#btrzombie

SALEM CLARINGTON

     Time was irrelevant now. There was no rhyme or reason to anything, yet Salem continued to mark the days as they passed by, a reminder that they’ve come so far and survived the downfall of society. The knowledge that this day would have been a day to celebrate, her favorite holiday, made her smile though it dimmed when the reality of the situation struck her. There wouldn’t be any more Halloweens, no more costumes, no more happy little children. The only thing that she could count on was the candy that she kept securely tucked away. The chocolate bar was the last thing left, the last precious piece of sugary sweetness that she had and what better time to allow herself to give in to the temptation that it was than now?

SALEM CLARINGTON

     The blonde’s fragile frame trembled as the men stepped through the entrance but it was not fear she felt -- no, she would never give them the satisfaction of bringing any fear forth -- it was her hunger, the weakened state they left her in as though through starvation they could gain her compliance. She would rather die than become a willing subject to the monsters that enslaved her. “Poor little lamb,” the first one said, drawing closer as the other remained by the door. “Look at you.” He tsked and she fumed. She could hear the mocking in his tone, the faux sound of sympathy. "It doesn't have to be this difficult, you know," He continued on when she refused to utter a word. "We could take real good care of you here," his eyes roamed over her while a lascivious smile forming on his lips, "if you let us." Her skin crawled and her eyes narrowed. The will to fight was still strong within her and nothing they did or said would ever break her and that was just what this was. A way to get under her skin, to make her snap and bend to their will if only to be provided with a false sense of security.

   "Go fuck yourself." Salem hissed, venom weaved into her tone of voice. He was far from started, of course. She'd been telling him off from the moment she'd been shoved into this cage. 

     "Is that really how you want to treat me? And here I was, thinking that I would be kind enough to bring you a snack." It was then that he lifted the sandwich wrapped in saran wrap. Though she hated to admit it, her mouth watered at the sight and by the sound of his degrading chuckle, he knew what kind of effect he was having on her.

     "... And? You want me to beg for it? Want me to ask all pretty like? I'd rather starve before I ever treat you nice, asshole." She was used to the anger that welled up inside of her by now. Little remained of the girl she once was; that bubbly happy girl with people to love and care bout. All of that had been ripped out of her with every strap of leather that held her down, with every prick of a needle. This was what was left of her and she refused to let it go, refused to be complacent. 

     With a sigh, he rose, tossing the sandwich by her and onto the makeshift cot that they'd provided her with. Despite the voice that whispered in the back of her mind to wait, Clarington found herself reaching for the food only to be tsked once more. "Nah uh, sweetheart, you don't get that just yet. Doc wants to see you first, see how you're reacting to the new vaccine." At the mention of the doctor, the blonde's body tensed, muscles coiled tight and ready for a fight. The way they both drew closer to corner her told her that they knew it and were well prepared for whatever would be coming their way. In the end, though, it was hardly a struggle. Two grown and muscular men against one slender girl, it was too easy for them to pluck her up and hold her between them. Still, she fought -- kicking, screaming and biting -- as they took her past the containment area where the ones that came before her were kept. All of them turned and gnawing at each other in hunger. 

     Clarington's struggles increased when they brought her into the stark white room, knowing what was to come. "Oh, c'mon, darlin'. Don't be like this." The guard said with a chuckle as he only squeezed her tighter. "It'll be over before you know it." With that, they unceremoniously dropped her onto the cold, hard hospital bed before making quick work of the restraints and tying her down. As one guard departed, the other -- the one prick who could never keep his mouth shut -- leaned down towards her to whisper, "Doc's got a surprise for you when you're done here. Looks like you'll be getting a roommate." A chill ran down her spine at those words. As much as she may crave companionship at times, she would never wish this experience on anyone else. 

SALEM CLARINGTON

     The end was near.

     The end of this horrendous war brought on by the zombies. No, not them for they were not to blame. Those to blame were human and they were long gone. The time is coming for humans -- alive and breathing -- to take over once more. But before that could happen, help would be needed and that’s what brought them here to this desolate town. 

    Green hues scanning the area, Salem stepped away from the vehicle from which she'd arrived. In the background she could hear the others talking, the CB radio attached at her hip sparking to life as, one by one, all of them were tested, as always. Keeping connected was key, after all. Yet she paid them no mind, left them to their checklists and inspections of weaponry that they all knew were ready and waiting to be used. It was a habit ingrained in them all but she was less concerned about those tedious tasks and far more worried about the people who could be laying in wait around them.

     This was the worst town yet for the blonde. Buildings were crumbling, roads were cluttered with rusted cars and brittle bones of those that didn't survive. Nearby, smoke was billowing up through the roofless shelter, the sparks of fire vibrant and visible from where she stood. That was not what caught her attention. It was the mound of cloth laying abandoned against that building, a ribbon of what once had been bright blue tied around the toy's neck. It was then that she was hit with a pang of sadness. The child that it had once belonged to had to be gone by now and they were too late to save them. 

SALEM CLARINGTON

     The scent of decay was heavy in the air as slender hands trembled. Adrenaline pulsed through the blonde’s veins, heart pounding wildly within the cage of her chest, giving her the strength to continue on and lift the shotgun and aim. Her target moved with little coordination, it’s rotten flesh peeling back from broken bones, yet it wouldn’t stop. It couldn’t stop. Its bloodlust was strong and that kept it moving, kept the corpse snapping what few teeth it had left. And with the sound of the gunshot ringing through the air, it’s growls and grunts were silenced, it’s body going limp.

     Gradually the gun was lowered before the hefty weight of it slipped from Salem's fingers. The fight had left her in shambles. A long time had passed since they'd seen a zombie close enough to touch and, for the briefest moment, she had allowed herself to hope that they would find what they were looking for, a safe haven among the chaos. But now her hope was crumbling as she stepped forward, knees weak and threatening to buckle. She made it to where Leo lay before finally tumbling down, turning her head away she heaved when the scent of the corpse overwhelmed her. She would never get used to this, to seeing what once were people ambling about and tearing each other apart. And she prayed she never would.

DANI

Danielle mounted the last piece of wood to the window, securing it in place before she pressed the nailgun to it. She wanted to make sure that there was no way any zombies could get inside the house. She checked the locks on each door for the second time before cleaning up all her materials. Danielle never felt like a stranger in her own home until a few days ago when she called off her engagement to Jace. They have been fighting for a while now, usually over small things, like not replacing the milk or washing the dishes. But, those fights always escalated to Danielle’s doubts about their engagement or Jace’s concerns that Danielle was never going to commit. So, honestly Danielle didn’t know why calling off their engagement was such a surprise. And, if she knew that there was going to be a zombie apocalypse the next day, she probably would have thought things through more.

Danielle trekked through the wilderness, completely drained from her morning activities. Which included, killing at least a dozen zombies before dawn. Without a watch, Danielle easily lost track of time, only depending on the moon and the sun to guide her along the way. This is why she knew it was early in the afternoon since the sun was still high in the sky.

"The Dynamic Duo," as most camps liked to call them, rarely stayed in one place for too long. Because Danielle knew the consequences of living in a camp. There could be an invasion – or even worse someone getting infected. She found that traveling throughout the day worked best for her job - if you could even call it that. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t help anybody that needed it, as long as they were able to offer her something in return.

Ever the optimist, Anya was grateful that they had been blessed with a few weeks of peace from any immediate harm. That wasn't to say that their last run in had gone completely smooth. Not at all, in fact. They had lost a couple of people and Anya ended up with a deep cut along her arm that would have been more than manageable pre-apocalypse, however without proper supplies, it was getting increasingly worse.

While knowledgeable with animals more so than people, she still knew how to treat her wound as best she could. It's probably what kept it from being too much of an issue this long, but without the proper tools, infection was starting to set in.

She kept it wrapped, while tending to everyday duties. Aside from watching out for her five year old son constantly, she had been part of the group to take care of stuff around camp. It had become typical every life for her and despite the overall situation, Anya always looked at the bright side knowing things could be worse. Even as her own fever rose, due to the infection.

Anya had kept the wound wrapped up and hidden from the camp, especially Tony, and naturally, their son as well. There was no need to worry her husband, as he had enough on his plate. Especially since he had been gone for the last day on a hunt with the group that hunted. Something that was always unnerving for her, no matter how many times they had done it.