Zombie Survival Scenario Part 2
 

Ecurt, for once, had not been the one who had run off. If anything, he was the only one who hadn't moved in some time, at least not after everyone was distracted by the truck. Instead, he chose to slide down to the floor, and rubbed his arms-after all that happened his whole body felt funny.

On the bright side, he wasn't crazy (anymore). However, it seemed the rest of the world was. For now though, since he couldn't do anything, he would wait for the others to return.

"The Friggin' truck Flipped over! hahahahahahahahaha!" Clarence fell down on
his back and started laughing in a distubingly high pitched voice, his laughter came in short bursts, "HAHA-HAHA-HAHA-HAHA" he could'nt help it. After all that had happened, he needed to laugh, after about a minute of that, he rumaged in his
bag to look for another sucker to replace the one he lost running, and opted instead for a bag of skittles, everything was better when you had skittles.

"Oh, sheez, I'm sorry Jarod!" Mauve said shakily, embarrassed. She hadn't realized that her new sitting place was Jarod's stomach. Quickly she stood and offered him a hand. "Thanks for breaking my fall, though."

From the kitchen she could hear Thomas and Frank rummaging for provisions. Then came the telltale click-and-hiss of a can being opened. MORE beer. Oh well; they probably needed it. Some depressants would probably be good for all that extra adrenaline. Thomas had really been fighting up a storm back there. It was almost scary to watch him go. He seemed to enjoy it. Well at any rate, if ever there was a need for hand-to-hand combat, Mauve knew who she wanted on her team.

Jack walked downstairs, the cigarette still burning between his lips.

As reached the first floor he heard the snap-hiss of a can being opened. He immediately froze and listened carefully for the direction of the sound. At a quick pace he made his way to the kitchen.

"Beer?! Is there any more?" Jack searched frantically through the fridge. Apparently Thomas and Frank had seized the last of the precious alcohol. His head still throbbing from his hangover, Jack began desperatly shoveling the worthless non-beer-things out of the way. Finally, pushing aside what looked like a container of spoiled meatloaf, he hit the jackpot.

He pulled it out carefully. Holding it in his cupped hands as if it were the holy grail, Jack held up a flask. He unscrewed it, and sniffed curiously.

"Whiskey." he declared, a huge grin breaking out on his face. He took a long swig. The alcohol was sweet and burning and all he hoped it would be. The throbbing in his skull died away.

"I don't know why they would, but sign me up for transfer next year."

Tom had a little more of the beer, then put the rest of it on the table.

"For those of you with hangovers, have some of the hair from the dog that bit you."

Tom had lucked out. He wasn't much of a Whiskey man. It tasted too bitter to him, and he could never make himself a regular drinker of it. Then again, he should probably move on to the stronger stuff soon. Beer was beginning to go down like water. German genetics were both a blessing and a curse.

"What's everyone staring at?"

Ben walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, were is every- oh." Ben said.

Ben smothered a sigh. This is all we need. To be surrounded by zombies and drunk. Still, Ben had enough sense not to bring that up to everyone else.

He saw the whiskey, and a had an idea.

"If there's anymore of that heavy stuff, save it." Ben said. "We might need it later."

Then he stopped walking. "For weapons, I mean. Molotov cocktails. The beer probably doesn't have enough alcohol to work, so its the hard stuff we have to save."

Ben wondered the kitchen. Dang! They sure have a lot of booze, but no bottled water?! Heaving a sigh, Ben dug through the draws until he found a nice-sized knife. He walked back over to the others.

"I'm going to check out the rest of this building," he said. "See if there are any zombies in here...or to see if we have anything to drink that isn't 50 proof." he said with a wry smile. "If you hear a blood-curdling scream...don't worry, it's just me."

"Woah, you're not going by yourself, are you?" Mauve asked Ben. "I mean, I'm not much of a horror film expert, but even I know that the lone guy gets picked off first!" She grimaced. "Er...Sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that. That was in bad taste, all things considering. But, you get the idea, right?"

She found her chair-leg/club. There was some remnants of zombie smushed on one end. She blanched and carefully scraped it off on the ground.

Decisions... Drunk guys and cigarette smoke or possible zombie attacks... Decisions... The familiar ache returned to her shoulder as her lung let her know that the smoke was irritating it. Ugh, fine.

"I'll go with you if you want," Mauve offered. Yeah, let's put the lone guy and the obligatory blonde chick together and send them out into a possible zombie buffet. Every horror-flick director in the world would be proud of her right now. But then again, this wasn't a movie or some kind of game. Anything could happen to anyone. So did it really matter where the obligatory blonde chick went?

"I'll stay down here to make sure Joel and Krylo get inside safely, but if you need me, scream loud. I'll come running."

Tom took another sip from the can. He didn't want to drink it all himself, but his nerves needed calming.

Jack perched himself on a table. He leaned back against the wall and took another swig. His nerves began to relax, and for the first time since this whole mess started, he felt alright. Although, he was still a little irked that the zombies had eaten his tie. He'd really liked that tie....