beez in the trap

[shipwrecking]

[time is ruthless when unchecked, gnawing at sore ankles and palms tough as leather, drawing blood that draws walkers in turn. Murasa stopped keeping track after the day she watched her group get torn apart amidst gunfire and screams. only day and night exist now, monday and tuesday and everything after that gone. all gone, just like the world and society and everything she misses and wishes she could forget about.

finding Madoka shocked her out of her numb stupor (and in a sense, brought her back from the dead). they're not alone anymore- alone, in this world of death even after death, but not on their own. they've had too many close calls but somehow, by some random miracle, they're alive and unharmed.

they can't stay in one place too long. the walkers might move slower than the living, but they still move nonetheless. they made it out of the city and out into the countryside where they're less likely to be ambushed by a mob around any corner. there's a farmhouse visible just about half a mile away. the barn beside it could provide extra cover until they rest and gather more supplies as well.

or it could hold a crowd of walkers inside.

Murasa glances at Madoka. they've been walking for hours in the blistering sun and their water supply is nearly depleted. talking would only dry their throats so they haven't exchanged any words for a while now.]

Comments

[rosebow]

[ the sound of tearing flesh doesn't quite seem to reach her--way too focused on getting the weapon--but she almost slams down to the ground as the arm comes off.

quickly snatching up the knife!! ]

G-g-got it!

[ NOT DELAYED AT ALL. ]

[shipwrecking]

You...! [the Madoka or zombie??

oh well. Murasa tears the arm off, throwing it aside.]

I'm gonna kill that bastard! [she scrambles up, heading for the door. the zombie follows, scraping against the wall inside.]

[rosebow]

What are you--

[ she almost fumbles the knife and cuts her own palm when the arm hits the ground next to her--oh. so that's what happened.

it shouldn't be so surprising, but she can't help but just stare at it in an entranced daze, almost missing Murasa heading for the door entirely. ]

[shipwrecking]

[the door flings open, zombie (now missing one arm) stumbling out towards Murasa. she shoves it back with one hand, her other hand swinging her knife at its face.

the raspy groaning stops. Murasa kicks it away, panting.]

[rosebow]

[ staggering up to her feet--there's no time to be worrying about limbs as long as theirs were all attached. but she didn't even have time to raise her gun or the knife before Murasa had taken care of it and she stares blankly at the body lying next to its arm. ]

T... that. That was way too close.

[shipwrecking]

[Murasa's head snaps up. there's a quieter groaning coming from within the barn, but it isn't drawing near.]

Get back. I think there's one more in there.

[rosebow]

Another one...

You should hang back. We can't let that--an attack like that happen again.

[ she knew Murasa wouldn't listen to her, though. stumbling forward on unsteady legs to try to take the lead, in slight panic. ]

[shipwrecking]

It's not coming closer.

[flashlight, flashlight? no flashlight. she pushes the doors open wider, letting sunlight into the barn. oh, it's there near the back. the zombie there is missing the lower half of its body, pitifully trying to drag itself over.]

... Look. It's completely helpless.

[rosebow]

[ oh god that's. pretty gruesome. taking a shaky step back--they've seen some shit, but she's still only 14, a severed arm and torso is still a bit much. ]

... Do you think the other one did this to it?

[shipwrecking]

[maybe the other one did this to it while it was alive. while it was a person, maybe someone who watched a friend or family member or loved one turn, and couldn't bear to put them down, instead barricading the both of them in the barn. or maybe someone had pushed them inside and locked the doors from the outside. whatever the case was, it doesn't matter now, so Murasa doesn't respond.

she wonders if her friends became things like this too, if their heads hadn't been torn off or cracked open by the walkers.]

You don't have to look. I'll take care of it. [grabbing a nearby pitchfork.]

[rosebow]

[ a pitchfork. even if the walker was incapacitated, getting that close up to finish it hands-on was...

she shakes her head, readies her handgun and trying to will her hands into stopping shaking. maybe Murasa would say that it'd be a waste of a bullet. but on the other hand, she could guarantee a fatal shot. ]

... You already got attacked. I can finish it.

[shipwrecking]

[at least that gets her to stop in her tracks. a scowl briefly passes across her face.]

No shooting. This one isn't worth a bullet.

[rosebow]

... It probably isn't.

[ and she understands why Murasa wouldn't approve. she doesn't exactly approve of doing this, either.

but she shoots anyway, point-blank, to the forehead. ]

[shipwrecking]

[she bites her tongue, on the verge of verbally lashing out at Madoka again. instead she slowly exhales, turning back to the barn entrance. what good would yelling at Madoka do for either of them?]

Come on. Let's go look for supplies.

[rosebow]

[ she follows quietly behind, but not after picking up the spent bullet casing and rolling it between her fingers.

definitely a waste. ]

... I think that you shouldn't try to lead the way, next time.

[shipwrecking]

Why?

[she doesn't turn, but the way her shoulders tense should be enough of a tell.]

Don't tell me you want to lead the way.

[rosebow]

It's not that I want to. You can't want to risk your life every time like this, either.

[shipwrecking]

I can't let you risk yourself. It's better this way.

[rosebow]

It's impossible for both of us to avoid risk, but you shouldn't be the one taking on all the risk every time.

[shipwrecking]

This isn't something we should argue about. Just leave it, okay?

[rosebow]

... I've always left it to you. You don't think that's the problem?

[shipwrecking]

I don't mind it, so no.

[rosebow]

That's exactly what I'm worried about.

[shipwrecking]

... I won't die. Promise.

[rosebow]

[ ... okay pretending to search is a wash. she turns around--not in confrontation, but in something like resignment. ]

I think we both know that's a difficult thing to promise.