On the Dock of the Bay

 
On the Dock of the Bay

This thread is for group 2: Blackrazor, Basil_Bottletop, koipond, SirLoganofGilead, and ChronicLunacy

Last night was horrific. As you stir, memories come flooding back like dark, wet blo...you don't want to think about that. You turn your mind from the stickiness of last night's liquid nightmare and instead inspect your surroundings.

You seem to be in a warehouse of some sort. The morning sun is shining through small windows about thirty feet in the air. The ceiling is unfinished, showing iron crossbeams and sturdy construction, and the stacks of shipping crates around you give the game away. The sound of water lapping at cement pilings nearby tells you where you are, too - you're at the industrial docks near downtown.

You remember fleeing last night, coming finally to a place where a few people had a similar thought. You remember the flash of fear that came with wondering if any of them were going to lumber slowly toward you, looking for a nice meal.

Morning. Isn't it supposed to bring a new day, a new start? As you look at the faces of the people around you, you snort to yourself.

Not bloody likely.

The sun peeked through the window and decided that the first thing it wanted to do was slap Jeremiah across the face. He could never really sleep when the sun was up, it was a habit drilled into him by his parents who so desperately wished he would have joined the military. They got him up at the crack of dawn every day, just to be ready, and so when the first rays of sun hit his face he could hear his father telling him to get up.

Groaning, as he always did at that sound, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was inside this warehouse, it looked like a warehouse with crates everywhere and ugly unfinished ceilings. Groaning again as the memories of last night flooded into his head, that thing that had invaded the shop, the people screaming as he ran avoiding everything and anything he could, the sounds of broken glass. It was too much, what had happened to the world.

The concrete floor wasn't the best place for considering this, so Jeremiah got up and stretched. His body ached from all the running, and from collapsing against the cold floor. Would he get rickets, or shingles? His mom had said you'd get bad things from sitting against the cold ground. Jeremiah paused, and then chuckled. I'm sure that was the last thing he had to worry about now, with whatever they were roaming about outside, just waiting to eat him.

Thankfully there were other people here with him. He didn't pay much attention to them as they had barricaded the door with whatever they could. Now he paused to look at them. There was the man with the headphones and the really nice hair. There was another guy with a crew cut and an old cop look about him. The kind that was young once but was having problems switching to middle age. The crew cut is what gave that away, it was well kept while the rest of him was going a bit, but the crew cut was a plea for holding onto control. The last guy must have been a cook or something, he had an apron on thought he seemed to be in dire need of a cut. Something that would give him his sense back.

There were many things you could learn by looking at someone's hair.

There are also many things that can be learned by listening to a stomach growling. Jeremiah looked around as he rubbed his stomach. He had been running for so long, he had forgotten to eat anything and now his body was telling him that it needed attention. With that he started searching for an office somewhere, it probably had a mini fridge or something that hid some food.

Tahrique sat up from his crushed cardboard bed pushing aside his pilow of styrofoam cup packages. He yawned silently, rubbed his cheek and eye pulling some sleep from it and yawned again.

The gay guy was already up and poking around. The others finding their feet.

Just like Left for Dead. I was just playing that with Monsta. I need to find myself a gun or a chainsaw.

Shit!

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and hit Tara's number.....and hoped.

The noise of the others woke Jerry Lee, and immediately his body regretted it. Old injuries screamed out from all over his body and left him momentarily frozen. The 5 o'clock shadow he'd gone into work with yesterday was now a 2 day beard. The white t-shirt and jeans he wore were covered in blood, but luckily none of it was his. He tore the apron off of him and tossed it into the shadowed corner before reaching down and retying his work boots. After a few seconds of relaxation did Jerry Lee allow himself to survey the disaster that was laid out in front of him.

The warehouse didn't look the same in the daylight as it had last night amidst the horror and panic. As he had sat there, his back to the wooden column in the middle of the warehouse, he had convinced himself that this place was soundly secure. The daylight revealed the lie. Even with the morning sun only barely up the cracks in the wall was too numerous to count. Each sliver of light that escaped inside ate away at any notion of safety.

Jerry Lee picked himself up off the ground and walked over to the wall. His movements resembled that of the crazies that had been outside last night more than a normal human, as his legs slowly got underneath him again. Right at eye level there was a hole just large enough to see outside, and it was just so happen to point in the direction of Jerry Lee's truck which sat almost 60 feet out from the building.

They had been so close.

After leaving the Dine N Dash, watching it explode from the on-ramp, the immediate threat of the stowaways had been the three escapees' focus. Howard struggled to get turned around but was successful in taking down one of the two crazies with a well aimed shot. The waitress wasn't so lucky. She had taken the seat between the two men in the cab of the pick up truck because it put her in the safest position, however no one could have predicted anyone getting in the bed of the truck. The Crazy took hold of her golden locks and yanked it through the small sliding window and before long he had the leverage to take everything from the shoulders up. Jerry Lee and Howard were forced to sit with the beheaded corpse for almost 10 miles before they thought it was safe enough to stop and push her off into a ditch.

Howard had suggested they make it to the docks, one of the many places the Truck driver made weekly deliveries, because of what he called it's "low people rate". They had driven most of the night and when they finally pulled into the narrow avenue towards the dock they realized their miscalculation.

Jerry Lee knew he didn't have the fuel to get them very much further so they had continued down into the small parking lot between storage warehouses. As he pulled up short of one of the warehouses he heard Howard loading his gun with the last of his ammunition. Howard mentioned that it was a full chamber but it was between coughs and blood-filled mumbles. The miscalculation had taken too much hope out of Howard and he was quickly giving up the fight he'd been battling for almost five hours.

Jerry Lee tried to get a good look of the truck, but he couldn't see the Howard sitting in the front seat. They must have taken him even as he lied their dead. The metal muzzle of Howard's gun kissed Jerry Lee's lower back to remind him of his sacrifice.

Jeremiah easily found an office with a mini-fridge, stocked with cream, ice cream, and a block of cheddar cheese. There was a box of crackers under the desk, and a box of Lance snacks, with a handwritten message on a torn-off piece of faded lined paper. Honor system - 50 cents ea. There were about 6 packages of orange peanut butter crackers, and three packs of Lorna Doones.

At the same time he found the jackpot, Tahrique was cursing Sprint service and the complete lack of signal on his cell.

A sigh of delight escaped Jeremiahs lips. That sigh could easily be translated to, "Food." He paused to look at the feast before him before dove in a cut himself a fair portion of the cheese and a handfull of crackers and then started to eat. He loved cheese and this was perfect, every single bite erasing the memories of yesterday and getting him ready to face what could come with a full stomach.

It didn't take him long to each the crackers and cheese. He was still hungry, which was interesting because he didn't eat much normally but today it seemed like he could eat the whole fridge and still want more. He grabbed a couple of the Lorna Doones and devoured them quickly. Jeremiah never thought that eating such simple food would actually feel so good.

He sighed again and sat down on the floor, enjoying the moment. Only then did he realize that he should probably share with everyone else, but first he wanted to pocket the peanut butter crackers. Just put them somewhere that he could get at later.

Once that was done, he left the office and walked over to the rest of the people in the room and said, "The fridge in the office has stuff in it if anyone's hungry." Normally he might not have said that, but having eaten when everyone else hadn't gives a person some confidence.

Thump...thump...thump In Lionel's mind there was no question that hundreds of little men were smashing hammers against the inside of his skull. They were clearly all pulling an Andy Dufresne and trying to dig their way out of his head. Despite the amount of alcohol he consumed, Lionel rarely got hangovers. When he did get them though, they were epic. The thumping was enough to distract him momentarily from the rest of his surroundings. There was only one way to get rid of a hangover and it had nothing to do with coffee. Lionel sat up slowly, keeping his eyes shut to avoid the burning sensation light was bound to cause. Once he was upright he reached into his pocket and pulled his flask. By its weight he could tell it was still half full, which meant he was going to have to buy more booze today. He took a quick swig of his flask, and then finally began to be aware of his surroundings. Who the hell was it that was talking and woke me up? Lionel slowly opened his eyes and was surprised that the light didn't give him the pain he had been expecting. Looking around quickly Lionel had no idea where the hell he was, or how he had gotten there. Trying to recall something from last night Lionel ran his hand through his hair. His hand hit a bump on his head and pain seared through his head, making the thumping immediately worse. SHIT! That hurt. Apparently the headache was not from a hangover he had hit his head on something, and the swollen bump was still pretty tender. Well there is only one really good way to kill pain. The flask made its second appearance.

Its not everyday that Lionel wakes up in a warehouse with no idea how he got there, or why he went there. Looking quickly around, Lionel tries to figure out if he knows where the warehouse is, or if he had ever been there before. Not recognizing anything, Lionel just asks. Where are we. I need to get ready for work this afternoon, and idea where I left my car?

Shaking the phone, Tahrique mumbles an exasperated F bomb.


Turning to Lionel, Tahrique pockets his phone. "You serious man? You serious!?"

"Yo! Yo! Yo! All Y'all! Check this shit out! Captain Amnesia here," tosses a nod in Lionel's direction, "Has no Fn clue that the Greater Tampa Metrolpolitan area now looks like the Battle for Faluja. Listen captain... there is no work...Literally. Not like they fired your sorry ass, like works not there cause its blown the F up! MFers are running around eating people. Shits bananas. If you think I'm talking bullshit, ask them." He points to the others.

"Bananas." He shakes his head and stands up.

Great. I somehow ended up in a warehouse with at least one crazy person. Lionel takes only a cursory glance at Tahrique. He has seen kids like him before, most of the time they end up in the back of his cruiser. Kid, I don't have the time to figure out what sort of drugs you and your friends here have been taking. Unfortunately, even if there was a crisis out there my job would be to go fix it. Police departments do not 'close down'. I have to get out of here, some of us are productive members of society and not dopeheads. With that Lionel takes a quick look around and starts
If no one says anything I'm walking out the door. I will leave it to the DM to decide what I see out there if I make it.
heading for the nearest exit.

"Wait, you're just leaving?" Jeremiah blurted out as the only person here who looked like they knew how to defend themselves was leaving. "Maybe you should call or something. They've got a phone here, and stuff. I mean, after last night --" he let the words trail off as he was certain that everyone was thinking of their own personal hell that had happened the night before.




 

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