Zombie Thursday
Sep. 23rd, 2011 09:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
velesdonnersen[Tarvek had been at Ilsa's Place, helping build armaments, but it occured to him he had to check on the drone-children and his not!wife, at home... and, ideally, pick up some more tools and equipment from his garage.]
[Perry and Catherine, the dronelings, are fine. Just fine. Lying on their little tummies, watchin' the good ol' TV, gnawing on a couple of red, gory...]
[Ngggg. Not so fine. No-no. Not at all, not at all: Tarvek races frantically to the garage with sweet little Perry and darling Catherine racing behind him shouting 'BRAINZZZZZZZ.' At the moment Tarvek is not sure he qualifies as having any at all! He darts to the garage, and proceeds to bolt it shut, shoving the entire washing machine in front of the padlocked door. He checks the rest of the garage carefully: no further zombies in sight.]
[It takes him about two hours to thoroughly glean useful stuff from the garage. He loads it carefully into the family sedan, then climbs in himself, locks all the doors -- and goes to sleep. He's not an idiot, and he knows he works better awake and aware...and he's been up too long. He's as safe as he's likely to get here, double-locked into a secure space, with the second safe-hole being on wheels.]
[Only after a good nap does he click the wonderful Power Garage Door Opener he's been tinkering with ever since beginning to get his Skilz Back, and goes charging through town toward Ilsa's.]
[Perry and Catherine, the dronelings, are fine. Just fine. Lying on their little tummies, watchin' the good ol' TV, gnawing on a couple of red, gory...]
[Ngggg. Not so fine. No-no. Not at all, not at all: Tarvek races frantically to the garage with sweet little Perry and darling Catherine racing behind him shouting 'BRAINZZZZZZZ.' At the moment Tarvek is not sure he qualifies as having any at all! He darts to the garage, and proceeds to bolt it shut, shoving the entire washing machine in front of the padlocked door. He checks the rest of the garage carefully: no further zombies in sight.]
[It takes him about two hours to thoroughly glean useful stuff from the garage. He loads it carefully into the family sedan, then climbs in himself, locks all the doors -- and goes to sleep. He's not an idiot, and he knows he works better awake and aware...and he's been up too long. He's as safe as he's likely to get here, double-locked into a secure space, with the second safe-hole being on wheels.]
[Only after a good nap does he click the wonderful Power Garage Door Opener he's been tinkering with ever since beginning to get his Skilz Back, and goes charging through town toward Ilsa's.]
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Date: 2011-09-24 02:10 am (UTC)[ The fact that she's worn thin means she hasn't been able to spot the shambling horde down the street. ]
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Date: 2011-09-24 02:37 am (UTC)[Unfortunately, in the time available to grab stuff, his head is down and he's not watching. He's especially not watching in the rear-view mirror. If he had been he might have noticed the shambling motions in the deep shadows of the street...]
[Instead he leaps from the car, hung about with a huge burden of sacks, his airgun ready... but, perhaps, not as ready as it should be. Too late he hears the grumble of brain-starved zoooooommmmbiesssss!]
EEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Fire and hail! Ilsaaa! Lemme in! Nowwwwww!
[He's pelting down the walk, struggling to balance his load. He manages to get a shot off with the airgun, takes another zombie down with a wild blow of a loaded tool bag...and, just as he skates across the threshold, he feels a sharp nip on one calf...]
Lightening and hail. Oh, damn...
Ilsa...I'm bitten.
[He starts to spin back toward the door.]
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Date: 2011-09-24 02:51 am (UTC)[ She stops when she sees the wound on his leg... wounds, really. The adrenaline might have blunted the pain, but there are teeth embedded in the wounds. ]
This is bad, 'bibi. The tissues are going necrotic pretty fast.
[ She looks up at him. ] But there is no way I'm letting them have you. Problem is I'm not that great at disarticulation. There's an even chance I'd kill you with blood loss with the tools we have here.
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Date: 2011-09-24 03:01 am (UTC)I will not risk being the one to infect you, love.
[Scowls. He can feel the zombification beginning already.]
Love, there's a big airgun back in the garage. A mortar, really: I've loaded it with a good quart of nuts and screws. It will kill me and leave very little for the zombies but smorgasborg snacks. I will go out. You shoot me as soon as you see me from the upper windows. Then it's over. The zombies have a meal, and we hope... we hope Mayfield is Mayfield, and I come back. Yes?
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Date: 2011-09-24 03:24 am (UTC)I... I will use the mortar, but the final rite will leave nothing for them at all.
Take two of your airguns to clear a path, and I'll call you in the morning.
[ She doesn't risk more than a hand on his cheek before going to get the mortar. ]
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Date: 2011-09-25 10:20 pm (UTC)[He cracks the door open, sets it to re-lock behind him, clears his path with a couple shots from the airguns, then races out, slamming the door behind him as he goes.]
Love you, liebchen! Shoot straight!
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Date: 2011-09-25 10:45 pm (UTC)[ Ilsa's been practicing her ability to set her inferno in small stages for the past month. The gunshot was just so he would not feel the pain of immolation. ]
[ At three meters in diameter, this is the largest shield she's tried since regaining the control needed to do this. Yet it keeps growing, flaring each time she catches one of the mob that got him. Anger and pain can fuel some pretty dangerous work, and she's pretty pissed off now. It fuels a miniature sun on the lawn. ]
[ When she said she would not let the zombies have him, she meant it. ]
[ After a time, the light finally goes out - with nothing left in the front lawn but the crater, and some random pieces around the edges. There is no further movement from the house. ]