Expect the Unexpected Who: Carson, John & Richard Where: A random apartment, then Richard's Apartment When: Morning of Day 11 of the End of the World (back-dated)
After they'd left the convenience store, Drake - still in control of John's body - had led them further into the city. Cars, bodies, creatures to elude. They skies seemed more populated now, too. Shadows would sweep the ground and there'd be a screech from above and he'd grab Carson's hand and pull her into the nearest building. She'd tenaciously held on to her luggage. Before sunset, they'd reached a street which looked like it was planned to hold about ten apartment buildings and that was all. A mall lay behind it, but they didn't go there. They chose an apartment on the fourth floor and locked themselves inside. He didn't wait to see if Carson was going to sleep or not. Drake had collapsed onto a clean bed, fully clothed, and been swallowed by sleep.
When Day 11 dawned, both Drake and John were flat on their backs where they had landed the night before, sound asleep, Bowie knife still in his belt, rifle beside the bed, within easy reach. It had been a grueling week and the body they shared had taken a beating. He looked peaceful, though. Did he dream? And if so, who's dreams were they? That of a young man who had a damaged mind or that of a fighting man who didn't know who he had been?
Their walk had been quiet for the most part since it was so important to be invisible to the beasts. They couldn't risk one of those creatures finding them because their small talk was too loud. Turned out John had great instincts, better than Carson's since he so often was pulling her out of harm's way. Her mind was a jumble and she kept zoning out, not fully paying attention to the dangerous world they were in. She'd done well on her own so it was probably the false sense of security of having a companion now. When they found shelter she was more than happy to lay on an actual bed. Just a couple nights without one was too much for her to handle. Unlike John she did take the time to strip down before crawling under the sheets. Sleeping in jeans was difficult for her.
She'd woken up before John and was poking at a pink coconut covered pastry called a Snowball she'd taken from the store. The color had made her curious and now she was regretting it. One bite made her stomach clench, either from the taste or the fact that it was pure sugar. With nothing but the fluffy cake to keep her occupied she quickly became bored and started watching her slumbering companion. He seemed to be sleeping soundly since it didn't look like he'd moved all night. Carson nibbled at the chocolate as her eyes shifted to the tousled sheets around her then back to the man. Her thoughts immediately jumped to where they always did. His skin, my skin, a bit of sweat, apocalypse! Carson threw the Snowball onto the floor and rushed off to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She didn't even consider the slamming door might wake up John, but she needed a moment alone. Just a short moment would suffice.
John woke with a start, confused, sleepy and wondering what had made the noise. He lay very still, eyes open, and looked around. Carson wasn't there. He thought that maybe she was just in another room of the apartment, but a part of him had a moment of terror that thought she might have gone and left him. What would he do? Continue, of course, but knowing that she was out there, somewhere, with the nightmares? He sighed. Yesterday, Drake had been in control. This morning, it seemed that John had that pleasure - though given the circumstances, he wasn't sure how much 'pleasure' it really was. Drake didn't instantly take over, though, so it wasn't likely that danger was nearby.
He rolled onto his side and noticed that the bathroom door was closed. That might have been the source of the noise. He sat up, pushed aside the rumpled sheets, yawned, stretched and finally stood. His bladder told him that a trip to the bathroom was actually a good idea, so he crossed to the door and tried it. Locked. Trying to feel as confident as Drake might do, he cleared his throat a little and knocked. "Carson? You in there?" If she wasn't and it was a monster, would they reply?
So it was very fast, but she'd mastered certain skills by now. Carson took a few haggard breaths to calm herself. Luckily it was that moment at which John knocked on the door. "Yeah, I'll be out in a second." Carson got to her feet and briskly washed her hands before opening the door. "It's all yours, sport." Now that she felt more relaxed she showed it with a warm smile and pranced over to a table with her bag on it. It was time to get dressed, after all, she was still just in a t-shirt and underwear. They were boy shorts, so her butt was covered for the most part. She believed sometimes more coverage was more of a tease. But Carson was content at the moment. Obviously she didn't mind exposing herself but this time she wasn't actively thinking about teasing John.
Her thoughts were oriented more in the direction of getting ready to move again. Shifting through her suitcase she took out a few things, trying to rearrange it a bit. She placed a pair of heels, two bras, and dumped the contents of a jewelry box into the bag before putting the box onto the table. That made a little more room in there since the shoes and box were bulky.
John blinked when the door opened and a smiling Carson emerged, all bouncy. He guessed she'd slept well. That was good. They had a day of foraging through the building ahead of them - at least, that's what he thought Carson and Drake had agreed to. Being in the 'back seat' of his own mind made things fuzzy sometimes. She started going through her suitcase as he entered the bathroom and closed the door. He unzipped, took a whiz, flushed, washed his hands. It was all cold water now, but at least the plumbing was still working. When the weather started to get cold, it'd be a different story, he was sure. The maintenance guys at the facility always griped in winter about pipes bursting if such-and-such wasn't done. He had no idea what 'such-and-such' was, though. Would he still be alive in the winter? Would he celebrate Christmas? What was there to celebrate without his family and friends? He looked in the mirror and wondered what Drake was thinking.
Returning to the room, he saw that Carson was rearranging things. That was a good idea. He went to his bag, crouched and pushed some of the cans around. Retrieving two energy bars he held one out to Carson. "Breakfast?"
Carson had just finished sliding on a pair of pants when the energy bar was offered. "Sounds good to me. Tried one of those Snowball things," she gestured toward the abandoned cake on the floor, "Terrible. Never again." She chuckled taking the energy bar from John and happily peeled open the wrapper. They weren't her favorite food, but they sure were better than the other meal she'd tried. It was also a pain to go into grocery stores now; most of them had been raided and all the "fresh" produce, meat, frozen foods, and such were all rotting away. Canned foods were the best but most were gone from stores since they were the obvious places to go. This was basically what John and Carson had discussed the evening before and agreed people's homes were the next best place to search. Apartments were convenient since they were many homes in a small area.
She finished off the energy bar then finished moving things in her bag. "Think I'm ready to raid some rooms if you are."
John looked down at the pink ball of baked goods and made a face. "Ewww. Thanks for the warning." He peeled the wrapper from half his bar and took a bite. Was this really any better than the Snowball? He chewed it anyway, knowing he needed something in his stomach and that Drake wouldn't have chosen these bars if they didn't have something going for them. He took another bite and checked through his bag to a little nest area near the bottom. Protected by a towel was his teddy bear, Mr Squiggles. John smiled at the bear and mouthed 'It's okay', as if the bear would understand. Still, it made John feel better just seeing the plushy toy there.
Placing the last of the bar into his mouth, he closed his backpack, stood and disposed of the wrapper in the small garbage pail beside the bed. As if it mattered that he didn't just toss it onto the floor. Old Habits. "Okay, then... I guess we go. Um... I'm going to leave my stuff here, so my hands are free..." Drake shifted a little behind his eyes, but didn't step forward to take over. John swallowed and fought a moment of panic. So, he'd be the one going through the apartments with Carson, huh? Great. He hid the hunting rifle under the bed and went with just the Bowie knife on his belt. "Ready as I'll ever be..."
"Good idea, don't need to drag our things along the way. So long as we can get back here of course," Carson had laid her gun on the floor next to the bed the night before so she went to retrieve it. Shoving it into the back of her pants again, she went over to a small desk and dug in a drawer to find a pen. She peeked out the window to check outside before opening the door. With the pen she wrote the number and letter of the apartment. "Not likely to forget, but rather not risk it," she shrugged at her own explanation and left the door open for John.
The next apartment door wasn't far. The apartments seemed to be a fair size, not particularly large or small. If there were bigger ones they'd be the best to raid, but it was difficult to tell from the outside. She grasped the door handle and tried to turn it to no avail. Men liked to break down doors right? Carson looked over at John with an expression of expectancy, "Care to do the honors?"
John watched and waited while she picked up her gun and wrote down the apartment number. He waited for her, because he was hardly going to go out the door by himself. Maybe Drake didn't mind going solo in this place - even though he couldn't, because he seemed to be 'stuck' - but now that he was with Carson, too, John wasn't planning on letting her out of his sight for any length of time. He followed after her, looking behind them, just in case there were monsters, and wishing she'd open a door so that they coudl get out of the hall. He didn't need Drake to tell him that they were vulnerable in a public space like this. Well, he felt vulnerable, anyway.
She tried one of the doors and it didn't open. John was fine with just moving to another, but she was asking him if he wanted to open it. Puzzled, John reached for the knob and tried. "It's locked. We need a key." He thought that was obvious. Trying to think of what Drake might say, John came up with: "Am I missing something?" Maybe she'd explain.
Carson raised a brow at the man, a bit surprised any guy wouldn't be more willing to show off his macho side. "Figured we could break open any locked doors. It's always in movies; some cop or pissed off guy kicks open the door. I think you can do it," she said the last sentence with a smirk. Her tone was suggestive, with a hint of mockery as if she doubted his capability to be a man. She was also just hoping he'd get the job done. Carson liked to think of herself as a tough woman but she liked it sometimes when men took control of a situation. And she knew a lot of men liked that too. Hopefully John was just like all the others.
"Oh," he said, wondering if he was supposed to be offended. John wasn't like someone in the movies, as much as he might wish he was, sometimes. Especially now that the world was ending. Of course, Drake could probably do it - John thought he could do anything - but did he want to break down a door? "I've never tried to break into anywhere before," he said, stalling while he tried to get an answer from Drake.
Kick it hard near the knob, came the distant reply.
"What?" John said out loud.
Never mind. John blinked and Drake took over. He stepped back, paused, and applied the body's right foot to the door near the knob with a sharp kick. The door to the apartment thwacked open. "What do you know," he said with a smirk of his own. "It worked."
"I haven't either, but it doesn't look too hard." Admittedly she was a little familiar with such criminal activity. In high school a boy who asked her out wanted to show off by breaking into a small music shop. Breaking the window didn't take any skill. Good thing they were young because as soon as the alarm went off they had to high tail it out of there. There weren't any repercussions other than Carson shunning the boy for a loser since he failed to pull off the brilliant stunt.
Now he's hearing things..? "I didn't say anything..." She watched the man as he seemed to be concentrating on something for a brief moment. Something changed in him then. His demeanor shifted and suddenly he kicked the door open. The smirk revealed new confidence and she liked it. "Knew you could do it," she said with a wink.
Richard sat bolt upright as soon as the door crashed open, eyes wide and his hand already grabbing for his gun. He was in a mess of blankets on the floor, with his bed upturned to block the door between his bedroom and the living room - which unfortunately left him without a clear view of the door. All he knew was that the near two weeks of silence had been broken by someone, likely something, busting their way into his home. The last goddamn safe place in the world, as far as he was concerned. He didn't even register that the intruders were talking - right now language was as foreign to his ears as any of the noises the monsters made outside his window. Scrambling over to the improvised barricade, looking for all the world like a crazed wildman, Richard fired off two shots in the general direction of his front door. He doubted he'd hit anything, but it might scare off whatever visitors had come calling.
Drake knocked Carson to the floor and went down on top of her. Looking up, his expression one of concern, he noticed that the bullets had hit the wall and would have missed them entirely, but it was better safe than -
"Don't shoot!" he called out, his weight keeping the woman down. He glanced at her, jerked his head in a quick shake that she shouldn't try moving and added, "We didn't know anyone was here!" That wasn't the most reassuring thing to say. "We won't hurt you!" Then he paused, met Carson's gaze and wondered if that was enough. Did whoever it was that was armed understand what he was saying? Would there be an initial language barrier, like in Chicago? Were they alone? He doubted it was one of the creatures. Operating tools of any kind, including weapons, didn't seem to be their forte. John was shaking inside his head. He couldn't blame the kid.
Carson didn't know what was happening. She winked at John then the next moment she's being tackled to the ground. Had he finally given in to her advances? But what was that loud noise? Gunfire! It took a moment, but she realized what she'd heard. She was about to say something then saw the look in John's eyes. Ok, best stay quiet. He'll handle this right? As John called out to their unknown assailant Carson could only stare up at John. Her breath caught in her throat. His weight on her...felt good. When his head shook she understood the message and wasn't about to protest. A dangerous situation they were in and her blood was pumping like mad. She couldn't help watching his lips as he spoke, not fully hearing the words her comrade was speaking. Her hands were on the floor but one wanted to move. The fingers began twitching and they crawled along the carpet toward her own leg, Just a little touch...
They hadn't left. Richard shifted into a better position, straining to see his front door around the corner, aiming his gun... and then it finally penetrated that the intruders were talking. And in English, no less. And not attacking him. Definitely a whole slew of complications he hadn't expected. As the realization that he might possibly not be the last man on earth sank into his brain, the hand holding his gun began to shake. After a moment, he realized he hadn't responded in any way and cleared his throat nervously. "H-hello?" His voice sounded hoarse, deep, and unused. He hadn't talked in days, and it felt so strange now. His finger twitched a little as he waited for an answer, hoping against hope that his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him.
Pressed up against Carson like that, Drake could feel her heart racing. He guessed she was scared and he didn't blame her. Wanting to be sure she let him handle the talking for now, he shifted a little on top of her and placed the forefinger of his left hand vertically across her lips. Shhhhh... And he waited. At the tentative 'hello', he replied, his eyes on Carson's. "Hello! Another survivor. Thank God." That sounded friendly, didn't it? And something someone was likely to say. He hoped it put the person - man - at ease, at least long enough that the gun wouldn't be an issue anymore. "We're just looking for supplies..." How much potential protection did Carson want? In this new world, the law would hardly help her if someone decided to take advantage. Yes, she had a gun, but Drake didn't know if she knew how to use it. He should have asked. If the encounter became civilized, did he introduce her as his girlfriend or wife? In case that sort of thing meant something to the other man?
Carson let out a slow breath in attempt to slow her heart. When John put his finger to her mouth she closed her eyes almost expecting things to progress between them. She idly heard somebody say hello and it forced her to open her eyes again. Damn it. Of course we're being interrupted. She was almost completely oblivious to what was really going on around her. Listening to what John said was filling her in on the situation. Whoever this stranger was the tension in the room seemed to be dying down, so why was John still on top of her? He must have been enjoying it too. That brought a slight smile to her face because she certainly wasn't in a hurry to move.
Richard waited another few breaths to respond, letting the situation clarify in his mind. Letting himself believe, just a little, that this might not be a hallucination brought about by his self-inflicted imprisonment. He mulled over the other man's words until they almost made sense, then cleared his throat again. "Won't find any food here." At least, nothing that humans as he remembered them could eat. And somehow he suspected they hadn't become as... literally omnivorous as he had if they were scavenging. "How many of you?" He should judge his odds in case they were planning on mugging him anyway. Or eating him. Anything seemed possible these days.
Drake didn't see a problem with telling the man the truth - to a certain extent, anyway. "Just two of us," he said, his eyes still on Carson. She was smiling. He hoped that meant she wasn't worried, that she was trusting him to take care of the situation. Drake didn't know who he'd been before finding himself sharing John's body, but he knew at least some of the things he was capable of. Rational thought and talking people down seemed to be two of the skills. "No food? We have a little... How about medical supplies?" He laughed, casual, natural. "And... would it be okay if we talked about this properly?" Why was he still on top of Carson? She probably didn't find it comfortable. How thoughtless of him. He shifted again, this time to slide to the floor beside her. And he waited, alert for danger.
More talking, that was a good thing. For the sake of survival, but Carson's body was protesting this turn of events. If she wasn't going to get what she wanted then they might as well talk to this person and get things settled down. When John slid off of her she wanted to pout like a small child but opted for being a grown up. Childlike behavior was unattractive. Carson slowly sat up, knowing any sudden movement could spook this other survivor. "Hello, we come in peace. Sorry about the door, we didn't know any one was here." Hopefully if they both were speaking friendly to the man he'd be peaceful too.
Richard glowered at his hand until it lowered slowly, flicking the safety back on the old revolver. "Suppose I got a few band-aids. Nothing much else." He wasn't one to get sick much, and he'd finished all the aspirin within the first few days, when it felt like his stomach had eaten him alive. Maybe he'd been trying to kill himself, it was hard to say. "Stay put." He pulled the bed away from the door, taking a few steps around the corner so he could properly see his 'guests.' Richard looked every part the apocalypse survivor - too thin, slept-in clothes and tangled hair. He still held the gun, ready to bring it up at a moment's notice, but his eyes were glued on the man and woman at his door. Real people.
Carson took the initiative, talking and sitting up, which was fine. At this point, Drake didn't think the man was going to shoot them unless given cause to do so. Drake sat up, too, but held still again as the man instructed them to 'stay put'. So they sat on the floor, near the door, vulnerable but for whatever Drake might be able to reach to use as a weapon. The man emerged, armed and looking a little wild. Drake could only imagine what he must have endured during the last eleven days, especially if he'd barricaded himself in his apartment. Wouldn't he have run out of food before now? Maybe he'd made trips outside. "Hello," Drake said, hoping he looked mostly harmless. John's face was fairly open and pleasant and non-threatening, so he tried to let the face assume an expression appropriate for John. "I'm John. Who are you?"
It was interesting how they almost seemed to be this man's hostages. They stayed put as they told him, for fear he'd shoot again, most like a bank robber. Funny how they had been the ones to break into the apartment and now he had them waiting for orders. Carson still had her gun in the back of her waistband but knew nothing good would come out of it. She wasn't great with the gun and figured even if she intended to put the thing on a table this guy might shoot first and think later. Couldn't blame him since they were all spooked. John introduced himself in a friendly manner, she followed suit, "And I'm Carson." She gave a small wave of her hand unenthusiastically greeting the gunman.
Two, just like they'd said. A man and a woman, not looking much better than he expected he did at the moment. Richard scowled at both of them before relaxing a bit, running a hand over his face. "Richard. And this is my apartment - did you break the lock?" How the hell was he supposed to keep out the monsters now. "So, is the whole city fucked then? Doesn't look like you're much of a rescue team." He stepped around them, bending over to examine the broken door critically without accidentally catching a look out into the hallway. He'd only been out of the apartment a few times and so far such expeditions had proven disastrous.
Drake blinked a few times as the man crossed to the door and examined his lock. Was he serious? Did he honestly have no idea what had happened? Not that Drake - or John - was aware of any information issued by the government or anything 'official'. There was no government, as far as he could tell. Drake stayed on the floor, turning his head to follow the man, not wanting to make any movements that might be deemed dangerous. At this range, he could probably incapacitate the man without killing him, but he decided to wait. There were few enough survivors. It wouldn't be right to kill unnecessarily. "I... should think your lock is broken, yes," he said evenly. "I haven't seen any sign of... a 'rescue team'. To use your words, the whole world is fucked, as far as I can tell. I don't think... I haven't met many people, Richard." Then, because it seemed like the right thing to say, he added, "I'm sorry."
Richard pushed the door closed slowly, then turned to the pair and raised an eyebrow. "So then what are you going to do now? Looks like you're not waiting around to die." He didn't bat an eye when John said that the 'whole world' was fucked. He'd suspected it, sure, but right now his own survival was more important than trivial details. "Gonna have to find a new place where the door actually stays closed." He looked mildly irritated, even though he was quite certain he should be furious. He just didn't have the energy. "Though you're not doing very well on the scavenging front."
"Waiting around to die isn't on my agenda, no," John replied. Richard was certainly taking the end of the world very well. Why was he so focused on his door? Didn't the enormity of their circumstances affect him at all? John decided that he'd assume it was the other man's way of coping. He sighed and made it clear that he was going to stand - and then, he stood, holding a hand down for Carson. "We're doing well enough, I guess. More food and medical supplies are always a plus." He didn't add that they had some of both already. He wanted to get a better hold on Richard's reactions before he revealed too much. "As for finding a new place? We were dodging creatures all day yesterday. They seem to be bolder. You might want to consider another location entirely..."
This Richard fellow was certainly an angry man. She could hardly blame him. Carson was very angry and depressed while she was alone in her house. Many of her thoughts were on how her husband’s corpse was rotting in the backyard; at least for a few days, because on the fifth day she looked outside and realized it was gone. That had been unnerving. No doubt every survivor had their fair share of trauma by now. She’d probably be pissed too if somebody broke into her hiding spot. But they were humans, so he really should be happy to see them.
Although the new man was unpleasant she was impressed how John was handling it. When he offered her his hand she gripped it tightly and rose to her feet. At the mention of finding a new place Carson nodded in agreement, “You seem to be the only person in the complex. Have any of those monsters paid you a visit?”
"Well, is there anywhere that's exactly safe right now?" Richard looked at them both incredulously, then shook his head. "I don't have anything for you. Closest few apartments are picked clean, too. Far as I can tell, everyone else here died the first day. Or somewhere close to it. Gotten a few... things come sniffing around the door, but nothing's tried to get in. Until you." He scowled at them disapprovingly - it seemed to be something of a natural expression for him. "Not exactly surprised to hear I'm the only one in the building. What about you? Just wandering around?" Seemed like risky business, without a sort of 'home base' they could take shelter in.
Drake thought about how to answer that. "I haven't found anywhere safe yet, no," he replied quietly. "Though there was a group in Chicago... and a nice, old man who..." He could feel John shifting inside his head. Neither one wanted him to do the talking right now, though, so Drake stayed in charge. "I'm from Sioux City, Iowa." Well, John was from there, anyway. It hardly mattered. "I've been traveling, but haven't found anywhere to call 'safe' just yet. I met Carson just yesterday and we decided to stick together. We're looking for supplies right now. Not... 'wandering', exactly." Pause. "Maybe you'd like to... come with us?" In his head, John was humming a tune from 'The Wizard of Oz'. It was distracting, but Drake kept it together.
"Safety in numbers." Richard nodded a little, pulling himself up a little and straightening out his rumpled clothes. An appearance of decorum was probably a good idea. "I suppose it is the only option these days." He didn't like the thought of being thrown in with a bunch of strangers he couldn't trust or depend upon. Just his luck, but he was far from being some sort of Robinson Crusoe. And so, he was going to need people who knew... things. Or decoys for the monsters, either way. "Iowa's quite a ways away, things as they are and all." And if he'd survived that long... "I'll come along. What parts of the city have you been through already?"
He was going to join them. Good. Better than shooting them, any day. "Iowa feels like a lifetime ago." Drake didn't even know if he was from Iowa or not. He knew what he knew, but it didn't include any personal information, it seemed. John was from Iowa, though, and since John was all anyone else knew about... "I met Carson yesterday, about... ten blocks from here, maybe? I'd only been in the city a few hours and was holed up in a convenience store." They'd searched all those blocks and finally crashed in this building in a room down the hall. "I've never been to Detroit, so I'm not sure where to go next. Are you... from around here?" It sounded more colloquial, more like John, to ask that instead of 'Are you a resident of Detroit?' which was what had first come to mind.
"Not much. Have a lot of ground to cover, then. If there's three survivors, there's going to be more. Let's hope they're as amiable as we are, hm?" He tried for a charming smile, but it came out rather pained, and really only highlighted the couple gaps where he'd recently lost teeth. For what reason... he really had no clue. It was a pain in the ass. "I'm not. But I've lived here a little while. Don't know where people would run to in this situation. Somewhere defensible, I'd imagine, with food stores." His stomach growled at the mention of food and the smile fell, replaced by the familiar scowl.
"I've met some on the way, but they didn't want to keep looking for others or had... things to do." The crazy woman in the pick-up, who had given him a lift to Chicago, needed to drive to the Arctic urgently and wouldn't give him the same answer twice as to why. Each time was different. He'd left her laughing and twitching as she drove away. He'd decided not to look under the tarp-covered flatbed. "There have to be more, I'm sure. I suggest we get our stuff together and head out, while it's still daylight. Check for more supplies as we go, find a place to stop for the night, move on... until we find someone." Drake smiled a little. "It's difficult to plan when everything's changed, huh?"
Richard snorted a bit and ducked back into the bedroom, coming out with a small duffel, sticking the gun in the holster in his belt. "Well, I don't have much to contribute materially. But we should get moving if we actually want to find someone. If there were anyone left around here, I'd have known by now." He hadn't heard anything remotely human walking about the apartment building in all the nights he'd spent staring at the ceiling. "We can clean this complex out of whatever's left and find that... safe place to hole up for the night, as you say." Actually, he found planning quite easy. It was the materials - and the people - he was planning with that were the problem.
As the two men conversed Carson only contributed by nodding her head every once in awhile. It wasn’t that she didn’t have anything to say but she was getting anxious the longer they stayed there. She and John had gone further in to the city, and the further they went in the more populated it was (or used to be). Carson looked over at the broken door knowing if anything heard that racket they’d all made then it would certainly be there soon. The way she’d survived since she left her house was to stay on the move, being stationary was rather frustrating. It just seemed like the sensible thing for the three of to stay together. It was a relief to see Richard grabbing a duffel bag. Again she nodded in response, “Definitely. The farther I get into Detroit, the more people I’ve come across. With that said, there are probably more monsters around here too.” Instinctively, one of Carson’s hands slowly went to her lower back to touch the gun’s handle just to give her a minuscule feeling of security.
The man returned with a bag and Carson seemed a little twitchy, so Drake decided to contribute to the momentum started by the other two. "We should get our stuff. We stayed just down the hall." He headed for the door, glancing at the damaged lock as they passed. How had he known where to kick it properly so that it would break? That information certainly wasn't inside John's thoughts. Who am I? It seemed to be the million-dollar question. He reached their room - which sounded more permanent than it obviously was - secured his bag and picked up the rifle. Once Carson had her things, the three of them could check some of the other apartments - and hope they found useful items instead of hungry monsters.
As they left the apartment, Richard didn't even look back. That place hadn't been home to him in days, and he never was one to get sentimentally attached to things. It just never seemed to be worth the energy - though there were a few photos tucked away with the bag along with the assorted objects he'd taken to snacking on. None of it would be what he used to consider 'food', but these days the damned window panes looked edible, and against all odds most things seemed to not only stay down, but also... nourish him in a way. But he was still. Damned. Hungry. "You got something real to eat? Even if it's... small."
Carson immediately followed John out of the room while tossing a glance at Richard. Now they were technically a group, not just a pair of survivors. Would they keep finding other people as they traveled? The real question was where the hell were they going? Carson shook these thoughts away, knowing survival was the most important thing and that meant staying on the move. Back in the room where they’d spent the night she quickly gathered her things into the rolling suitcase. When Richard asked about food she pulled out a can of tuna and a pack of Twinkies. She placed the two items on the table then began digging in the bag, “I have a can opener in here…we have a decent amount of food for now and hopefully we’ll come across at least a vending machine soon.”
Drake smiled a little, glad Carson was looking after Richard and glad they'd found a can opener at the convenience store. "I have some energy bars, if you want a chaser," he said, joking a little. Would John think to say something like that? He chose not to worry about it. "When was your last meal?" If the man had just been raiding the nearest apartments, he'd have run out of food fairly soon, wouldn't he? Maybe he'd hit the mother lode... "So, when you're ready... Should we check the rest of the building before we head... what, downtown?"
Richard snatched up the Twinkies and took a bite - plastic, paper, and all - without really thinking about it. He'd been eating pretty much anything and everything that he could take a bite out of since the stomach pains had stopped and the hunger pains had started. "A real damned meal? Not for days. Maybe a week? Been eating... what I can." Even his sleeves were a bit... nibbled on. "Hopefully we'll find more than a vending machine. And downtown's a good idea. We'll run into more monsters, likely, but I bet people will congregate there."
Carson quirked a brow while watching Richard devour the Twinkies…and its wrapping. Had this man been starving? His response to John made it sound like he hadn’t not eaten anything at all for days. Perhaps he was just a big eater in general. Maybe he’d been very heavy before the event and had lost a lot of weight since then due to malnutrition. There was no way for Carson to know what this man was really like and she tried not to make assumptions about people (inevitably she did by assessing all the possibilities and eventually settling on one).
Carson blinked quickly a few times to draw them away from Richard’s eating habits. “Yeah, downtown’s good.” She finished closing up her suitcase and put it on the floor, getting into the towing position. “Shall we?”
"Uh, yeah." Richard could eat... some interesting things it appeared. How did his body process the plastic wrapper? If he went for the tuna, would he eat the can, too? Behind his eyes, John was gaping, but he left Drake in charge. "Yeah, let's... get a move on." A few apartment searches then off to where he hoped people would be congregating. People, not monsters, though one might follow the others. Sources of food... "Richard, if you could take point, I'll bring up the rear..."
"Let's not use more bullets than we have to." With a short scowl, Richard fell into position, still not really realizing that his eating habits were unusual. He'd gotten way too used to that in the time he'd spent alone. Carefully, he headed towards the exit, mapping out the various routes they could take to get deeper into the city in his head. Would the monsters be on the big streets or the dark alleyways? More in residential areas or business? Would some places even be passable? At some point he recalled noticing that there were fewer noises during the day, but that had been getting less true lately. He kept his eyes and ears open as they moved out.