The Universe's Mixer

He hadn't done a whole lot since he'd been overcome by the zombies. They'd caught up to him, and he'd done everything he could to keep their attention on him, and away from Sweeney, for as long as he could manage. They'd overtaken him and started biting. Emotion might have been foreign to him, but physical pain was not. It was possibly the only time in his life that he wished he was less human.

Of course, it wasn't long before he got his wish.

The infection ran it's course in a matter of hours. He'd hidden himself in hopes that he could avoid further bites. He felt he'd given enough flesh to the zombies. There hadn't been a whole lot he could do to make himself comfortable. The idea of blowing his own head off crossed through his mind more than once. Of course, he didn't have a gun, and by that point, didn't have the energy to get up and find one.

So Dexter Morgan died.

When he rose, he wasn't all the way absent like he'd seen the other zombies be. Mindless flesh eaters massing on one victim at a time. Thousands of teeth gnashing and gnawing. He had more. Perhaps it was the Dark Passenger that made it possible, but he was still thinking on a very limited basis. He knew that he was fundamentally different. He couldn't reach the higher brain function that he'd had before - that he knew he'd been capable of (that memory was fading quickly anyway), but he could still think. He knew there was food out there. And he knew he could hunt it better than the others. He knew that a group wasn't the best way to go about it. Solitary feeding would produce more food for him.

He was wandering the street, still slow, still incapable of reflexive movement in any sort of timely manner - the bird flying into his face and his painfully slow reaction to it attested to that - the only thing he had was determination. A will to feed himself. To find his own way.

Open to zombies and non-zombies alike.

The City Courts.

It was the last stand for a lot of people. They'd come here unorganized, managed to get themselves put together, and survive. They'd lost some who had come in with bites, but had managed to get them back outside without too much bloodshed. Some had been lost entirely due to the inability to excise them from the building once they'd turned. It had taken them some time to arrange themselves and make sure all of the entries into the massive building were covered.

Now they had one of the court rooms set up as their refuge. One of the court rooms set up as a medical bay. And a variety of people who were changed out every so often keeping watch on the hallways. You couldn't be too certain about these things.

Just outside was a group of those things. They could be heard moaning and scratching at the massive wooden doors. Those doors were the only thing between the living and the semi-living. They were thick and heavy, locked and held tightly closed with chains and chairs and stacked desks. Nobody would be getting in that way, living or dead.

The only way out was through a high window on one side. They had a ladder they'd found in the janitor's closet. It expanded just enough to reach the second story, where the window was. The small jut out of roof there held that ladder when it wasn't in use. They'd devised a bucket and rope system to help pull up supplies.

It was fairly sound.

But they were once again running low. With this many people, it was difficult to keep enough food and water for everybody. Not to mention blankets and medical supplies. It seemed like every few hours they had another addition to their group. Sometimes they brought things with them, most of the time they did not.

All they had to do was survive. It was proving to be easier said then done.

Violet was offically angry and it was starting to show. She made a last ditch raid of the various parts of the church and had found a decent amount of weapons plus a few of her own. "I move we make a break for it an join the fight, we have to fight back!" as she got the hostel group back together. Between the 7 of them they had a slingshot, 2 handguns, Violet's crossbow and a few odds and ends. "Plus we have Old Lace on our side" shooting a look of support towards Gert. One of the boys added,"We have to help out somehow, we can't sit here and take this sitting down!" as the little band moved towards the doorway with weapons in hand.

(hopefully this makes more sense, been out with a cold)