(to the others) "Anthony probably has the same thing that poor man back there did. We ought to take these kids someplace safe, before they get infected or killed."

"THey followed you around, you say? WHere are your parents?"

"Our mommies and daddies got sick," the little girl says. "They sent us away and said to hide from all the sick people." She looks at Sid, scrunching up her face. "You don't look sick. Besides, the sick people just keep saying the same thing over and over. They follow us, but we usually get away from them... usually."

One of the other children points behind the trucks and yells, "SICK PEOPLE!" The children run off towards another fence where there's a swinging gate about three feet wide, apparently leading off to a side street.

Tristan looks behind the trucks...

*DUN DUN DUN*

Sid snaps out of the daze that he was in. Something about those children disturbed him deeply. What was all this talk about sick people? Is that what those things were? That didn't look like no sickness he'd ever seen. He jerked around, facing in the direction on of the kids had pointed, his firearm up and his finger on the trigger, ready to fire.

"Jesus Christ..."

Jack looks back, in the direction that the kids pointed, prepared to step on the gas.

Joe continues to hold his head in pain.

Looking back behind the trucks, there are six or seven people walking towards the group from about three hundred feet into a field. Their gait is trudging, and they seem to be saying something, or perhaps conversing. It's hard to get any detail right now.

"Blunt trauma to the head perhaps? Gunshots didnt seem to work last time."

[I've had a brutal few weeks due to work. I should have mentioned that earlier. I will be returning to this thread again on Friday. Prepare for a more rapid pace.]

Posted 17 Mar 2006 18:48:

The moans of the half-dozen people are more clear now, and sound less like gibberish, but they are repeating themselves...

"Mary, why? ... Mary, why? ... Mary, why?"

"Let me in... Let me in... Let me in..."

"Aaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaah!"

They're perhaps a hundred feet away now, and headed directly for the trucks. Henry has his truck in gear, waiting for someone's signal for what to do.

"Should we just run? Perhaps we should try to track those kids down and learn more about this?"

"I'm all for savin' my ass, but leavin' some kids to die aint right. We can't leave em here. I say we try to run those...hell, whatever they are, we try to hit them full speed. Pistols might not do much, but a truck...a truck would be messy. If their legs are mush, then I figure the kids are safe."

Henry runs out of patience. "To hell with you people, sitting there all petrified." He jams the truck into gear and floors it, turning rapidly around until he's aimed directly at the group. The truck jumps the median, smacking right into four of the crowd, grinding them into the pavement. Two of them are still repeating their phrases -- or trying to, at least, through shattered jaws. The two remaining walkers are headed on their original path, apparently oblivious of what has just happened.

"We should try to protect them from the remaining 2."

OOC: Sorry for the lack of postage, but I did say that Devon was naturally a quiet person.

ooc: so...anyone actually paying attention to this anymore? or are we calling it quits?