InsaneJournal

WHO: George Lass
WHAT: Reaping a soul and checking out the zombies.
WHEN: Late afternoon
WHERE: The Mall
RATING: PGish (npc character death; non-descriptive gore)
STATUS: Open if someone wants to join in; otherwise complete.

There were a lot of things you could learn during a zombie apocalypse if you were paying attention. Granted most people weren't paying attention but were pretty focused on just trying not to be eaten, but George really didn't think that excused them from learning a few of life's lessons along the way.

For example, if the lady in the jogging suit currently being gnawed on just outside Baby Gap had paid attention to the fact that zombies could now open doors, she might have realized that going to pick up a matching jogging suit for her little darling wasn't the smartest idea she could have. Or if the man who had just risen from the spot where he'd died and was now limp-dragging his way through the food court had took note of the stores around him when he'd rushed into the mall to escape an ensuing horde, he probably would have deciding running into Sears and grabbing a power tool to defend himself was a better idea than joining the masses. On and on it went, past every abandoned store and when walking around the large fountain in the center of what had once been a fairly busy mall. Person after person who would still be alive if they had just looked around instead of screaming in a panic and doing something that wound up inadvertently getting themselves killed.

And then there was George. George, who was already dead and who therefore posed no interest to the reanimated corpses around her. George, who had seen every zombie movie ever created and had most of the generalized 'rules of survival' memorized as one of her few claims to pop culture fame. George, who was had been in Colligo for only a couple of days and yet was already sick and tired of reaping souls of idiots who found it fascinating to stare in wide-eyed wonderment at the defilement of their own corpse once they were removed from it. What could she do about it, though? Her transfer had come from up on high, the orders ones that she had instinctively known not to fight. New city, new victims, new means of unusual deaths.

"Whoever said death was boring really ought to give my job a shot."

"What was that?"

George tensed a bit and turned her attention to the latest in what was turning out to be a pile of post-its she was dealing with. "I already told you," she said to the other voice as she stared down at the little yellow piece of paper in her hand, "go to the light. I know you see it. Go to it."

The soul of the Jogging Suit Lady frowned thoughtfully and finally gave a nod. She opened her mouth to say something else but already George had turned away from her. Her job was done and, if the lady didn't do what she was supposed to this time, the reaper honestly was considering drop-kicking her into that damn light instead of easing her into as was part of her job description. Fortunately for all involved, the woman listened and in the blink of an eye she was gone. George, meanwhile, continued on her way through the main corridor of the mall in search of her next soul.

A. Washly
Bath & Body Works
ETD: 5:32PM

Glancing ahead to the store in question, George paused when she noticed the group of teenagers hanging out in the assigned location. Then she put her own advice of Pay Attention to good use and took note of the piano. The piano that was hanging by a thin cord, swaying dangerously in the air about twenty feet above the teens' heads. The piano that looked like it was going to break in about… two minutes, if George's watch was running on time. The piano that was likely meant to squish the horde of zombies moving rapidly toward the teens beneath it.

"And winner of this week's prestigious Darwin Award goes to…" George muttered under her breath before sighing heavily and trying to figure out a way to reap the right soul without ending up a bloody pancake on the floor when the Gravelings finished doing their part and sawing through the cord holding the piano in mid-air.