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Post by America on Sept 16, 2013 8:08:39 GMT -5
He didn't know how long the noodles were supposedly good for. He stood in the aisle that contained them, biting at his lip. Did noodles even go stale? Probably not. And he couldn't detect any sign of bugs inside of the boxes (as was the case with most of the fresh food- he tried staying away from those aisles, on account that he wasn't in the mood to step on any dead bugs. Or live bugs), so he guessed they were safe enough. Well, if they weren't, he could just throw them out later. He dumped as many packages as he was able into his bag, then grabbed some of the tomato sauce. Only a few cans of that were left, so he tossed those in, too, and cautiously walked to the next part of the store.
It was there he finally saw his first zombie, laying on the floor and the stumps, the leftovers of his arms to crawl along, occasionally making small grunting sounds. He hid himself to watch, quietly taking out his knife. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about it grabbing him. The only way it would be able to bite down was if he gave himself up, which he certainly wouldn't do.
Poor soul must have been a human before becoming a zombie, though. His legs and arms were eaten off, and America could sympathize with the creature. It would have been a long process; he would have to bleed out before dying. Geez, he almost didn't want to kill the creature, but after reminding himself that it was just a dead body, that the soul was long gone, he strode forward. The zombie moaned louder as he did, and America nearly faltered, but he kept walking until he was right by the zombie's head, and with a muttered, "Rest in peace, sir," he jabbed the knife through the undead creature's head, twisting it to the right angle that made the zombie finally die.
He drew back quickly, shakily wiping his hands on his pants and content on just looking through the groceries and not running into any more zombies.
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Austria
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Lab Scientist
Posts: 39
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Post by Austria on Sept 18, 2013 3:15:33 GMT -5
The clinic was fairly easy to spot, what with the large sign saying 'town clinic' outside. Austria rolled his eyes at it. The door was open, but he did not enter. The idea in his mid was to find a way into the storage room, where there was the lowest chances of finding a zombie, before making his way forwards. A check through the various windows showed a fair few zombies congregated in one room, although someone had had the foresight to lock the door on them; possibly the town's doctor once he realised the danger. That, or they hadn't managed to find the doorway yet. The zombie room, as he called it, was certainly one to avoid. Elsewhere in the building, he did spot a few other... Beings wandering around, the remains of their clothing implying that they had once been staff members. The dangers of being a medic... On closer inspection, it was actually the same nurse, viewed through other windows.
Around the back, there was a conveniently open window. He could see the entire room from it; what appeared to be a medium-sized consultation room. However, it was clear of zombies.
Austria pushed the window a little more open, before climbing through. He scowled at the dirt and the positions he had to twist himself into, but brushed himself down and carried on. There was some general medical equipment that was collected and filed into the bag, along with a few bottles of various drugs, each labelled. He collected them, despite not knowing what they were; the medics would probably be able to work it out. Even if not, then possibly one those who spoke whichever language the humans here had spoken - Austria thought it was French, but Canadian cultural geography was something he had only glanced at briefly before the zombies, and now it did not really matter; there weren't humans to contend with, anyway. Regardless, the labels were not written in German, Bavarian or Hungarian, and were in the medical jargon of one language or another. As such, he couldn't work out what exactly was in them. They were placed closer to the top of the bag.
The door out of the room opened with a loud 'click' as he pushed on the handle.
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Post by England on Sept 22, 2013 21:54:41 GMT -5
England's path was clean, and he found it a bit suspicious that there weren't many zombies left in the houses. The town was small, about a thousand or two in population, but so far he'd only encountered about a dozen undead civilians in the residential area of the town. Logically, terrified and confused humans would have either run for the police station or have locked themselves up in their houses, so either everyone had locked themselves up really tightly, or they had all... disappeared.
It gave him the chills to think about, so he moved from garden to garden until the end of the street, and in front of the hunting store. He crossed the street with a double-check to make sure that no eyes were on him, and immediately ducked into the store, which mercifully did not have a chime. Predictably, the inside was dark, so England unsheathed his trench knives and slid his hands into the knuckle holes while surveying around him.
"Hello?" he called cautiously, closing the door behind him and advancing slowly. No one answered. He carefully made his way to the counter and peered over it, reeling back in a groan of disgust when he spotted the half-eaten corpse splattered on the ground, half of its body missing and the other half being eaten by the numerous flies that buzzed around the decaying flesh. At the side of the corpse was a shotgun, and England glanced around again before swinging over the counter, avoiding the pool of rotting blood to instead browse through the blades lined in the open glass case. The owner had obviously put up a lot of fight before going down, judging from the state of the place. A lot of things curiously seemed to be missing, as well.
He just grabbed whatever he needed from the display, and then verified behind him one more time before turning around to browse the guns lined up on the wall behind the counter.
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Post by America on Sept 27, 2013 16:04:53 GMT -5
The hygiene aisle was a mess. He had to pick his way through spilled shampoo bottles and busted cans of shaving cream. Wasteful, honestly. It seemed there had been some sort of fight going on, and he briefly wondered if that zombie he killed earlier had been a part of it. Most likely. He spotted a few drops of dried blood littering the floor, and he wrinkled his nose. That meant there had been another zombie, and lord knows where he went. America didn't really want to find out.
He rifled through what was left over and was proud when he found bandages, and what seemed to be a great supply of toothpaste. He dumped as much as he could into his bag, then moved on. The medicine was pretty much completely gone, and he frowned. So much for that. Some humans must have panicked and gotten to it beforehand. Ah, and now they were all zombies. That was wasteful, too.
With a sigh, he straightened up, reading the big signs above the aisles to see if there was anything else that might be of some use.
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Austria
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Posts: 39
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Post by Austria on Sept 30, 2013 7:59:35 GMT -5
Austria checked the hallway. The zombie-nurse appeared to be elsewhere. He walked out, before gently shutting the door behind him. Eyes narrowed, he scanned the doors. Most appeared to be consulting rooms. At the end of the hall, he did, however, see the store-room. Quietly, he went over and pulled open the door. Rather then the drug-store, it was the cleaning-store; he took the bleach, before shutting the door again.
He frowned; it would be rather dangerous to stay here too long. Hearing something crash around the corner, he hastily made his way into one of the other consulting rooms. He checked it quickly, before locking the door closed. Scowling slightly as he looked, he checked the corners and behind things, before going back to the door and listening for the zombie passing; he didn't want to draw too much attention by rattling things.
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Post by England on Oct 3, 2013 22:04:50 GMT -5
England drew a breath of relief when he noted the large amount of weapons still mounted on the wall. Pulling open his duffel bag, he began unhooking the larger guns first, the shotguns and rifles, all the while keeping his eyes on the shadows that danced by the front display. So far, he strangely enough had not encountered any zombies around, and he always hated silence. It more often than not was not a good sign.
Once he was done with the large guns, he moved to the smaller ones in the display, and threw a grateful look at the dead shopkeeper on the floor before realizing how gross the man's circumstances actually were and turning his eyes away. He grabbed the two models of pistols available, and then moved to the next display to grab silencers, not really caring if they didn't have a gun to match with them. Some shiny-looking knives were also there, so he grabbed them rather carelessly to throw them on the counter, wincing when one of the tips poked his finger. He sheathed them all before adding them to the duffel bag, zipping it up, and then swinging back over the counter to take a look at the scarce ammunition still left on the opposite wall's shelves.
Quickly deciding that his bag was at an acceptable weight, he shoved everything left on the shelf into it and then swung the duffel bag over his shoulders like a backpack. Throwing one last look at the cleaned-out hunting supplies store, England took his own gun in his hands and carefully began his trek into the outside world again.
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Post by America on Oct 7, 2013 20:59:05 GMT -5
He managed to find a couple more cans that he had originally missed. Some of them were good; corn, for example, would be great to have. He stuffed those in his bag first, but then realized there were more cans of shit he would have never used if it weren't for this whole zombie apocalypse. Pickled carrots were hoarded with a disgusted expression, as were the artichokes. Too bad the majority of cans on the ground were one or the other. He didn't know if he was expected to actually survive off of this sort of thing, but he hoped he could lay claims on the corn if it came down to it.
His last stop was the front, where he grabbed the paper bags he found laying about everywhere. If nothing else, they could use them as a means to transport things. He also began breaking into the registers- the ones that weren't already broken into. Oh, but, of course it was Canadian money. He sighed and grabbed a couple of bills. His brother might like to see those.
He gave the store one last scan before going to his radio. "Hey, I think I got everything that, ya know, I needed to get. I mean, all the useful stuff. Want me to check some place else?"
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Austria
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Posts: 39
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Post by Austria on Oct 8, 2013 9:58:04 GMT -5
Still listening at the doorway, Austria ignored the voice flickering through the radio. It appeared as though the zombie had passed, stumbling on its way. Austria scowled as he thought of what must have once been a young woman. It was better not to think of the creatures in such ways.
Sure that it was away from the door, he looked around this consulting room. Again, he found a number of bottles of assorted medicines, as well as antiseptic and bandages. He dropped them into his bag, counting them habitually. They would be properly counted back at the base, but the action kept him calmer. Once everything useful-looking was taken from the shelves, he checked the cupboards and the drawers. Satisfied that nothing else useful was left, and unwilling to go back into the main part of the clinic, he looked to the window, and sighed.
It opened with a good tug; Austria was mildly grateful he was still on the ground floor. A check around the area, and he clambered back out. He decided to have a look in some of the other houses before reporting back in; humans in emergencies stockpile. Especially medical epidemics.
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