first priority in anyone minds. “I don’t even know how to fire a gun.” She admitted, nervously looking between the two, worried they’d abandon her like the first group had. “B-but I have a good strategic mind and I’m quick with numbers.” She stumbled trying to give them reasons to keep her and not abandon her. “Can be useful, I promise. Just give me a chance.”
Gyles looked between the two women and noted everything that had happened. The speech, the clothing, the weapons. This was looking up, despite the fact that there were two women in his group. He figured it would be alright, though, if they could keep up. Clearing his throat, he moved to the window and looked through it again. The store looked moderately clear.
“Luce, you’re going to come with me, we need to check for weapons and food we can carry. Perhaps grab some fresh clothes, once it’s cleared out. It looks pretty empty, but you never know, they could be hiding. Don’t use your gun… it’s much too loud and draws them in.” He walked over to one of the displays in the room and pulled a metal bar off of it, before handing it to her. “Here. Use this, for now.” Looking to Felicity, he sighed. “Stay here, watch the door. When you hear me whistle, it’ll be safe for you to come help, until then, make sure that you can open this door, if we need to get back in quickly.”
Plucking up his weapon, he took a deep breath and then let it out. “I hope you’re ready, Luce. Be quick, be quiet… clear the store, then we can get what we need.” Pushing some of his barricade away, Gyles licked his lips and opened the door, before slowly creeping out of it and heading towards the sporting section.
Luce sat, absorbing Felicity’s own insertion into the group, making up what she lacked in experience with the sheer will to not let people down, or herself, and Luce had to admire such tenacity in a young woman that seemed to be lacking quite a bit of self-confidence.
On the opposite end of the dog-eat-dog spectrum Gyles seemed to be exuding it in spades. He was now in charge of two young women, not at all prepared for anything remotely close to the annihilation and white-hot terror currently looming over anyone alive. The typical protector setting about tasks, no-nonsense, on top of every necessity. There was a crowbar in her hand now, which had more sufficient reach than her kitchen now, and she looked at Felicity one more time.
She hoped she looked supportive and encouraging before ignoring the roiling of her stomach once more, gun stuffed into the back of her trousers, and readying herself behind Gyles as the ominous creek of the department store’s door filled dead silence. They both had adjust to filtered light just barely granting a path through shadowy, nondescript shapes. Luce held the crowbar like a baseball bat, willing her nerves to steady, taking inventory of essential items, trailing Gyles toward non-perishable items when the tell-tale gurgle and groan causes the back of her hair to stand on end, immediately pivoting on her heel to strike like she’s at the MLB World Series.
Checkpoint: The Breakroom
Gales of wind had whistled passed Luce’s ears - he was fast and efficient, had favored a melee weapon in lieu of the gun he’d used only for distraction, and didn’t mess about in getting them the ever-loving fuck to somewhere already barricaded. Upon his whistle, followed by a tall ginger young woman ushering them in with large, doe eyes, she was inside.A normal, however resilient, department store - its breakroom to be more specific - all the right vulnerable nooks boarded up, fortified, canned goods stacked atop each other neatly as if in systematic rations. This was a little piece of Heaven; better than she could have done for herself or had done. The faculty office at Cedar Crest College had weak spots - doors and windows on all walls.
She finally heard his request, blunt but very important, as one overlooked graze with any Infected led to disaster. No hesitance marred her features, only a mindful acceptance as she took off her blazer, kicked off boots, double tank tops, even went so far as to displace her bra, then shimmied out of torn skinny trousers and spread her arms for assessment, going in a slow circle. It was the least she could do. She also waited for him to introduce them; it seemed more profitable that if he trusted her she’d get their names and then return the favor.
The moment the door closed, Felicity was pulling her blouse off and rushing back to the sink. She was quick in her actions, pulling the cap off the water bottle and pouring a lager amount into her hands then before. With out hesitation or thought she started to scrub at her skin, washing each area precisely eight times before signing in relief. It wasn’t perfect but it was enough to keep her going until she could find a shower or bath or in the worst-case scenario, a lake or stream.
With her anxiety quenched, the tall, lender red head got to work on other things. The food she date checked and shorted into eights, putting those more lightly to go off at the front and the longer lasting things like can and dry goods towards the back. She counted the water bottles figuring between the two of them they had enough for three days. She then turned her attention to the furniture. She wasn’t strong, so it took a while but she was partially silent as she moved the chairs and tables, ready to block either one of the doors and support what barricading Gyles had already put up.
That’s when she heard the car alarm. Her head whipped straight to the door’s window, peering through the glass to try and see anything. Her heart hammered in her chest. Had Gyles set it off on purpose? A distraction, maybe? Or perhaps it had been a mistake… Feclicity shook her head. No. Gyles was smarter then that. His scratches body and the way he saved her were proof enough of that. Still, she was on the edge of her seat until she heard the whistle, relief flooding through her. She unbolted the door and throw it open, moving quickly to let the rushing forms through before helping Gyles to barricade it once more. The red-head didn’t even have a chance to breath though before the taller male was pushing her behind him and ordering the other figure to strip. Feclicity peered over Gyles shoulder, looking the girl over. Slim, blond, perhaps maybe just a few years older then Felicity herself. The red head opened her mouth to tell Gyles to turn around and give the girl some consideration by letting her check, but the newbie seemed to have no qualms about ditching her clothes. Felicity blushed and looked away. She waited for Gyles to give the okay before looking back.
She had passed with flying colors it seemed as the obviously United Kingdom-born male provided both his and the red-head’s identities - Gyles and Felicity. Whilst Luce redressed rapidly she thought over the prospects of being in a trio. Perhaps that had been where her and the other survivors she’d chanced creeping through the small city with had gone wrong; they’d thought pairing up was better than taking on too many other tag alongs to worry about. A note-worthy revelation for later…
“Luce,” she then offered at length and smiled despite herself. For some inexplicable reason things felt a bit right now, some of the tension eased out of her shoulders like a temperamental knot loosened.
Felicity’s freckled hands seemed to be doing strange, repetitive little motions, chocolate irises flickering at Luce, then the floor as she spoke to her with a slight interest. She curiously did not let that nervous flicking go toward Gyles and Luce’s smile warmed. Felicity was glad to have found female company. She gave candid, though brusque answers to the leggy female’s inquiries, brushing only slightly on the events that had transpired at Cedar Crest - a fresh cadaver from one of the labs had gone tearing, naked and savage through the halls - scrambles of people had been ushered out beating and thrashing for safety - no better than the reanimated corpse. She laid out her .40 S & W, rummaged from a fallen police officer (not even from being mauled, but trampled), and the kitchen knife she’d taken from ducking out through the cafeteria so her new allies could assess her defense, however meager.
(Source: gylesmeritt)
Checkpoint: The Breakroom
Luce kept her belly flat on top of the FedEx truck, just enough to survey to the sides and in front. She’d planned to switch it up, re-position to the back of the large trailer before nightfall in case any Walkers had finally wandered off, and take refuge somewhere proper.
Her stomach hadn’t settled in days from lack of sustenance other than the cereal bars and fruit she’d packed what seemed a millennium ago for a lecture from Professor Marie Cassidy - one of THE leading forensic pathology biologists of her time - until the warm grips of hell broke loose on Allentown. It had been a nightmare…but the numbness toward it was nearly immediate, like an instinctual ice pack on her heart as well as her mind.
Shoving aside the horrors, the death, witnessing change, she wanted to survive. So she took explicit short-hand notes on the Infected as if she were still sat midst Professor Cassidy’s lecture, but applying it to the current situation now as best as it could adapt. Some time later, three unsuccessful partners now dead/changed, she was still alive in testament to this - though fatigued to near-exhaustion from not allowing herself proper sleep. Especially now, she couldn’t afford to sleep now…
Luce’s head shot up at the command of something that was - human? Words, real words came from her left, head whipping toward the source, those two short barks belonging to a young man (or he seemed to be), Caucasian, had to be at least 6 foot tall - it’s a habit to profile, to run a diagnostic of any one she encounters but breaks it off mid-catalog when he strategically shoots a car to set it off and she grasps the opening, tired or not, vaulting off the trailer as fast as her lithe legs can carry.
Grabbing the girl’s hand, Gyles rushed back towards where Felicity was waiting. Swearing when a few Infected surfaced, he let go and then put his weapon, the scrapper, to good use. It was good for slicing and maiming, to at least get them out of the way. Bashing their heads with it killed them.
Doing away with the few, he watched as more lurked - or rushed - towards the loud car alarm. It wouldn’t stay on long, but it would be long enough for them to make it back safely. Taking the girl’s hand again, Gyles lead her to the room, and whistled loudly.
The door swung open and he pulled her in, before locking and baracading them in, once more. He glanced at the new woman and pulled Felicity behind him. “Did the same to her. Strip. We need to know you’re clean.” Gyles said. “I know she is and she knows I am. After we know, we’ve got water and food. But until then,” he held the scrapper ready, just in case, “you can keep your intimate bits on.”
Gyles couldn’t believe that the only people he’d found so far were women; if this wasn’t all going to Hell, he’d probably be in Heaven.
Gales of wind had whistled passed Luce’s ears - he was fast and efficient, had favored a melee weapon in lieu of the gun he’d used only for distraction, and didn’t mess about in getting them the ever-loving fuck to somewhere already barricaded. Upon his whistle, followed by a tall ginger young woman ushering them in with large, doe eyes, she was inside.
A normal, however resilient, department store - its breakroom to be more specific - all the right vulnerable nooks boarded up, fortified, canned goods stacked atop each other neatly as if in systematic rations. This was a little piece of Heaven; better than she could have done for herself or had done. The faculty office at Cedar Crest College had weak spots - doors and windows on all walls.
She finally heard his request, blunt but very important, as one overlooked graze with any Infected led to disaster. No hesitance marred her features, only a mindful acceptance as she took off her blazer, kicked off boots, double tank tops, even went so far as to displace her bra, then shimmied out of torn skinny trousers and spread her arms for assessment, going in a slow circle. It was the least she could do. She also waited for him to introduce them; it seemed more profitable that if he trusted her she’d get their names and then return the favor.
Checkpoint: The Breakroom
Felicity pulled her clothes back on quicker then she had ran, covering up her skin and rubbing her arms though the jacket. She was surprised by his change in attitude and carefully edged around the conversation. “Felicity.” She said, cracking open the bottle and taking a few sips. “Thanks.” She said before walking to the sink and pouring a few drops onto her hands. She ran her fingers over each, scrubbing into the crease, counting slowly to herself as the male checked outside.
“Okay, sounds like a good plan.” She muttered walking back over to her back pack and pulling out her note book and pen. There were pages and pages of scribbles about the movement patterns of hoards, the varying speeds of sprinters based on their infection stage, the different howls of howlers… She finally found a blank page and started to sketch the lay out of the room, shifting chairs and tables with her pen until she had the best lay out of defense and easy escape if needed. Her eyes glanced up toward Gyles. “Thank you… for saving me, back there. You didn’t have to, considering you knew I’d be a burden…” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small torch, handing it to him. “I haven’t narrowed down the type yet but some of the infected are stunned by light in the eyes. So… just incase. Be careful out there.”
“Well, Felicity, you’re lucky I was around.” Gyles said and then sighed, before making sure his boots were tied properly and that his weapons were ready for use. He wouldn’t use his gun, unless he absolutely had to. Mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do, he straightened. “Alright,” he said, taking the torch and smiling slightly, “thanks. I’ll be back as soon as possible. The second you hear me whistle, you get that bloody door open.” He said.
When Felicity nodded, he headed to the door. “Feel free to organize things, but be quiet. Don’t make any loud noises and do not leave.” He grabbed the scrapper from the wall and then opened the door. Making sure everything was clear, he headed out, walking carefully down the street.
Travelling down a ways, he didn’t see all too many Infected - he prefered that to ‘Undead’ - as he walked. He killed them all as silently as possible, and then he saw her. Crouching, he examined the scene. A girl, stranded on top of a shipping truck, with at least five Walkers around her. Swearing under his breath, Gyles looked around. There was a car far enough away, that he could hit it. Luckily, he wasn’t close enough to the breakroom for it to matter. Pulling out his gun, Gyles took the shot, shooting the car and setting off it’s alarm. The gun shot was ignored for the sound and the Walkers quickly wandered off.
Gyles made his way to the truck and waved the girl down. “Let’s go!” He demanded and then motioned for her to follow.
Luce kept her belly flat on top of the FedEx truck, just enough to survey to the sides and in front. She’d planned to switch it up, re-position to the back of the large trailer before nightfall in case any Walkers had finally wandered off, and take refuge somewhere proper.
Her stomach hadn’t settled in days from lack of sustenance other than the cereal bars and fruit she’d packed what seemed a millennium ago for a lecture from Professor Marie Cassidy - one of THE leading forensic pathology biologists of her time - until the warm grips of hell broke loose on Allentown. It had been a nightmare…but the numbness toward it was nearly immediate, like an instinctual ice pack on her heart as well as her mind.
Shoving aside the horrors, the death, witnessing change, she wanted to survive. So she took explicit short-hand notes on the Infected as if she were still sat midst Professor Cassidy’s lecture, but applying it to the current situation now as best as it could adapt. Some time later, three unsuccessful partners now dead/changed, she was still alive in testament to this - though fatigued to near-exhaustion from not allowing herself proper sleep. She couldn’t dwell on the departed, or panicked thoughts of her family back up north; if Canada had been hit as hard - the world even. Especially now, she couldn’t afford to sleep now…
Luce’s head shot up at the command of something that was - human? Words, real words came from her left, head whipping toward the source, those two short barks belonging to a young man (or he seemed to be), Caucasian, had to be at least 6 foot tall - it’s a habit to profile, to run a diagnostic of any one she encounters but breaks it off mid-catalog when he strategically shoots a car to set it off and she grasps the opening, tired or not, vaulting off the trailer as fast as her lithe legs can carry.
