Just another day in California...

While the Elites in Michigan are retreating, somewhere in California a bandit ringleader awakes in his bed.
He stares at the ceiling, wondering what the day will hold. The door opens, and in walks one of his soldiers.
Without looking, the ringleader mumbles a 'thank you' as the soldier places a glass of water on his nightstand.
He sits up and glances back at the soldier, who has already made his way back out. He rubs his eyes and gets up.

Grunting as he makes his way to his closet and grabs his usual attire. Seconds later, he's fully clothed and ready.
He grabs the glass and gulps the water down without a second thought. Then makes his way out of the room.
He stops at the metal yellow railing of his balcony, looking over the first floor. I guess I should explain where he is.
The room he just left was once a manager's office. The first floor has all types of machinery which once made boxes.
Yes, he and his people made a compound inside of a cardboard box factory. How's that for survival?

The moist noise of thudding boots against the gravel between the tracks became a monotonous companion on the woman’s journey under the humdrum sun.  Pain had snuck into the soles of the woman’s feet and became a stubbornly persistent ache. She heaved for a moment as heat was rising in her body along with the humming pain of hunger. Just a few more meters, that’s all she needed to walk.

A mile or so ago she spotted a small platform nestled on the far right side of the tracks. It had clearly been abandoned long ago as no direct paths lead to the building. The doors and windows were boarded up and littered with juvenile graffiti mimicking shapes and crude faces. The angles had watched her from afar, as if the building itself was just as weary of her presences as she was of its.   The hooded girl pondered why it was there and why it was in this condition. The stories she invented for it had entertained her for the majority of hike towards the decrepit platform. The best conclusion she had created was that it once served a small town nearby, perhaps a cattle farm, or even some other industry. Yet as the line was expanded and traffic changed the station had been abandoned in favour for a more modernised version, closer to the cities. At least that was her best deduction from the small clues that she had picked out from afar, the older fittings, the wooden window frames. Nevertheless the details of the building weren’t important. As long as it could be fortified for a night or two it would serve her well.

Finally, the woman stood beneath the boarded doors of the abandoned platform. From this distance it was clear just how depressed the building was. A small hole had made itself welcome in the ramshackle roof. She’d imagined that it was perhaps the only clear light source in the entirety of the interior. She paced around the outside, double checking shrubs and bushes for any signs of dead or living movement. Satisfied with her rudimentary scout she rattled every window in the hopes of gaining access yet every pane had been tightly secured. If she caused too much damage it would be counterproductive to her goal. Sighing with despair at the prospect of being trapped outside she headed back for the door, it seemed like force was her only passage of entry.

Once there she examined the cheap plywood board that had been nailed into the door, padlocked and defaced by unsavoury tagging. Prodding the padlock with the tip of her pen knife was an unenlightening experience, she had no understanding of lock picking and pathetically playing with the lock was just deepening her already low morale. She flipped back knife on the pen, stepping back to take in another view of her surroundings.

The roof? Perhaps the only entrance. Certainly inaccessible to the lumbering dead, they struggled enough with stairs let alone climbing. If she could secure an easy path up and down onto the roof her premade fort would require little to no maintenance. She moved across to the lowest hanging part of the roof, attempting to reach up on the toes of her boots. No use… She muttered under her breath, frustrated with her short stature. Fumbling around on the station she loosened some weaker boards from a window at the back too small to climb through. The boards themselves just might offer her the boost she needed. After playing with the composition of the boards in an attempt to steady her purchase upon them the woman apprehensively climbed them. This was it, if she didn’t make it she could end up spraining or even snapping her ankle and that would be the end of her.

She dryly swallowed with a nervous tenor before leaping. Ahah! A gasp of exhilaration parted from her lips as she began pulling herself up via the leverage she just gained. Her figures bore into the tar like resin on the roof tiles, cutting the palms of her hands as her weight was lifted onto them. With one swift yet unavoidably lethargic swoop the woman laid flat against the roof. Her feet were no longer grounded on the concrete of the platform, she had made it. Too nervous to stand she shimmed along pulling herself lengthways up the roof. Stopping at the beginning of the roof’s dip and inevitable drop the woman gazed into its’ depths. It was dark, very dark, she would need her flashlight but it would be impossible to turn around on this roof to reach for it. The drop was also far bigger than she expected, if she jumped now she wasn’t sure if she could get back out. She would need a box or a ladder to climb back up, yet if the building had been stripped bare as she now feared she’d be trapped. Awkwardly shifting her head side to side, she eyed up another option however none immediately presented them to herself. That was it then, she’d have to jump, fall into the blackness and hope for the best.

Flipping herself around she shifted to her knees in an attempt to lift herself down gently. Yet as she altered her position a large screech surrounded her. The roof was giving out, the boards flexed under her, groaning. She froze as her mind panicked. Her hands reached out for something, anything but the tiling beneath her crumbled into thousands of obscure shards. Her arms still outreached she began to fall, grasping the air futilely for support. The blackness of the room below consumed her vision, the only sensation available was the growing pit in her gut. She could exercise no control, there was nothing she could do to stop herself. Blood rushed to her face, it was coming, the inevitable collision with the floor. She felt it pressed against her face, a thudding through her skull. Wooden floorboards greeted her and before she knew it she was unconscious.

I yawned, a few of my group had gone out early this morning, a scout had found a group not far from us and we needed supplies badly.

"We got people!" shouted one of the watchmen, Dave his name was, "I think they're ours!" he paused, checking through his rifle's scope. "Yeah, it's them!"

"Open the gate!" I shouted, and heard the chain gate being dragged open by one of the others.

The car drove in, and Mark was checking over the supplies.

"Either of you bit?" He asked, not looking away from the supplies.

Both of them said no, and they didn't look it either, they'd have be checked, though, I didn't take risks when it came to bites.

(Damon)
I sigh. I bet nobody's doing what they're suppose to be doing, again. Then I notice Joseph isn't standing here with me.
He usually stays at my door until I leave. Strange. I make my way down the stairs to my left. I sigh again.
The candles that are supposed to be lit, aren't. And it's pitch black down here, like a building without lights.
"Okay. Guys? I swear, if this is some sort of joke, stop. It isn't funny. "

I don't know why I said it, but after I did there was the noise of shuffling to my right. I whip my gun out in an instant.
"Okay, last chance before I blow your fucking brains out~!"
As fast as I had pulled my gun out the candles all light simultaneously. Everyone in my group stand before me, yelling "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

I put my gun away and think How could I not see this coming? They do this every year. Or at least they did last year...
"C'mon guys! I've told you this before... my birthday is in December. God." There was a huge "awwww" from them.

"Where'd you get this from?" I asked them as Mark turned his attention away from the supplies and double checked them for bites.

"Some group holed up in a factory, one of their guys almost saw me, but Jack killed 'em." He answered.

"How big was the group?"

"I uh... I don't know. We didn't see any other than the one."

There's enough of them to keep a factory secure...
"Mark," I said, "I want the two sentries on the wall with the semi-automatics, not bolt action."

He nodded, and walked to the room that had become our armory. I followed him, looking for James, he was the best shot in our group.

"James, go get the scoped rifle and get up high. On the roof or the sign, just make sure you can't be seen from the gate."

He nodded and jogged over to the armory, to get the rifle as Mark came back over to me.

"You think there's gonna be trouble?"

I nodded, walking to my room.
"If they have enough men to keep a factory secured, then they have enough men to hit us back."
I stood over the map, "Which one did they raid?"

"This one," he said, pointing at a building on the map, "So they'd come down the road."

"Get someone to check the perimeter, make sure the outside windows are barricaded and that the fences and wire are fine."

He nodded and walked out.

They might not even attack us, but if they do we'd better be ready or it's going to be a slaughter.

:clown: She moaned, the hard dusty wooden face of the floor was pressed up against her forehead. How long had her eyes been closed? It felt like hours, but it could have been minutes or even days. Her back was frozen stiff, locking her in the pathetic pose she fell in. Murmuring she lethargically flipped herself over. Her back still taut she stared unmoving straight up at the hole she fell through. It must have grown at least two feet since her collapse. The outline of the hole’s shape was even more twisted and contorted now, so much so that it looked impossible to climb out off. The woman just blankly watched the patchy blue sky outside before noticing the trickling blood down her face. She blinked uncomprehendingly, she must have cut her head but she didn’t feel any pain. Her hand still wrecked by shock shakily found its way to her face. She pressed her bruised and haggard fingertips against the fount of the blood. It was a warm and wet sensation and as her tips skimmed the figure of the cut she tasted a peppery metallic sensation on her tongue. It was like licking a battery, an initial sting followed by an indescribable revolt and convulsion of the flesh.

The shock of realising the full measurements of the cut and having been perturbed by its existence cause the woman to shoot straight up. She sat with her back rigid and arched trying to make sense of the interior that surrounded her. The darkness that existed in front of her was just as present as it was above. She could hardly see where the walls of the building started and ended the only source of illumination being the sky above her. She twisted her neck with an uncomfortable click and shimmed her backpack off. Sliding it around to her front she rummaged for her flashlight, desperate for clarity. It could be that she wasn’t alone and every minute she spent dazed and lost was another that Jaws could grab her, or worse another person.

Successfully grasping the simple flashlight in her fist the woman pulled it to her chest triumphantly. Tightly holding it against her she precariously switched it on. An explosion of light appeared that focused into a tight beam. She couldn’t help but finch as the sudden light disorientated her. It flickered in a damaged manner before settling at a dimmer tone revealing the depths and shapes before her. Sweaty and bloody she traced the beam with deep intent watching for movement or shuddering. Yet nothing pronounced itself apart from the figures in the shadows that her fearful mind had invented. Moments of doubt sunk in as she couldn’t believe if what she was seeing was real or not. Was that a shape? Or an object? She focused and refocused the light on patches of the room she had already visited. This motion was repeated for several minutes as the woman tried to convince herself of the truth, she was alone...

After all this time by herself it was hard to distinguish the reality of her mind with the reality in front of her. In fact ever since the outbreak everything had felt so unreal it was as if she was dreaming. Halting before reflecting any farther the woman set her torch on the floor, leaving it to light up her path. The interior was scrubby, half of the room was covered in old moth torn sheets. Partially used cans of paint lay bare against the floor, their contents long since spilled and dried. The odd bench and box outline was visible in the duskier corners of the room but none of that concerned her.

Her attention was drawn to something reflecting her own movements and partially covered in one of the paint and hole riddled sheet. She crouched down, tilting her head to one side to get a better view, it was a mirror slightly cracked at its core leading to a spider web formation of fissures all the way up the glass. She grasped each corner, shaking its restrictive sheet off and dragging it closer to her light. Clambering down to her knees she stared at herself before the mirror after laying it against one of the nearby walls. Her head really was bleeding. A small cut slid up her right eyebrow, it must of only been about three inches or so big but the blood surrounding the wound gave it a far more grizzly appearance. She sighed tearing off her hood to reveal her poorly shaved head. A few months ago her clothes and hair became infested with lice and other mites. She had no choice but to burn her clothes and shave her hair off. It was a downside to slumming it out in the wild but she had adapted and made sure to properly secure her backpack and herself with coveralls.

Searching through her pack she hauled out a small green box with the faded letters ‘First Aid’ strewn across the front. It was a decent find that she snagged from the boot of some wealthy car, a risk in hindsight as Jaws loved to sit silently stuck between comfy seats and cup holders. Many people during the first wave got trapped in the mile long traffic jams when the hordes reached them. Most of them didn’t get the chance to rip their seatbelts off before they were turned into packaged meal deals. When the woman scavenged vehicles she could almost relive the last few moments of the car’s occupants by scrutinising the scattered personal affections and hammy handprints squeezed against the window panes. Often at times she would get distracted by the stories in her head, working out if the inhabitants of the vehicle had survived or were torn out by the monsters to be eaten. Either way that didn’t matter now, she had to apply some basic form of aid to herself.

She scowled at the box, opening it and reading every last inch of information she could find. Not completely satisfied with her knowledge yet nevertheless eager to stem the bleeding she began treating herself. She was greatly inexperienced and didn’t know whether to secure the bandage to her face or to wrap it around her head. The woman had no idea which would method would leave the wound as undisturbed as possible. Airing on the side of caution she wrapped it around her head, trying her best to avoid covering up her right eye. She tugged it gently, it felt fairly secure. Perhaps she used too much, clean bandages were a finite resource. looking at her work in the mirror she had no doubt that it would disfigure her view somehow but this was the best she could do. With nothing else to occupy her for the moment she began treating her bruised and cut hands.

"Alright everybody, get lost. More importantly, go do what you're supposed to be doing."
I sigh. What is with these people? We're in the zombie apocalypse and they want to throw me a birthday party.
As I start to walk away, before I get far however, there's a yell. Then the sound of guns being unholstered and moved about.
"What now?!" Somebody responded with "You might want to check this out boss." I sigh and walk to them.

"Oh... shit." There, by the 'kitchen' as well call it, lies the guard in a pool of his own blood. Throat slit wide open.
The door he was guarding left open just as wide. I sigh and turn to all the gawkers. Trying to keep from yelling.
"One of you check the food, see how much we have left. Somebody else get his body out of here. And everybody else, secure the building. Now!"

My orders had been carried out, the sentries had semi-autos, we had a sniper, of sorts, and for added measure, I'd had an extra watchman with Binoculars put out.

"Mark," I said, "If anyone comes and they're not shooting, I want to be told immediately."

He nodded, looking slightly confused.
"But why?"

"I want to be the one who tells them to get fucked."

He laughed for a few seconds, before sighing.
"I'll make sure someone comes and finds you, if you're not already there."

It was a few minutes later before anyone found anything. And when they did they reported back to me.
"Sir! We found tracks outside the building leading to car tracks. Sir, we could follow them without much of a hassle."
I scratched my head. Should we go get it back or wait? I didn't see the point in waiting. "Gather up two other men and follow them. Be back before dusk."
The bandit nodded, grabbed the two other men like he was ordered and they took off. Following the car's trail.

It would take them much longer then the car the thieves used. They didn't know where they were going. Or if the thieves even stopped.
But they were loyal to their leader, and they would follow on until they had to come back. But they wouldn't have to.
They found they were hiding in a hotel. Gates were up too. They looked pretty fortified. Which would be a pain in the ass to try and get through.

They walked up with confidence however. Hanging on to the memory of previous encounters with other survivors.
It usually went good for them. They'd either get they're stuff back or they come back and take what was theirs.
So here they were, fiddling with the lock on the gate. Completely unaware they was several snipers on them.

"You should let go of that lock," Said a sentry, patrolling the perimeter. "Our leader won't like that you tried to break in here. Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air. Now."

They looked at each other. They could've sworn they didn't see anybody. Then again, these weren't the brightest of men.
So they put their guns up and asked. "You took our stuff, right? You best return it before you have a bunch of new holes."

"You can either drop your guns and have a chance at walking away alive, or you can keep them up and the snipers will take care of you." He continued to stare at the men. "If you were smart, you'd drop them and come and talk with our leader."

They looked at each other again. Then all around themselves, looking for the snipers he was talking about. "Yeah sure." One said. "You're bluffing."
Another spoke up. "Look, just give us back what you stole and we won't have to kill anybody."

He sighed, lowering his gun.
"Have it your way. I'll go get the boss." He walked off, returning a few minutes later. "I'm supposed to let you in and take you to our leader."

He unlocked the gate and swung it open.

They shrugged and went inside. They lowered their guns but didn't lower their guard. They were smart enough to know they could be walking into a trap.
"Lead the way."

The sentry walked through the motel, leading the men to me. As they approached, I walked towards them,
"Which one of you is in charge?"

The one in the middle stepped forward. "I am." He said with a hint of pride. He was recently promoted after all.
"I suppose you're the leader of this group?" He tried to be formal when speaking. "I would suggest you give us the supplies you stole. Before everyone here dies."

"You should be more polite, leave your weapons out here, we can negotiate in my room." I walked into my room, before glancing over my shoulder at the group.

"What's to negotiate? Just give us back our stuff." The leader said. "Or just let us go. Nobody has to get hurt."
The leader was beginning to realize just how fucked they were. In someone else's compound, while completely surrounded.
Well, let's just say he hoped his group's reputation would save him.

"Fine." I nodded to Mark, who drew his pistol and aimed it at their leader, followed by the sound of the two snipers shooting the second and third men.

"You could've left alive if you'd left when the sentry told you to. You were dead the minute you came into this camp."

"Mark my words." He said. "They'll be expecting us back. And when we don't return, they'll be coming for you."
He figured his last words might mean something.

Meanwhile, back at the camp. The dead man, Dan, had be buried. Everything was accounted for. Of course excluding the three men and missing food.
Now their just waiting for their men to return.

I smiled,
"Of course, and I suppose they'll make our deaths long and painful." I paused, looking at him in the eyes. "Worry about yourself for now."

"Jack!" I shouted, "Do we have any rope?"