Forums » General Roleplay » The Fight for Survival (1x1)

Death was inevitable. This was a fact, Taylor realized as the horde of undead swarmed the bus. They come from the woods, which flanked the once-school-used vehicle, and massed around it, trapping Taylor and his partner on its roof. There had been two others with them, but they could not get to the top in time. Now there were two.

Taylor turned to his last team mate, "There are dozens of them. I only have one clip left." He released the clip from the pistol and checked it, hoping that through some magic there would no longer be a missing bullet, the one he had to put into his friend moments ago to keep her from turning.

He looked up, the pounding of hands on the sides of the bus making him have to raise his voice over it and the groans from the once living. "How much you got? If we can clear a side we can make a break for it. If I use all my shots I only have my knife left." Taylor's other weapon, his knife, was a hunting knife he had obtained when he ransacked a Bass Pro Shop several months after the Event.

Cecil didn't have to check to answer. "Eighteen rounds," he said. He kept constant tally of how many bullets he'd lost. Now, he knew, he was down to his last magazine, and he'd used two shots from it already. "I think if we--Woah!" he said, as the bus lurched a little as the zombies pushed against it. He kept his balance, then laughed. He was pretty good at laughing even while death stared him in the face. "Heh! That was close. Yeah, we'd best get offa this thing soon."

"Arright," he said, looking down at the blank faces of the creatures that scratched against the bus. "Get out your knife, save your shots. I think we can get into that forest, each of us with half a clip left," he said optimistically. He raised his rifle to aim. "I'll get rid of a few of these corpses, then you'd better get ready to jump off and run, kid."

[Edit: Are these gonna be the slow, dumb, shambling sort of zombies?]

((That is exactly the sort of zombie they are))

Taylor looked over the edge at the hungry mass below. "If we jump off the top of this we will break a leg or twist an ankle. There are too many to get off safely." This was a terrible situation to be in. "I don't think we have a choi-" he steadied himself as another wave if rocking almost knocked him off. "-oice but to kill them," he finished. He didn't like the idea of wasting ammo either, but the didn't have the luxury of an easy climb down.

"Shoot sparingly, one shot one kill. Only take the shots you know you can make." Crouching down to steady himself, Taylor aimed his gun over the bus' curve corner and started picking off zombies. He took out six before he was at his last bullet. This one he saved, he would need it if he was bitten.

As zombies from the back of the bus started meandering over to where the shots came from, his hopes rose. "Hey," he called, "pick some off over here. If we draw enough over to this side we can slip off the other without them being there." He liked te chances of this plan, but he inwardly hated the use of so much ammo.

Cecil sighed. "Alright, alright," he said dismissively. "But we're gonna regret losing the ammo later." One by one, he carefully aimed and put holes in a few heads.

He glanced up to Taylor at his call. "Got it," he said through clenched teeth, and destroyed the zombies he'd pointed out. "Now, whatever we're doing, we gotta do it soon. There'll be more drawn by our noise." He updated his mental ammo tally. Ten.

He shot a couple more, to keep the ones on the other side coming around to where they wanted them. Eight. The bus rocked some more. "Or they'll push the whole damn thing over with us on it. Are we clear to get down back there yet?"

Before he answered Taylor cautiously walked over, still in a half crouch, to the end of the bus, seeing it now free of zekes, he nodded and then pointed once he walked back. "That's our way off, zekes followed the noise to this end. Save the rest of your bullets and let's make a break for it. I only got one shot left, cover me as I jump and then follow, it will be easier for me to cover your jump when I'm on the ground." He put his hand on the man's shoulder and nodded to him, then went back to the end of the bus. Here goes nothing, he thought, then sat on the edge, and scooted off.

When he hit the ground he was greeted by a loud crack and intense pain. "Argh!" He cried as he crippled to the ground. He looked at his left leg, and the site terrified him. His bone now created a slight angle at his shin. Taylor breathed rabidly as the pain washed over him. To make things worse, a straggling zeke was now approaching him. "Crap, crap, crap, CRAP," he repeated as he struggled to get his gun as it came closer and closer. Finally he pulled it from his belt where he laid on it, grunting with the pain it caused.

This same instant zeke had started to bend down, ready for its snack. Taylor raised the gun, his hands unsteady, and shot. The bullet opened a hole in its neck, but it wasn't a kill shot. "Dammit!" He yelled as he kicked it's leg, causing it to fall toward him, jaws open. There was no clean shot.

Cecil winced for Taylor's sake. "Hey, hey! I'm coming. I've got--shit!" He quickly hung his rifle over his shoulder and slid off the bus, his landing going much better than Taylor's had. He pulled out his bowie knife. Just as the zeke got ready to bite in, Cecil kicked it hard in the head. Its head snapped back and it fell onto its side, but it was undeterred. It rolled back onto its belly, ready for another attempt, and Cecil thrust the knife into its eye.

The crowd that they'd drawn around the bus had been attracted by Taylor's shouts of pain and the gunshot. They were slowly shambling around it. "Coulda gone better, kid, coulda gone better," Cecil said. He left the knife in the zombie's head for the moment, so that he might pull Taylor up. "Up we go," he grunted. "You'll have t'bite through that pain and hold yourself on my back so I got my hands free, ain't no other way we're getting outta here. Hurry!"

((Well on the bright side, we have our current objective! Run away and fix the leg. Told ya I wouldn't be giving much luck, muwahaha))

Taylor closed his eyes as the zeke fell, waiting for the pain that would follow, but it never came. Instead there was a thud, and Taylor opened his eyes to see what it was. Cecil had jumped down and kicked the zombie away, slaying it shortly thereafter. Relief washed over the young man, but it was short lived, for as Cecil helped him up, more zekes came towards them.

Wincing as he tests his foot before complying, Taylor hesitated. "This is going to suck," he said aloud. He grunted as pain washed over him as his sprang up with one leg and went into a self-supporting half-piggy back position. His left leg, bent painfully, hung limp behind him, the pain was too great to move it into a better position. Taylor was careful not to choke his savior as he gave the green light. "Lets go."

[hahaha, I didn't expect luck ]

As soon as Taylor was secure, Cecil stooped down and wrenched his knife from the dead zombie's face. He held it tight in his hand as he ran into the woods.

Taylor's plan had worked, for what it was worth. With all the zekes clustered, there was plenty of space for them to get away. The bus horde was getting left far behind, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be any lurking around the woods. Cecil kept his knife ready. "Keep an... eye out," he huffed between heavy breaths, "For anything that... looks like it's good... for holin' up in... gotta get you fixed."

Pain was an understatement as Taylor's broken leg bounced, rattled, and collided with things. Until Cecil had asked him, his eyes had been closed shut, trying to block out the pain. He reluctantly opened them to search. What was there to find in a forest? Maybe there was a shack around somewhere.

Hope faded but pain was relentless as his eyes darted around the forest, looking for any place that could be a place to stop. There were several times that Taylor thought he found a place, but his cluttered mind had just been playing tricks on him. There were also several times that he almost made up a spot just so they could stop.

After searching and finding nothing he spoke. "I can't find anything," he said through gritted teeth, pain evident in his voice.