Young Writers Society

K.J. (Apartment/Library)--

I just stare at the guy, who had inadvertently saved our lives but also killed about a half a dozen walkers.

"Um, sure," I say, backing away from the broken window we could hear him from, though, anyway. "Where'd you get that gun?" is the first question out of my mouth.

I want one.

A pocket-knife and creative killing techniques can only go so far.

Dana

Dana wrapped her arms around herself and tried to focus on breathing deeply, on calming her shaking body. KJ chatted up the most recent addition to the apartment, Chris was busy distracting little Alice from the horror going on in the world outside the apartment, and Hannah cradled Kisa in her arms.

"We need to do something," Dana said, speaking up over everyone. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her. "We need a plan. It's becoming increasingly obvious that this isn't the safest place to be, and if we're going to survive we might need to find..." She looked at the new guy and the gun he held in his hands. She knew they couldn't hope to make it without a weapon. It was a shock that Dana had managed to keep herself, Chris, and Alice safe. "We're going to need weapons."

"Can't we just find someplace to hide out?" Hannah asked. She glanced from Kisa in her arms to Alice on the couch. "It can't be good for them to be around this."

"Well they're already in it," KJ said. "Might as well."

Dana nodded. She could see KJ was all in for a gun. She just hoped that she would be able to handle it, and that this was really the best decision for Kisa and Alice. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't think of a better option.

K.J. (Apartment/Library):

I notice Dana's panicked expression and feel a small bit of sorrow. "Here," I say, giving her the improvised stake I was still holding, smooth end facing her. "For now. And I've said the same thing. Could you...tell me what we have here? I mean, if we could make a base..."

I look around, seeing all the windows. "Not here. Especially when he shot all them. We should get as much stuff as possible, then move on. Bottled water, food, weapons, blankets, and a first-aid kit, especially. Or, we could try and keep them out. Only go out when there are few of them and get what we need. I'd go with the first option."

I'm not really sure who I'm talking to.

I allow myself a slight grin, though, when one of the kittens manages to crawl over to Chris and Alice and paw at Alice's leg. I always said cats were good pets, even if I never owned one myself before the zombie apocalypse.

((Does anyone else find him having two kittens hilarious? I find it hilarious. ...Sorry. I just had to say that.))

((It certainly seems different...))

I slung the Mini-14 over my shoulder and clambered through the window. I looked around. They were searching for supplies. Admittedly, I needed some, but I would find some at some point. And if all else failed, I knew how to skin and cook squirrels. Scratching my head, I spoke.

"Well, I've got some blankets and medical stuff at my house, but this is my only gun. Although...were there military personnel going around the area?"

The male nodded.

"Well, don't you figure the walkers got at least a couple army dudes? Don't you imagine if they'd been killed they'd've just dropped their M4s? Why don't we try to grab some of them? I could cover you..."

Name: Brooke Johns
Age: 14
Height: '5''11
Weight: 102 lbs.
Race: English, French, American
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Physique: tall, moderately muscled (due to running and living on what she can find), moderately skinny (for same reasons)
Education: What she learned from books (equivalent of nine years in school so far)
Profession: None
Pros: Is mostly truthful (when she has to be), very strong (mentally/emotionally), can be quite friendly and caring (if you can earn her trust and get close enough to her), and independent
Cons: Is quite stubborn, follows her own rules, steals (only when necessary), very hard to get close to and earn trust from, independent
Background: Brooke lost her mother to the disease years before the actual outbreak. She was only seven and had no other family in the country. The remaining family had not only moved to France but also abandoned her mother long ago because Brooke's father was not married to her mother at the time Brooke was concieved or when Brooke was born. Brooke's father also abandoned her mother as well when he learned that Brooke was being born. She lived on in her mother's house until the government ceased it because no one was paying the taxes. During the outbreak Brooke stayed where she had been living after the government took her house, which was the liabrary attic. The liabrary was shut down when the outbreak happened. The liabrarian also lived in the liabrary with Brooke. The liabrarian was killed by zombies shortly after the outbreak. After this, Brooke was forced to live alone with only the clothes on her back, the things she steals and her journal.

I will mostly post Brooke's diary entries.

((Q. Was your character talking to K.J. or Chris, Loller? And, yeah. *shrugs* I always wondered what would happen to my favorite animal--the housecat--during a zombie apocalypse. Or all other animals. So I had him grab a few kittens. Weird, but...hey, it's a mini-social experiment...or something.))

Caspian

It was a shame that stores attracted so much bad attention, otherwise Caspian might have stayed. He liked food and he liked people. But zombies? Well. They were sure interesting enough from a distance, and he wouldn't mind putting one on a leash, but in general? No thank you.

Caspian was getting ready for the off. He had his rucksack firmly across both shoulders, the weight as evenly distributed as it could be. He was thinking perhaps it was a little heavy and would certainly slow his running, but, he was loathe to put any food back. Fine. The rucksack would do. His weaponry was good, bat in one hand and the gun awkwardly sitting at his hip. There wasn't a holster for it on his belt, as it wasn't his gun, and the owner's belt had been huge. Yes, that had been one fat idiot with an over-bearing personality to match. It was unsurprising that he hadn't lasted, really. A pity. He'd been a better shot and known what bullets it took and (one expects) where to find them.

Passing by the window, Cass looked out to check for any zombies and did a double take at what he saw there. People. Walking, talking, people! He gawped and then scolded himself for it. Had it really been so long? They were walking alongside the wall and then the woman turned and also started. Which drew the man's attention. Now, Caspian prided himself on judging characters and the woman worried him not a bit, but the man. He was black, tall and lean and he had a fierce look to him, like a fighter. Cass knew better than most that appearance wasn't everything, but he also knew that sometimes it was.

The couple entered the store. For a moment, Caspian forgot all about his fear of the zombies and wished it had been instead them who had entered the building. Zombies you could judge, watch, anticipate. And most importantly of all, you could kill them without a moment's hesitation. Men were a lot more complicated. Caspian had never killed a man before.

"Why hello there," he said at last. "I was just leaving." Or at least, he would have been if they weren't looming in the entrance and if his own curiosity wasn't urging him to stay a little longer. What sort of people, afterall, survived a zombie apocalypse?

Brooke's Journal


I see them across the square. The zombies. They are dragging out a disease ridden body. They are going to eat it. Fear and anger course through me as if through my blood. It is a woman and she is pregnant. She looks like the librarian. A terrible bell rings and I am able to place a name to the bodie that is being ripped apart by those horrid, half dead creatures. The woman is... or was.... Isabelle Crenshaw. This was the librarian's daughter. Before she died, the librarian told me stories of Isabelle as a child. They were in the middle of a detailed description of her wedding when the librarian slipped from conciousness for the last time. Tears stream down my face as I think of Isabelle and her unborn baby boy. She was going to name him Hawthorne.

((@Cspr-I was talking to KJ.))

Loller65 wrote:((It certainly seems different...))

I slung the Mini-14 over my shoulder and clambered through the window. I looked around. They were searching for supplies. Admittedly, I needed some, but I would find some at some point. And if all else failed, I knew how to skin and cook squirrels. Scratching my head, I spoke.

"Well, I've got some blankets and medical stuff at my house, but this is my only gun. Although...were there military personnel going around the area?"

The male nodded.

"Well, don't you figure the walkers got at least a couple army dudes? Don't you imagine if they'd been killed they'd've just dropped their M4s? Why don't we try to grab some of them? I could cover you..."

K.J.--Apartment/Library

"I suppose that could work, but if you hadn't noticed," I gestured down at my right leg, "I can't run. That might pose problems. I mean, I'm up for helping us survive and I'd do whatever to survive, but I don't feel like becoming zombie chow."
I shrugged, before looking around the library once more. "Though, if we wait here much longer, we will be zombie chow anyway, won't we? It'd be nice to have guns..." I look at the woman and her niece and nephew, that kid, and...
"I'll do it if no one else volunteers," I say finally, before moving away.
Let someone else talk for a while. There wasn't any water that I could see and I didn't want to get dehydrated.

((Yeah, sorry if I failed to respond to anyone else, but...yeah...))

I looked at the guy with the injured leg. To be honest, it was kind of crazy trying to get a gun with an injury like that.

"Let me do it."

Reluctantly, I stood and handed him Rebecca, my Mini 14.

"Listen, you can cover me with this while I grab some guns and ammo, and maybe some MREs if they've got them. Do you know how to reload one of these or clear a jam or anything?"

K.J.--Apartment/Library

I frowned and tested out the gun for weight, putting the butt of it up against my shoulder. "Uh, I'm not sure about all that. I can aim and shoot but past that..."
So, yeah, I was feeling pretty stupid about now.

Sighing, I took the gun from him.

"Now, let's say you just fired this gun and emptied it. You need to reload. So, you'll do this."

I pressed a small button on the side, releasing the clip. It clattered to the floor.

"Now, you'll take the new clip and slide it in."

I popped the clip back in.

"However, there isn't a round in the chamber, so you'll need to do this."

I pulled a small slide back near where empty shells ejected, and a fresh bullet popped into place. A handed the gun back to him, along with my bandolier of extra clips.

"Here. You've got 3 extra twenty round clips. That should be enough."

I began to exit the building before turning to say something.

"Oh, and it helps if you keep your cool and exhale as you squeeze the trigger."

He nodded and popped his neck.

Alright, I though to myself. Let's do this.