The Lady Jiàbēng

the horde not moving on was about the worst case scenario. it’d mean that whoever down in the bunker would be trapped there. or maybe worse, they’d come out and most would die to the horde. so getting them away from the sanctuary was an an absolute must. and the second phoebe mentioned molotov, a picture of a molotov cocktail being thrown to divert the horde came to mind.

“yes,” she responded quickly. “you think that would work?” 

“potentially.” phoebe sighed, breath forming a small cloud in the cold morning air. “it’s worked on beings much smarter than them before.” they would need supplies. chemicals. a whole cocktail of them to make an explosion that could draw them out of the town.

“know anyone who might have alcohol in their room?” preferably someone in the house of the roof they were on, but phoebe was sure she could stealth her way to another house... somehow.

“no,” she confirmed in a voice a bit stronger than before. “the blood is theirs. i killed a few after i got out of the air vent that i’ve been holed up in.” rooney took a second to right herself before saying anything else. she stared wide-eyed up at the sky, sucking in as much fresh air as possible. it wasn’t until now that she’d realized how stagnant the air in the dead vent must have been. as soon as she took a few deep breaths, the stench kicked in. 

she wanted to stand up and look over the edge to size up the size of the horde, but she wasn’t sure if that was wise. phoebe, who’d already been there, was probably best to ask first. “any of them moved on?”

“good.” any number less of the horde was a good thing- even if it was just one or two. that could potentially be enough to tip the balance in their favor. “they’ve thinned out some- i’m sure that a few of those who survived have been picking them off or leading them away.” phoebe looked pensively towards the horizon, watching as the clouds moved ever peacefully.

“we need to get them out.” god this was going to be a bad idea. “we need something that gets their attention- and gets them far far way.” basically they needed a distraction, and these weren’t trained guards for a diplomat, they wouldn’t be distracted by things suspiciously out of place. she needed to think... bigger. “you ever make a molotov?”

rooney knew that things had been bad for three days. she’d holed herself up in an air vent in house 103. she’d run there after gathering her and aspen’s things from their room. she’d thought about fighting the horde, but once she saw the size of it she knew that wouldn’t be possible. not with the current size it was. so she’d fled into the house crawled inside one of the air vents. she’d taken a can medley vegetables on her way out of the house, and one half-filled water bottle. she hadn’t had time for anything else. now that she’d been in the fucking air vent for three days, she regretted it. even though there hadn’t been time for anything else, it seemed stupid to have not searched for more water. she’d drained the vegetables of their liquid, so that had helped some. but even still after taking time between drinks, she’d run out of water early in the second morning.

in the room, moaning and shuffling about. there were only a few so there was no doubt that she could take them, but she wasn’t going to be stupid about it. letting her drive for hydration overtake her common sense would only end in her getting bit. so she waited a few minutes, checking to make sure a larger group wasn’t going to come in the room at any second. when they didn’t, she grabbed her bag and weapon and slowly inched her way out of the vent. it took them only a moment to notice that she was there, and alive. and by the time they started to approach her, she’d stabbed them right on the top of the skull. peering around the room, she looked for any sign of water. no one had left a water bottle around so she moved to exit the room, checking around the corner before actually exiting. 

in a room down the hall she found a water bottle that was, again, half empty. almost as though the person had been mod drink when they sat it down. the cap wasn’t even on correctly. rooney took a deep drink and set out to find more. she placed that bottle in her bag and left the room. groans came from the end of the hallway and she knew she’d been found. originally she’d wanted to go down that end in hopes of having easier access out, but it wasn’t looking good. leaving the undead alive might only cause them more grief in the end so she used her trench knife to finish that one too. but as the body slid to the ground at her feet, that’s when she got a look at the massive crowd now shuffling around the corner towards her. rooney knew her only means of escape at this point was the window inside the bedroom. she’d climb up and get herself to the roof. with her muscles a bit refreshed from the drink she’d taken, she pushed herself up. the window sill was deep enough that she could balance there for a moment before further pulling herself into the roof. 

her hands and face were covered in zombie blood, sticky as she pulled herself up onto the rooftop ledge. as she came up she quickly realized that she wasn’t alone, there was another woman there. phoebe, she recalled. “don’t shoot, i’m alive.” she stated in a hoarse voice, collapsing onto the roof to catch her breath. 

immediately seeing the girl, phoebe let her rifle point downwards as she carefully crept closer to hoist the girl into a better position. one hand lingered on the girl’s shoulder, ensuring that she wouldn’t topple off of the slope of the roof.

“are you bitten.” dark eyes roamed her figure, searching for any sign of blood, any possible sign of infection. “are you hurt?” they would smell blood- like sharks, and phoebe didn’t want to see what they would do in order to reach the two.

day three of the horde invasion saw phoebe waking up in the small crawlspace that made up the attic. her joints ached as she unfolded herself from the curled up position she’d slept in. there had once been a time where she could sit in the same position for 12 hours and been perfectly fine, but as much as she hated to admit it, age was catching up on her. checking the room below her first, phoebe slipped through the small hole she’d made in the ceiling and landed silently on her feet. the door was closed- and phoebe took a moment to stretch before cracking it open. one infected down the hall near the upstairs bathroom, two milling near the stairs, an unknown amount downstairs.

not a viable way. the window then.

one swift movement had her grabbing the rifle off the bed and sliding out the window she’d left open that night. gripping her hand on the ledge of the roof she could barely hold, phoebe launched herself in a swinging motion onto the roof. perching on the edge, she surveyed the thick crowd of infected below her. they had long since stopped their original frenzy, stopped around the same time the screams had stopped. but now they weren’t moving. something would need to attract their attention out of the small town. something big.

she was stuck on the roof of the house she slept in, a rifle in her hand and a horde of undead below. definitely not the most advantageous position for her to be in, especially since the horde seemed to have no desire to move along any time soon. phoebe would need a plan, and she would need one soon if she wanted to survive long enough to greet her husband.

Another routine visit to the infirmary, one Dexter didn’t feel was necessary but he had gone anyway. The man could hear his sister nagging him in the back of his mind as he made his way across the Sanctuary to check in, it was really starting to bother Dexter, the voice he heard of his sisters in his head but he supposed it was better than doing anything else. He was fine with losing his mind slowly, which seemed to be his fate when it came to not knowing what had happened to his sister and his parents. It would have been better if he knew, even if they were dead, as he had convinced himself they were– no chance they could survive. But then again, his parents had been scientists, surely they knew about this happening. 

He was busy thinking about them when he was leaving the Infirmary, brow furrowed with the thought and his body in less pain than it had been with the insistence of the Doctor who had given him a pain pill to help with his wound and settle him down a bit. The wound was healing nicely as the Doctor had said but that certainly wasn’t good enough for Dexter, he wanted to be done with this fucking thing and he was frustrated, thinking of his sister had often brought him some sense of clarity but it was simply concerning to him now. 

The sound of the door hitting something that wasn’t the wall or even something normal was what brought Dexter from the recesses of his mind, he stepped outside (more like hobbled, that pill hadn’t fully kicked in yet) and looked on the other side of the door with that frown still in place. “Shit… No, I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be that close to the door–” He voiced, still holding onto the door as he moved around it and then let it fall close. “I hope I didn’t hurt you– although, you’re in a good place if I did.” Was that pill kicking in? He couldn’t tell but he felt something.

“no worries- i should have been looking at where i was going.” she waved off his concerns, making a show of checking her hand for blood. no red splotches dotted her palms, and phoebe grinned as she showed the clean hand to the man who’d hit her

   WELL, SHIT. ASPEN sucks in a breath like she’s about to say something in retort, something like telling her to mind her business or get wrecked, but her lips clamp shut. It doesn’t feel like the right call; not this time. She thinks before she speaks now; the other woman’s presence almost forcing her into a less impulsive response. 

        “I think we all have, by now.”

“of course. sanctuary is the home of survivors, after all.” her smile turned benevolent. “but now that you are here, will the tactics you used to survive outside the wall keep you alive?”

   LUCY FALLS, AND in a second Emmett is by her side. He has his eyes glued to his little girl, and before she’s taken her tumble he sees it coming. She’s only on the ground for a moment before he stands her up, and only there a moment longer before another woman approaches them. His eyes move between Lucy and the newcomer, and he offers her a hesitant smile. Lucy, on the other hand, wipes away a tear and positively beams at her. ‘ I’m okay, ‘ she says. ‘ I’m a BIG girl. ‘ 

   Emmett chuckles under his breath and pulls her coat tighter around her, nodding in agreement. He knows she would have milked the moment to gain some extra attention from him –not that he lacked in giving it to her, in the first place– had this woman not appeared. But for her, Lucy has to have a stiff upper lip. 

         “She’sa tough one. No denying that.”

“yes- you definitely are a big girl.” the quivering lip and expression that spoke of a determination not to cry was absolutely adorable, and for a moment phoebe couldn’t breathe. logan had made that face one day after he’d tripped on a step in the separation of their living room and kitchen, and she remembered his tiny arms wrapping themselves around her neck as she’d pulled him into a tight hug. grief so strong she couldn’t even dare imagine to ignore it pulled at her heart, but phoebe didn’t get where she had been in life by letting her emotions control us.

“my name is phoebe, and yours?”

     Dorian had been on his way to grab some more ammunition for himself and the others that guarded the wall, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he wandered into the building. Hearing the door open he turned his head, seeing a woman he had never seen before entering the room. “I am.” He replied, he didn’t take kindly to strangers, and he wasn’t the most talkative person to begin with, so she was going to have to do better than that to strike up a conversation with him. 

     He adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, having it rest so that the barrel faced the ceiling, his hand on the grip as he waited for the ammunition he had come for. “You come to get a gun?” He questioned, walking towards where the guns were kept and opening the locker. “What’s your preference for range?” Dorian asked, quirking an eyebrow at the woman. 

she didn’t answer his inquiries for a moment, just taking a moment to herself to run her fingers across the rather modest selection of weapons sanctuary had to offer. not much of note, but after two years without her favored weapon, just touching one brought a smile to her face.

“i’m flexible.” with practiced ease she picked up a pistol, testing its weight. “though i prefer long range.” she deftly dismantled it to check for any debris or dirt build up and, in a time she would have considered unacceptable pre-outbreak, she put it back together. What she wouldn’t give to grab the cache of weaponry she’d hidden in her home in denver. if only she’d been able to acquire a truck she could use to carry her babies with her. but if wishes were fishes and all that.

             “–alright.”

       Of course it was Sam that had sent this woman to her, it had been part of her job as trainer – though she doubted her own credentials. She could tell him if someone was strong enough to guard the wall or had the stamina to go on runs, but she couldn’t tell if someone was stable enough to actually handle walking the wall. That was some next level therapy shit that she did not deal with. Gesturing to the near empty courtyard, she gave the woman the view of all of their makeshift equipment.

              “Show me what you’ve got.”

“any requests?”

perhaps her tone was a bit too cocky, but this was similar to what she’d done her entire life. flashes of maintaining perfect for with stones laying on her back as she did push up after push up flashed through her mind. phoebe sauntered forwards, stretching out her arms and warming up her body.

   THE MAN IS minding his own business, as he often is, when someone interruts him. However, he’s less displeased about it when she speaks to him in Russian, and his glare turns into the ghost of a smile as he answers. 

         “Да, из Сибири.* Where did you learn the language?”

she’d obviously gained his attention in a positive way, and phoebe nodded her head in gracious acknowledgement. she figured he would be pleased to hear his mother tongue- just as she would be pleased to hear cantonese.

“my work brought me that way often enough that learning was a good idea.”