InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I'll be in my bunk...."

Graham Ross is a (hauntedsoul) wrote in rooms,
@ 2015-03-11 23:38:00

Entry tags:

!walking dead, *log, clementine murphy, graham ross, shane alexander

quicklog, TWD: graham + clem + shane
Who: Graham, Clem. (With Shane later)
What: Graham to the rescue~
Where: TWD.
When: Nowish.
Warnings/Rating: Probs violence, cursing, etc.

With matters sorted out, Graham headed for the zombie door-- third time's a charm, yeah? Whatever the hell that meant. He wasn't worried. He wasn't scared. He wasn't much of anything, truth be told. Numb. He was numb, but numb wasn't all that bad. It was comfortable. And having something to focus on that had nothing to do with Lore, that helped. He had a goal, a purpose: find Clem and Shane. Help them get out. What happened after didn't matter, first they had to get there.

He was dressed real simple, and he packed only essentials. Ammo, a change of clothes for Clem (and Shane too, in case), extra food and water, along with other various supplies. His gun was in his holster and a machete was strapped to his chest under his jacket; he'd reach for that first. And, all prepared, in he went. Shane's map and his own knowledge weren't much to go off of, but for Graham it was enough. He'd manage. He remembered where the prison was, knew he could find it all right, and from there he had the map. Might take some time, but he'd get there.

This time, he was alone.

Maybe he could've fallen back on old habits, but he'd made Lore a promise. No more, he said, and he wasn't about to go back on his word. It had to mean something. Her coming back, then leaving all over again, it couldn't be for nothing. A promise was a promise, yeah? So this was him, trying to let her go.

Shane hadn't been joking when he said the place was swamped, Graham found that out real fast. It was coming on nightfall by the time he reached the town, but the dead roamed the streets; he heard them before he saw them. He was quiet, careful, keeping out of sight while he scoped out the area and tried to work out his next step. There were too many to kill, even with the now bloodstained machete against his chest; it'd draw too much attention anyway. Best to see if he could keep behind the houses, find a way in round back. Less to deal with that way, maybe, and if he killed the zombies quick it might be okay.

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TWD: graham + clem

mareas
2015-03-17 02:41 pm UTC (link)

They'd checked all the damn doors on the main street of the town they were holed up in, and none opened out into the hotel. That day'd been real hard, after getting away from the prison and nearly dying more times than Clem could count, there'd been a whole lot of nothing but more rotting things.

The pharmacy'd looked empty enough, though, considering. A few walkers wandering inside, and Shane should have been able to take them easy, but turned out there was more than some. Running upstairs, that had been about surviving. Staying up there, it had been about the same. The door to the first level had been wide open, but the storage level above had been locked solid, and they'd found a couple in bed, pills emptied out on the nightstand and a knife on the mattress, one they'd used once they were numb. Dead folk that weren't walking around, and she wondered if it wasn't better that way, ending it your ownself instead of waiting to become like the things downstairs.

And them things downstairs, they were everywhere. Moving around day and night, and it wasn't like the prison, where the walls were thick. Every noise carried up into that townhouse above the pharmacy, even though they holed themselves up on the highest level.

The closets up there were empty, and the place was used for storing, not living. But it was clean enough, and that high-up the smell didn't carry so bad when Clem opened the windows. There was one bed, now those dead folks had been shoved out the window to splat below. Bedsheets tossed out too, and there were cleaning supplies. It was silly some, but Clem cleaned the Southern Baptist Hell out of that room, and it was worth the soreness in her be'slinged arm. Least the room felt clean, even if she didn't.

Truth was, they'd been running low on every damn thing. Wasn't much water left, and getting out to go on a run wasn't real wise, but they didn't have have much of a choice. If Graham didn't show real soon, they weren't ever seeing the back of this place anyway, and so Shane had gone and climbed out the window and onto the roof.

That was a whole two days earlier.

Worried as could b, she'd stopped feeling guilty over anything at all, and she'd started just being angry at every damn thing. Plaid shirt and shimmery micro-mini, and she didn't say a whole lot, too fussed for even hollering at the walls.

She just opened the window and sat on the ledge, like jumping was looking better and better each day, because it was.

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Re: TWD: graham + clem

hauntedsoul
2015-03-18 03:23 am UTC (link)

Graham was glad for the map, because even in the dimming light he could figure out where the pharmacy was in relation to where he was without having to guess much. Even if he managed to get to it, then get inside, they'd have to get out without being torn apart. Too much movement and every single dead thing would be coming their way, yeah? And he figured Clem wasn't going to be much help with fighting, and that just left him and Shane. Two weren't enough. If they could clear a path... maybe. Or lure the bulk of them away, somehow. Thin the herd some.

First thing's first; he had to get to the damn building. He slid the rifle off his shoulder and aimed, but it wasn't to shoot. No, he was trying to get a look through the scope. Not as good as binoculars but it'd do. And that was how he managed to catch the window opening, somebody sitting out in the ledge. Dead folk didn't do that. Had to be them, he figured, but there was a lot of shuffling zombies between him and the building. Could he get onto the roof, climb into the window from there?

Maybe.

He slung the rifle back over his shoulder, exhaled, and went round the nearest building. He kept to the side, quiet as could be, listening to the moaning and the shuffling to determine whether or not he'd meet a dead thing right around the corner. Most of them seemed to be out in the street, but some wandered out onto the grass and into the greenery beyond. He killed them quick, no guns, and after each one he crouched real low and waited. Breath held, eyes wide, half expecting the horde to come his way and then he'd have to lead them off before finding a way to circle back. But they kept on shuffling, up and down the street, least for now. But he had something like an idea; maybe it was nothing, but it was a worth a shot. Not like he cared a lick anyway.

Not knowing Shane had done something similar, Graham cut open one of the dead folk with his machete and reached inside. He smeared blood all over his jacket, jeans too, on his hands and face, thinking maybe if he smelled a little like the rest of them it lessened the risk some. He didn't coat himself in guts and gristle, no, even though he wouldn't have minded that. Getting dirty didn't bother him none.

Long as he moved slow, none of the dead seemed much interested in him. Course he was still slinking around the back, between buildings; it might not work so well out on the street. But he got to the pharmacy, pressed up alongside the building, and he thought some. Either he went in and took his chances with however many dead folk were inside, or he tried scaling the building. If he fell, he was done for.

Hell with it. He set the rifle down, because the backpack was enough and he had two weapons on him already; extra weight would just screw him over. Once that was done he steeled himself, wiped his hands clean as best he could, and hauled himself up onto the first window ledge. That got some attention, but Graham didn't look back. He didn't look down. He didn't put much faith in God these days, but he prayed anyway.

Once he got a little closer to the roof, he whistled. Just once; to let Clem know he was coming, if she could hear. Dead folk didn't whistle, he thought.