004

[ectopportunism]

[1. Action- Around Mayfield.]

[Sometime after Ray's rescue, Peter is struggling through town with the other man slung over his shoulder, the two of them pretty speckled with blood from Ray's head. He's running on pure adrenaline at this point, and trying to find some place safe to leave Ray so that he can try to find medical supplies.  Hopefully, a basement somewhere will be open and unoccupied.]

[2. Action- Hospital Ruins/remains of other homes.]

[His mind is flashing back to old, psychology text books. The five stages of grief. Grief isn't a word he'd use to describe his feelings often, but there was enough going on in this town that had caused Peter to bottle up emotions time and time again, only to have them nearly explode at this moment. It wasn't even that Mayfield had done these things to him--- but that it had done them to his friends. His friends that he had promised himself he'd protect, no matter the circumstances. A promise he failed to keep when he didn't get to Ray in time to save him from mutilation. He could hear Ray's words (well, the words of a certain clone of his), in his head as he headed back out of the basement... calling him a screw-up.

Peter had skipped right past the denial stage and straight into anger. He was angry with himself, and with Mayfield in general. He was especially angry at the asshole that had done this to his friend, and had he had a little less self-control, he might have hit the guy with that pipe three of four more times, or until the man's face was no longer recognizable.

His fingers still gripping the pipe tightly, Peter headed for the hospital... or what was left of it. At ground zero, he could dig through the rubble to try to find any salvageable first aid items to patch Ray up a little better, maybe some pain-killers to take the edge off. If he doesn't have any luck there, he figured he could try his luck in a basement or two on his way back. Someone had to have been prepared in ways that he, himself, wasn't.]

Comments

[wentthroughhell.livejournal.com]

[For a moment Rick actually hesitated. Would like that could get infected fast unless it was cleaned out. Considering how his luck so far in finding supplies had been rather bleak... Without even hesitating Rick handed the bag over to the guy. He could always find more- it wasn't near dark yet.]

If you want to look for more, I'd be more than willin' t' help. Food, medicine, dressings- unless this place has somethin' else in store then it's gonna be a hard ride.

[sosghosts.livejournal.com]

[Well that was easy... Venkman accepted the bag, although he felt a bit concerned.]

What about you? I mean... I can't leave you empty handed--Hey.

[He snapped his fingers as a thought came to him.]

There's some canned goods in the basement pantry... would that be a fair trade?

[wentthroughhell.livejournal.com]

We can do that if you like, but it's my job to make sure people are safe. [Then Rick paused before a wry smile crossed his face and he shifted a piece of debris with his foot.] Or used to be. Seems the police force here is all filled up and not taking applications.

I'd feel better if you kept what you have. Call it being a creature of habit, but I stocked up before this cropped up. Food and supplies aren't the easiest things to find where I come from if you know what I'm saying.

[sosghosts.livejournal.com]

I appreciate it. [He forced a smile back. Normally, it would probably be convincing.]

I get it. Still, let me know if there's anything I can help you out with-- maybe you can use an extra hand sorting through a basement or two. Hell, if we get through this thing... I'll at the very least owe you a beer.

[wentthroughhell.livejournal.com]

[Expressions were easy to force when they needed to be. A situation like this strained even the best of men. Perhaps that was why the smile faded from his own face as he took a glance around. This was to much like hitting home.]

A beer would be nice if this turns around. Friend of my housemate, Jade?, mentioned she'd been a Walker before then turned back to normal. Someone's got a sick mind if they are thinkin' this is a good way to get people to be loyal to them.

[Looking back to Peter, Rick offered him a hand after rubbing the dirt off on his already just as dirty pants.] Name's Rick Grimes.

[sosghosts.livejournal.com]

Peter Venkman.

[He took the other man's hand, shaking it firmly.]

What do you mean, a Walker?

[wentthroughhell.livejournal.com]

Ah- I think y'all would mostly know them as zombies. At least that's what I gathered from what she was tellin' me. [The term still confused him slightly. Walker made more sense than the term zombie. This is what happens where there is no George Romano in a world.

Hearing the sounds of vehicles in the distance made Rick tense a little. Considering how nothing in Mayfield was functional anymore, that probably wasn't a good sign.]

Eridan and I are on Mitchell Street. Third pile of rubble on the right if you're walking west. If you need anything, just get in to the basement.

[sosghosts.livejournal.com]

Zombies... huh. The living dead-- [His voice trailed off as he, too, heard the vehicles. That was never a good sign.]

We've got shelter, but thanks. Maybe you should get back there before it gets any worse.

[He took a few steps back, tucking the medical supplies Grimes gave him under his arm.]

Don't get yourself killed. I was serious about that beer.

[wentthroughhell.livejournal.com]

I have a habit of waking up worlds that got to shit it seems.

[Removing the hatchet from the makeshift loop attached to his belt he nodded his head once.]

Same goes for you and remember- third house on the right when you go down Mitchell if you need anything. And if you see Eridan, let him know I'm worried 'bout him.

[As a truck rolled within viewing distance, Rick cursed under his breath. If he was going to give Peter a chance to get back to his friend they were going to need a distraction. Running from Walkers was different, but, well... at least he had places he could hide.]

Give me a twenty second head start. I'll get them moving else where. Good luck, Peter.

[sosghosts.livejournal.com]

You too, Rick.

[He nodded, his grip on his own weapon growing tighter.]

Give 'em hell.