After a while, the two of them finally saw something on the horizon. Roni could barely make out what it was, but wasn't sure. It looked like people, but it easily could've been more shufflers. Roni looked up at The Man. She could tell he noticed them, too.
"No! You don't even know if..."
He interrupted her by pushing her behind him.
"H-hey! Stop! I'm tired of you always being an asshole to me..."
The Man slightly turned his head to her, then back to the horizon. He looked at his weapon options, but didn't have anything that would be accurate from such a distance. He grunted then turned to Roni. She knew that look by now. If it moves, it probably can't be trusted.
"Please don't... I doubt everyone is bad..."
The Man simply turned back around and began walking towards the horizon. Roni sighed and followed close behind.
"No! You don't even know if..."
He interrupted her by pushing her behind him.
"H-hey! Stop! I'm tired of you always being an asshole to me..."
The Man slightly turned his head to her, then back to the horizon. He looked at his weapon options, but didn't have anything that would be accurate from such a distance. He grunted then turned to Roni. She knew that look by now. If it moves, it probably can't be trusted.
"Please don't... I doubt everyone is bad..."
The Man simply turned back around and began walking towards the horizon. Roni sighed and followed close behind.
The brief tension between the three seemed to melt into agreement as she continued observation. The black-haired young men drew their weapons and started on their bikes down the road slowly, apparently allowing their newfound companion to follow on foot. In the dead silence, the sound of voices were carried far on the wind even if the words themselves were lost to the distance. There would be others here.
Jacqueline kept them in her line of sight for quite some time. They were almost a quarter-mile away by the time she decided to do something that any other sniper would consider the craziest, most stupid thing on the planet.
She packed up her things and climbed down from her vantage point.
The ladder accessing the belfry was broken, and probably had been for some time. After putting on the black tactical vest that she'd set aside and her light backpack, she lowered herself over the ledge and started spidering her way down to the roof. Damage from whatever had destroyed the building next to the old church provided plenty of footholds. Her rifle swung from a strap behind her shoulder, a section of an old shirt tied around the optic to protect the lens. Stepping carefully down the roof, the woman grasped the edge of it and dangled a moment, hanging her feet as low as possible before letting go. She landed quietly, whole body collapsing toward her ankles to help absorb the fall.
Jacqueline followed the direction the three males and the dog had gone, sticking close to buildings and shadows more out of unconscious habit than worry for being spotted by them. While her rifle would take some time to access in an emergency, being slung behind her for ease of climbing or vaulting over things, the 10mm on her hip was her secondary means of defense on the ground. Stealth being the primary.
Those she trailed passed the barren buildings, evidently either already having the knowledge that this place was mostly picked clean, or having a particular destination. Jacqueline caught up to them by the time they all had gone about two miles. She was on the side of the street roughly opposite them, crouched behind a dumpster between two buildings, depending on her ears to listen to their movements. Her own foolish reason for desiring to get close would probably get her killed, but the cold, calculating thoughts of her taut mind considered it well worth the risk.
But then there was crashing through the trees of multiple pairs of sprinting feet. Without any other sound, the thrashing of foliage may as well have been gunshots with how loud they were. As the sound neared the tree line bordering parts of the main road not far away, she could hear words that were the very embodiment of panic: Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Tell-tale sounds of a chase.
At the first sign of trouble, Jacqueline jumped up from her hiding place and onto the dumpster, generating some noise as her shoes transferred weight onto the lid and then off again as she leapt up to grab the railing of a balcony above. Pulling herself up with effort, she stood on the railing and jumped again as high as she could. She heaved her body upward when her fingers caught the edge of the flat roof, shoes scrambling against the wall in search of footholds. Breathing hard, she swung her rifle strap off, tore away the optic's covering, and knelt low with the barrel resting on the short ledge of the roof to aim at what she could now see was a small group of Freakers chasing after a woman.
There was no time to set up camouflage: the matte black rifle was stark against the building, the lens of the optic flashed at certain angles when the sun struck it.
There was a long moment--no more than a few seconds in reality--of careful aim and calculation. She held her breath, a slender finger taking up the slack of the trigger with practiced precision, knowing exactly how far it could go before a round fired off. Finally, a shot rang out through a suppressor and one of the Freakers dropped--as dead as undead could be. It would take her seconds to line up another shot safe enough to not risk hitting the woman being chased, but every one that passed could be the difference between life and death for that woman.
Jacqueline kept them in her line of sight for quite some time. They were almost a quarter-mile away by the time she decided to do something that any other sniper would consider the craziest, most stupid thing on the planet.
She packed up her things and climbed down from her vantage point.
The ladder accessing the belfry was broken, and probably had been for some time. After putting on the black tactical vest that she'd set aside and her light backpack, she lowered herself over the ledge and started spidering her way down to the roof. Damage from whatever had destroyed the building next to the old church provided plenty of footholds. Her rifle swung from a strap behind her shoulder, a section of an old shirt tied around the optic to protect the lens. Stepping carefully down the roof, the woman grasped the edge of it and dangled a moment, hanging her feet as low as possible before letting go. She landed quietly, whole body collapsing toward her ankles to help absorb the fall.
Jacqueline followed the direction the three males and the dog had gone, sticking close to buildings and shadows more out of unconscious habit than worry for being spotted by them. While her rifle would take some time to access in an emergency, being slung behind her for ease of climbing or vaulting over things, the 10mm on her hip was her secondary means of defense on the ground. Stealth being the primary.
Those she trailed passed the barren buildings, evidently either already having the knowledge that this place was mostly picked clean, or having a particular destination. Jacqueline caught up to them by the time they all had gone about two miles. She was on the side of the street roughly opposite them, crouched behind a dumpster between two buildings, depending on her ears to listen to their movements. Her own foolish reason for desiring to get close would probably get her killed, but the cold, calculating thoughts of her taut mind considered it well worth the risk.
But then there was crashing through the trees of multiple pairs of sprinting feet. Without any other sound, the thrashing of foliage may as well have been gunshots with how loud they were. As the sound neared the tree line bordering parts of the main road not far away, she could hear words that were the very embodiment of panic: Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Tell-tale sounds of a chase.
At the first sign of trouble, Jacqueline jumped up from her hiding place and onto the dumpster, generating some noise as her shoes transferred weight onto the lid and then off again as she leapt up to grab the railing of a balcony above. Pulling herself up with effort, she stood on the railing and jumped again as high as she could. She heaved her body upward when her fingers caught the edge of the flat roof, shoes scrambling against the wall in search of footholds. Breathing hard, she swung her rifle strap off, tore away the optic's covering, and knelt low with the barrel resting on the short ledge of the roof to aim at what she could now see was a small group of Freakers chasing after a woman.
There was no time to set up camouflage: the matte black rifle was stark against the building, the lens of the optic flashed at certain angles when the sun struck it.
There was a long moment--no more than a few seconds in reality--of careful aim and calculation. She held her breath, a slender finger taking up the slack of the trigger with practiced precision, knowing exactly how far it could go before a round fired off. Finally, a shot rang out through a suppressor and one of the Freakers dropped--as dead as undead could be. It would take her seconds to line up another shot safe enough to not risk hitting the woman being chased, but every one that passed could be the difference between life and death for that woman.
Dez and Mato jumped off their bikes the moment they heard crashing through the trees, assuming they had been spotted despite thinking they had been careful. Yet again they did like to roll through the middle of the street so they’d have time to react to such ambushes.
Guns ready, Mato nearly shot the girl who came running through the trees on instinct. Seeing she wasn’t infected though was a shock, the Freakers that followed expected.
Both of them flinched hearing the shot ring out while squeezing their own triggers, not having expected someone else in their vicinity. Mato missed his shot entirely while Dez managed to get a lucky headshot that dropped one. The pair really didn’t like what was happening now that there was two human variables they hadn’t expected, and felt like this was going to get one of them bit.
Dez stayed firm though, and fired again that made one of those Freakers fall and flail around for a few seconds. He knew he had to stay strong for his teenage cousin, since the kid wouldn’t manage on his own without his guidance.
“Connor shoot!”
Guns ready, Mato nearly shot the girl who came running through the trees on instinct. Seeing she wasn’t infected though was a shock, the Freakers that followed expected.
Both of them flinched hearing the shot ring out while squeezing their own triggers, not having expected someone else in their vicinity. Mato missed his shot entirely while Dez managed to get a lucky headshot that dropped one. The pair really didn’t like what was happening now that there was two human variables they hadn’t expected, and felt like this was going to get one of them bit.
Dez stayed firm though, and fired again that made one of those Freakers fall and flail around for a few seconds. He knew he had to stay strong for his teenage cousin, since the kid wouldn’t manage on his own without his guidance.
“Connor shoot!”
As usual, the first sign that something was wrong came from Murdoch. Connor saw his faithful companion stop mid-trot just a second before there were any indications of a disturbance, ears snapping forward and body going rigid. Due to this split second early-warning, Connor was not caught completely off-guard with the pandemonium that occurred right after with the girl crashing through the foliage with a bunch of Freakers hot on her trail. Connor's hand was already moving to his rifle before his brain could catch up, instinct driving his reflexes more than anything.
In front of him, the two cousins…brothers…(For a microsecond Connor mused that he'd still not clarified what they were to each other)…reacted fast, ditching their bikes, arming themselves quickly. That was good and also incredibly bad depending on how you looked at the situation since the handgun they carried was not known for its subtlety. However, before their guns could fire, another shot let its presence known with loud authority, dropping one of the Freakers instantly. Connor wasn’t exactly a gun-nut despite being exposed to quite a few growing up but it didn’t take one to realize this shot originated from one that was very high caliber. And the shooter wasn’t among them.
'Welp, there goes the neighbourhood'. Connor resisted the urge to turn around and scan the nearby rooftops and open windows to try and catch a sight of the shooter - they all had bigger problems on hand. As long as the shooter kept their targets restricted to non-human entities, he wasn’t exactly going to complain.
By the time all these thoughts had ran across his mind - which really didn’t take more than a few seconds - the duo had fired their own round, an equally loud report jarring his eardrums owing to how close he was to the source. He could see their first shot miss by a mile, lucky to not have hit any bystanders. The one that followed it was more successful, blasting away the skulls of a Freaker - whether by luck or skill didn’t matter, since they were all the same as long as the job gets done.
Connor rolled his eyes at their emphatic appeal for him to shoot. 'Yeah I kinda got that part'. Connor dropped one knee towards the nearby pavement and angled his AR at the mess enfolding in front of him. Murdoch - the overeager pup - had meanwhile lunged towards…not the Freakers but the screaming girl who'd brought all these trouble to them. "Murdoch, down!" The canine froze and obeyed, letting his displeasure known with a sharp whine. Connor exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to focus.
He was not a soldier, or a member of any militia. He would not fit on the cover page of any post-apocalyptic zombie flick - in fact, the director of said flick would agree with him that he did not look natural with a rifle pressed into their shoulder. But he did have experience and he'd learned - through some pretty unpleasant encounters - that making his shots count was the difference between living to see another day and becoming Freaker food. And currently, the closest one of them was gaining on the girl way too closely for comfort. The duo were mostly panic-shooting and while it was acting as a deterrent, they were in a bad spot to actually able to deal with the one about to jump on the girl - at least without putting a bullet through the girl in the process. Connor tracked it for the briefest second and squeezing the trigger.
The first shot clipped too low and tore through its side, enough to stagger it but it wasn’t enough. Connor didn’t think much about it and fired again, then a third time, the next rounds punching higher through the chest and throat of the Freaker. It lurched, stumbling over its own momentum and went down in an ugly tumble across the road. "Hey!" Connor tried to get attention of the girl. "Keep moving!"
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dez's shot tearing through the legs of another Freaker, dropping it to the ground. Hitting the gravel, the meat-bag kept clawing and shambling forward. With a carefully placed shot, Connor took its head off, ending its state of undeath. The mini-swarm had thinned out considerably by now, and only a couple remained to be put down.
In front of him, the two cousins…brothers…(For a microsecond Connor mused that he'd still not clarified what they were to each other)…reacted fast, ditching their bikes, arming themselves quickly. That was good and also incredibly bad depending on how you looked at the situation since the handgun they carried was not known for its subtlety. However, before their guns could fire, another shot let its presence known with loud authority, dropping one of the Freakers instantly. Connor wasn’t exactly a gun-nut despite being exposed to quite a few growing up but it didn’t take one to realize this shot originated from one that was very high caliber. And the shooter wasn’t among them.
'Welp, there goes the neighbourhood'. Connor resisted the urge to turn around and scan the nearby rooftops and open windows to try and catch a sight of the shooter - they all had bigger problems on hand. As long as the shooter kept their targets restricted to non-human entities, he wasn’t exactly going to complain.
By the time all these thoughts had ran across his mind - which really didn’t take more than a few seconds - the duo had fired their own round, an equally loud report jarring his eardrums owing to how close he was to the source. He could see their first shot miss by a mile, lucky to not have hit any bystanders. The one that followed it was more successful, blasting away the skulls of a Freaker - whether by luck or skill didn’t matter, since they were all the same as long as the job gets done.
Connor rolled his eyes at their emphatic appeal for him to shoot. 'Yeah I kinda got that part'. Connor dropped one knee towards the nearby pavement and angled his AR at the mess enfolding in front of him. Murdoch - the overeager pup - had meanwhile lunged towards…not the Freakers but the screaming girl who'd brought all these trouble to them. "Murdoch, down!" The canine froze and obeyed, letting his displeasure known with a sharp whine. Connor exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to focus.
He was not a soldier, or a member of any militia. He would not fit on the cover page of any post-apocalyptic zombie flick - in fact, the director of said flick would agree with him that he did not look natural with a rifle pressed into their shoulder. But he did have experience and he'd learned - through some pretty unpleasant encounters - that making his shots count was the difference between living to see another day and becoming Freaker food. And currently, the closest one of them was gaining on the girl way too closely for comfort. The duo were mostly panic-shooting and while it was acting as a deterrent, they were in a bad spot to actually able to deal with the one about to jump on the girl - at least without putting a bullet through the girl in the process. Connor tracked it for the briefest second and squeezing the trigger.
The first shot clipped too low and tore through its side, enough to stagger it but it wasn’t enough. Connor didn’t think much about it and fired again, then a third time, the next rounds punching higher through the chest and throat of the Freaker. It lurched, stumbling over its own momentum and went down in an ugly tumble across the road. "Hey!" Connor tried to get attention of the girl. "Keep moving!"
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dez's shot tearing through the legs of another Freaker, dropping it to the ground. Hitting the gravel, the meat-bag kept clawing and shambling forward. With a carefully placed shot, Connor took its head off, ending its state of undeath. The mini-swarm had thinned out considerably by now, and only a couple remained to be put down.
She ran as hard as she could, but ultimately tripped over her own feet causing her to fall forward. Anna tried to put her hands out in front of her to break her fall, but she was not fast enough. She hit the ground hard, her forehead striking upon a piece of loose pavement from the road. Blood burst out of her head immediately upon impact, killing her. The pain was brief, but her eyes remained open and staring off, no life behind them any longer.
((Sorry guys!! Life is getting busy and I don’t want to make you guys wait forever for me. Have fun!!!
))
((Sorry guys!! Life is getting busy and I don’t want to make you guys wait forever for me. Have fun!!!
))
As the two of them drew closer, The Man witnessed the girl trip. With no words, he simply looked back to Veronica and grabbed her by the arm. The Man pulled her towards him, the scooped her up. It was easier to get to cover if she wasn't dragging behind. Veronica yelped as he snatched her. As usual, it was rough and would probably leave bruises. The Man closed the distance and sat her down next to a tree. Surveying the area, he made sure no Freakers were around to get her while he 'handled business' as usual.
The Man did not know there was a sniper on the rooftops, bit did count the other three. He also, somehow, missed the dog. Veronica tried to plead with him not to hurt these people, but he ignored her as usual. The Man wasn't worried about the creatures. Those would be easy to kill. He wanted to kill the ones still alive, as he trusted no one. The man carefully stalked them and then finally noticed the dog. Around the same time, Veronica noticed him as well. She ran from her hiding spot and grabbed The Man by the arm.
"NO! You're not shooting a damn dog, you asshole! No!"
The Man simply shook her off, flinging her to the ground. He took aim at the dog, and Veronica quickly got up, grabbing his arm again. This really pissed off The Man, and for the first time ever, he thought about actually shooting Veronica. Instead, he shoved her again, causing her to twist her ankle. Veronica teared up and begged him to stop. This all was very distracting to him, leaving him wide open.
((Feel free to retaliate on him. I needed him for plot armor only, he's supposed to die. So I'm trying to make me hateable, haha!))
The Man did not know there was a sniper on the rooftops, bit did count the other three. He also, somehow, missed the dog. Veronica tried to plead with him not to hurt these people, but he ignored her as usual. The Man wasn't worried about the creatures. Those would be easy to kill. He wanted to kill the ones still alive, as he trusted no one. The man carefully stalked them and then finally noticed the dog. Around the same time, Veronica noticed him as well. She ran from her hiding spot and grabbed The Man by the arm.
"NO! You're not shooting a damn dog, you asshole! No!"
The Man simply shook her off, flinging her to the ground. He took aim at the dog, and Veronica quickly got up, grabbing his arm again. This really pissed off The Man, and for the first time ever, he thought about actually shooting Veronica. Instead, he shoved her again, causing her to twist her ankle. Veronica teared up and begged him to stop. This all was very distracting to him, leaving him wide open.
((Feel free to retaliate on him. I needed him for plot armor only, he's supposed to die. So I'm trying to make me hateable, haha!))
Jacqueline was still aiming but held her fire as soon as the group of three she'd been following started shooting. She kept an eye on the running woman, ready to pick off anything that got too close to her.
But it didn't matter. She watched the woman fall and hit her head--the sudden stillness didn't bode well, although it was possible she was just unconscious.
Without pause, Jacqueline adjusted her aim slightly and squeezed the trigger once. A moment later, again. The last two undead predators collapsed, their bodily capabilities destroyed immediately after having their brain matter spattered across the pavement--which was not a particularly impressive feat considering the relatively short distance, her equipment, and position.
Her futile attempt to assist the woman running out of the woods had caused her to expose herself--or maybe she just couldn't resist the opportunity to shoot at some rotting heads. As soon as she fired off that last shot, she withdrew her weapon and laid it beside her as she flattened herself below the parapet, waiting and listening for return fire. That AR the tall one wielded warranted some caution on her part, considering the range, accuracy, and penetration it meant he had.
But something else was going on. Just before she dropped below the parapet wall she'd caught a glimpse of a man pulling a girl by her arm maybe a block or less away from the trio. She could hear the protesting voice of the girl, though she couldn't decipher the words from here unless they were shouted. It was obvious that man was about to do something she didn't want him to do. Then, a moment later, apparently the girl shouted for real, revealing to everyone and everything within hearing range what the man had been about to do, which in fact made her trigger finger itchy. But Jacqueline stayed put for now, silently catching her breath and listening to the movement below.
Whatever was going to come of all this, any wandering Freakers, however many remained in the quiet town, would be sure to eventually be attracted to all the noise that's happened in this spot so far.
But it didn't matter. She watched the woman fall and hit her head--the sudden stillness didn't bode well, although it was possible she was just unconscious.
Without pause, Jacqueline adjusted her aim slightly and squeezed the trigger once. A moment later, again. The last two undead predators collapsed, their bodily capabilities destroyed immediately after having their brain matter spattered across the pavement--which was not a particularly impressive feat considering the relatively short distance, her equipment, and position.
Her futile attempt to assist the woman running out of the woods had caused her to expose herself--or maybe she just couldn't resist the opportunity to shoot at some rotting heads. As soon as she fired off that last shot, she withdrew her weapon and laid it beside her as she flattened herself below the parapet, waiting and listening for return fire. That AR the tall one wielded warranted some caution on her part, considering the range, accuracy, and penetration it meant he had.
But something else was going on. Just before she dropped below the parapet wall she'd caught a glimpse of a man pulling a girl by her arm maybe a block or less away from the trio. She could hear the protesting voice of the girl, though she couldn't decipher the words from here unless they were shouted. It was obvious that man was about to do something she didn't want him to do. Then, a moment later, apparently the girl shouted for real, revealing to everyone and everything within hearing range what the man had been about to do, which in fact made her trigger finger itchy. But Jacqueline stayed put for now, silently catching her breath and listening to the movement below.
Whatever was going to come of all this, any wandering Freakers, however many remained in the quiet town, would be sure to eventually be attracted to all the noise that's happened in this spot so far.
There was way too much going on for Dez, regretting taking the time to talk to this Connor guy. They should’ve minded their own business like he always insisted, but Dez just had to be optimistic for once. Now it appeared to be getting them killed at worst.
Once the last two of those Freakers were dropped, he was hoping they could ditch their plan and go home empty handed. But a shout made him and Mato turn and aim at the pair appearing to block their path forward. Immediately he noticed the man not aiming at the true threat, and almost froze if it wasn’t for forcing himself to never freeze over the years. Oh great, another jackass with a gun. This is brilliant. Dez thought to himself, aiming at the man.
Mato already beat him to the punch though, shooting the man in the arm holding that gun. Dez followed it up with a shot to the chest of the man.
Once the last two of those Freakers were dropped, he was hoping they could ditch their plan and go home empty handed. But a shout made him and Mato turn and aim at the pair appearing to block their path forward. Immediately he noticed the man not aiming at the true threat, and almost froze if it wasn’t for forcing himself to never freeze over the years. Oh great, another jackass with a gun. This is brilliant. Dez thought to himself, aiming at the man.
Mato already beat him to the punch though, shooting the man in the arm holding that gun. Dez followed it up with a shot to the chest of the man.
Connor thought the girl would make it. He had no reason to believe otherwise - they'd done a decent job with clearing the Freakers that were an immediate danger to her and she was running away from the mess, just as he'd hoped she would. When Connor saw her trip and go down, he didn’t think much of it at first. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd done that - both before and after the world went to hell in a handbasket. She was still far enough away to get up and move away to relative safety. Except…she didn’t. Get up. Or move away. Or even twitch. Connor's fingers shifted over the trigger of his rifle instinctively…but there was nothing to shoot. Nothing to do except watch the girl lying on the pavement, facedown, a small pool of blood spreading slowly from underneath her forehead.
"Goddamnit…"
Connor swore but he didn’t have the luxury of standing still and contemplating the death of a person he hadn't seen before and never will. The last of the Freakers were still moving, and Connor started to adjust his aim before two more shots rang out - courtesy of the unknown shooter. The remaining few rotting piles of animated flesh were taken care of in front of his eyes, heads bursting from clean, well-aimed shots. Connor's jaw tightened as his eyes flicked upward toward the nearby rooftops again, not quite finding the shooter but having a much better idea of where to start looking now…if he wanted. And then he heard another voice cutting across from a street. A screamed plea, more like.
"NO! You're not shooting a damn dog, you asshole! No!"
Connor's entire body went stiff and his face bore the ugliest expression anyone would ever see. A cold rage started to burn within his body. Smart Connor…level-headed Connor…the Connor everyone used to depend on….the Connor who'd always deescalate, always stay away from conflict…that Connor vanished, even if for a split second. The thin veneer of morality split apart and from inside emerged a Connor that existed in a plane that defied manners, denied reason, ignored the nonchalance and voyeuristic experience of violence and murder that 'other people did' and he 'tried to stay away from'. The Connor that existed in that moment was…not a flattering version of himself - he'd be the first to agree if he was thinking rationally. Which he was not, because right then his attention had filtered out everything around him - the dead girl on the pavement, the spent bullet casings around him, the constant ringing in his ear from ballistic overload, the unseen shooter on a rooftop somewhere - and snapped with a laser-like focus towards the voice that had forewarned him of ill wished upon the one living creature he loved more than anything in this world. And there was zero hesitation in his movement. No second guessing. No need to understand context, hear explanations, try to relate to whatever thoughts that may have brought that man that had materialized in front of him along with a girl who was giving all her efforts - albeit futile - to stop him, to raise his gun at Murdoch. At. Murdoch.
The AR didn't just fire, it unleashed upon the man. He'd briefly registered the fact that one the two kids had already shot the man, but as mentioned - rational Connor, the Connor who'd economize ammunition, was absent in that moment. Oh that didn’t mean he wasn’t careful - after all there was an innocent life in that mix. The voice that had allowed him to react.
Connor's vision had never been so clear. He saw, in exquisite details, the impacts of an entire magazine of rounds punching into the man, giving rise to a badly misaligned humanoid shape with dark holes peppering the front of his torso, hitting the pavement. The weapon had fallen from his hand and he was already on the pavement, already had shuffled his mortal coil, possibly even from the first shot that the kid had sent his way. Connor didn’t care. He barely even heard the rifle itself, the individual shots all blurring into a single long rapport that kept going, kicking up dust, splintering pieces of gravel and pavement, tearing chunks of fabric and lose flesh from the corpse. The .223 rounds would go for about 60 cents apiece, sold by Wasatch Range Armory, ran by Sergeant Drew and his kid. You could buy boxes of 20, 50 or 500. Connor had money to spare.
Finally, the rifle clicked empty. The sound, small as it was underneath the deafening ringing in his ear, was not so much as heard as it was felt by him. Staying frozen for a second, Connor realized he'd forgotten to breathe, and now his lungs were working on overdrive, drawing air through his nose in strong, short bursts. He gradually calmed, enough to bring his rifle down. He simply stayed in his spot and watched Murdoch bounding towards him, tongue lolling, sharp barks spilling from his mouth. He stopped just short of his human friend, looking up at him with curious eyes, tail moving in an uncertain wag. Connor looked down at him. Suddenly thoughts came abound in his mind.
If Murdoch was a few steps closer…if he hadn't heard the girl shout…if the man's aim had been just a bit faster…if he hadn't bothered to get rid of the girl first…if one of the duo had missed…if he didn’t have bullets left in his rifle...
He could feel his stomach turn, involuntarily urging him to empty his gut. Instead, he abandoned his empty rifle and grabbing Murdoch by his scruff, yanked him close to his chest with a grip that was too tight for a second, giving rise to a whiny complaint from his dog. The whine continued even after he'd loosened his grip as Murdoch pressed his cold, wet snout under Connor's chin and licked around his chin and jaw.
"You're okay." He whispered. "You're okay buddy…you're okay." He had no idea whether it was him trying to convince himself or just simply making an indelible statement to the universe. His hands moved over the dog's neck, shoulders, ribs…checking for a wound, or sign of blood, missing patch of fur. Nothing. Just Murdoch, alive, warm, his tail now wagging furiously, gently yipping and shaking…probably in excitement because Connor was shaking too. In relief. Only after that did his eyes lift toward the girl on the ground near the dead man. He'd tuned out the shooter in his mind already…at least for the moment.
"Goddamnit…"
Connor swore but he didn’t have the luxury of standing still and contemplating the death of a person he hadn't seen before and never will. The last of the Freakers were still moving, and Connor started to adjust his aim before two more shots rang out - courtesy of the unknown shooter. The remaining few rotting piles of animated flesh were taken care of in front of his eyes, heads bursting from clean, well-aimed shots. Connor's jaw tightened as his eyes flicked upward toward the nearby rooftops again, not quite finding the shooter but having a much better idea of where to start looking now…if he wanted. And then he heard another voice cutting across from a street. A screamed plea, more like.
"NO! You're not shooting a damn dog, you asshole! No!"
Connor's entire body went stiff and his face bore the ugliest expression anyone would ever see. A cold rage started to burn within his body. Smart Connor…level-headed Connor…the Connor everyone used to depend on….the Connor who'd always deescalate, always stay away from conflict…that Connor vanished, even if for a split second. The thin veneer of morality split apart and from inside emerged a Connor that existed in a plane that defied manners, denied reason, ignored the nonchalance and voyeuristic experience of violence and murder that 'other people did' and he 'tried to stay away from'. The Connor that existed in that moment was…not a flattering version of himself - he'd be the first to agree if he was thinking rationally. Which he was not, because right then his attention had filtered out everything around him - the dead girl on the pavement, the spent bullet casings around him, the constant ringing in his ear from ballistic overload, the unseen shooter on a rooftop somewhere - and snapped with a laser-like focus towards the voice that had forewarned him of ill wished upon the one living creature he loved more than anything in this world. And there was zero hesitation in his movement. No second guessing. No need to understand context, hear explanations, try to relate to whatever thoughts that may have brought that man that had materialized in front of him along with a girl who was giving all her efforts - albeit futile - to stop him, to raise his gun at Murdoch. At. Murdoch.
The AR didn't just fire, it unleashed upon the man. He'd briefly registered the fact that one the two kids had already shot the man, but as mentioned - rational Connor, the Connor who'd economize ammunition, was absent in that moment. Oh that didn’t mean he wasn’t careful - after all there was an innocent life in that mix. The voice that had allowed him to react.
Connor's vision had never been so clear. He saw, in exquisite details, the impacts of an entire magazine of rounds punching into the man, giving rise to a badly misaligned humanoid shape with dark holes peppering the front of his torso, hitting the pavement. The weapon had fallen from his hand and he was already on the pavement, already had shuffled his mortal coil, possibly even from the first shot that the kid had sent his way. Connor didn’t care. He barely even heard the rifle itself, the individual shots all blurring into a single long rapport that kept going, kicking up dust, splintering pieces of gravel and pavement, tearing chunks of fabric and lose flesh from the corpse. The .223 rounds would go for about 60 cents apiece, sold by Wasatch Range Armory, ran by Sergeant Drew and his kid. You could buy boxes of 20, 50 or 500. Connor had money to spare.
Finally, the rifle clicked empty. The sound, small as it was underneath the deafening ringing in his ear, was not so much as heard as it was felt by him. Staying frozen for a second, Connor realized he'd forgotten to breathe, and now his lungs were working on overdrive, drawing air through his nose in strong, short bursts. He gradually calmed, enough to bring his rifle down. He simply stayed in his spot and watched Murdoch bounding towards him, tongue lolling, sharp barks spilling from his mouth. He stopped just short of his human friend, looking up at him with curious eyes, tail moving in an uncertain wag. Connor looked down at him. Suddenly thoughts came abound in his mind.
If Murdoch was a few steps closer…if he hadn't heard the girl shout…if the man's aim had been just a bit faster…if he hadn't bothered to get rid of the girl first…if one of the duo had missed…if he didn’t have bullets left in his rifle...
He could feel his stomach turn, involuntarily urging him to empty his gut. Instead, he abandoned his empty rifle and grabbing Murdoch by his scruff, yanked him close to his chest with a grip that was too tight for a second, giving rise to a whiny complaint from his dog. The whine continued even after he'd loosened his grip as Murdoch pressed his cold, wet snout under Connor's chin and licked around his chin and jaw.
"You're okay." He whispered. "You're okay buddy…you're okay." He had no idea whether it was him trying to convince himself or just simply making an indelible statement to the universe. His hands moved over the dog's neck, shoulders, ribs…checking for a wound, or sign of blood, missing patch of fur. Nothing. Just Murdoch, alive, warm, his tail now wagging furiously, gently yipping and shaking…probably in excitement because Connor was shaking too. In relief. Only after that did his eyes lift toward the girl on the ground near the dead man. He'd tuned out the shooter in his mind already…at least for the moment.
The Man slightly turned his head to Roni as his body was being shreded by the bullets. For a brief second, he looked as if he regretted his fatal decision. His limp body hit the ground and Roni, sitting there, froze. Her ankle had twisted when he pushed her away. But for that moment, she didn't feel pain. She felt fear. Roni attempted to stand and throw her hands up to show she was unarmed. But as soon as she put pressure on her ankel, the girl fell back down in pain.
As much as she wanted to cry out and try to tend to her ankle, the fear was more powerful. Roni instinctively held her arms out in front of her, as if she could stop bullets if one of them tried to shoot her, too. They could easily just leave her here as well. She was in no shape to go anywhere. When no one fired at her, Roni turned her attention to the dog and his owner. Tears fell down her cheeks as a combination of pain and emotion coursed through her tiny body. She attempted contact.
"Y-your dog... Is... Is he okay? Ouch..."
She tried to move, but it just caused more pain through her ankle to shoot through her foot and up her leg. Roni did mourn The Man. But right now, the living were more important. Her own fate was more important to her than his riddled corpse lying in front of her. She was unsure what these men would do. She was already with one deranged person. Was she safe now? Or was this the end of her short story?
As much as she wanted to cry out and try to tend to her ankle, the fear was more powerful. Roni instinctively held her arms out in front of her, as if she could stop bullets if one of them tried to shoot her, too. They could easily just leave her here as well. She was in no shape to go anywhere. When no one fired at her, Roni turned her attention to the dog and his owner. Tears fell down her cheeks as a combination of pain and emotion coursed through her tiny body. She attempted contact.
"Y-your dog... Is... Is he okay? Ouch..."
She tried to move, but it just caused more pain through her ankle to shoot through her foot and up her leg. Roni did mourn The Man. But right now, the living were more important. Her own fate was more important to her than his riddled corpse lying in front of her. She was unsure what these men would do. She was already with one deranged person. Was she safe now? Or was this the end of her short story?
Jacqueline was about to start moving when two more shots were fired. Handguns, most likely the look-alike duo. But before she could do or think anything else, the AR started shooting like crazy. She froze in place, coolly counting each round... it was hard to keep up. Sounded like the guy was emptying an entire magazine. If she didn't know better, she would have thought someone was desperately trying to fend off a Breaker.
When the shooting finally stopped, the woman's head raised above the parapet wall just enough for her eyes to get a glimpse of what the hell was going on down there. Within the confines of two seconds, she took in the scene and then went back down. She saw a dead man covered in red, the bullet holes he was riddled with bleeding. A girl near the body was holding her hands out toward the other three in some kind of surrender--something was wrong with her foot. The young men--who to her looked like twins from this distance--stood by with guns at the ready. The woman that had fallen was still on the ground, now in a pool of her own blood. The tall drifter was clutching his dog, rifle forgotten on the ground beside him and probably empty.
Shifting to her side in order to carefully collect her three expended brass casings, which were not too hot, Jacqueline allowed herself to try to put a few pieces together in her mind. Either the one with the rifle had had a grudge against the now-dead man, or he'd taken offense to the fact that the man had apparently targeted his dog. Either way, it was obviously a purely emotional response. While not necessarily good in of itself, it could be a good sign. After all, the more years that went by, the more rare it seemed to find people who felt much of anything except anger and greed. But that... that was just a guy hugging his dog.
Although if this had been her very first impression of him, she might have thought he was a trigger-happy maniac.
Laying flat on the roof again, Jacqueline used her hands and toes to lift her body an inch off the ground at a time. With painstakingly slow progress, she made her way backward along the roof, staying low and quiet. Her rifle, which again had the optic covered and protected, was also a pain to move like this, but she patiently lifted it with one arm and moved it with her every inch of the way, keeping her somewhat-ringing ears open for any more sounds from below.
The woman had her intentions, but now wasn't quite the time for them to be realized. The tension down there was high enough to be at a breaking point, adding another variable would be a bad idea. Plus, she already had plenty of incentive to get off this building, preferably without being seen, as it had a door on the roof that likely had a stairway going down. Not the safest of places once someone knew you were up here.
When the shooting finally stopped, the woman's head raised above the parapet wall just enough for her eyes to get a glimpse of what the hell was going on down there. Within the confines of two seconds, she took in the scene and then went back down. She saw a dead man covered in red, the bullet holes he was riddled with bleeding. A girl near the body was holding her hands out toward the other three in some kind of surrender--something was wrong with her foot. The young men--who to her looked like twins from this distance--stood by with guns at the ready. The woman that had fallen was still on the ground, now in a pool of her own blood. The tall drifter was clutching his dog, rifle forgotten on the ground beside him and probably empty.
Shifting to her side in order to carefully collect her three expended brass casings, which were not too hot, Jacqueline allowed herself to try to put a few pieces together in her mind. Either the one with the rifle had had a grudge against the now-dead man, or he'd taken offense to the fact that the man had apparently targeted his dog. Either way, it was obviously a purely emotional response. While not necessarily good in of itself, it could be a good sign. After all, the more years that went by, the more rare it seemed to find people who felt much of anything except anger and greed. But that... that was just a guy hugging his dog.
Although if this had been her very first impression of him, she might have thought he was a trigger-happy maniac.
Laying flat on the roof again, Jacqueline used her hands and toes to lift her body an inch off the ground at a time. With painstakingly slow progress, she made her way backward along the roof, staying low and quiet. Her rifle, which again had the optic covered and protected, was also a pain to move like this, but she patiently lifted it with one arm and moved it with her every inch of the way, keeping her somewhat-ringing ears open for any more sounds from below.
The woman had her intentions, but now wasn't quite the time for them to be realized. The tension down there was high enough to be at a breaking point, adding another variable would be a bad idea. Plus, she already had plenty of incentive to get off this building, preferably without being seen, as it had a door on the roof that likely had a stairway going down. Not the safest of places once someone knew you were up here.
The mag dump that followed the pairs single shots into the man shocked them both, since such anger hadn’t been seen by the pair in months. They took a few steps away from Conner until the mag was emptied, with Dez now thinking this man was a loose cannon. Mato was just scared.
Very level headed man. Very wasteful. Dez thought, and pulled Mato along to go find whoever this sniper was. He assumed which building it was, and wanted to give Conner time to cool off before chastising the man.
Pausing to comfort a trembling Mato, he remembered that this kid had never shot at an uninfected person before, and that this was still traumatic despite being raised in this environment for years. Pulling Mato into a hug out of sight from everyone, he noticed he himself shook a little too. “You’re alright kiddo. We’re gonna go home and take the day off.”
They only held each other for maybe 30 seconds, since he wanted out of this area immediately. Calling out to whoever the sniper was, he hoped this person would be receptive. “Sniper! Come down and let’s get moving. We’ve got enough food for five, and I trust you’re trustworthy for now. Conner, grab the girl and let’s go! We’re sitting ducks.”
Dez and Mato fast walked out to their bikes, reloading their revolvers on the way back. Both hopped on once they oriented their way back out to where they lived, ready to ditch everyone if they were too slow.
Very level headed man. Very wasteful. Dez thought, and pulled Mato along to go find whoever this sniper was. He assumed which building it was, and wanted to give Conner time to cool off before chastising the man.
Pausing to comfort a trembling Mato, he remembered that this kid had never shot at an uninfected person before, and that this was still traumatic despite being raised in this environment for years. Pulling Mato into a hug out of sight from everyone, he noticed he himself shook a little too. “You’re alright kiddo. We’re gonna go home and take the day off.”
They only held each other for maybe 30 seconds, since he wanted out of this area immediately. Calling out to whoever the sniper was, he hoped this person would be receptive. “Sniper! Come down and let’s get moving. We’ve got enough food for five, and I trust you’re trustworthy for now. Conner, grab the girl and let’s go! We’re sitting ducks.”
Dez and Mato fast walked out to their bikes, reloading their revolvers on the way back. Both hopped on once they oriented their way back out to where they lived, ready to ditch everyone if they were too slow.
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