Torrie Reed (hardbitten) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2016-06-17 00:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2019 [06] june, victoria reed |
Who: Torrie Reed, A soldier, and zombies
Where: Near one of the north entrances of the subway
What: Torrie needs to be bailed out again. It’s not her week.
When: 6/6/19, 12:00PM
Nobody but Torrie seems to use the north entrance of the subway anymore. She doesn’t really know why, but it’s still her preferred because of it’s proximity to the places she wants to go. It might be false, but it’s always seemed like the number of walkers is lower in the area also. With the memory of her brush with the undead still fresh in her mind, that is a factor that spurs her to use that particular exit, because she wants to avoid an encore, if possible. She’d also like to avoid the influx of uniforms that have come in and spread themselves around the haggard streets inside Austin’s city limits. It’s not a secret that Torrie’s relieved the tunnels have remain untouched by the bootprints of the US Government and its men, even if she hasn’t said it out loud. She can’t imagine what they’d think of the shanty town of repurposed subway cars anyway, and she’s happy to be free of their judgement. Her ascent into the bright yellow sun makes her blink rapidly as she adjusts to something that isn’t the gloom of the maze below. The street’s empty, as far as she can tell. There might be something a block over, since there’s a rustling of some kind that’s been carried on the wind, but it’s not anything that sets off alarms or sends Torrie for the rifle on her back. Could be rats. Probably is. Torrie knows she could have asked Sol to bring her one of the spare guitar strings she’d squirrelled away in his space at the UMCB, but moving and being occupied helps her to feel focused. If she doesn’t it just might herald an itch beneath her skin that speaks of nothing but trouble. Torrie knows the signs and where they’ll lead her if she lets them. She won’t let them. If Austin can rehabilitate itself than Torrie can do the same, and keep doing it. It’s with muscle memory and quiet steps that she steps onto the sidewalk proper, and as she scans the block she can tell that soldiers must have been through, because the detritus that had become the backdrop of the street has been cleared away to reveal the gnarled blacktop beneath. The cracks where asphalt has splintered and buckled from the heat are still there, though. Probably permanent imperfections, unless the government beautifies that too. Two more blocks, and Torrie’s only eight from the medical center. Her north entrance ghost town gives way to more civilized paths piece by piece. But she doesn’t expect the ambush from a storefront entrance; an alcove bathed in shadow. It’s a runner, and it barrels into her, throwing its weight against her and knocking her lopsided. The air is pushed from her lungs as she grapples for her knife, while flashbacks of the alley incident just a few days before invade her immediate thoughts. Torrie throws an elbow, it connects with the rancid flesh of the geeks shoulder, but he must’ve been a linebacker or some shit when he was alive, since her attempt doesn’t change his balance even an iota as he gnashes his teeth at her. She tries again, but quickly wrenches her arm away before the walker can close his mouth on the flesh of her bicep. Then there’s a crack in the air. A sharp noise. A gunshot. The weight of the walker that threatened to take her to the ground just crumples to the side. The entire event is over before Torrie registers real fear. Her knife left clean as she puts it away and brushes the front of her shirt back into place. She makes space for the memory of this encounter next to her last. She won’t forget either for a long time. There’s another crack and the sound of a body hitting the pavement. There had been a second walker, slower than the first, same alcove. Torrie still refuses to be fearful, or fall to pieces. “You should be more careful.” A male voice breaks the silence of the street. “I was being careful, jackass,” Torrie snaps as her gaze settles on the thirty-something in uniform eight feet down the sidewalk from her. “You could have done your job better and gotten it before it tried to take a fucking bite of me.” Just because he’s helped doesn’t mean Torrie’s going to fawn or simper. He doesn’t appreciate it, and that fact is written into the way he scowls at her. “It’s not recommended to walk the streets by yourself,” he responds, no doubt his professionalism at work as he ignores her insult. His shoulders square as he clears some of the distance between them. It’s still obvious that he’s not happy. “I’ve been on these streets longer than you,” Torrie retorts, unwilling to shape her attitude up just for him. “Still, the least you could do is say thank you.” She’s almost impressed that he had the balls to call her out verbally. “What district are you from?” She doesn’t miss the sweep his eyes do of her though, now that he’s within arm’s reach. It takes some work to ignore the way it makes her skin crawl. “The tunnels,” she retorts, with the full knowledge that that isn’t a district at all. It does what she intends though, and his face pinches. He’s larger than her. Wider. She can’t get by him unless he steps one way or the other. Then he takes in a breath that makes her think he might just bellow his next sentence. There’s irritation radiating off of him now. Almost as much as it’s radiating off of her. He doesn’t yell, but she still rolls her eyes when he opens his mouth again. “You some kind of feminist? Can’t give me a thank you and I bet you don’t want an escort.” He looks her up and down again, she resists the urge to shudder. “Maybe if you hadn’t assumed I was being fucking reckless I might have bothered.” She gathers her resolve, meets his eyes and doesn’t flinch. “And I don’t need an escort, but even if I did I wouldn’t want you.” He advances on her and Torrie thinks for a minute that he’s going to hit her, but instead he steps to the side in the same motion, muttering under his breath. As Torrie steps by him she throws a sarcastic, “Go find some other damsel.” over her shoulder and smirks when she hears his muttering get more intense. She hopes that’s the last soldier she’ll see today. She takes two more steps and adds a, “thanks.” Before she clears the rest of the distance to the end of the block. |