Mason Reynolds (maseinyourface) wrote in undeadsiegeic, @ 2015-03-16 00:22:00 |
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In all the time Mason had been studying the travel patterns of zombies in the city, he occasionally came across one wearing a backpack or rucksack, evidence that the person hadn’t bothered (or wasn’t able) to remove their belongings before they turned. The treasure, when it was discovered, was a treat in many ways. Chief among them was the supplies themselves, if the zombie carried any, but the challenge of corralling one specific zombie among a sea of others was what made it that much more desirable. Mason had been balancing on the same beam for the past half hour, maintaining his center of gravity with a hand on the beam above his head. Not the safest vantage point by any means (nor was it the most dangerous), but it allowed him a perfect view of the entire street, and one treasure-holding zombie mingling among the others. None had noticed the food hovering twelve feet above them over the street, who was working out the best way to navigate the hungry obstacles. Most of the zombies had wandered off, leaving, at most he could see, eight. Not bad odds, but he couldn’t yet tell if one of the stationary figures, sitting propped against a crashed car, was a pouncer. Taking those on singularly was a bitch, especially if he had to dodge regular infected. Catching sight of new movement, Mason narrowed his eyes and craned his head to one side to see who else had joined the party. His teeth pressed together when it became apparent the new arrival was alive and had taken notice of the very same EMT backpack that he’d been watching for ages. That, above all else, made it his claim and no one else’s. If he wanted it (and he did), he needed to move. |