"We are a right DAMN good team!"

     It’d make sense; loosing track of time when time was of little importance compared to survival. Fall had long since welcomed itself as memory served, and yet he found himself puzzled by the date. October had already passed, hadn’t it? Crept past Halloween, sneaking straight into November. But again, time hadn’t been much on his mind until recent. Given how much he’d now had free...

     Regardless, the prospect of being allowed to celebrate such a holiday was more than enough to excite an already easily exuberant southerner. Costumes and candy galore, mixed with scary movies which felt laughable now. In the midst of idle window “shopping”, he’d even chuckled to himself at the very idea of spending the afternoon binging those old classic Zombie films. A chuckle that swiftly leads to a wide smile upon noticing a most peculiar individual.

“ Aw man! Now why didn’t I think of that. ” Eyes are more settled upon the strangers gas mask, though they swiftly examine other portions of their outfit, admiring the craftsmanship before speaking further.

     By now, he had recognized how little a chance he’d had on finding any such familiar face among the unfamiliar. Clothing, worn, dry with the blood and mud of an adventure he’d found himself strangely missing, would have long since been replaced. He, himself, too proud and too fond of his own wears, merely took the chances of dry cleaners to remove days worth of rot. The smell still stuck - vaguely - masked by the strong scents of lavender.

      Days seemed to blend in as he’d found himself lost in an aimless wander, day in and day out, hopeful, wanting, wishing to hear the jovial tones, to feel the tight embrace or even the slightest of touches upon his shoulder; fleeting, yet never able to overstay its welcome.

     A hand drags down his face as he listlessly follows an unknown crowd. He’d entertained the thought of finding work. To rebuilding some sense of normality that the apocalypse had so crudely stolen. And yet...

     ...An overactive mind quickly veers from important matters. Caught in an instant at vibrant reds contrasting pristine whites. A strange feeling of excitement steering him from his unknown destination towards the taller man, tones already bright and loud, carrying the same unusual overfriendliness one might offer to only those closest.

{ Apologies for the radio silence! Been hectic tryina finish up 2 Zine pieces but I’m back! Sorta! Gonna get to the 3 replies and one starter I do owe but why not add extra work for myself bc I have no self control god pls send help

      Curiosity was his sole drive and the only sanctuary he could flee to from growing anxieties. Curiosity that had him peeking in to a variety; local stores, libraries, schools... All populated. All normal. It builds an unknown confidence, having gone from slow, wary motions to a more casual entry. It’s only natural that a local bar would be one of the first he’d willingly step inside. A hesitant smile and cautious head tilt in an acknowledgement towards seated strangers, noting mild disgust, recognizing quickly that he hadn’t the chance to sanitize anything on his person upon his arrival.

     Clearing his throat, he claims his spot close to another with only a seat between and a hesitant glance before greeting the bartender. “ So like... Are we still doin’ the whole ‘money’ thing? I don’t got a problem with it, ‘s just I figured - y’know - with the whole apocalypse an’ all. ” Mildly nervous chattering breaks in favor of clearing his parched throat only to continue further, “ it ain’t like... Well, I’ve seen my fair share of zombie flicks ‘n’ all, but not a whole lot got people scramblin’ around lookin’ for cash, ‘s more just food and ammo and stuff that they wind up tradin’. But I guess that’d explain why Nick was so excited to dig into them registers... ” Another pause, this time in favor of drumming digits nervously against the table. His tones quick to waiver, desperate to keep silence at bay even despite the dryness in his throat.

“ Speakin’ of movies, there was this old one my buddy Dave an’ I saw about this guy and he was like babysittin’ his boss’ haunted hotel or somethin’, and I guess the isolation got to him pretty quick like ‘cause he went all crazy ‘n’ shit, grabbin’ an axe and breakin’ down doors. But there was this one part where he’s sittin’ in some empty bar talkin’ to dead people-!! N - Not that I’m sayin’ y’all are fake or nothin’, just that the uh... The whole bar thing and the... ”

“ Man, this is too fancy a place to be New Orleans... ” Mumbled words spoken for no other ears as he’d continued his now outlandish quest of both exploration and “rescue”. The crowds had held most of his attention, hopeful to find familiarity; pink and purple shirts alongside white fancy wears typically caught his eye, yet not once had he found the comforts of a friends face to match attire.

     Oftentimes high spirits had started to dwindle with his physical strength. A gentle ‘thank you’ muttered to the skies upon spying a park in the distance. Slow limps spent what was left of his willpower carrying him to the very edge of a metal bench. He’d collapsed then, barely catching sides with hands before both body and face could greet it. Sprawling out wide into his spot, exhaustion had led to a profoundly long exasperated sigh following low groans. From there, he sat motionless until movement stirred him into attentiveness, no sooner making clear eye contact with an unfamiliar face, waiting for the inevitable blood-thirsty screech to follow.

     It felt like hours had passed before he’d allowed himself to the luxury of coming to more positive conclusions. Them, like many others, seemed to be another normal human being roaming about carefree. Hesitantly, he waves with a crooked grin and furrowed brows.

     He’d thought himself dreaming at first. The sudden sight of individuals leading to skittish movements and nerve-riddled looks. Perhaps being covered in blood - be it his own or otherwise - hadn’t helped in swaying first impressions from strangers in his favor. If... These were actual strangers, that was. Not the delusions of a hopeful mind in recovery or lost in a deep slumber.

     Even still, the worries, nerves, what have you - there was no stopping his overbearing kindness. Frequent hat tips and gently spoken “excuse me” remained a persistent means of both greeting and getting by as he tried (terribly) to soak in his surroundings. Yet, his inattentiveness had once more gotten the better of him. The softest bump against his shoulder had muscles acting on instinct; a firm shove attempted to keep away whatever he’d walked into.

     Until nerves settled, letting his rasped breathing come to a slow and...

“ Aw shit - hell. I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt ya none, did I? ...Shit. ”

“ TANK - WE GOT A TANK! ”

     A dry cry out, and the shared looks of horror only grew between the four; an already unstable bridge threatening its collapse as the ground rattled violently. The second sharp pain received snapped him from his stupor, a yell of pain and swift turn, shots fired without question, relentless, until the diseased body remained a lifeless mess of blood and bullet holes by his feet.

     He’d anticipated - hoped by now - that Rochelle would be the first to stop by his side, armed with a plan or even taking lead yet... Her voice sounded as ever distant as before. 

     His name had already been called thrice through her panicked tones, drowned out by thunderous roaring as distorted pink flesh came into view. The sight had shaken legs taking very few steps back before breaking into a maddened sprint; unbeknownst until now, the realization of just how great a distance he’d made led to a string of near breathless curses. 

     He could make it -  he knew he could - tried to believe it even despite his limp weighing him down... He’d nearly believed it too; a smile all too wide shattered in an instant.

     Scraping metal had him coming to a slow, glancing behind with frantic panting, a tan-colored car tossed over head, another, red this time, following. Irony shows in the form of the third vehicle, blue-hues sharing strong similarities to another he’d so desperately missed. Blue-hues that were approaching rapidly, spinning in an arch, falling towards where he stood. And in a blink, there was nothing.