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Post by Jericho Greybear on Oct 3, 2012 22:25:34 GMT 1
Jericho heard Sully swallow hard. It was oddly reassuring to know that the man wasn't in a hurry to engage in another round of hand to hand with a worgan. Maybe they would get out of this in one piece after all. It still left them with the problem of the time though. They were too far out to call for help of any kind and it was much too late to go back and then make a second foray. No, they either had to bite the bullet and hope they got lucky with the third worgan or they needed to walk away... and neither of them were the walking away type or they wouldn't have been out here tracking the worgans in the first place.
Preparation was going to be essential for this and Jericho was already planning minute alterations to his equipment and positioning, anything that might give him an extra fraction of a second to react when the thing came for them, when Sully tapped him. Straining to see what it was that drew Sully's attention Jericho suddenly realised that for perhaps the first time in his life he was actually glad to see vampires, because they were about to have the worst day of their miserable existences. He could only lie there and watch with the same stunned expression as Sully wore as the now inevitable train-wreck played out.
He was choking back laughter as the vampires screamed and went up in flames and in an instant it was all over; the vampires, techas and worgans were reduced to just so much black smoke and rotting meat. The rank stench wafted towards them carried on the desert breeze and Sully was turning a little green. It was probably not a good time to have quite as good a sense of smell as he did. Jericho could still hardly believe Sully's luck, the man's middle name had to be Serendipity. Things didn't normally work out this well for Jericho and he couldn't resist letting out a victory whoop as Sully sprinted off like a cheetah to check the carnage.
That was about the extent of celebration Jericho allowed himself though as he quickly brought up the rear, moving considerably slower than his partner as he scanned the horizons. It wouldn't do to get careless now and his diligence was rewarded by the first glimpses of shamblers closing in on their location. They were a way off yet but if the two didn't move fast the forming horde were going to be between them and Haven all too quickly. Closing on the convoy he capped the techas just to be doubly sure they stayed down; God alone knew what sort of freak Slag monstrosity the mutated vampire slaves would come back as if the Zombie virus took a hold of them.
“Hurry up!” he hissed at Sully as he was opening the last vehicle, “We nee...” his voice tailed off as he caught sight of the Aladdin's cave of goodies the SUVs were loaded with. Jericho wasn't lost for words long however and he was rapidly recalculating what he had been about to say. “Three minutes,” he said firmly as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and bent to help Sully load crates onto the working SUV. “Three and a half if you are up for bouncing shamblers off the bonnet...” he added slightly breathlessly as he worked. “Just be damned sure this thing drives 'cos in four minutes we won't be walking out of here in one piece.”
There was more gear than they could stow even if there had been the time for it, but both men were experienced raiders and a rapid fire triage of the supplies wasn't that difficult. It was very much a newbie mistake to think that you could get everything or to risk running over schedule for 'just one more' box. Jericho resisted the temptation to keep checking his watch; that would have wasted time they didn't have and been pointless anyway. He had told Sully the window they had and the man kept better time than most watches. When he slammed the doors shut and sprinted for the driver's door the shamblers were close enough to be reaching for them.
“Go! Go!” he hissed capping the closest three in rapid succession before throwing himself into the passenger side and slamming the door. They were going to need to gun it to get the solar charged vehicle all the way back to Haven before the light started to fail. Hopefully the charge would last but Haven was a fair bit further away than New Vegas from their current location. The vehicle lurched forward and Jericho released the breath he had been holding; Sully had said the vehicle would run but Jericho just had a hard time trusting machines like that, no matter how many times Sinjon told him they were no different from guns.
They didn't have to bounce more than a half dozen shamblers before they were clear and it was looking like it was going to be like Christmas at Haven when they got back.
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Post by Sullivan Maxfield on Oct 12, 2012 12:23:24 GMT 1
Three minutes. A man could do a lot of things in three minutes when pressed for time. He could take a shower, shave, eat lunch, hammer nine or ten nails, brush his teeth, get dressed, a lot of things. At least in Sully's mind, they could. But three minutes to decide what to take and what to leave for now? His eyes turned to the herd of mindless savages tripping and swaying their way in their direction. "Fuck me..." he drawled. A split second of decision set him into fast forward.
The first things he grabbed were marked with red crosses on them but most of the medical supplies were already in the one SUV left in working order. The decision to make, guns and ammo, blankets or clothing and boots. It was all important. Then there were the boxes he KNEW had food in them. Those would be torn apart as the zombies looked for something raw and runny to gnaw on. First the guns and ammo and the boots went in, his reasoning about that was that was they could use them when they came back for the rest. With the winter months coming on, the desert was going to get cold and many of the newcomers shoes were threadbare. Then the blankets, once again for the winter months coming and many children in the settlement.
The last thing to go in was what food he could grab at the last minute. Just as he grabbed the last box they could possibly fit in he saw it...a small white box with the image of the communication devices that the VSF used. BINGO, SCORE! Ran through his head. One, it would mean more communication between the men while on patrol. It also meant listening in on the VSF when in the city gathering supplies. They would know if they had been made, if the VSF was in route to capture them. This was a really big score.
GO!GO!
The hatch slammed and Sully tucked the box under his arm as he dashed into the drivers seat. Jericho had his back, literally as he popped the first three closest to him. Goddamn! That herd got big and close fast!Whatever deity there might have been watching blessed them with the vehicle starting right up and taking off like a shot as the herd converged on them. He steered for the ones in front of them, smashing into them and watching the bodies fly up over the vehicle. Soon it seemed like they were clear and Sully slowed slightly to maintain more control over the vehicle as it bounced over the wagon rutted road.
Sully turned his head and smiled at Jericho, "We did it mate!" he let out a mild woot of victory. "Looks like Christmas is coming early this year." Just as he looked forward again, a decayed head appeared in his window from the top of the SUV and a skeletal hand reached in, grabbing Sully's face, digging its nails into his head and pulling, leaving deep meaty tracks that began to bleed profusely. The moaning growl it let out sounded a lot like the word 'brains' but both of them knew fully well that zombies didn't talk...did they?
"SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT!" Sully shrieked as he tried to keep the vehicle on the road.
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Post by Jericho Greybear on Oct 23, 2012 20:26:42 GMT 1
God damn it! Jericho knew it had been going too well to last. Sully had gotten lucky in spades with the worgans and the haul of supplies, but when a Havenite's luck ran out it did it big time. The stink of zombie and blood was suddenly filling the SUV along with Sully's screams. The vehicle was lurching wildly as Sully struggled to keep them from rolling as they bounced over the deep ruts of the trail with blood pouring from his head and a zombie up in his face.
“SHOOT IT!” This was one of those times when Jericho just stopped thinking. His reactions weren't any faster than those of any other ordinary human but his instincts were. Thinking time, reaction time, action time. When the shit hit, Jericho just didn't do thinking time at all.
If you were thinking it through it was a difficult situation to find yourself in. Did you try and use the gun you had to hand? Bringing a rifle to bear inside a jostling vehicle would be tricky at best if it were possible at all. The more appropriate handgun was slower to draw from seated and firing either weapon in the confined space would leave them both deaf, stunned and probably bleeding from their ears. It would be a good way to crash the vehicle.
Of course the other problem was that Sully now had an open wound. A bullet would pop the zombie's head like an overly ripe melon and spatter its brains all over the driver's side of the SUV. There had been little enough actual flesh on the clawed hand that Sully had probably dodged infection...so far. But add a shower of zombie juice and Jericho might as well capp Sully right there and then. So all in all, with the zombie's teeth gnashing for Sully's throat, it was a good job Jericho wasn't thinking.
Jericho was scrambling up from the seat in an instant, one hand pushing Sully forward and away from the window as he lurched behind him to reach the rotting corpse now flailing in at him. His other hand had drawn his combat knife before he was even half way there. Jericho jammed the blade in hard through the decaying eye socket, his own forward momentum helping to drive it deep into the brain cavity, and he twisted it sharply, intent on scrambling what passed for its brains and gave the zombie locomotion.
He felt the zombie go suddenly limp and shaken loose it slid off the side of the vehicle. Jericho swore again as the falling corpse nearly yanked the knife from his hand, lodged as it was in the eye socket. Quickly he grasped it with both hands and cracked the zombie's skull against the side of the SUV in an attempt to dislodge it. The weight lightened as the vertebrae snapped and the body fell away to be crushed under the rear wheels though it took him a little longer to finally remove the skull.
Slumping back into his seat Jericho took a deep breath. The cab still stank of zombie and he needed to clean his knife. For a minute he said nothing as the vehicle continued to bounce forward but as they opened a little more distance from the horde he spoke again quietly. “Pull over Sully.” Sully had been cut and that needed attention for a lot of reasons. It needed cleaning and covering because zombies were like sharks after fresh blood and Sully would definitely need an antibiotic shot. Most importantly the wound needed checking for signs of infection.
Sully knew all this as well as Jericho did, and he knew what Jericho would have to do if it turned out the news was bad...
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Post by Sullivan Maxfield on Oct 28, 2012 13:34:41 GMT 1
The cuts on Sully's head and face stung like hot pokers were in his face and tickled. The tickle was from the blood trickling from them, the sting was from the poison in the zombies claws. He knew he needed to stop and tend to it but he also wanted more distance between the horde and the vehicle. As he looked in the rear view mirror, he saw that the attention of the walking dead had turned to the dead Techa's and vampires for the moment. He continued to press urgently on the accelerator until he knew it would take at least 15 minutes for even the closest on to reach them.
Sully brought the off road SUV to a stop and looked over at Jericho. He knew that look, he had seen if before. He had seen it before when he had been in the same graphic situation. It was not exactly the same situation; the previous untold event had involved an actual bite that should have killed him. "Jericho..." he breathed and wiped a particularly annoying dribble of blood from his swollen cheek, "I know that look. Don't worry, you won't have to shoot me." He blurted out and grabbed for the hem of his shirt. "I'm immune. I have been bitten before, I can't get the virus." he pulled up his shirt to reveal the raised and twisted scar where a zombie had taken a bite out of him. The teeth marks were vivid and there was no doubt that it was indeed a bite. He had hidden it at the time but now he needed to make sure his partner didn't put a bullet in his head.
"Look, I can't explain it, but I am and the Admiral knows it." he said as he removed his shirt entirely and held it to his head and face. He pulled it away slightly to look in the mirror on the visor. He examined the claw mark that swept up his cheek, over his eyelid and cut his eyebrow in half. "Just missed my eye." he muttered and pressed his shirt to it again. "Look, we don't know why I am immune, the medics even took blood. Other than me being hypoglycemic and having a stronger immune system, there is no difference between my blood and yours." He opened the door and stepped out of the idling vehicle, "I'm glad we have those medical supplies." he called out to Jericho before moving to the back. His bloody hand slipped over the handle when he tried, and failed, to open it. It was then that he felt that familiar stirring in his gut that radiated up into his head. He closed his eyes and took a breath, grabbing for the vehicle, anything, to keep from falling. "Oh shit..." he breathed, "Sugar is dropping."
With the loss of blood, Sully's body was losing sugar fast. He fumbled for his pocket before realizing with the blood on his hand, eating something from his pocket might not be the best idea. "I need...uuhg." he gripped the vehicle again as the dizzy spell continued, causing his stomach to lurch."Jericho..."
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Post by Jericho Greybear on Oct 29, 2012 3:45:49 GMT 1
Immune. It wasn't likely and Jericho had never heard of such a thing. What he had heard before however was that line. It was the last hope that some Havenites clung to, even as they burned up with a fever and their flesh was literally rotting from their bones they would beg for just a little longer, they might get better, they might be immune... The first time Jericho had ever seen someone try to ride out quarantine like that, he had made Sinjon swear he would never let Jericho go through that hell. If the infection set in and Jericho couldn't do it himself then his brother would take care of him.
By and large Jericho didn't approve of quarantine for those definitely infected; it seemed cruel and unnecessary to him. A two day observation of newcomers and the isolation of those injured in other ways just to be on the safe side was not the same thing to his mind. It was a mindset that did however make him a lot less trigger happy than some of the other raiders thought when it came to his team. He would not knowingly bring an infected man back to Haven true, but he would damned well never cap one on the off chance they were infected. Jericho wouldn't quarantine you in case you recovered, or cap you in case you got sick. Black or white; infected or clean. His mind only dealt in absolutes.
There was something about the way Sully was talking however, something that made Jericho want to believe him. Maybe it was the way that he didn't seem at all afraid of dying, not from the cuts and infection anyway; he was more concerned about how Jericho was going to react. That was pretty logical thinking for an injured man; Jericho could finish him off a whole lot faster than the virus could. Calm and logical was good because if he panicked and tried to pull a gun on Jericho then infection would become a moot point. The actual damage seemed mostly cosmetic from what Jericho could see as Sully used his shirt to mop away some of the blood; in that at least his luck had held.
The sight of the old bite scar on Sully's torso left Jericho staring at him with a puzzled frown. It was a human bite alright, though the spacing was wrong, as if the jaw had opened wider than humanly possible; like a zombie could. Sully wasn't kidding; he really did think he was immune and he had some pretty convincing evidence to back up his story. “I'm not gonna do anything until we get those cuts cleaned up and I can take a look at them...” Jericho offered up what little honest assurance he could, “...not 'less you start acting crazy on me.” Those were his terms and they weren't negotiable.
Jericho let Sully climb out of the vehicle first and as he followed suit he loosened the fastening on his handgun to make it easier to draw; much as he had come to appreciate Sully, Jericho's instincts were not something he ignored, not for anyone. He tossed his knife blade first into the hot sand, a quick and easy way to clean it, and did another cursory scan of their surroundings. Zombies had been occasionally known to go dormant under the sand until they were disturbed and Jericho had had enough surprises for one day. The area seemed clear and he moved to join Sully at the back of the vehicle when he heard his sharp cry and the thud as he slumped his weight against it. “Shit!” he cursed in tandem with Sully as he saw what was happening.
Sully could be damned glad right then that Jericho had a keen eye and a less than twitchy trigger finger. He could see it was just the shakes coming on, not the start of something altogether worse. “For the love of god, Sully...” he hissed, taking a firm grip of both the man's upper arms to take his weight before kicking his feet out from under him, “Lie your dumb fucking ass down for a minute an' quit getting blood on everything because I'm sure as shit not immune.” He lowered Sully quickly and carefully to the ground. “Don't go passing out on me, Sully. Keep talking...”, he muttered, “...an' keep your hands on the ground.” Jericho rummaged in Sully's pocket, he knew what the man had been reaching for and hoped that lying down would keep him conscious long enough to eat it.
Having retrieved the small paper package and noted that it was the only one Sully seemed to have left unless he had stashed the others elsewhere, he deftly unwrapped it. “Open up for your bunny treats.” he said with a smirk as he poured the contents into Sully's mouth; Jericho's humour was acid black when he indulged it. He had also taken the opportunity as he searched to relieve Sully of his handgun, which was now tucked into Jericho's belt. He needed to get the medical supplies out of the SUV asap and turning his back on a man with a head-wound and a loaded gun wasn't happening for him in this lifetime. Quickly he stood up and after wiping the blood from the door handle with the elbow of his sleeve he gripped it through the cuff of his shirt and opened up the back.
The supplies were all clearly marked and despite just how much additional stuff they had jammed in on top of it Jericho managed to locate the medical supplies he needed. Rather than wasting time with unloading anything he took a moment to retrieve his sand cleaned knife and just cut open the side of the box to extract and then crack open one of the small emergency trauma kits. Gloves, wound dressing, bandage, paper stitches, swab, medical alcohol and a preprepared syringe of broad-spectrum antibiotic. This haul certainly was the good stuff; now to see if it was good enough to fix Sully. Jericho closed up the SUV again and scanned the horizon. Movement... damnit! The fresh blood was drawing them on; he needed to hurry.
Jericho pulled on the gloves and with the rest of the kit in hand moved back over to Sully. “Now let me see it.” he said, his voice serious again.
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Post by Sullivan Maxfield on Nov 10, 2012 4:12:35 GMT 1
Sully was already well on his way to sitting on the ground when Jericho unceremoniously grabbed him and kicked his feet out from under him. How that was going to help him was beyond his understanding. There was no call to get rough with him. He was too dizzy to fight it though. He did as he was commanded to and put his hands on the ground while Jericho rummaged in his pockets. That is until the dry packet of sweet nuts and dried fruit was poured into his mouth with very little warning.
Sully coughed and choked on the stuff for a moment before he could get his tongue and teeth into position to chew. Keep talking…. Those words only served to inspire an indignant ‘what the fuck’ look and he did raise a hand long enough to indicate his full mouth and a strangled grunt. He quickly dropped his hand again before Jericho could wrestle it back to the ground. He nearly choked twice more before he could clear the treat from his mouth, “Christ Jericho! You don’t have to be a prat about it. It’s not like I can help it.” He protested.
The sugar in the snack was helping quickly and he pushed himself up to a sitting position, laying down just made him dizzy. He watched as Jericho went to work getting the med kit out of the SUV. It all looked a bit daunting to the injured man but he was planning to sit very still while Jericho helped him out. Now let me see it. Sully’s eyes darted toward Jericho, once again with a look of exasperation, “It’s not as if I am hiding it.” He muttered, “You are acting like this is my fault.” He added, his tone downtrodden. “Just stop the bleeding, we can clean it later, let’s get out of here.” He looked off into the horizon. Haven was so close, yet so far away.
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Post by Jericho Greybear on Nov 10, 2012 22:26:35 GMT 1
“I'll stop being a prat when you stop being bull headed.” Jericho dead-panned. Sully had gotten the wrong impression of what Jericho was annoyed about but people did that a lot to Jericho, he was used to it. Sully just didn't know when to stop; it hadn't occurred to him that Jericho could have gotten the med-supplies without Sully risking passing out outside the vehicle. Jericho would have had a bitch of a time getting him back inside if he couldn't revive him, not to mention having to figure out how to get the stupid SUV moving by himself.
Jericho didn't do sympathy at the best of times and especially not when someone did something he considered dumb. “It's your own fault you are on the floor.” Jericho smirked as he began to swab the cuts, cleaning away the dirt from the zombie's nails and the potentially contaminated blood. “You should have stayed in the cab and you know it.” He hadn't bothered saying anything pointless like “It won't hurt” or even anything honest like “It's going to hurt”. It was going to sting like hell and anyone with half a brain already knew that. Jericho didn't have much of a bedside manner if any at all as Sully was fast discovering.
He gave Sully an impatient frown as he tried to look around. “You're getting too close to your limits Sully, slow the hell down. We have time for this alright? We do not have time for you to crash out again from blood-loss or start running a fever.” Taking care of a wound was something that Jericho would always find or make time for, his paranoia demanded it. The wound was pretty much clean now and was just beginning to bleed again, but the blood was a good colour and the edges of the gashes were showing no signs of impending necrosis so Sully was almost certainly in the clear. Jericho quickly applied the stitches to stop the bleeding and taped the dressing firmly in place.
He handed Sully the last of the alcohol to clean the blood from his hands and injected the small syringe capsule into the trapezius muscle of his neck/shoulder. It should also help Sully with the pain, according to the label anyway. Jericho discarded the contaminated gloves, letting the evening breeze carry them and their scent of blood off as a decoy. He offered Sully his hand to help him up, no recrimination and no apologies offered, though he did promptly return Sully's side-arm, pressing it back into his hand as he rose to his feet. “Let's get home, huh?” Jericho said quietly and his eyes turned towards the horizon where the shamblers were now visible as distinct figures approaching. “This day has been too long already.”
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Post by Sullivan Maxfield on Dec 7, 2012 21:03:30 GMT 1
Sully slipped back into his quiet self, no needs for words countenance. Reasoning with Jericho would do him no good. He didn't have the inclination to argue with him. Sully knew his limits and the fact that he pushed himself to that limit is what kept a lot of people alive. Sully cared more about whether Jericho made it home with the supplies more than he cared about whether he lived or died. Life was life, it is what it is, live or die.
What is a man if not just someone filling the time between his birth and his death. Did it matter what it was that he did? Yes, as long as he was a good man and put others before himself then he lived a good life. Whether there was an afterlife or not was not a concern. What mattered was that when he died, people would remember him as a good man. There would always be someone who thought him a fool though and Jericho probably already did. That was ok, as long as he lived another day and got another opportunity to save someones life.
He stayed very still until Jericho was finished then summarily cleaned his hands. He tore his bloody shirt off and threw it on the ground, leaving only his flack jacket on. He didn't need the creatures following his blood trail. He nodded at Jericho as he handed him his weapon then holstered it.
Silently he got back in the SUV and restarted it. He waited for Jericho to get back inside. "It's gonna be longer, we still have to unload this stuff." he said with a slight grin as the lurched forward again. He went as fast as he could safely go without wrecking the vehicle. When the time came he turned off the wagon tracks and covered the short distance to the dirt road that lead home. The zombies were so far behind them there was no way they could follow the trail.
Sully looked up at the high wall as he stopped in front of the gate and noticed the 25 or so soldiers up there pointing guns down at them. He opened the door and stepped out with his hands in the air. "Is this how you treat Santa Clause? 'Cuz it's Christmas boys." He shouted up at the men. Grins spread across faces as the guns were lowered and the gate opened.
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Post by Jericho Greybear on Dec 10, 2012 17:13:17 GMT 1
Sully had gone quiet on him again, well quieter... Sully was never loud. Jericho knew that he was pissed at him but, hey, what was new there? Someone was always pissed at Jericho for something and Jericho was generally pissed at the world at large for no good reason at all. Jericho was pissed at himself that he had lost one partner on this patrol and whatever else happened he was damned well not about to lose another partner today. It felt like something had died in his stomach when the zombie had taken its pound of flesh for their good fortune with the supplies and if it had been anyone other than Sully there wouldn't have been a second chance. Sully was immune, he needed to believe in that or the sick depression would start to creep up on him again and he would be no use to anyone for weeks. He badly needed to talk to Sinjon or to get drunk, or both.
“Unloading?” Jericho barked a sharp dismissive laugh. “Let the storehouse guys earn their rations, we've been out too long already.” Jericho wasn't a jobs-worth but he wasn't about to give anyone a free ride either. Those who could fight fought; those who couldn't... did what they could. Jericho was tired, Sully was injured, it was someone else's turn to pick up the slack and dot the 'I's and cross the 'T's on this little expedition. He would have to report it all officially in the morning anyway and take the shit for losing Davies so tonight he was going to celebrate being alive one more day. “When we hit Haven you are getting the nod from a real medic then we are hitting a drinking hole.” Jericho was becoming a little manic in his need to convince himself that Sully was going to be fine; he did not take losing people well.
Jericho let Sully do the talking at the gate, he hated trying to explain things and humour was not something he was adept at for the most part. Besides which it was Sully's show really; Jericho had pretty much just been along for the ride. By the time they were through the gates Jericho had withdrawn into himself again, his eyes darting around the gathering crowd with a barely concealed hunted expression. He slapped Sully on the shoulder as he got out of the SUV. “Medic,” he muttered quietly but insistently. He gestured over to one of the evening bonfires that with their late return had been lit already. People were beginning to gather around it talking and drinking and whilst Jericho wasn't much for the talking he needed a drink. “Meet you there.” he said and slipped out of the SUV without giving Sully a chance to argue and disappeared through the crowd now oohing and aahing over the supplies.
Jericho was soon settled by the fire with his drink just staring into the flames. He was in a strange mood and not entirely certain what he was supposed to be feeling or what came next. He drained his drink and looked around for Sully or Sinjon.
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Post by Sullivan Maxfield on Dec 30, 2012 18:43:27 GMT 1
After hearing Jericho’s reasoning, Sully was not about to unload the vehicle. He and Jericho had done all the work so far, now it was the people of Haven’s turn. He had just found himself adrenaline pumped and didn’t know when to stop when he felt that surge of energy. That surge of energy was most assuredly going to be followed by a major crash. Subsequently, he did just as Jericho said, but not because Jericho told him to. He went because he really didn’t feel like passing out and there just might be an angel in the medical bay to speed the healing process on his neck, head and face. He just wanted the sting of the cuts to go away. If an angel were not available, perhaps they would have a topical numbing agent.
Sully never even made it to the door of the infirmary before medics swooped down on him. He groaned as their attentions were nearly frantic and filled with urgency. Once his file was read and they were reminded that he was immune to the zombie virus, they calmed down some. He was in a mild state of dismay when he found that the angels were not there and the stitches that Jericho had so painstakingly administered had to be removed, the wounds cleaned of what microscopic debris they could find and staples applied. By the time they finished, he thought he must look like Frankenstein’s monster. He was glad of the bandages that covered it and the gauze pad that held his eye closed so the cut that sliced through his eyelid and cut his eyebrow in half would heal properly.
Once he was released with a clean bill of health, he knew exactly what he wanted…a drink. Not water, juice, or anything of that nature. He wanted something strong to dull the events of the day from his mind. He made a beeline for the stills to see if there was any hooch ready. To his extreme delight, there was a new batch, perfectly aged for a year in the oaken vats kept by the distillery. He traded a pair of surgical scissors he had swiped from the SUV for two jugs and headed for the fires. It didn’t take long for him to find Jericho sitting with an empty cup. He moved to the seat next to him and dropped wearily onto it. Without a word, he dropped a jug in Jericho’s lap. He pulled the cork from his own jug and took a long draw from it. Words were unnecessary, not with Jericho, that’s what Sully liked about him. He simply stared at the fire and took another drink.
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Post by Marcel Chevalier on Jan 15, 2013 0:08:09 GMT 1
Moved to new board.
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