pariah dogs and wandering madmen // p

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    PLOT;; It's not quite the zombie apocalypse. There's nothing dead about these "crazies", and they don't have to bite you to turn you into one of them. All you have to do is hear the nonsense-words they speak, or read them, or understand them in any way, and they'll worm their way into your mind, changing it, twisting it. Soon you'll be chanting right along with them and killing any normal human you see. They might be vulnerable to more than just headshots, but they're also just as fast and capable as a normal human, suicidally aggressive, and terrifyingly intelligent. It's been just under a year since they first appeared, and they've just about taken over the world. But there are still humans, hiding, surviving, trying not to hear. That last part isn't a problem for Jay Frye, though- he's been deaf since he was a child. For the last few months he's been hiding out with two others, but everything's about to go wrong- and he's about to meet your character.


    No need to post a form or anything if interested and I'd prefer if you didn't- I think it's more fun to reveal and develop a character over the course of a roleplay! This thread is controversial tagged because there might be some gore or scary moments, so consider yourself warned! Please be an advanced roleplayer (your posts don't have to be as ridiculously long as mine, though). Your character can be any kind of person you'd like, although please don't make them a total jerk- those aren't very fun to roleplay with. Finally, feel free to take some liberties with the setting and plot, I've left it fairly vague so we can develop it more together! This plot could go in pretty much any direction. Looking forward to roleplaying with you!


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    The door wouldn't hold much longer. Jay couldn't hear the wood creaking, but he could feel the tremors as the crazies threw themselves against it like human battering rams. No, that was wrong; none of them were human anymore. He glanced to the side, just to make sure Brianne and Kyle were still there. Brie was at the window, holding the serrated hunting knife defensively in anticipation, watching the monsters gather from the gap between the two-by-fours. Kyle was still sitting at the table, assembling the battered rifle with as much speed and precision as he could muster. Would it fire? It seemed likely that all their lives depended on the answer to that question. Brie could perhaps take out a few with her knife, and Jay had his own knife, although he was loath to use it. But any chance they had of killing all the crazies lay in that gun, and Kyle's ability to use it.


    The assembly seemed almost done to Jay's untrained eye, so he turned his attention back to Brie, reaching into his pocket for the earplugs he'd been keeping there for her. He tapped her shoulder, but she didn't respond- her gaze was fixed in the gap, staring at something he couldn't see. A sudden thrill of fear ran through him, and he pushed her aside, quickly pressing his own face to the gap. His heart seemed to freeze in his chest as the blank, bulbous eyes of a crazy stared back at him from less than a foot away, its mouth moving as it spoke its forbidden gibberish.


    His body tensed to leap back before his mind, trained to read lips, could understand or internalize those words of insanity. But he had just closed his eyes when he felt a sudden concussive shock run through the board he was leaning on, followed immediately by a hideous, tearing pain that shot up his forearm to his shoulder. The world seemed to melt into slow motion as he turned to behold an incomprehensible tableau. There was Brie, eyes wide in horror, mouth stretched wide in a mad grin, staring at her hunting knife- the knife whose handle was now sticking out of the middle of his left forearm, blade embedded into the wood of the two-by-four. There was Kyle, pale as a ghost, loading the rifle, eyes glued to the ground.


    He was transfixed, literally and figuratively, unable to do anything but watch the disaster unfold. He watched the horror fade from Brie's eyes and the blankness replace it as she opened her mouth to shout her madness to the world, and turned his head quickly, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself. One second passed, then two- then bang. He didn't hear the bang, of course, but he felt the shockwave tear though the air and knew what must have happened. He opened his eyes and saw Brie fall, her blood spreading across the cheap vinyl tiles. Kyle lowered the still-smoking rifle and ran over to Jay, shaking his head, his face contorting in a grimace of agony. For a moment Jay couldn't understand what was wrong- he still seemed to be paralyzed with shock- then Kyle pointed at Brie's body and then at his own ear and it became clear.


    I heard her were the words his mouth formed, as if Jay didn't already know.


    You have to go. I'll hold them off. Stop looking at me now, I don't know how much longer- that was all he needed to know. With the strength of adrenaline, he braced his foot against the wall, grabbed the handle of the hunting knife with his right hand, and pulled. He was unaware of his own choked scream- the pain seemed far away, and the blood that suddenly gushed onto the floor seemed irrelevant. He staggered back from the window just as the house shook and the door came crashing down. The gun filled the small room with thunder, and three crazies fell almost immediately before it. Jay ran for the momentary gap, feeling their claws tearing at his skin and fighting the almost overwhelming urge to look at them, slashing wildly with the bloody knife in his right hand. He was faster than them- that had always been his one advantage- but he didn't stop running even when he left them behind.


    He ran blindly through the city streets as the surge of adrenaline gradually gave way to terror, which in turn gave way to confusion. Lightning flashed across the sky and a warm rain began to fall. Each drop felt like blood, like Brie's blood or his own, but there was too much blood for the rain to wash away. It still flowed from his left arm at a frightening rate, soaking the front of his shirt, running down to soak his shorts and leave a dripping red trail as he went. He certainly had to look like a monster, a walking mess of gore, but that thought didn't even come to his mind. He was walking now, making for the shelter of an overpass with single-minded determination. The rain had suddenly turned cold and his motions seemed sluggish, uncoordinated.


    The shadow of the overpass passed over the grey sky, and Jay sat down heavily on the cool concrete. Gingerly he pressed his left arm to his chest and held it there with his right hand, wrapping his drenched shirt around it and squeezing tightly. The pain, which had receded to the back of his mind, came roaring back at full force, and his body curled forward involuntarily as a whimper escaped from between his gritted teeth. I'm sorry Kyle, I'm sorry Brie, I should have done better, I failed you, I'm a coward and I'm sorry...


    He was still unaware that there was another person under the overpass, watching from the shadows.

    Conrad had been under the overpass for maybe a half an hour, resting from his long trek across the city. The man's head was leaning back against the metal of a car, his large black backpack and a nail bat beside him. A pair of what almost looked like industrial headphones rested on top of his head, though they simply hid the earplugs he already had in. He was simply staring off in thought when he caught the bleeding man running toward the overpass almost in panic. Conrad stiffened, immediately grabbing his bat and moving to one knee, expecting the other to be speaking that horrific gibberish and looking to kill. When the other man had moved to sit down, however, he realized that he either didn't see him, or wasn't one of those things- though, the answer could be both. Conrad watched him for a few moments as he sat there before making a decision, picking up his backpack as well as he ran to the other side of the overpass.


    The freckled man came close and knelt down to try and look Jay in the eyes, tapping the man's leg to be sure he had his attention before pointing up to his own face. His eyes were a bright green and his hair was a dark, curly brown, tied into a small knot at the back of his head, though a few stray hairs had fallen from it. "Can you hear me?" he asked, trying to keep his voice quiet despite not being able to hear himself very well. He didn't want to attract unwanted attention. After a beat, he decided to lift his hands and sign the question as well. It wouldn't be so shocking to him if the other couldn't hear. It seemed that those who were deaf now had the advantage, not having to hear any of the contagious crazed ramblings. Some of the survivors he had met weren't even speaking anymore, having learned sign language, Morse code, or having caught on to reading lips, all to get rid of the risk of taking out their hearing protection to catch what their group is saying.


    Conrad slipped his bag off of his shoulder now, setting the bat beside him and digging through the backpack before pulling out a first aid kit and giving a soft motion to the injured man in front of him as he set it down. "I can help you, but it's gonna hurt like hell." he spoke, giving a rough sign translation of the words as well, doing his best to make sure that he could make himself understood, not knowing yet how the other communicated.


    OOC: Took a little bit of liberty in explaining some of the now more common forms of communication, hope that's alright ^^'

    There was no chance for Jay to be afraid of this person; if it was a crazy, it would already be attacking, not gently tapping his leg to get his attention. He looked up with a sort of dazed wonder; he hadn't seen another human being besides Brie and Kyle in weeks, and part of him had begun suspecting that they were the only three humans left in the city, maybe even in the world. Now he had found one- or rather, been found by one- completely by accident. This should have been a reason for joy, or happiness at least, but he felt nothing but a sort of cold dread. The images in his mind- Brie's face twisted by madness, Brie lying dead in a pool of blood, Kyle sacrificing himself- loomed large, replaying over and over again.


    His mind had wandered- he returned his attention to the person standing over him to find that it- no, he- was speaking. In the murky darkness under the overpass, the words were difficult to read, giving an impression of fragments but nothing that made sense. Jay was about to tap his ear when, to his great surprise, the question was repeated in sign language- can you hear me?. For the briefest of moments, a weight seemed to lift from his heart. How long had it been since he'd been able to communicate efficiently with someone? He'd gotten so used to "playing charades" and writing things down with Kyle and Brie that he'd almost gotten used to it. He shook his head "no" by way of answer and started to raise his hands to make a proper reply- there was so much he wanted to say. But his right hand shook violently, and when attempted to move his left hand, the pain was so sharp it was as though the knife was being driven through all over again. From both sides, the blood streamed with renewed strength, and a wave of dizziness crashed over him.


    The universe was cruel! So much to say, finally a person he could say it to-and he was unable to say anything. He squeezed his eyes shut forcefully to keep from crying, opening them just in time to see the man in front of him set down his backpack, take out what looked like a first aid kit and sign another question. No, a statement this time: I can help you, but it will hurt like hell.


    How can anything hurt worse than this? Jay wondered. He nodded his agreement and slowly held out his left arm, unaware that he was shivering.




    OOC: I love it! It's absolutely fine with me, I had been thinking about something similar.

    Conrad winced as he watched the man try to sign back only to show more pain. As the man held out his arm to him, however, his expression quickly hardened. He opened up the kit and pulled out some pills, a rag, and a bottle of water that he had retrieved from his backpack. He then looked back to the injured man and handing them to him while signing back instructions, not bothering to speak now as he knew the man couldn't hear him. Take two of these pills with some of the water, and then you're going to want that rag in your mouth to bite on. Conrad then took a different rag off of his belt and wrapped it around the wound before placing his hand on either side of the wound, applying pressure to try and slow the bleeding. He knew it wasn't very likely that it would stop, but he couldn't work with the blood going so fast. His expression almost seemed calculating and calm as he did his work, his brow furrowed and his lips drawn in a frown. Even his straight nose made him seem a bit more stoic and serious, though his eyes did seem to hold a concern under all of the focus.


    Conrad waited for the man to do as he'd told him and for the blood to slow before taking out a small brown bottle from the kit, opening it up, and gripping the man's hand so he would have something stable to grasp onto before pouring the liquid over either side of the wound. The peroxide burned and made the wound and the area around it fizz with small white bubbles, doing painful work to clean the wound. After letting it sit for a few moments, Conrad took the water bottle and poured it over to do a second, less painful cleaning before letting go of the man's hand, closing both bottles, and wrapping the rag around and gently pressing and wiping at the cuts. Conrad couldn't help but cringe at he man's pain, his heart breaking for him. "I'm sorry... It'll be okay... It sucks, but it'll get better... Just stay conscious..." He mumbled. He knew the man couldn't hear him, but it was almost a comfort to say it out loud, even if it was just a habit for himself.

    Jay did as he was told, popping the pills in his mouth and washing them down with a quick gulp of water. It wasn't until he placed the rag between his teeth that he realized they had been chattering, clicking together as he shivered. He took a deep breath and flinched when the man applied pressure to his wounded arm. But he was already somewhat used to that particular pain, so he forced himself to breathe calmly and look at his saviour's face. Difficult to read, but there was no cunning there or anything that might indicate that Jay had made a mistake in trusting him.


    His heart skipped a beat when the pressure was released and the man took a small bottle from the first aid kit, and he suddenly wished he'd looked away. A small voice somewhere in the back of his mind laughed at that. You deserve this, it said matter-of-factly, and Jay almost agreed with it. He took the offered hand gratefully, held it tightly and braced himself.


    The pain flared like a white-hot star, like lava that raced through his veins to his heart, and he screamed. His teeth sank into the rag and his right hand held the other man's hand in a death's grip. Every muscle in his body contracted at once, and took every ounce of his willpower to keep from tearing his arm away just to make it stop. It was too much- too much--


    And then it was over. His heartbeat pounded in his head as Jay opened his eyes to find himself looking at the ground. He was shaking like a leaf- there was nothing he could do to stop it- and he could feel cold sweat dripping slowly down his face. Or were those tears? When did it get so cold out here? he wondered. His arm seemed to have developed a heartbeat of its own, a slow, rhythmic pulse of pain. He raised his head- even that small motion brought back the dizziness newly accompanied by a sick lightheaded feeling- and looked at the other man just in time to see his mouth form the words -it'll get better... just stay conscious. His right hand made a clumsy approximation of the sign for I'm okay. Then he winced and had to lower his head again, bracing his right hand against the cold ground and concentrating on not being sick or passing out- or both.

    Conrad eventually stopped and looked down to the man as his head hung, feeling a guilt sink in his chest; That wasn't even the hardest part. He reached out and put a hand to the man's forehead before having him look at him again and using both hands again. This is gonna be the worst part. I don't have anything to help your immediate pain. Just don't watch me do this, and stay still.He hesitantly went back to the kit and took out a needle and thread, looking to the man's arm and unable to help a nervous gulp. He'd been training to be a paramedic before this disaster had started, meaning he had experience with things like this, except he would normally have more supplies, a clean place to operate, the medication to keep this from being so painful, and he would certainly have others there to help him. He took in a deep breath before letting it out again, calming and steadying himself before moving to hold, praying the man would stay still and that the stitching wouldn't hurt him as much as he guessed it would.


    "Just do it, already, Connie..." he muttered to himself, steadying the hand with the needle before it pierced, moving from one side of cut flesh to the other before pulling them together again, like sewing meat. Conrad made sure to remind himself to stay calm and keep breathing steady, doing his best to keep the other's arm straight and still as he continued with the stitching. He wanted to do this as fast as he could without doing a sloppy job, ending up sitting there and stitching for about ten minutes before finishing on the outside and moving inward, getting new thread and starting again, on the inside of his arm now. This one took him longer as he tried not to hit any veins and make the wound bleed further. He started to go into his own thoughts for a moment; This man had been lucky that nothing too serious had hit, but even so, the wound was still bad. It seemed rather clean as well, meaning it had to be something with a good blade, probably some sort of knife.


    Conrad eventually finished, the two of them having spent at least a half an hour under the overpass now, the rain still coming down strong. He began to wrap a bandage around the man's arm before looking to him again, noticing small cuts in his clothing as well, but not seeing any that seemed like they needed any attention. There was blood coating the man's front, but since there was no sign of a large cut at his abdomen to cause it, he figured it was from holding the arm. As he finished with the bandage, he turned to look out toward either opening of the overpass, praying that nothing was going to show up and come for them. He'd been traveling for so long as it was, and the man he was treating definitely had no business doing anything too active now.

    Jay nodded, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. He tried to bring happy thoughts to his mind- happy thoughts from before all Hell broke loose, of his friends and his family, but none of them seemed real. They were just dreams, unrealistic, absurd- to think that there had ever been a world before the crazies, before all this death and destruction! The reality was pain. He tried to think of Kyle and Brie, and the good times, but that wound was too fresh; he was almost glad when the sharp, itching pain of the needle superseded those thoughts and pushed them to the back of his mind.


    It didn't burn like the peroxide, but in a way it was worse; it went on and on, wearing at his nerves and breaking down what was left of his mental walls. It seemed to last an eternity. By the time it was finished, exhaustion had set in, complete and all-encompassing; it was all Jay could do to keep from falling over. He opened his eyes and blinked several times to focus. It didn't help much. Finally the blur in front of him solidified. He saw that his left forearm was now wrapped in an astonishingly clean and white bandage and that his rescuer was now scanning the area on either side of the overpass. The city was not generally home to many crazies- they needed to eat, and most weren't intelligent enough to use a can opener- but every now and then a pack of them would come through. Like the pack that got Brie and Kyle.


    The implications of this, or the idea that that particular pack might still be around, didn't occur to Jay.


    He waited until the man's gaze returned to him and made another shaky one-handed sign- thank you. There was part of him that didn't feel grateful at all, the cruel little voice that told him he'd have been better off dead (Bleeding to death is peaceful- it whispered now- better than you deserve), but this person deserved his thanks at the very least. There were probably many questions he ought to be asking, but he couldn't think of them right now. At that moment, all he could think of was how his skin was almost as white as the bandage, and his head felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton balls...


    He groaned through his teeth and lowered his head once more, watching the ground below him fade away into darkness and then slowly, slowly, come back into focus again. All self-pity and pain was forgotten- the struggle to stay conscious had taken over.


    Conrad didn't see any crazies at the moment, but he couldn't help but think that they were probably on the way. This man seemed to have some rougher scratches on him, probably from those things. He turned to look away from where the man had come, looking down the highway, the way he had been heading in the first place before the rain started to come. He'd been stuck under the overpass alone for maybe an hour before the other had come along. He tried to squint through the rain, seeing a few abandoned cars, but no buildings. Something else caught his eye, though; what looked to be a semi, or at least the back luggage of one. It could be a good place to hide out if they were both quiet and quick about getting there.


    Conrad turned to the injured man and couldn't help his smile before moving to the other, putting away his first aid kit and the water bottle before putting his backpack back on and slipping his nail bat in through a strap before signing to him. I'm Conrad. I'm going to carry you over to that semi, but you need to keep your other arm over your bandages so they don't get too wet. You can sleep when we get settled inside.He waited for the other to understand and cover his arm before carefully slipping his own arms under the man's legs and behind his shoulders, picking him up and holding him so that the man's weight would lean against his chest. He then took in a deep breath and started to quickly walk toward the semi. He was built for things like this, but he didn't have all too much energy left. It'd been a while since he'd eaten and he only had so much left with him, and he would be getting even less by splitting his rations with this person as well.


    The rain felt warm, and the first few minutes of walking had already nearly soaked Conrad's jacket, staring to leak through to his shirt underneath. Maybe it was too much to ask the dazed other to try and keep his bandages dry, as he was already drenched to the bone by the time they finally reached the semi, only to find a rusty padlock keeping the doors shut. Conrad gave a soft groan and moved to gently set the injured man down on the pavement before reaching back for his bat. He held it firmly before pulling it back and then throwing a powerful swing, smashing into the padlock. He did this three times before the padlock gave way and broke off, letting him open up one of the doors to the trailer. There wasn't much inside, a few closed boxes and a lot of shelves with a bit of junk spread around, but there was definitely room left for them. Conrad came down from the trailer and picked the other up off of the ground again, trying to help him inside.

    Tucking his banaged arm under his other arm obediently, Jay almost didn't realize that the man had told him his name- the thought of being able to sleep, to just collapse and let the darkness take him, was distractingly sweet. He wanted to introduce himself as well, but before he got the chance to try and do so one-handed and no doubt mess it up, he was being lifted off the ground.


    This surprised him greatly, but he could find neither the strength nor the inclination to struggle. It was almost pleasant; there was a certain feeling of safety, something that had become rather scarce, and the other's body warmth made him realize how cold he had been. But now they were in the rain, and they might as well have dove into a river; water came crashing down around them and Jay was soaked immediately. That brought the cold back.


    He watched Conrad break the lock on the trailer, and when he went to pick him up again he raised one hand and grabbed onto the trailer's tailgate, using it and the other man's help to pull himself to his feet. He regretted this decision fairly quickly- he hadn't thought he could feel much worse, but here he was, being proven wrong. At least he had gotten some pride back.


    The inside of the trailer was darker than under the overpass. Jay fell heavily onto its metal floor, causing it to shake on its rusted axles, then shuffled to one side and leaned up against a pile of half-rotten cardboard boxes that seemed as soft as feather pillows. That was the last bit of energy he had left. No- wait, not yet- he thought faintly, but his exhausted body overrode his brain's protests and the world faded away to darkness.




    OOC: Sorry, this post was really rushed! I was thinking we'd probably be best off doing a timeskip after your next post, is that OK?

    OOC: Yeah, that's fine! I was going to actually do a skip to the next morning if that was alright ^^ Maybe they would go back for Jay's things before they'd keep going to where Conrad is heading?

    Conrad climbed in after him and took a flashlight from his backpack before closing the door of the trailer, leaving them in darkness for a moment before the flashlight came on. Conrad spent a few minutes looking through everything, though the only things of worth he found were two cans of peaches left over from some long gone survivor, which he couldn't help but be thankful for. It wasn't much, but another can of food for each of them was more than he expected to find. After putting them away in his own pack, he took off his jacket and draped it over the sleeping man, knowing he would need the potential warmth more than him. Conrad then moved to be close by him, not wanting to sleep far from the other as was likely he wouldn't hear him due to the earplugs and industrial headphones he wore. He'd rather wake up to the other's movement rather than wake up to him having wandered off somewhere. He was too banged up to do much on his own, and he wasn't going to let someone else die on his watch. Not so soon after the last one...



    Conrad woke up the next morning to a small line of sunlight in his eyes, opening them to see the source of it, a small opening over the trailer's doors, probably from some sort of warping from rain. He slowly moved to sit up, looking over to the man beside him to see if he was awake yet. He wished he knew the man's name, but he couldn't blame him for having been so exhausted after a wound like that. He couldn't even try and look for a name on something he had, because... Well, it looked like the other pretty much had nothing. Conrad had seen him run for the overpass to take cover from the rain, and whatever else he was trying to escape. He must have been in a panic and left whatever else he had somewhere else. He couldn't have possibly gotten this far without more than just the clothes on his back.

    For almost twelve hours Jay slept like a dead man, but for its last two hours his sleep was troubled by the black formless terror of nightmares. He fought against them and, in doing so, woke himself up with a gasp. The inside of the truck was cold, and his first confused thought was you went and left the window open again. Then the reality of his situation came rushing back, along with everything that had happened the previous day. He sat up quickly and winced- this headache wasn't quite as bad as his worst hangover ever, but it could probably rank in the top three. The pain in his arm was the only reminder that yesterday hadn't been a nightmare, and it had faded to a dull ache accompanied by a maddening itch; not quite ignorable, but definitely manageable. The hunger growling in his belly was less so- he actually couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten.


    Glancing to the side, he saw the man who'd saved him- what was his name? Oh yes, Conrad. He nodded and awkwardly got to his feet, leaning his shoulder on the wall of the trailer. The thing that had been on him- he'd assumed it was a blanket- fell to the floor and he realized that it was Conrad's jacket. He felt a sharp pang of guilt at the thought that he'd deprived his rescuer of a warm night's sleep- even if it hadn't been his choice.


    He felt his joints crackle as he straightened up, trying to shake off the remnants of weakneas from the night before. It was still there- it was going to take more than one long sleep to get rid of it. He had never felt so sore and stiff before; sleeping on a cold metal floor in a pile of boxes will do that, he supposed. He stretched and made a few one-handed signs- he hadn't tested out his left hand yet and he was somewhat afraid of what he might find when he did. Thank you again and sorry about last night. I was not myself. My name's Jay. He attempted to punctuate this with a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and even to him it felt false. He abandoned the attempt.

    Conrad jumped as the man jumped up from sleep, not having expected the other to have gotten up so suddenly. He couldn't help but give a small, sad smile at the other's signing, shaking his head before replying. It's fine. No one would be acting well when going through that much pain. It's nice to finally know your name.Conrad reached over toward his backpack and taking out the cans of peaches he had found before sleeping, handing one to Jay with a a shrug. They might as well eat now before doing anything else.


    After Jay had taken the can, Conrad almost immediately went to his own can, lifting the tab and pulling the lid back before drinking some of the water the fruit was stored in. No use wasting any clean stuff they could get their hands on. He then reached a hand in and took out a slice, popping it in his mouth and giving a groan of relief, glad to have the chance to eat again, an almost laughable expression of relieved joy on his face. Within a little over a minute, he had already downed the can, even when trying to savor it. He hated how fast the food went... After a moment, he sighed and set the now empty can to the side, looking up to Jay again, hoping the other wasn't having problems opening the can with only one arm. He simply watched the other before signing again. Are you feeling any better? You're lucky, nothing major was cut.

    The understanding that Conrad signed was a small but welcome comfort to Jay, and the can of peaches that he offered seemed like solid gold. He grabbed it and held it against his chest with his bandaged left arm (the pain this caused seemed irrelevant), popping open the tab and peeling back the lid with his right hand. This was the first time it had occurred to him that he was lucky, in a way; being right-handed, an injury that could have been crippling was instead an annoyance. But the idea that he was lucky caused a sinking cold feeling in his heart, so he quickly pushed the thought away and returned his attention to the peaches. Mimicking Conrad, he drank the sugary nectar first- had he ever tasted anything so sweet?- then wolfed down the slices.


    Just the simple act of eating was a great relief, and Jay could have sworn he could feel some strength and limberness flowing back. Of course it couldn't work so quickly, but the placebo effect was a powerful thing; he felt as though he would be able to run if he needed to, though perhaps not very far. He swallowed a last mouthful of peaches (polishing off the can had taken him a good 30 seconds) and looked back up at Conrad. More generosity. It hurt his heart to think about it foe too long. Seemed like Kyle had been wrong in his certainties about the harsh, ruthless nature of other survivors.


    Not that he would ever know.


    A bit better, Jay signed back. Not 100 percent, but better. He shook his head. He wanted to say that he didn't feel very lucky, but instead he made a noncommittal affirmative gesture and changed the subject. Why were you under that overpass?

    Conrad seemed to hesitate, a hand moving to rub the back of his neck as he looked away. He didn't want to go into the full details. Not now, not yet. He eventually sighed and lifted his hands to give back an answer. I'm heading back to a group a few days from here. I was sent with three others and I'm the only one that will be coming back... He looked as though he wanted to say more before putting his head in his hands, a look of sadness washing over him. He remembered a horde, a shootout, a crash... He'd been with them for so long, and they were so close to getting back. One thing after another went bad on the way home, and now he was the only one left to come back. What was Isabel going to do to him when he got back?...


    He stayed like that for a bit before lifting his head and signing again. What about you? That wasn't made by one of those things... And where are your things? You have to have more than just that. He signed, motioning to Jay at the end before realizing that the other still had his brown hooded jacket. He had forgotten that he had given it to the man, and that reminder made him realize how cold he felt, a soft shiver going through him. It didn't help that he had rested against the metal wall the whole night either.


    OOC: Really sorry about the shorter replies, busy times right now D: Should be better around Sunday or Monday.

    More guilt- Jay wondered vaguely whether this was just his natural state now. So they had something in common: once part of a group, now alone. Knowing this, how could he just stand there unmoving and watch the pain of someone who had cared about him? Coward! He felt a surge of anger, and for one fiery split second he hated himself and the cruel world around him with equal intensity. The feeling was so powerful that it almost seemed to hurt, like a muscle cramp. Then it fizzled out, leaving nothing behind.


    Am I going crazy? he thought. The idea didn't seem nearly as alarming as it should have. He was so caught up in this internal struggle that Conrad's question caught him off guard. That wasn't made by one of those things... It took him a moment to make sense of that. His hands were occupied by the jacket, so he quickly handed it back- it was cold inside the trailer, but the sliver of sunlight creeping through the cracked door held the promise of future warmth.


    Made by my friend, he answered, looking at the ground. Long story. I left everything when I ran. He hesitated, hand poised in midair, then added: I think I understand. I had two friends, they were all I had. Now I'm.... we are the same. That was the best he could do; he could feel the anger welling up again, guilt and hate close behind it, so he crossed his arms and looked back up at Conrad.




    OOC: No worries! I can't remember the last time I've felt so invested in a roleplay, so you must be doing something right, lol.

    OOC: Aw, that's sweet!!! I'm glad I'm keeping this interesting for you despite the shorter replies and all <3 I'm really invested in it to! I love your zombie idea!


    IC:


    Conrad frowned as Jay admitted that he was alone now as well, sitting there and absorbing the information for a moment before lifting his hands and signing back. I'm sorry... It's awful to be alone, I would know. But, if you would like to come with me, I would enjoy the company and the help. Either way, I don't think it's in me to just let you go around injured like that... He hesitated and looked to the other's arm again, new concern coming to his eyes. The wound should heal well as long as it didn't become infected. There wasn't much of a chance of that if they just kept it clean, but that chance was still enough to make him worry.


    ...But if you're going to come with me, or anywhere for that matter, you're going to need supplies to survive... Unless you know some other place with enough to keep you up and protected, then we'll have to go back there and get your things... I know you might not want to go because of whatever happened to you, but I don't have enough to sustain us both the whole way. After he was finished communicating this, he put his jacket back on, standing up and throwing his backpack onto his shoulders as well, gripping the bat in his right hand while his left reached out to Jay to help him up.

    There was cold comfort in this sharing of trauma. Without even realizing it, Jay relaxed slightly. Whatever the future might bring, at least for this moment he wasn't alone. And as much as the mean, cynical little voice in the back of his mind hollered that he shouldn't trust Conrad, that he was better off alone, it seemed easy to refute it with logic. He's already sacrificed time and resources for me and asked for nothing in return.


    Doesn't matter, the voice replied sullenly. He's a survivor, he's got to be no good. You'll see.


    Go away, he thought, and- miracle of miracles- it did.


    I'll happily come with you, Jay replied. Maybe I'll find a way to repay you too. There was the subtlest beginning of a smile forming on his face, but it vanished as he comprehended what Conrad had just signed. Go back... Go back to that house? He accepted the offered hand and got to his feet, thoughts racing. It was true, he needed supplies, and Kyle and Brie had had plenty. Crazies weren't the best thieves, so the chances that it was all still there were pretty high. But the thought of going back, of retracing that panicked flight and returning to the scene of the disaster, was so monstrous it made his heart sink. Conrad was right; he didn't want to. In fact, he had never wanted to do anything less in his entire life. But they needed those supplies. The gun might still be there, too, and that would be a godsend.


    Yes, he signed- a violent affirmative gesture. You're right. We have to go back. I can lead the way. His face was set in a stony expression which he hoped was doing a sufficient job of hiding his inner turmoil. He was afraid, but that didn't matter. Later it would, alnost certainly, but not now.