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Can anyone survive the end of the world? |
| [Introduction]
[This campfire is currently full, but please, enjoy the read. You can still email me if interested and I'll let you know if spaces open up. Thanks] It started simple. It always does. First, people started getting sick. There was a new virus that somehow made it to almost every continent, seemingly overnight. The illness came on fast, the symptoms: rapid heartbeat, cold sweat, sore muscles. The worse side effects were blurred vision and crippling pain the stomach and head, sometimes fatal - but, it was only found in the minority. This lead everyone to believe it was just another strain of flu, and the government was the first to back the story. They believed it right up until they started turning - the infected. The first transference was in a hospital, where a patient flatlined. The doctors rushed around in an attempt to save the man's life, but it was too late - he had already passed on into a sort of half-life. He had killed one of the doctors by tossing him into a wall like a piece of trash before anyone knew what was happening; he was far too strong and fast to be restrained. Their strength was inhuman, as was their brutality. Whatever had invaded their systems had turned them into mad dogs, simply trying to spread their illness in whatever way possible by biting their victims. Sometimes, they did more than bite. Regular people were no match. The doctors fled the room and left him inside until security arrived, and failed to notice the nurse hiding behind the overturned hospital bed. The infected man - the "zombie" - did not. Helpless, they witnessed the murder... and the rise of a new companion. Soon, the sick and feeble were suddenly climbing out of their beds and into peoples windows. Scientists around the world assembled to find a cure, but were only able to determine that the original infection was not like anything they had seen in the natural world. Some conjectured that it was due to all the chemicals we have been disposing of so carelessly the past few decades. Others think it was created. -  -FEMA Alert Issued to: [General Public] "We are in a high state of emergency. Please, stay in your homes at all costs. Relief workers will be sent through the neighborhoods for those who need medical attention. Food will be distributed within the next week. Try to conserve your power. Do not leave your homes. For your benefit, below are the signs by which to identify an infected individual." - Pale skin, pallid complexion - Reddening of the eyes - Unnatural gait, described to be a sort of limping - Inability to speak, growling - Elongating of the jaw - Sharpening of the teeth, especially the canines "DO NOT engage the infected." - -FEMA Alert Issued to: [Military Personnel; Clearance 1] "This is not only a national but a global emergency. We must maintain control in the streets and cities. In a higher population there is a higher chance of infection, and we can not allow it to spread. We are implementing a quarantine of the sections of the cities that are experiencing the highest rates of infection, and branching out from there. Our goal is to quarantine the entire city. No one is to enter or leave under any circumstances, and anyone who leaves their posts will be subject to military law." - -12/15/12 Mister President, I sincerely regret to inform you that we still do not know the cause of this epidemic, but we may be one step closer. Dr. McKay and I have isolated one important aspect of it; we know how it travels. The sharpening of the eye teeth seem to serve the same purpose of the venomous fangs of snakes or spiders, opening the "prey's" skin to get at the veins, where the condition can be transmitted into the blood. This seems to indicate that affliction is one of a hostile parasite thats only action is to spread. But the infection had to begin somewhere originally, before the first human contracted it through the bite of another. We believe that it was at first airborne, and that approximately 30% of the world was immune. It is unknown wether or not anyone will have immunity to a bite. We do not know the entire story, but we believe that this may be a manmade malady with malign purpose in its design. If that is the case, we can only hope that our scientist will be able to find a cure. And may the Lord have mercy on our souls for such a creation. From the office of Doctor Robert Kingsley, Science Division Head - Pentagon - -If you want to survive, here are the rules: [General] *Please add ASAP so your team isn't left in a sticky situation, 4 days is reasonable (this is going to be so much fun you won't be able to help yourself) *This is indeed a zombie apocalypse story, and there is going to be some zombie/bandit related shootouts, but I would ask you refrain from gore - this is not the 'Walking Dead'. Same goes with overly explicit materials. [Characters] *Please make a short biography for your character as your first addition - the second addition will be in the first few days before the apocalypse starts so we can get a feel for our characters and see how life changes. We may start immediately and add people to our survivor group as they come. *It is not necessary for our characters to know one another or even get together immediately as they all scramble to make it out. Of course, you can do the opposite and be brothers or sisters or husbands and wives to other characters - though make sure you get permission first! And we will all meet up in a quickish fashion, and start our surviver dynamics - where will you fit in? *Have fun! - - CHAPTER ONE: ESCAPE THE CITY While the local police try to gather up their courage and somehow make contact with the Pentagon, the local people are gathering up their things and trying to abandon the cities. Thing is, the military has decided the safest thing to do is to quarantine everyone in the city until a cure can be found or the population is wiped out. The world is not safe, but being trapped in the overpopulated city is a sure death sentence. |
 Access Denied Please Enter Correct Password or Alarm will be triggered 1.2.0.0.1.1.2 2.2.1.0.0.1.1 _SecureServer#5-1.1.2 %~1.1.BackDoor 0.0.0.1 Access Granted Alarm Reset. Please Select File. #Weapons #BunkerLocations #Communications #SurviverProfiles #Data___ Survival Profiles Please Select File #1 #2 #3  (deceased)#4 #5 (L5 clearance necessary)#6 #7 (deceased)#8 .... Continued, P.2 #6 Surviver Profile 6:  S: Male N: Oliver Allen Jackson A: 27 Quadrant: B Tactical Advantages: Free runner - exceptional speed and agility, with secondary raw muscle power. Charismatic personality. Tactical Liabilities: Limited familiarity with weapons. Not of notable intelligence, though this may be used to our advantage. Most glaring cause for concern is his loyalty towards his sister, which could cause erratic behavior.* Pre-Event psychiatric Evaluation: [Relational] Is reported to hold some resentment towards his father for his constant deployment overseas. Mother divorced and remarried twelve years ago, though his half sister was born far too early for her to have been conceived after the wedding. Is not exceptionally close towards either his mother or stepfather, and in fact seems to have a sort of a friendly lukewarm relationship with most of his acquaintances. Few real friends. No longterm romantic relationships to date. Has strong ties to his sister, though he hasn't seen her as often lately. [Occupational] Works as a cashier and server at a local pizzeria. Reliable employee, though he shows little ambition. Most of his free time is spent in competition with his friends, seeing who can perform the harder stunt or scale the highest wall. Only things he seems to find real joy in, though he seems bent on a general sort of contentment. Final Notes: His tendency towards trusting can make for easily manipulation, and, as he has some qualities of leadership (persuasion at the very least), others are likely to follow him, if he were to exert the effort. Though his profiles do not contain any indication of him desiring to be in charge, that can easily be changed. *The antithesis of all the above positive behavioral qualities is the fact that, due to the timing of the event, he has suddenly found himself the guardian of his little sister. He is not only caring for himself, and is likely to put her wellbeing before his. If the worst were to occur, it would likely mean his termination as the cost of her survival. Assume nothing. Score: 72 PASS |
//Return to home #Weapons #BunkerLocations #Communications #SurviverProfiles #Data___ Survival Profiles Please Select File #1 Currently accessing #2 #3 (deceased)#4 #5 (L5 clearance necessary) #6 File already accessed#7 (deceased)#8 .... Continued, P.2 #1 Survivor Profile 1: S: Male N: Griffin Angelus Deschanel A: 28 Quadrant: A (The epicenter of the crisis) Tactical Advantages: Tactical Police Training - exceptional strength, speed and agility, with secondary raw muscle power. Critical Thinking. Tactical Liabilities: Lone wolf personality. We could exploit his feeling that he has no one else, but himself. The most troubling aspect to Griffin is the fact that he tends to go against expectations when it comes to other human life. He has shown signs of adaptability that only rears its head when he is interested in someone or something tests show.* Pre-Event psychiatric Evaluation: [Relational] Brooding. It has been reported that he hold resentment towards the many individuals who caused him to be fired from the Police Department. He felt he had finally accomplished his life's goal by joining the Department just as his father and his father before him had, however due to his high scores many of his fellow officers plotted to have him fired. He has since learned to rely on himself only, and rarely trusts others. Still, he does for others when they don't know it as he doesn't want thanks for the things he does because that would have him interact with others. He has a strong sense of right and wrong. He has no friends of substance, but a few acquaintances that he has regular interaction with. He is picky when it comes to romantic relationships which has resulted in him not being involved with anyone. His last tie to family was his mother who was lost at sea during a cruise, and since there has been no word on her condition he hasn't let go of the idea that she is alive somewhere. [Occupational] Works as a security guard at a local mall. Dependable employee, though he shows little motivation toward interaction with co-workers outside of work. During his free time he makes an effort to re-join the PD. Other than that he spends the rest of his free time staying in shape at the gym in-case he is able to become a police officer again. Final Notes: His non-trusting nature can make prove to be a problem if not handled with care. He has shown excellent qualities of leadership, yet doesn't fully trust those in his charge to do their part which results in him thinking he has to do it all himself. He doesn't desire being in charge of anyone, although he has no problem taking control of a situation should the need arise. *He has a tendency to be reckless at times making him rather un-predictable. However, this could be because he has unconsciously accepted the fact that his mother is gone and wants to join her, so throwing his life away is his way of grieving. As a means to control him we may reveal that we are holding his mother. Score: 91 PASS |
//Return to home #Weapons #BunkerLocations #Communications #SurviverProfiles #Data___ Survival Profiles Please Select File #1 File already accessed#2 #3 (deceased)#4 #5 (L5 clearance necessary)#6 File already accessed#7 (deceased)#8 Currently accessing... .... Continued, P.2 #8 Survivor Profile 8: S: Female N: Anne Marie Welch A: 26 Quadrant: D Tactical Advantages: Adaptability – while not a master shows extensive knowledge in many fields including mechanics, animal husbandry, chemistry, and survival in the rural/wild/urban areas. Subject has heightened instincts and hyperawareness* especially when danger approaches. Tactical Liabilities: A past wound over the left side of her face includes retinal scarring that has diminished the vision in her eye. Some muscle scarring cause pain with over-exertion. Subject is loyal to her animals, her land, and the people who work on her property, even though it is a constant peril of foreclosure, which could prove difficult to separate from. While some experience with basic weaponry, has no real experience. Pre-Event Psychiatric Evaluation: [Relational] Subject does not remember her parents; both were left before she turned six year old, probably due to past drug use prior to her birth. Was raised by aunt and uncle on the ranch she attempts to keep now. Was previously married at the age of nineteen; husband died three years later during a violent break-in while living in the city. The attack has left the subject wary of other people and shows signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Subject has not had a romantic relationship since husband’s death and shows few ties to other except in the small farming community she resides in. [Occupational] Subject maintains the horse ranch/farm property she inherited after the death of her aunt and uncle. Show signs of being a diligent, determined worker who can manage most of the jobs on the six and half acres she maintains. Often works to the point of exhaustion, managing on little sleep. When off work, she is often with the horses or working in the small section of fields she grows produce. Final Notes: The attempted burglary that took the life of her husband has left moderate damage to the subject’s psyche. Examining the evidence of the case shows the subject most likely went after the attackers with a blunt kitchen object, which caused nearly-fatal damage to the attackers. The rage displayed during and periodically after could prove problematic if the trigger of aggression cannot be found. As she has not talked about the incident, other triggers could exist. *The hyperawareness which heightens the subject’s sense comes from the PTSD she exhibits. While it has proven to be useful in the past when coming to problematic situations on her property, it can also cause a drain on her overall health. Score: 80 PASS |
//Return to home #Weapons #BunkerLocations #Communications #SurviverProfiles #Data___ Survival Profiles Please Select File #1 File already accessed#2 #3 (deceased)#4 Currently accessing... #5 (L5 clearance necessary)#6 File already accessed#7 (deceased)#8 File already accessed.... Continued, P.2 #4 Survivor Profile 4: Sex: Female Name: Lyric Rose Brennan Age: 24 Quadrant: A Tactical Advantages: Previous knowledge with firearms; including use and repair. Basic defensive training. Tracking and hunting experience, though it is limited. excellent physical condition due to daily jogs and other physical training, highly intelligent and analytical. Tactical Liabilities: Emotionally attached to others, which may motivate her to act recklessly in order to protect others within the group. Small stature and not exceptionally strong. Pre-Event psychiatric Evaluation: [Relational] Raised as part of a close knit military family in Montana. Youngest of 6 children and the only female. Was trained by father in basic defensive tactics, firearms use and maintenance. Taught to hunt by eldest brother, who is 16 years her senior. Moved to the city to attend school at 20, after spending 2 years traveling. keeps close relational ties to her family members, as well as having established a number of friendships within the city. [Occupational] A full time graduate student studying psychology. Highly motivated student who shows great promise in her field and the ability to read and understand people well. Excellent communication skills. Final Notes: Though miss Brennan cares deeply for people, she does have a certain amount of suspicion toward others due to her fathers extreme training and suspicious nature. She is a very driven and motivated individual, and will rarely allow difficulties to slow her down. She has a strong ability to motivate and encourage others, though rarely asserts herself into a leadership role. If any control is taken, it is done so indirectly. Score: 84 PASS |
//Return to home #Weapons #BunkerLocations #Communications #SurviverProfiles #Data___ Survival Profiles Please Select File #1 File already accessed#2 Currently accessing... #3 (deceased)#4 File already accessed#5 (L5 clearance necessary)#6 File already accessed#7 (deceased)#8 File already accessed.... Continued, P.2 #2 Surviver Profile 2: S: Male N: Mark Norman A: 20 Quadrant: A Tactical Advantages: Very stealthy- able to sneak around undetected; also a master of stealthy skills (picking locks/cars, looting, etc.). Creative/Artistic- Able to think outside the box and create things (Macgyver style) Tactical Liabilities: Physically weak- subject has a smaller stature. Poor judgement- Makes decisions without considering the consequences and makes poor decisions. Pre-Event psychiatric Evaluation: [Relational] Was raised by waelthy parents, but ran away from home on his eighteenth birthday. No connection to family is known. Has few friends at this point. [Occupational] Considers himself a starving artist, but he works as a part-time waiter at a small Italian restaurant. Very unreliable. He is a very skilled artist who is looking to make his big break. He spends most of his time working on his paintings... Final Notes: Considers himself a hipster. He is easily frightened and prefers to use words not fists in conflict. He ran away from home as a child because he felt his parents could not accept his career choice as an artist. He felt that they constantly judged him and would never truly accept him or his decisions. *He is constantly afraid, always looking for the elusive murderer who is following him. This fear comes from a terrifying encounter with a murder when he was younger. He has yet to find that murderer following him... Score: 95 PASS |
//Return to home #Weapons #BunkerLocations #Communications #SurviverProfiles #Data___ Survival Profiles Please Select File #1 File already accessed#2 File already accessed#3 (deceased)#4 File already accessed#5 (L5 clearance necessary)#6 File already accessed#7 (deceased)#8 File already accessed.... Continued, P.2 P.2 #9 (deceased)#10 #11 Currently accessing... #12 #13 (L5 clearance necessary)#14 #15 (deceased)#16 (deceased)... Continued, P.3 #11 Surviver Profile 11: S: Male N: Martin Brolyn A: 15 Quadrant: B Tactical Advantages: Well read. He's studied a variety of subjects in his free time, tactics and warfare among them, spending most of his days researching in the giant library downtown. While not a master tactician, he is able to plan many steps ahead, and is exceptionally intelligent for someone his age, almost to the level of a savant. Tactical Liabilities: Anti-social and very shy. He is not used to others being close to him, and usually cannot interact well with other people. Pre-Event psychiatric Evaluation: [Relational] His family life was less than ideal as his parents were not sure what to make of him. He spent many years in therapy in the hopes that he would become more sociable, but they were only moderately successful. For having reclusive tendencies, he spends a great deal of time out of the house, spending his days at the library. [Occupational] Martin is still a student, but due to his social difficulties his parents have decided to homeschool him, though he does most of the schooling himself. When he is not studying school or anything else he finds interesting, he helps out the old librarian, though he's not paid for it. He is the only person Martin seems close to. Final Notes: Martin would be an excellent advantage, what with his markedly high intelligence scores and his knowledge of a broad range of subjects. However, his survival will really depend on whether or not he can learn to trust other survivors, as he will not make it on his own. Score: 79 PASS |
| [Day Since Event: 0] Thud! Oliver landed hard on his back, sending dust flying up from the concrete where he fell. Luckily he was used to falling, even from great heights, and was able to make sure his head was up when he met the pavement. Not that it was easy on his neck or anything. "Dude!" His friend Jason just laughed, not showing any intention of helping him up. Instead he just stopped the recording that had been in progress on his video camera and rolled it back so he could watch it. Oliver sat up and shook out his head. Ooh that kink in his neck was going to be there for a while. "How's it look?" He asked. Jason shielded the camera's screen from the sun so he could see it better. "Looks like you fell on your ass." "Before that," Oliver muttered as he stood, feeling the back of his head to make sure he wasn't bleeding. "Not bad," Jason turned the camera toward's him when Oliver made it to his side and they both watched the playback. The camera was a nice one, and the image was clear. In fact it looked almost too nice to be owned by the blonde, ponytailed skater that held it. He would have been a surfer if they'd been near water. "Okay now try the dumpster," Jason's voice was heard from off camera as he directed. Onscreen was young man with messy black hair, dirty grey jeans, dirtier black sneakers, a Star Wars tee and a dark grey hoodie, who was throwing himself around like he thought he was Spiderman. Oliver was center stage as he leapt and climbed and slid up and off and over the various objects found in dirty urban alleyways. Gathering a running start, he repelled himself off of a wall and swung himself up onto a fire escape and over the other side like some sort of big human monkey before landing on the metal dumpster - feet on the very edge and very close to falling backwards, and he had to flail his arms around to keep that from happening before he finally got balanced. Of course his rather self-satisfied look when he turned back to the camera didn't show any of the uncertainty he'd felt a moment before. "Nice," Oliver crouched and then backflipped off of the dumpster, stumbling a foot back from the force but landing it perfectly. "Now you're just showing off," Jason's disembodied voice said from behind the camera. "What's next?" Oliver threw his hands up in a give-me-your-best-shot way. "How high can you get up that wall?" Jason asked, panning the camera upward towards the roof of the building. Readying himself, Oliver ran a few feet up the brick wall and, when he lost his traction, jumped quickly to other side and grabbed onto a fire escape that, unfortunately for him, had a ladder that had actually been kept in working order and it quickly plummeted to the ground with a clang, throwing him off of it. "Favorite part right there," Jason laughed. Oliver just made a face at him. As Jason reviewed the footage again, something made Oliver look at his watch. "Crap, I gotta go man," Oliver grabbed the leather jacket that he'd draped over a recycling bin and started to run. "Wha -- Oliver!" "Gotta go!" As he turned a corner and made it out of the alleyway he left his friend sighing behind him. --- Oliver’s motorcycle skidded to a halt in the driveway of his mother’s house, sending gravel flying. The little white fence surrounding the small yard made the little yellow monstrosity of a house it seem cute. It wasn’t that it was in disrepair or anything, and his mother took great pains in keeping the little patch of grass that was the lawn in order. Oliver just didn’t like yellow. His mother and stepfather were just coming out of the house with luggage, and the doors and trunk of the car parked in the driveway were opened. “Oliver!” His mother dropped her duffel bag by the car and walked towards him with arms outstretched like she could actually hug him from that far away. Oliver got off of his bike and left the helmet on the seat, and met his mother a little less than halfway. She hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek, and he felt nearly one hundred percent sure that she’d left some lipstick behind on it. “Oliver.” Jerry’s bag had actually made it to the car, and he joined the group now, “How are you?” He clapped a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “Good. How are you holding up?” Oliver asked, “Heard you had the flu.” “Oh I’m fine now,” Jerry said, “Just that sick season I guess. How’s work?” “Good,” Oliver smiled, “I would have brought you some pizza but I don’t have shift until later.” “Got a girlfriend?” His mother asked. “Mom,” He shook his head. “Because my friend Amy’s niece is town for winter break --“ “Leave him be Gerty,” Jerry laughed. “What happened to your face?” His mother turned his face to one side to look at what he assumed to be a quickly on setting bruise, “Did you get in a fight?” “Just with the pavement,” he said. “Oliver…” She looked like she was going to start the dangerous sports conversation up again. It was then that Oliver realized someone was missing. He leaned to look over his mother’s shoulder, trying to see through the darkness of the open front door. “Where’s Melanie?” He asked. “Oh, you know,” His mother rolled her eyes jokingly, “She wanted to go over to her friends house for a birthday party. And when she wants something…” “Got it,” He said, “Do I need to pick her up?” “Her friend’s mother is giving her a ride,” Now it was his mother’s turn to look over his shoulder as she glanced at his bike, “And you won’t be taking her anywhere on that.” “I have an extra helmet,” Oliver looked behind at his bike. “I have an extra car,” Jerry said, tossing him the keys, “It’s in the garage.” “Take care of her Ollie,” His mother warned, “And no crazy parties or jumping off the roof.” “I did that once,” He laughed. “Yeah and you broke your ankle,” She said. “We’ll be fine,” Oliver smiled at her, “We’re going to have lots of fun.” “Alright,” His mother took hold of his face and kissed his forehead this time, “Be safe.” “There’s some frozen lasagna in the freezer,” Jerry said as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Bye sweetie!” His mom waved as the car pulled out of the driveway. “Have a great vacation!” He called after them as they drove down the street. “Wish I was going to Hawaii,” Oliver turned the key’s Jerry had given him over in his hands to find the garage door opener. When the pale yellow doors finally creaked their way up into the ceiling, an incredibly old, ugly, lemon yellow car. Oliver sighed. “Awesome.” --- Oliver was late to work at the little downtown hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, and since his manager didn’t buy his excuse about being late on account of a messed up sleep schedule brought on by daylight savings, he was late to leave work too. Apparently daylight savings doesn’t happen in January. Jason, who also worked there, stayed late for a while to hang out while Oliver cleaned up. They talked about today’s run and the new place Jason had heard about, a practical urban jungle chock full of things to throw yourself off of, but then had to leave for a party; because unlike Oliver, Jason did have a girlfriend, and she liked to go clubbing. It was past nine when Oliver finally finished closing up shop, and he was covered in flour and soap. When he got into the car he noticed that his mother actually had left lipstick stains on both his forehead and his cheek, and that he hadn’t wiped them off. No wonder that group of teenage girls had been snickering at him. He was going to punch Jason tomorrow. Maybe in his perfect surfer face. The old car that belonged to Oliver's stepfather was both two things definitively: old and slow. The rest of its characteristics could be up to personal opinion - like whether it smelled like cigarette smoke or whether it smelled like aftershave. Personally, he didn't like either choice, and he'd tried to spray some sort of air freshener into the cabin before he’d left the house, but it just made the car smell like an apple that someone had smoked out of while they were in the bathroom shaving. Jerry said he didn't smoke, and that the smell was leftover from the previous driver from whom he'd purchased the car. But Oliver had found a crushed cigarette under the brake pedal once, and he doubted it was his twelve-year-old sister's. As he got farther from the center of the city things seemed to quiet down. Sure it was now almost ten, on a weekday, and it wasn’t downtown. But somehow things felt stagnant. He had the windows rolled down but there wasn’t even a whisper of wind blowing in from any direction. The streetlamps seemed more tinted than usual, casting an annoying yellow glare off of the hood of the annoying yellow car. When Oliver pulled to a stop at an annoying yellow light, the little Chihuahua bobblehead on the dashboard waved its head from side to side, instead of up and down, like it was saying “no”. Oliver had an arm dangling outside the open window and he rapped his fingers against the car door, feeling anxious for some reason. There was absolutely no other cars in any of the cross sections, and he was half tempted to just drive through, but just as the thought was about to be turned into action via a foot on the gas, he saw a pedestrian crossing the street, coming towards him from the other side. The person was moving agonizingly slow, and the he felt sure the light would go from green to red again before they were halfway across the street. Still, it was against the law to drive now, while there was someone in the cross walk. “Come one, come on,” Oliver checked the clock on the dashboard. It was 10:03 PM, and he hadn’t even had time to shower after all the running around he’d been doing today. Plus he didn’t like that his sister was home alone, even if it was a safe neighborhood. Not tonight. Oliver jumped when the pedestrian slammed into his car, having walked straight into front bumper. “Watch it!” The person paused briefly to look at him, and he shrunk back quickly against his seat. It was a man in a business suit, and he could see the man’s skin was pallid, but he wasn’t sure if it was just because of the yellow lights. His eyes were glazed and reddened, and he thought he saw something like toothpaste foam dripping down the man’s chin and onto the shoulder of his black suit. Then the man turned away and shambled safely to the other side of the street. It took Oliver thirty seconds before he realized the light and changed to green. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest as he started the car forward. In the rear view mirror he could see the man stumbling down the street. And he suddenly felt glad that tonight he had taken the ugly yellow car instead of his bike. (Remember, your first addition is the day before the event, a normal day.) |
| Griffin watched the human populous walking seemingly without a care in the world from the safety of his motorcycle. He had always wanted one and received one from his mother as a gift for completing the Westchester Chicago Police Academy. Originally, he wanted to be just like Ponch from the show ‘CHiPs’. He had admired the way they stood up for justice, plus the bike looked great. The bitterness of reality bit into his moment of revelry melting the hint of a smile that threatened to spread across his lips like a disease. Griffin wouldn't get that chance because of jealousy. He shook his head trying to remove any remnant thought of his time with the WCPD. He was on a mission today, however. After the disappearance of his mother his aunt Melanie stepped up and took the place of looking after him when he really needed someone. She believed as he did; that his mother was still alive out there somewhere. They both had the hope that she somehow made it to an island, or washed up on a beach with amnesia. There were always stories like that. Unfortunately, that was nearly three years ago. A lot of things have changed in that short amount of time. Griffin came to a stop light feeling the hum of the engine of his Yamaha V Max. The last time he had seen his mother he was wearing his police uniform and had arranged to accompany her as a police escort to the city docks to see her off on her cruise. He received a lot of flack because he wanted to be around his mother. “Oh Griffers, this is so wonderful!” she cried. She was wearing a dazzling purple and gold sequence blouse with a purple sequence skirt. Her Griffin had bought this for her to take on her trip. He had even sprung for a day at the spa for her, followed up with a trip to a hair dresser. He remembered the little nickname she would call him. Although, initially he didn’t care for the name because it sounded close to a dogs or cats, yet he would do just about anything to hear it now. With a sigh he leaned into the turn down a long country road. His aunt waited patiently for his mother to return, and even when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer she still clung to the hope that her big sister would return to them. He remembered waking up in her hospital room to find that she was no longer breathing. Griffin focused on the low hum of the motorcycle engine to keep the tears from falling down his cheeks. The road to the cemetery was long, but it was a year to the day she left him to be with God, and he had flowers for her grave. It was her wish to be buried in the families country cemetery. An old homestead had been passed down through the family for generations. He always loved it when his mother would take him out to the old place. He loved being around the horses, and taking care of the pigs. He had a sharp pain in his heart at the memory of his mother. She would always laugh at the way he loved to get dirty in the pens. He came to a stop around the country lane marked by a post with three signs, the first indicated the direction he wanted to go. As he drove past he noticed a strange looking farmer seemingly out for a stroll, although the way he staggered around made Griffin wonder. He would have stopped to ask what the problem was, but knew country folk liked to stay to themselves. ~ ~ ~ He pulled up outside the cemetery gates, hopping off his bike. He went to the back and grabbed the flowers he placed there. The cool night air whipped around his face with purpose. Griffin wasn’t sure he was up for what he had to do tonight, but he remembered his aunts words to him the night before she passed. “I may not be here for very long, if there is anything that you remember about me and your mom is that we both love you so much,” he remembered her say. The moment she said them it brought tears to his eyes. “Don’t say,” he began, but she cut him off. “Shh, now you listen.” she scolded. “We both love you and are proud of you. I’m still waiting for my sister to come home, but if I’m not here to see that happen you have to be strong while I’m not here.” The memory was like a slap in the face. He stowed away all his misgivings and walked through the cemetery gates. There were headstones of all sizes placed along the path built into the dirt path. Griffin hoped he would be here by himself when he came to ay his respects, but as he settled himself in front of his aunt's gravestone he noticed there was another person at another grave six plots away from him. He watched as she cried, his heart ached for her. He knew the pain she carried even if their circumstances were different the pain never is.The leaves of a nearby maple tree moved violently in the wind that unceremoniously picked up. It brought the woman out of her grief enough to pay attention to her surroundings. When she looked up and made eye contact with Griffin he instantly remembered her from a case he found himself on. He had been called to check out a burglary, but what he found was a woman drenched in the blood of her husband and some of the attackers that she attacked after her husband laid dead. He remembered her eyes, he would never forget the look on her face. Seeing her looking at him now with tears falling down her beautiful face he wanted to sweep his hand forward to wipe the tears away. In the moment it took him to recognize her, he thought she must have recognized him. "Hello Miss Welch," Griffin greeted, quietly making his way forward. He placed the flowers down on his aunt's grave. She said nothing, but stared at him blankly. Griffin didn't want to push the issue and decided to just let it go. He had to get back to the city, but figured it would be a good idea to stay at the family house in the country for the night. As he hopped back on his motorcycle he hoped for some reason he ran back in to Anne Welch, if anything he wanted to at least do something to ease some of the sadness in her eyes. Griffin set off down the road as rain began to fall in large drops. |
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