Heroes of "And the Dead shall walk..." Group 2

[nexus]

Sabrina Cho

Val Char Cost Roll Notes

8 STR -2 11- Lift 75.8kg; 1 1/2d6 HTH damage

13 DEX 9 12- OCV: 4/DCV: 4

12 CON 4 11-

10/7 BODY 0 11-

20 INT 10 13- PER Roll 13-

15 EGO 10 12- ECV: 5

15 PRE 5 12- PRE Attack: 3d6

18 COM 4 13-

3 PD 1 Total: 6 PD (3 rPD)

3 ED 1 Total: 6 ED (3 rED)

3 SPD 7 Phases: 4, 8, 12

4 REC 0

30/24 END 3

30 25 STUN 10 Total Characteristics Cost: 62

Movement: Run: 6"/NC"

Swim: 2"/NC"

 

Cost Powers END

10 "Auspicious Birth": Luck 2d6

 

Martial Arts: Kick Boxing

Maneuver OCV DCV Notes

4 1) Punch/Snak Kick +0 +2 STR +2d6 Strike

5 2) Round House Kick -2 +1 STR +4d6 Strike

3 3) Legsweep +2 -1 STR +1d6 Strike, Target Falls

4 4) Elbow Strike +2 +0 STR +2d6 Strike

 

Talents

6 Combat Luck (3 PD/3 ED)

5 Eidetic Memory

 

Skills

3 Inventor 13-

2 KS: High Technology 11-

3 Computer Programming 13-

3 KS: Computer Security Systems (INT-based) 13-

3 Mechanics 13-

3 Electronics 13-

3 Systems Operation 13-

3 SS: Eletrical Eingineering (INT-based) 13-

3 SS: Mechanical Eingineering (INT-based) 13-

3 SS: Computer Science (INT-based) 13-

3 SS: Metallurgy (INT-based) 13-

3 Security Systems 13-

2 TF: Common Motorized Ground Vehicles

3 WF: Common Melee Weapons, Handguns

5 +1 with Int Based Skills

6 +2 with Kick Boxing

 

Total Powers & Skills Cost: 88

Total Cost: 150

 

100+ Disadvantages

10 Distinctive Features: Lovely Chinese/American Woman (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses)

15 Psychological Limitation: Naturally competitive, assumes she should be in charge (Common; Strong)

10 Psychological Limitation: Dislike of jocks and "jarheads" (Common; Moderate)

15 Psychological Limitation: Curious, can't resist tinkering and looking for complicated answers (Very Common; Moderate)

0 Normal Characteristic Maxima

 

Total Disadvantage Points: 150

[nexus]

Re: Heroes of "And the Dead shall walk..." Group 2

 

Kuri Takeda

 

Player:

 

Val Char Cost

15 STR 5

19 DEX 27

15 CON 10

13 BODY 6

13 INT 3

10 EGO 0

15 PRE 5

20 COM 5

 

5 PD 2

5 ED 2

4 SPD 11

6 REC 0

30 END 0 27

30 STUN 1

 

8" RUN 4

4" SWIM 2

3" LEAP 0

Characteristics Cost: 83

 

Cost Judo/Karate

3 Legsweep: 1/2 Phase, +2 OCV, -1 DCV, 4d6 Strike, Target Falls

4 Martial Block: 1/2 Phase, +2 OCV, +2 DCV, Block, Abort

3 Martial Grab: 1/2 Phase, -1 OCV, -1 DCV, Grab Two Limbs, 25 STR for holding on

4 Martial Strike: 1/2 Phase, +0 OCV, +2 DCV, 5d6 Strike

2 Weapon Element: Blades, Clubs

Martial Arts Cost: 16

 

Cost Skill

3 Acrobatics 13-

3 Breakfall 13-

3 Conversation 12-

3 Paramedics 12-

3 Seduction 12-

3 Streetwise 12-

10 Two-Weapon Fighting (HTH)

1 WF: Blades, Clubs, Fist-Loads, Unarmed Combat

2 PS 11-

2 KS 11-

5 Rapid Attack (HTH)

Skills Cost: 38

 

Cost Talent

6 Combat Luck (3 PD/3 ED)

7 Deadly Blow: +1d6 (Only With Knives)

Talents Cost: 13

 

Total Character Cost: 150

 

Pts. Disadvantage

20 Honorable: (Common, Total)

15 Overconfident: (Common, Strong)

5 Reputation: High Class Prostitute: , 8-

10 Prefers Force to Diplomacy: (Common, Moderate)

Disadvantage Points: 50

Base Points: 100

Experience Required: 0

Total Experience Available: 0

Experience Unspent: 0

 

 

Equipment List:

 

White Shirt

Brown Pants

Underwear

Socks

Bag with Shoulder Strap

Spare Set of Clothes

Boots

Lighter

1 MRE

3 Belts

6 Knives

2 Batons

[nexus]

Re: Heroes of "And the Dead shall walk..." Group 2

 

Mackenzie Simons

Val Char Cost Roll Notes

10 STR 0 11- Lift 100.0kg; 2d6 HTH damage

12 DEX 6 11- OCV: 4/DCV: 4

13 CON 6 12-

10 BODY 0 11-

20 INT 10 13- PER Roll 13-

17 EGO 14 12- ECV: 6

15 PRE 5 12- PRE Attack: 3d6

16 COM 3 12-

3 PD 1 Total: 6 PD (3 rPD)

3 ED 0 Total: 6 ED (3 rED)

3 SPD 8 Phases: 4, 8, 12

5 REC 0

30 END 2

25 STUN 3 Total Characteristics Cost: 58

Movement: Run: 6"/NC"

Swim: 2"/NC"

 

Cost Powers END

Talents

6 Combat Luck (3 PD/3 ED)

5 Eidetic Memory

9 Ambidexterity (Eliminate Off Hand Penalty entirely)

 

Skills

3 Bureaucratics 12-

3 Computer Programming 13-

3 Forensic Medicine 13-

5 KS: Human Anatomy (INT-based) 15-

4 KS: Diseases (INT-based) 14-

6 KS: Emergency Medicine (INT-based) 16-

7 Paramedics 15-

5 PS: Physcian (INT-based) 15-

4 SS: Organic Chemistry (INT-based) 14-

5 SS: Biology (INT-based) 15-

4 SS: Toxicology (INT-based) 14-

15 +3 with all Medical/Biology Skills

3 Systems Operation 13-

2 TF: Common Motorized Ground Vehicles

3 WF: Common Melee Weapons, Handguns

 

Total Powers & Skills Cost: 92

Total Cost: 150

 

100+ Disadvantages

15 Psychological Limitation: Hippocratic Oath (Common; Strong)

10 Physical Limitation: Mild Asthma (Frequently; Slightly Impairing)

10 Psychological Limitation: Quiet and withdrawn (Common; Moderate)

15 Dependent NPC: Younger Sister 11- (Normal)

 

Total Disadvantage Points: 150

 

Mackenzie stands at 5'7" and has a lean form for the most part. She does have ample breasts, but she's athletic past that. Her eyes are blue and she has curly long brown hair that she keeps in a pony tail most of the time. She liked wearing scrubs, but right now she has scrub pants on and a tank top. She has a backpack on her back.

[nexus]

Re: Heroes of "And the Dead shall walk..." Group 2

 

John Harker

Val Char Cost Roll Notes

10 STR 0 11- Lift 100.0kg; 2d6 HTH damage

12 DEX 6 11- OCV: 4/DCV: 4

15 CON 10 12-

10 BODY 0 11-

20 INT 10 13- PER Roll 13-

15 EGO 10 12- ECV: 5

15 PRE 5 12- PRE Attack: 3d6

12 COM 1 11-

3 PD 1 Total: 6 PD (3 rPD)

3 ED 0 Total: 6 ED (3 rED)

3 SPD 8 Phases: 4, 8, 12

5 REC 0

40 END 5

35 STUN 12 Total Characteristics Cost: 68

Movement: Run: 6"/NC"

Swim: 2"/NC"

 

Cost Powers END

Talents

6 Combat Luck (3 PD/3 ED)

3 Lightning Calculator

4 Speed Reading (x10)

 

Skills

7 Computer Programming 15-

7 Cryptography 15-

3 Deduction 13-

7 Electronics 15-

5 KS: Computers (INT-based) 15-

4 KS: High Technology (INT-based) 14-

5 Mechanics 14-

7 Inventor 15-

5 PS: Computer Operator (INT-based) 15-

3 Security Systems 13-

3 Systems Operation 13-

4 TF: Common Motorized Ground Vehicles, Equines, Two-Wheeled Muscle-Powered Ground Vehicles

6 WF: Common Melee Weapons, General Purpose/Heavy Machine Guns, Handguns, Shoulder-Fired Weapons, Small Arms

3 +1 with Pistols

 

Total Powers & Skills Cost: 82

Total Cost: 150

 

100+ Disadvantages

20 Psychological Limitation: Shy and withdrawn, relates better to machines than people (Very Common; Strong)

15 Psychological Limitation: Tends to be an intellectual elitist (Common; Strong)

10 Psychological Limitation: Nervous around women or in romantic situations (Uncommon; Strong)

5 Unluck: 1d6

0 Normal Characteristic Maxima

 

Total Disadvantage Points: 150

[nexus]

Re: Heroes of "And the Dead shall walk..." Group 2

 

Character Sheet: Mark Johnson

Cost Char Value Roll Notes

5 STR 15 12 HTH Damage 2½d6, 3 END

21 DEX 17 12 OCV/DCV 6

6 CON 13 12

6 BODY 13 12

8 INT 18 13 PER Roll 18

8 EGO 14 12 ECV: 5

0 PRE 10 11 PRE Attack: 2d6

3 COM 16 12

1 PD 4 4 PD (0 rPD)

1 ED 4 4 ED (0 rED)

13 SPD 4 Phases: 3, 6, 9, 12

0 REC 6

0 END 26

0 STUN 27

4 Run 8 END 2

1 Swim 3 END 1

0 Leap 2½†2½ forward, 1†upward

 

Skills/Talents/Perks

12 Breakfall, Climbing, Lockpicking, Stealth 12-

9 Electronics, KS: Computers, Security Systems 13-

10 Computer Programming (Networks, hacking and computer security, Personal Computers, Mainframes and supercomputers) 14-

3 CuK: Computer ‘Society’

8 KS: Sci-fi/Fantasy (Movies, books, etc); Horror (Movies, Books, etc), Supernatural

6 Kendo, Streetwise

3 WF: Blades, Handguns, Rifles, Shotguns, Unarmed Combat

EM Acting, Concealment, Conversation, Deduction, Paramedics, Persuasion, Shadowing 8-

EM TF: Small Motorized Ground Vehicles

EM Language: English (Native, Literate)

EM AK: Boston 8-

 

3 Lightsleep

 

Martial Arts: Kendo and basic Karate

Cost Maneuver OCV DCV Katana Unarmed Notes

5 Defensive Block +1 +3 Block/Abort

4 Martial Dodge -- +5 Dodge, affects all attacks, abort

4 Martial Strike +0 +2 3d6 HKA 4 1/2d6 HA

Marital Disarm -1 +1 23 STR to Disarm

2 Weapon Element: Blades, Empty Hand

 

Disadvantages:

10 Psych. Limit: Shy (Especially around women) - Common, Moderate

10 Psych. Limit: Low Self Esteem – Common, Moderate

15 Psych. Limit: Uses Sarcasm as a Defense Mechanism – Common, Strong

10 Psych. Limit: Ophidiophobia (Fear of Snakes) – Common, Moderate

5 Unluck: 1d6

 

 

Name: Marc Johnson

Age: 19

D.O.B.: October 31st, 2000

Height: 6’1â€

Weight: 175 lbs

Hair: Dark brown, worn long, pulled back in a tail

Eyes: Hazel

 

 

History: Marc Johnson Sr. was the last of a long line of cops. An only child, his father was a cop, uncles were all cops, his grandfather…all cops. At one time, he had hoped his son, Marc Johnson Junior, would continue that long and glorious line, but Junior had other plans…and Senior couldn’t have been more proud.

 

While most of the men in his family were more athletic, Marc was more cerebral. He was smart, both in the common sense and academic meanings of the term. His family never begrudged him that. When he made the Principle’s List in high school, his dad proudly displayed the plaque in the front room of the family home. “My boy,†he said. “First one in the family to get grades like this.†It was the same when he graduated as first in his class in High School, when he was accepted into college…pride at the boy’s smarts, the fact that he would do something better.

 

The only two things his father ever stressed were the need to know and respect firearms – he had seen too many people get hurt for misuse – and the need to know to defend one’s self. One weekend a month, Marc and his father when to the local police firing range, and Marc learned to shoot. For the self defense, he elected to enroll in a local Kendo school. Not quite what his father had in mind for self-defense, but when Marc, only twelve years old, grinned up at him and said he wanted to learn to sword fight, his father just couldn’t say no. With that training in Kendo, Marc finally conceded to his father’s wishes and took a few Karate courses as well. He was just never as ‘into’ that as he was in swordsmanship.

 

His first year of college, just a local school until he could earn the money for ITT or another technical school, was like high school. Excellent grades, a single minded focus and determination to learn everything he could, and a lack of any real friends. It was Marc’s biggest fault. No one else in his family had a problem making friends, but he did. He was shy around girls, and a life time of being teased for his intelligence in school had left him just a bit self-conscious of his own abilities.

 

So when the Black-Flu broke out, when people started getting sick and schools were cancelled, he simply stayed at home with his mother, father, and little sister. All three of them came down with the symptoms. Ever the dutiful son, he took over the care of house and home. He prepared their meals, served them in bed, stayed up most nights in case they needed anything, just wrapped in the world of his own little fantasy, his books and movies his only friends.

 

He felt numb when his mother, father and sister died. He had shed his tears for them, and when he found them all dead within a twelve hour period, he had nothing left to give. Saying a small prayer over each one, he tied them into the family’s best linen, and did what everyone else had begun doing – he buried them himself. Three small, neat graves, marked with roughly carved wooden crosses.

 

The anarchy of the world around him passed him by. He didn’t feel the urge to loot and riot, those few who did try to get into his house found it well armed and guarded. His father had been an avid gun collector, and Marc knew how to handle himself with a large portion of those guns. He wasn’t a marksman, by any means, but he was skilled enough when it came to the point and click interface of a shotgun or pistol.

 

When the dead got up and started moving around…well, that almost unhinged the poor boy.

 

He had barricaded himself into the house, had used wood his father had kept in the garage to make the doors and windows secure. There was a small connecting hall between the garage and the house, which made the work easier. Imagine his surprise that, while reading by candlelight, he heard a pounding on the front door.

 

Even cautious, he crept up and peered out…only to see his father’s dirt covered and death-bloated face.

 

Oddly enough, his normally practical mind didn’t have a hard time grasping the concept of the dead walking. Maybe it was too many comics and horror movies, too many books and video-games, and too much TV. No, he didn’t have too much trouble grasping the concept, the shock of seeing his father walking around…

 

His watch said it was noon when he woke up. The body of his father, unloving, living-dead, or buried alive (and somehow still alive after three months of no food or water, in the ground where he had likely long run out of air), was gone from the front porch, and Marc was alone. Alone and very aware he couldn’t stay any longer.

 

He packed what he felt he would need. A flashlight, spare batteries, a battery operated radio, various bits of food, a first aid kit, some spare clothes, an old survival kit that his father had bought him for a camping trip the year before, and some of his father’s old equipment from his time in the military and on the police force. He grabbed an remake of a Colt Peacemaker and a shotgun from his father’s collection, all the ammo he could find for both, and after a bit of deliberation, the sword his mother and father had bought him for a graduation present – an authentic katana, not one of the cheap mass-produced replicas, but a hand crafted, plainly leather wrapped sword that even his instructor had admired. The only other thing he took was a necklace and locket that had belonged to his sister, a small keep-sake charm he had given her for her birthday one year. From the end dangled his parent’s gold wedding rings.

 

He didn’t really have anywhere to go. He knew he needed to find other people, but he didn’t know where. New York just seemed like the best choice…so, loading the family car with his supplies, he got one last, good night’s sleep, and headed out with the next dawn.

 

Personality: Marc is a rather quiet, almost nerdy young man. In some circles, mostly the cyber-based ones, he would be considered ‘cool’. He was a more than competent hacker, an avid fan of sci-fi and fantasy, and considered the occult and mythology hobbies. In fact, the only times he ever really felt confident was when he was on a computer, and he lacks the self-esteem to believe himself capable of making it in this strange ‘new’ world. Women make him nervous, almost painfully so, though he can usually compose himself enough for a slight smile and a nod.

 

Oddly enough, if he ever sat down and really thought about it, he’d understand he has a lot going for him. He was fast enough to run track, though he never did. A good enough swimmer to be on the swim team, but his confidence got in the way – and before all hell broke loose, he could have made a competent martial artist, if he had more than half-assed it.

 

He’s not a quitter, however. He’ll keep on going until he can’t go on anymore. It’s just in his nature. He might not believe in himself as much as he should, but he’s got a strong sense of self-preservation, and he’s extremely loyal to anyone he feels he can trust.

 

Appearance: Marc is a tall, slender young man with shoulder length brown hair, and bright, inquisitive, hazel eyes. He usually wears loose, baggy clothes, hiding what is actually a semi-defined musculature. He’s slender, but he’s wiry, and quite capable of defending himself; even if he doesn’t believe in it much himself.

 

He wears the ankle-length black duster that had once belonged to a companion on the road. He’s modified it slightly, allowing him to carry his sword on the outside of the duster on his back. He wears his pistol slung low in a gunslinger style on his right hip, the bottom of the holster tied to his thigh with an old boot string.

 

His clothes are generally dark – a black t-shirt with a faded blue shirt, button down style, over the top, loose fitting jeans, and old, comfortable hiking boots.

 

The style is almost a throwback to his fantasies and dreams of being some sort of a hero, though he’d never admit that to anyone. He knows he can handle himself, but he could never really back up what, in his mind, the image of what he dresses like represents.

 

Equipment: Police issue belt with a holster for his pistol (slung almost ridiculously low, ‘cowboy style’ as he calls it) and a police issue flashlight, backpack with a change of clothes, hiking boots, a black canvass duster, spare batteries, a first aid kit, a survival kit, a lock-pick set, a miniature tool set (the small kit a computer tech or electrician would carry) and various other odds and ends picked up along the way. A functional replica of a Colt Peacemaker that fires modern .45 rounds and fifteen extra shells beyond the six loaded, a katana, a survival knife, a Zippo lighter (with some extra fluid and a small pack of flints), and a compass. He also has a tendency to have various sci-fi, fantasy, or horror novels he picks up in his travels, often trading out a completed one for a new one.

 

Fiction:

“You know how to use either of those, kid?â€

 

Marc looked up from the window and over at the two people standing behind him. Neither of them were old enough to call him ‘kid’, but both of them, even the girl, looked like she would whip the hell out of him. He opened his mouth once, closed it, gave an almost unnoticed shake of his head then rolled his shoulders. “They’re not for show.â€

 

The girl, Stephanie, laughed. She was pretty, despite the leather and ripped denim she wore, a punker before the proverbial shit had hit the fan. Her long hair was still mostly purple, but he could see brown roots creeping in. The laughter made him nervous. She wasn’t laughing at him, she was laughing at the joke, but it seemed close to the same.

 

Her boyfriend, Roy, didn’t think it was that funny. He was dressed in the same style of ripped denim and leather, and the main part of the Mohawk was still a vibrant green. The sides, now starting to grow in, showed a faint, dirty blond color. “You mouthin’ off to me, you little shit?â€

 

“Nope,†Marc’s entire body trembled a bit, but in the shadows, they couldn’t see it. He turned back towards the window and looked out. There were about a half dozen of the ‘zombies’ were milling about outside…wandering aimlessly. They seemed harmless enough, slow. They weren’t. “Just answering the question.†He could see Roy take a step closer, and he tensed.

 

“Leave him alone, Roy,†Stephanie grabbed her boyfriend’s arm and pulled him back. “You never played baseball, but you still carry that fucking bat around,†there was a bit of humor in her voice, and Marc had to smile.

 

“Yeah, whatever,†Roy walked over to another window and looked out. “So…what do you think they are?â€

 

Marc didn’t say anything at first. He just scratched the back of his head and continued watching. “Us,†he said slowly. “What we were, what we will be.â€

 

“Thought about that a lot, kid?†The tone of Roy’s voice was just short of mocking.

 

“Actually,†Marc said quietly. “I have been.†He turned away and rubbed his arms. It was cold, and he had lost his jacket at the same time he had lost his dad’s shotgun, running from a handful of those walking corpses.

 

Roy pulled off his duster and tossed it aside. Underneath, he was wearing a sleeveless sweatshirt that had once advertised some heavy metal band, and was now too faded and dirty to really be read. “Whatever. How do we kill ‘em?â€

 

“Who says we can?†He turned around and watched both Roy and Stephanie light up cigarettes with Roy’s battered old lighter.

 

“Huh?†It wasn’t the most articulate sound Stephanie had made, but considering she was puffing on a cigarette at the time, Marc figured he could forgive her.

 

He pulled the pistol out of the holster at his hip, and checked to make sure he had reloaded it. He knew he had, but he was constantly checking and rechecking. Roy irritated him, and Stephanie, always watching him with intent, green eyes, made him nervous. “Well…they’re dead. I don’t know if we CAN kill them,†he pulled out a small canteen of water and drank before offering it to the purple haired girl. “I doubt any of the movies really ever knew what they were talking about.â€

 

“What do you mean?†Stephanie walked closer. Even without makeup and the pleasantries of modern society, she was pretty.

 

“Well,†Marc stammered quietly, looking around. “Um…some movies say that you have to shoot them in the head. Others say it just takes massive amounts of damage to just make the body inoperable. The others,†he shrugged weakly, looking away from the punkers.

 

With a snort, Roy took another drag off his cigarette, and gently put it out, saving a little less than half for later. “And what, in your vast experience, brain-boy, seems to work.â€

 

“I don’t know,†Marc smiled weakly. “I’ve never killed any of them. I mostly run.â€

 

For some reason, that statement was vastly hilarious to Roy. He slapped his thigh as he nearly doubled up in laughter. “Oh, some great genius you are! Haven’t even managed to kill one of those fuckers.â€

 

Marc frowned, flashing a quick glance at Stephanie. She was watching Roy, rolling her eyes at the way he was acting. “All right, asshole,†Roy’s head snapped up, and his eyes flashed dangerously. He almost backed up, but he held his ground. “How many of them have YOU killed?â€

 

Stephanie laughed, and Roy looked agitated. “None, you little fucker, but that doesn’t mean anything!â€

 

“Never said it did,†Marc nodded once and went back to looking over the rest of his gear. There was a slightly sarcastic smile on his lips, despite the fact his muscles were tense. He was expecting the punch or kick to come at any moment.

 

And hour later, marc lay on the couch of Den. Roy and Stephanie had retired off to another part of the house to ‘relax’ as Stephanie had put it. Roy had been a little blunter in his description.

 

“How in the fuck can they relax when she’s screaming like that?†Marc shook his head and pulled a pillow up over his face. God they were loud…the thumping, the screaming. It was annoying.

 

When Roy’s voice chimed in, Marc sat up. Suddenly the screams didn’t sound quite so erotic. They sounded frightened, scared…pained.

 

He nearly leapt from the couch, his hand reaching for the gun at his hip and the flashlight on the table. He didn’t necessarily like Roy, but they were in this together. The house they had taken shelter in for the night, after he had picked the lock on the front door (which got him quite a few strange looks from both of his companion) was suddenly quiet, a little too quiet for his liking. They had boarded up the windows, secured the doors, hadn’t found anything when they had searched.

 

The stairs creaked as he walked up them, and with each groan, he cringed with every groan. They had just been having really good sex, that was it. Just got a little too carried away. Never mind the smell of blood that hit him as he hit the second floor landing. Nah, never mind that.

 

Shoving both weapon and flashlight in front of him like his father had shown him how, his right wrist, his gun wrist, resting on top of his left…his left hand holding the flashlight, he turned towards the bedroom doors. He knew which room they had claimed; the one with the big bed.

 

They had checked everything, right? All the rooms, the closets…well, he had been responsible for the first floor and basement. They had been responsible for the second floor and attic.

 

“Hello?†His voice was feeble, trembling as he moved towards the master bedroom. The door was open a bit, just a crack. No wonder they had been so loud. “Stephanie? Roy? You two okay? I thought I hear-“

 

His voice trailed off, mid-word. There was Stephanie, naked, her eyes closed, a large hole in her stomach. Next to her were two figures, one on top of the other, almost as if they were still engaged in love making. The springs of the bed creaked ever so likely with the motions. Marc didn’t have to wait for the zombie to lift its head and moan, that low, warbling moan that sent shivers up his spine, to know what had happened.

 

Marc backed up slowly, fighting the bile rising in his throat, tears running down his cheeks. He tried not to make a sound…they were dead. There was nothing he could do for them. Had there been even the slightest chance, he wouldn’t have left, he would have gone in.

 

Creeping slowly back down the stairs, he gasped for air, huge, gulping breaths, his body compensating for the fact that he had held his breath form the moment he had seen the walking corpse. “Damn it,†he muttered, still trembling. He scrubbed the back of his hand across the eyes. He shoved the pistol into the holster, and grabbed his things. It was time to leave. He had been tinkering around with the car in the garage, he and Roy both. They had planned on taking it out of there the next day, head over to New York, see if they could find anyone else.

 

After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed mark’s duster and threw it over his shoulder. It was still winter, and it was cold outside. He’d need the protection. Well, at least with the generator in the house’s basement, he had gotten a warm shower.

 

Twenty minutes later, the car was moving down an old country road. Some of the highways were congested with the cars of people trying to escape, with the dead milling about. The windows were down, and it was raining…the radio blared, and all he could do was try and forget what he had seen in that dark bedroom…