|Red (noattachments) wrote in immune_ic,|
@ 2011-11-12 23:18:00
|Entry tags:||# 2011  november, evan|
WHO: Laney and Evan
WHAT: Laney is interrupted while looting
WHEN: 11/12 afternoonish
WHERE: out and about the city
STATUS: in progress
Laney was bad at staying in one place for too long. She always had been. It was, sadly, a product of her upbringing and a direct result of her low class mother being unable to pay rent on time. Unfortunately, short of moving from safehouse to safehouse, there wasn't a whole lot of address changing she could do. And to be honest, it was just easier (and safer) to return to the same place every night. She knew the area. She knew who she was sleeping next to. She knew how to leave in a hurry if she had to. And so on.
It was a problem, though, and so far, the only solution she'd managed to come up with was exploring. And looting. But mostly just wandering around aimlessly without a purpose. Sometimes she'd put a zombie down, but it was very rarely, and only if her safety was in jeopardy. Otherwise, she let it be. Some people she talked to were all about getting rid of all of them, to start shit over and rebuild the world. Laney knew better. It had been five years. And there were more of them than there were survivors. It was, in her opinion, wasted time and energy. And so she didn't participate in it.
Instead, she focused on bettering her own survival. This meant finding anything and everything that would make it easier for her to live. Today alone, she'd already found a bottle of sunscreen, some batteries, a couple packs of cigarettes (to trade), and a few cans of assorted soups. It was a pretty good haul, considering a lot of the places in the city had already been wiped out. She didn't mind though. She was far more patient than most looters and took the time to look around for things, rather than glance and run. And --
Laney stepped forward into the darkness of the first floor apartment she was currently breaking into. On the top shelf of a bookcase in the living room was a fancy looking gun. She raised her eyebrows. Did it work? It was worth a try to grab it and see. But she definitely wouldn't be able to reach it. She wasn't a giant by any means. No, she was going to have to climb. Gently, she leaned her brother's sword against the front door doorway, opening it up for a bit more light. A quick glance outside told her she was safe for the next couple minutes. Then, popping her flashlight in her mouth, she hopped up on the first shelf, reaching her arm as far as it could go until her fingertips grazed the cool metal. After a little more straining, they wrapped around the barrel and she hopped back, smiling as triumphantly as she could with a flashlight between her lips.
And that was when she heard it. A crunch. Or a crumple. Or something that told her she wasn't alone on the street anymore. She whipped around, facing the doorway and pointed the gun. It was a reflex, obviously. She'd never shot a gun, and it was likely the antique in her hand didn't have a firing pin.