IC- Chapter Three: Lone Wanderers

[Reaper]

Despite all her determination to get to Grim, Rogue knew she had was wrong and that her plan of attack, which would have worked against human opponents, was flawed. Looking around the others, she saw relief and impotent anger in their faces. Talon was fingering his rifle anxiously, Syphon was breathing quickly and Gabriel had removed the tanto from his mouth and was tossing it absentmindedly from hand to hand. There was a look of concentration on his face.

"Fuck." he said very quietly. "Might have worked." he added.

"Not against these big monsters." said Rogue. The assassin nodded, still toying with his blade.

"We might have won, but I reckon we'd have lost a few." pointed out Syphon, Talon grunted agreement.

Time was wasting and they all knew it, but no one could figure the best course of action. Rogue's mention of another exit by the firehouse was a good one but there was no guarantee she was right. Still, they were out of luck and ideas.

"The firehouse?" asked Gabriel. The others nodded and the group began crawling through the pipe toward where they hoped to find another way to the surface.

For all his training to contrary, Gabriel wanted to fight his way out this predicament. It wasn't a burning desire for combat, it was just the lack of finality their current position offered. Even if they got toe Grim, what then? They were stuck here in town. They couldn't outrun these beasts and he didn't know if they could outlast them. Somehow they'd have to break the Trog's spirits. Convince them that it wasn't worth staying in the town.

As they continued to crawl through the dark pipe, a scrabbling noise reached them and all of the humans reached for weapons, not wanting to be savaged by some mutated rodent.

Gabriel, at the front, stared into the darkness, so black that even his eyes could not penetrate far. A bark greeted their ears as the scrabbling came nearer, just as Cerberus came bouncing into view.

"Holy shit." muttered Gabriel, fighting his reflex action of pulling the trigger.

"He must have come down another access point. That means Grim might be behind him. Let's move. Hurry." Urged Rogue. They all complied and shuffled as fast as they could, following Cerberus who had turned back and was scampering the way he had come. Gabriel hoped he was leading them to Grim and not off in search of food or some other animal attraction.

Slogging away in the dark tunnel, the group finally saw light coming down to into the passage. Cerberus bounded up to the narrow shaft of light and whined.

The group heard a hissed,

"Shushhh." from above.

"Grim." whispered Rogue. The group hurried forward and stopped beside the dog. "Grim. Is that you?" asked the girl.

Grim's quiet voice came back quickly.

"Yes. I'm in the firehouse basement but there are Trogs above me. I can't get out that way and the hole here is too small."

"Shit." muttered Syphon.

"Grim, take this." Gabriel passed up a small cylinder. "My last grenade. It's only a flashbang but use it if they find you. It should disorientate them. We'll try to find another route to the surface."

"No." hissed the bounty hunter. "You can't reach me. There's no point dying."

"No point living if you can't help your friends." said Rogue.

"We can't fight our way to you, but we might get sneak out and create a distraction. If we manage something, head for the nearest sewer access you can find." said Gabriel. "Where is the Siren control. Maybe setting it off might confuse them or at least draw them out into the open, leave us more shadows to use to sneak past them."

"It's above me. Both floors of this building have alarm triggers. But there are too many Trogs."

"I'm hard to find when I want to be." replied Gabriel.

"Christ lad." muttered Grim.

"Gabriel's right. We have to do something to distract the Trogs long enough for you to escape."

"Look buddy. Hang tight, while we cause some chaos, then make your move. It sounds like the best plan we're gonna hear tonight." chimed in Syphon. Talon, who had stood by nodded.

"Fuck it. We'll sort something to let you get away. Count on it."

Above them in the basement, Grim nodded, hoping none of these youngster bought the farm on his account. There was no dissuading them, and he'd rather they tried something sneaky than trying to go head to head with a bunch of these self-healing fuckers.

"Do what you gotta do and I'll be waiting. It'll take more than fifty Trogs from stopping me from getting out of this mess." he chuckled and the moment of levity brightened the atmosphere enough for them not to feel the immense risk and potential hopelessness of the mission if anything went wrong.

But what else could they do?

 

[welsh]

The trick would be to keep the Trogs seperated and open up an opportunity to escape.

"There's a manhole about 50 paces out back of this location. I think I could make it there if there weren't so many damn Trogs." Said Grim.

"How many have you seen?" Asked Gabriel.

"I saw at least 5 waiting by that manhole you guys went down. There seemed to be a whole family around that church. I reckon they may still have some wounded in there." Said Grim. "But not long. Those freaking thing regenerate in a hurry."

Gabriel, thinking about his time trapped in the basement nodded.

"But what if we put the church afire?" thought Gabriel aloud.

"The Trogs would probably all go there. At least it would be a distraction." Said Rogue. "The Trogs hunt by smell, not by sight. But in the dark they could see enough of the church to attract them. If not the sight of the fire, than the smell."

"But if they hunt by smell, then maybe we can split them up another way." Suggested Syphon.

"What are you thinking?" Asked Talon.

"Well when I used to go hunting, the way to track a creature is by droppings. The fresher, the nearer you are. Besides you could smell shit easier than a creature. Least, that's how the dogs used to do it." Said Syphon.

Grim didn't speak. He was trying to listen to the Trogs above, and was worried that too much noise would attract unwanted attention.

"So.." Said Talon, catching on. "If they could smell shit around town, then they would go to where the scent was."

"So we map around the town through these freaking sewers, and shit at different places, and this will draw the Trogs?" Asked Rogue?

"You got a better plan?" Suggested Syphon.

"But it will mean that we need to know this system pretty well in the next few hours." Said Gabriel.

"I give you about 6 hours before daylight." Said Grim, still listening. "Look, there's probably a line heading out the church anyway. Over by that cemetary next to it, I think I saw a crematorium, the pipes probably go there. From that spot you could probably make it quick to the church."

"That would draw a crowd. If we can't split them up enough. But are you thinking of staying until they leave?" Asked Gabriel. The thought of staying another night in the sewers didn't appeal.

Nearby Cerberus growled, low and menacing.

"Every day we wait, the caravan moves further away. And we don't have much for supplies." Said Syphon.

"But we can't lead them to the caravan. 50 Trogs would devestate the caravan." Said Talon.

Cerberus have crawled, half crouched to an intersection to the West. The growl becoming more menacing.

"No, we go South, about half a day and then turn East. We will have to move fast, but the Trogs will have a harder time hunting us in the day than the night. We go tonight, I think an hour before sunup." Said Grimm.

"So the plan." Said Gabriel. "We figure out this system between now and then. Where ever possible we pop open the manholes and leave a scent, but don't engage. An hour before sunrise we torch the church and get back into the sewars. That gives Grim a chance to diddy to the manhole nearby, that's already been popped open."

Rogue finished it up. "While the Trogs are distracted by the fire, or waiting for us near the manholes, we slip out to the South."

"Except we got a problem." Said Talon.

At that moment, Cerberus lept an an unseen assailant, and they could hear the sounds of a fierce struggle of claw and teeth. The could also hear the peculiar squeaking they had heard earlier, but now coming from either direction.

"Giant rats."

 

[welsh]

A loud squeal from behind the corner Cerberus turned, and a brief pause, then it sounded as if the big dog was fighting again.

The space that Syphon was in was not big enough for him to turn his rifle, so he found a flare, lit it, and tossed it back, while his other hand aimed his pistol.

At first he couldn't see anything. Then from the dark, emerged the long nose and black, lifeless eyes, of a giant rat, sniffing at the flare.

Syphon fired repeatedly at the creature, until an entire clip was fired.

But he hadn't killed it.

He could hear the creature squeal, deep in the dark, furious at being wounded.

Syphon kept firing, not realizing that his gun was empty, not noticing the empty clicks.

Not noticing it unti Rogue hit him in the shoulder and handed him her sidearm.

"Shit." He muttered, and grabbed the gun, and fired a full magazine off.

The sound of gunfire echoed loudly through the sewars, nearly deafening all. It also brought attention to those outside the sewers.

Grim looked back. "You ok down there? What's the deal?"

"Rats" said Gabriel, "Big nasty ones with sharp pointy teeth."

Cerberus had by then come back to the group, his muzzle red with the blood he had taken.

No sound of rats.

Not that they could hear them.

Above his position in the basement, Grim could hear the Trogs walking about above him. He whispered back. "Got Trogs above. Get going. I'll be ok." But doubting it.

"Stay low to the ground and make no noise," whispered Gabriel. "Try to collect the smells down here and use them to your advantage. We'll get you out."

Grim didn't say anything, but liking their chances less by the moment.

At the intersection the small group split. Rogue and Talon with Cerebus in tow. They would try to find the Southern exit and open the manhole cover near Grim, then scout the rest of the tunnels. Syphon and Gabriel would go North, try to distract, before heading for the crematorium.

"How much time we got?" Asked Talon.

"Five hours. Good luck." Replied Syphon.

"You too." Replied Rogue.

 

[welsh]

The next few hours were put to good use. The sewar system would sometime run under drains, through which the Trogs could be observed. Using this system they could identify which manholes could be opened with the greatest security.

But the sound of gunfire had attracted the Trogs, and they stood waiting above the different manholes, on occassion removing the heavy metal covers. The humans were below, as were the rats. They could smell the rats, rat blood and occassionally the sounded of a wounded rat. The smell of blood attracted them to the holes.

This allowed the humans to find the exit to the South as well as to map out all the north openings. At each opening to the north, the small group would open the hole and leave a scent. Sometimes, if they had killed a rat nearby, they would drag the dead rat as well.

Once the northern tunnels had been scouted, Syphon and Rogue moved towards the cemetary and the church. The Trogs had left the crematarium alone. A large, concrete and brick structure with windows in tact, the crematorium offered both Gabriel and Syphon the advantage of sight. The hulking bodies of Trogs could be clearly visible in the moonlight.

But so would Gabriel. Quickly Gabriel charted a course through the cemetary and over the nearby walls, that would offer him the best means to get to the church undetected. After that, it would be a mad dash back to the crematorium. Syphon took a position nearby. His rifle might be the only cover fire Gabriel was allowed.

Talon, Rogue and Cerberus found a long drainage pipe that went nearly a half mile to the South of town, and opened into a creekbed, which dropped down into the Great Rift. But it was low to the ground, shadowly and cold. It was the best escape route.

Returning to the sewers, they continued to map the course, leaving their scent where possible, until finally opening the hole from which Grimm might escape.

For his part, Grim had checked his weapons. The sniper rifle was the most powerful weapon, but discretion and speed were key now. He quickly found his 10 mm kit, from which he extracted a folding stock, barrell extensions, noise and sound suppressor, and scope. While suffering a weaker punch than most weapons the subsonic 10mm alternations would allow him to snipe at nearby targets without revealing his own position. He had learned to make the weapon from a colleague who was a weaponsmith, from the time when Grim had been a badge. The weapon had come in handy many times since then.

First he inspected the fire stations basement for possible shooting holes, then moved up first floor, after the Trogs had left. Moving slowly so as not to make a sound, he again found possible vantage points.

Then he began to pick targets, aiming for critical hits, the eyes, groin, legs. Trying to keep the Trogs distracted and away from where his colleagues were preparing his escape.

 

[welsh]

OCC- Ok, the caravan story isn't going anywhere, so its time to mess it up a bit. -

ICC- Ibis saw many things in his sleep. But as he blinked his eyes awake the last one had become so startling real. A dragon, long and red, breathing poison, had flown from out of the clouds and over the caravan. It had reared up, it all its deadly majesty, and blown a cloud of poison gas on all the sleeping men below.

Than it had begun to consume.

The red dragon was among them now.

Ibis woke up with a start. It was still dark outside, and his sense of time meant and the weariness in his old bones told him that it was a few hours before sunlight. He had slept so little, and the dreams had been so distrubing.

Caleb......

Thinking about the dream, Ibis quickly donned his clothes and went to check on Blade. Before he could open the flap of his tent, he could hear the man coughing.

The disease had moved so fast. It should have taken days yet for the plague to become pneumonic, but perhaps it has also mutated by FEV.

Putting on a mask, he went to check on Blade. Yes, pneumonic. Blade would be dead within hours, and there was little he could do.

But if the plague could spread so fast, and if others in the caravan were effected.....

Have to talk to Reed.

Ibis left the tent in a rush and went to find Reed. Outside Reed had posted a guard.

"I need to speak to Reed, its an emergency." Said Ibis.

"Reed's orders were to be undisturbed."

"We have a man dieing in the camp and more may follow." Said Ibis, "Please tell him I need to speak to him."

The guard nodded, told Ibis to wait and then went in. "Oi Mios Dios!" Ibis heard the guard mutter.

Ibis quickly went in.

Reed was dead. He was on the floor, a pool of vomit near him mouth. His legs had been barred, and the dark buboes were clearly visible.

"What the...." muttered the guard.

Nearby were empty syringes and a medical kit Ibis had not seen before. A bottle of pills lay half empty. Ibis inspected the bottle. Tetracycline, a penicillin based drug.

But no one had ever died from a penicillin overdose,

"Have to tell the others." Said the guard, who quickly left.

No one would die of penicillin unless, of course, they were allergic to the drug. Even then, slight exposure might not kill a man, but a heavy dose......

But with Reed dead, what about the caravan?

 

[Sander]

OOC: Haha, Reed dead, that;s very very interesting indeed. Right, let's do something with Pip and Virgil then.

IC:

Pip saw a guard running by, from Reed's tent. He looked petty distressed, but Pip didn't worry about it, he was worrying about the plague, about what to do with it, and what could be done with the university.

"Hey, you there! What are you running for?" was the first response of Virgil to the sight of the guard.

"I-I....Reed's dead. Dead, something....black marks, looked like-Black Death. We're....we're doomed. We're all gonna die!"was what the distressed man said.

Pip looked up, that caravan leader-dead? Plague? Oh crap! That meant...that meant that he ahd come close to Reed, and that meant that there was almost no way now that he wasn't infected. Crap! This wasn't good...

"Reed dead? But....wait. He didn't look sick. Oh man, look have you told anyone yet?" asked Virgil.

"No, not yet. I-just came from-from the tent. I-"

"Good man, you're coming with us. We can't have you running about telling people about this. You keep your mouth shut, and come with us if you want to have any chance of surviving."

"Wha? But-no, I can't do that. I have to tell the others. Why would I survive with you-"

"Look, you were Reed's guard, there is no way you aren't infected yet. Honestly, most people are already infected anyway, and telling them will cause a panic, and noone will get cured. You'd get terrible scenes, people pillaging the camp, destroying it, looking for cures and trying to survive. You don't want that. We here, however, DO have a way to get out of this fucking mess. There is only one chance, there is an old school, a university near here. That's the only chance for medicine. ANd we need men to come with us, to help, to guard. And now you're one of those men."

"Wha? No way, I ain't coming...I have to tell my friends."

"NO! You are NOT telling your friends about this, if you think they have to know, you tell them, but they're coming with us. We have Reed's permission, to take people, even though he's dead, we need to do it. Tellin your friends won't do any good, if you do tell them, tell them to come with us, and to find something that might save them. But from now on, you're not leaving my sight, not until we've left for that univeristy and for the cure."

"What the? You're...threatening me? YOu--piece of crap. You stupid ghoul, you don't scare m-" as the guard was talking Virgil had slowly removed his plasma pistol from his belt, and was now pointing it at the man's face.

"If you're not going to come with us, I'll have to kill you. I cannot risk anyone creating a panic here, this is our ONLY chance to stop that plague. And if people wonder off, we'll encounter it again, and these wastes will be infected. And not just a bit."

The guard swallowed "ALright, I'll come with you. I will. I-I'll let you know what men you can trust. I-I just don't know what will happen with the caravan now."

"I don't care one bit about this caravan right now, we can't help it, let the others help it. Whatever, we need men, and good ones. Not too many. We'll need a group of ten strong men, armed, and able to carry stuff. Food, drink, and some valuables. If the university is inhabited, they may not give things away just because. And they have to be able to shut up before we leave, we cannot have this geting out." said Virgil, as he lowered the pistol and put it back in it's holster.

"O-okay. I-I know some people who you could trust, yeah. C-come. I'll show you." answered the guard, he seemed more willing now.

Pipboy thought about what had just happened, maybe, they could get there in time. Reed's death complicated things, and simplified them at the same time. This could go very wrong...

 

[Gruug]

Suddenly, Gruug stepped out from behind Reeds tent.
"I knew something wrong." Said Gruug.
"Black plague eh? Well, lucky I'm immune. But can I come, help you search for a cure? Because if not, might talky talky." Seeing as Virgil had raised his plasma pistol, Gruug laughed.
"A plasma pistol bolt wont do much to me. Now, maybe if you had a turbo plasma rifle... But hey, why don't you jus put it down now? I can help you, if people are in university, I may be able to scare them into giving us the antidote. Your decision."

 

[welsh]

OOC- Smar, that was great- 'talky talky"! Ok, there is a problem. The plague has got to run rampant for a couple of days.

ICC-

Ibis was looking over the body of Reed when Hook came in.

"What the hell happened?" Demanded Hook.

"Best as I can tell," Said Ibis, sitting up and then slowly standing up, "Reed panicked, decided to shoot himself with what he thought was a cure without realizing that he was allergic. That killed him."

"I heard plague...." Said Hook.

"Yes, he had it. Those are the buboes. I didn't know it had come active and he kept it hidden, probably hoping he could deal with it maybe from his private antibotic stash."

"So he figured he could ride it out when the rest of died." Said Hook, shaking his head.

"That's about right." Said Ibis, covering up the man with a nearby blanket, "But from what I can see, there's not enough antibotic going round. Worse, its more rapid than I thought. Blade's gone pneumonic. He'll be dead before sun-up."

"And the others...."

"If the plague is as fast as that, I would say that by tonight we'll start seeing more men getting sick. By tomorrow morning, people will start dieing. " Said Ibis.

"So this caravan is fucked. Now what?" Said Hook.

Ibis stopped cold. His dreams were coming back to him. "No, this caravan can't be stopped. The cargo has to go through."

"Fuck, Ibis, no caravan is worth this. Everyone will probably be dead of this in a week or two." Hook said, then turned to leave.

Ibis grabbed his arm, stopping him. "It doesn't matter. If this caravan doesn't reach it's destination, than.... no you won't understand."

"Understand what?" Said Hook, surprised at the strength in the old man.

"The end of everything if they win."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Said Hook, bewildered.

"Look at the head of death for the direction to salvation." Said Ibis.

"You sound like a fortune cookie." Said the borderman.

"You must lead us, Hook. You are the senior man here." Said Ibis, insistent.

"Crooked Christ. the word is already spreading out there. In a few minutes it will be a panic."

"That's why you have to hold them together." Said Ibis.

"That's not my job."

"That's your responsibility. Your fate." Said Ibis.

Hook paused.

"We need to keep the caravan together." He finally said, speaking very slowly. "But the hand of death shall lead?"

At that moment Virgil opened the flap, and the ghoul said. "We may have a way out of this."

OCC- Ok, Sander that changes things a bit. But with the virus mutating to be more potent, I think taking the entire caravan is probably the better course.

Folks, don't worry about the other characters. They will catch up eventually.

 

[welsh]

Mandrake at Red Water

OCC- This is an old NPC being brought back in.

ICC-

The acid rains that soaked the town of Red Waters kept most people off the streets. But in the narrow alleys of the Pleasure District, business went on as usual.

Red Waters was going through one of its infrequent periods of peace. The trappers and the merchants had reached an amicable truce, an event that surprised most of the inhabitants. Long feuding, the different factions had suddenly come to agree on a coalition government, and the fighting had suddenly ceased.

Few knew that another power was behind the peace arrangements, and that the new power had its own reasons for assuring that Red Waters remained at peace, at least temporarily.

For most peace came like a blessing, like the rare rains that fell and gave nourishment. But in the wasteland, rain often fell like acid.

On the streets, in the inns and brothels, in the casinos and the holoscreen theaters, business was sparse, but regular. In Red Waters one could get almost anything, if you were willing to pay the price.

Inside DeSade's, an inn that tailored to the more kinky, the guard at the gate turned regular patrons away. Private Party, invitation only.

Inside the dark club, the select invitees gathered around a cage like stage, that was surrounded by a wrap around bar. Illuminated by florescent lights, the tattooed body of a nude woman wrapped itself around a long polished brass pole. The tattoos were of plants and flowers, a lotus and a variety of animals long since extinct but trapped forever in the images of magazines.

The crowd was a mix of political figures, members of the local business community. There were military men and outsiders as well, recent visitors to Red Water. There were a surprisingly high number of women present, wives without their husbands. Many knew each other, but no one spoke to the others. This was not the kind of place where such acquaintances were acknowledged. This was not the kind of crowd that had a habit for such indulgence.

Had they not been invited, they would never have come.

But it was an invitation they could not refuse.

The darkness of the club cloaked them all in its secrecy. They could hardly see each other, and if they did, it was better to look another way. So they watched the stage, and the strange dance of the tattoo. The colors of green and pink, of reds and purples, glowing in the light, but the darkness hiding the skin except for shadows. They could not see the woman's eyes, nor her face. She could have been just an illusion.

It was a mesmorizing performance.

But that was the idea, to get the invitees fixated on the stage.

The dance was only the prelude.

"You have done us a most useful service. Such displays are often necessary to keep everyone aware what's at stake. To keep it personal." Said a man, sipping a transparent pink drink for a tall clean glass.

"You have always paid for my services. That's all I ask." Said the man in dark clothes sitting next to him.

"I heard there were problems." Said the drinking man. "But you executed your mission with the highest talents, as usual."

"Just a couple hitters who tried to stop me north of Tabis." Said the man in black. "But they were distracted by others and didn't delay me much."

"Yes, well those others can be difficult sometimes. But even so, you delivered the cargo. As promised." Said the man, who then put his lips to the pink drink.

"And you have provided compensation. So our business is finished or do you have continued need of my services?" Said the man in black.

"Yes, we have continued need." The smile was wicked.

The dance at ended and the stage went dark. The drinking man whispered, "Now the main show."

Mandrake offered no comment. Such grand displays were not his style.

There were a few minutes of darkness, but the audience was silent and Mandrake thought that this was what it must be like in the grave. Darkness and silence.

Then the lights came on, and Claire McKinner was center stage.

When first he had seen Claire, she had looked like a young innocent virtuous girl, and Mandrake had understood how the illusion of virtue could be used as a mask. She had been sent, by the League, on a mission. To manipulate McKinder and Kroeger, to make the pact happen and thereby allow the capture of that city by League forces. To facilitate the flow of caravans, and thereby trade, the network that held the towns together.

She had almost succeeded. But fate had dealt her a bad hand.

But the League did not tolerate such disobeyance from its agents, and Claire had to be punished.

More, her punishment had to be displayed, so that others would understand what the risks of disobediance were.

The attendees were agents, or contacts, or clients of the league. The wives were the spouses of people of authority. They had come not just from Red Water, but from nearby towns and villages. Their was a lesson learned by vicarious participation.

Now she was on the stage, barely in rags, her body streaked with sweat and grime, her hair furious and wild, heaving in the effects of narcotics. But people would not know that she was under heavy treatment. They might think this was a normal, even banal, sex show.

But for the forks that dug into her eyes.

Or the manacles that kept her down on all fours.

"Do you think she'll start screaming?" Asked the drinking man.

"She usually does." Replied Mandrake.

OCC- will finish this later.

 

[welsh]

Within DeSade's the audience watched the girl whose hands and feet were manacled to the floor.

A loud voice came through the loud speakers around the room, in the dark the disembodied voice sounded like the voice of God himself.

"You are here because the League has asked."

"You are here because the League has given you an opportunity."

"Your town knows peace because the League has made it so."

"You know wealth because the League wishes to be."

"You are saved from violence, because of the benevolence of the League."

The lights on the stage began to flicker, making it all seem slower.

Claire had begun to moan, if not in pain then out of some deep sexual urgency.

The voice continued.

"For this you owe the League. For this you must be loyal."

"For the League accepts no weakness, no disloyalty."

"Witness what falls to those who betray the League."

The light became strong and focused, coming down from above, focused on Claire as if a new sun had been born.

"We give, but those who betray or fail will be punished."

From above a small platform began to descend.

The drinking man leaned to Mandrake and said, "Watch this. You're going to love it."

Mandrake watched silently, without emotion. He had taken his full of Claire. It was Mandrake that had prepared the forks. It was he who had begun the narcotic treatment that had turned her world inward, so that all was hallucination mixed with real pain and suffering. To Claire a mix of sex and nightmare, which she could never render comprehendable, but which she would continue to suffer.

Mandrake doubted that Claire really understood what was happening even as she would feel the violence to be done.

And because she didn't understand or even comprehend the violence, to Mandrake, the show had stopped being interesting.

But of course the audience didn't know that.

The platform lowered and upon it stood the most massive man Mandrake had ever seen. He must have stood near ten feet, naked to the light and audience, his hands huge and powerful. His skin was greenish pale and bulging with muscles. No armor could ever hold such a man, prominent, almost neaderthal features, huge wicked eyes, teeth made more for biting raw meat than dining. This creature was restrained by bars, which seemed to barely constrain its strength. It growled and roared at the audience, even as it was treated by electric shock.

"We found him far to the west, wandering in the desert." Said the drinking man. "Amazing, but somewhat insane. He kept saying he had been dipped. But dipped in what?"

Mandrake didn't speak but merely watched. What if there were an army of such men?

When the platform reached the stage it stopped and the restraints were released. For a moment the giant man merely stood there and looked out over into the darkened room. But it could see nothing. Nothing but the girl.

It knew what was expected. It had been trained. It could remember the electric cattle prods against its skin.

And yet it hesitated.

Nearby one of the bouncers lifted a cattle prod near the stage and everyone could hear the snap and sizzle as the electricity met the cage.

The creature flinched. Apparently it understood pain.

Then it proceeded as it had been trained to. Ripping off the tattered clothing on Claire and violently taking her.

Claire began screaming, screaming in pain, in anquish.

Mandrake wondered what nightmares she must be experiencing even now.

"You have work for me? Then tell me what you want."

The drinking man had difficulty tearing his eyes from the performance, of watching the giant rape the insane girl. He had been looking forward for this and was slightly annoyed that Mandrake wanted to talk business.

Mandrake was uninterested in any of it.

"Well we need to tie up some lose ends of that whole Tabis business." Said the drinking man, whose eyes were still on the stage.

"What kind of lose ends?" Asked Mandrake, thinking about the Blade.

"There were some people who screwed up the plan for Tabis, why young Claire is here for our amusement. You met them yes?" said the drinking man, raising his glass to his lips.

"Yes."

"Well it seems the Blade has escaped Tabis. Even Marcus's plan did not quite work. Remarkable. But we haven't heard from him either." Said the man.

Marcus was missing? Thought Mandrake, who continued to appear impassive.

The drinking man didn't speak, obviously enjoying the show. Mandrake could see that the others in the audience, especially the women, were aghast. A few of the women had sought to leave, but had been turned back. THey had to witness. It was their duty.

"Go on." Said Mandrake, becoming impatient.

"Well, its a multi-task job. You see, we have Grey Cliffs surrounded. We want what they got. " The drinking man said, now turning his attention to Mandrake. Perhaps he had seen enough. "Now there is this caravan that is going bringing supplies. We can't have that. There is also the Blade who we would like to see dealt with in the usual way. Then there is Marcus. He hasn't been answering our calls. We can't have that. There is this business of those other parties we spoke about. Oh and there is this Nightblade who might be a liability, and which I fear the Slayers cannot account for."

"Pay."

"Oh the usual. I have it here, as well as your contacts." Said the drinking man, passing over a large brahman leather bag with the information. The papers would be destroyed after Mandrake had gone through it. "You should leave immediately. Our situation in Red Waters is quite under control. These other matters could use your personal touch. But stay in contact with our people."

Mandrake nodded,"Much to do and so little time."

"Exactly, so please. We have been pleased with your performance before, and the pay is good. But we really can't tolerate failure." Said the drinking man, who looked back at the scene on the stage.

Such wonderful violence. They didn't get this brutally raw back east, or at least when they did it was always slaves.

When the drinking man turned to speak to Mandrake again, Mandrake had already left.

What a pleasure to do business with you, my dear Mr. Mandrake.

 

[Sander]

OOC: This is probably my last post for a week, I'll be leaving for Oslo for week from tomorrow. I might be able to sneak in a post tomorrow, but after that, you won't hear from me for a week. I don't think this should cause any trouble, the group has to get to the university first, and people could still join, and welsh knows what I am trying to do(After all, it was mainly his idea.) And the caravan matters could get tidied up a bit more(as well as this Mandrake thing.). And if the whole caravan should come, that could be done as well.

IC:

Pipboy looked at the two men who had joined them already. Well, men, you can't really call a- mutant a man. The big green mutant looked quite menacing, with his Kalashnikov on his back...

And then there was the guard, a strongly built blonde man. He seemed to be carrying both a pistol and a makeshift rifle, as well as a good leather armor. That was probably some of the best equipment in the camp, no wonder he was Reed's guard.

"Hey, you, Reed's guard," said Virgil, "You said you had some people who could come, who could be trusted."

The guard, obviously concerned about the plasma pistol in Virgil's holster, responded with a small "Yes."

"Well, where are they then?"

"Ehh....yeah, ehh.." was what the distracted guard said, still looking at the pistol, "I-I'll show you to them. F-follow me."

"Hrmph. Easily scared humies.", was what the bug mutant mumbled as a response to the guard's babbling.

"I'm right behind you." was what Virgil said, well aware of the effect of his pistol.

After a while they came to a tent and a cart, opening the tent, they saw five men gambling, throwing dice and shifting around money.
One of the men looked up at Reed's guard and greeted him: "Hey, John, what's up? Weren't you supposed t be guarding Reed's tent?", and, looking up at the rest of the people who just walked in, "And what the fuck is that?"

Realising that the ignorant humie was talking about him, Gruug decided to have a bit of fun, he was tired of all of the prejudice, and now he wanted to play with it. "I, humie, am a mutant. And a big one, so big, that I could rip your head off your shoulders and eat it for lunch. Hmm, that sounds pretty good..."

"What the fuck?", was what the gambler said, slowly reaching for his pistol, which seemed to be his only weapon.

"Calm down, man, he's just poking fun at you, he doesn't mean it." said Virgil.

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you *ghoul*." was what the man said.

"Yeah, you're supposed to believe an old, weak ghoul who couldn't hurt a fly. If it weren't for the plasma pistol he was pointing at your head right now." Apparently, Vrigil had been slowly unholstering his pistol, and now he had quickly pointed the pistol at the guy's head.
Obviously, this didn't go down too well with the other men, and they all stood up, grabbing their guns, and pointing them at Virgil.

"Hey, guys, you do realise that a bullet from one of those things won't hurt me that much, but that a plasma bolt from this here thingie goin straight into your pal's head, won't be a pretty sight, don't you?" said Virgil.

The men looked around, a bit sheepishly, but they didn't lower their weapons.

"Now, if you would all just lower your weapons, and stop being so goddamned suspicious of me and my big friend, we could all sit down, have a drink, and talk about some things."

Finally, one of the men lowered their weapons, and with that, the rest did as well, figuring that the ghoul was probably right. They didn't release their weapons, though.

"Right, thank you," said Virgil, holstering his weapon again.

The man in front of him relaxed again, and he backed away from the ghoul and the mutant, sitting down as far away from them as possible.

Virgil sat down, and so the guard they called James, Gruug remained standing, blocking the only entrance and exit from the tent. Pip had already sat down in a corner, for as far as he knew, noone had noticed him yet.

After everyone sat down, Virgil started talking.

"We've got ourselves a real big problem here. Reed's dead, and he isn't just dead, he died of the black plague."

"The black plague?? Fuck, we-FUCK! We're doomed, we're gonna die, we can't.. We have to leave! Now.", the guy who uttered these words stormed for the exit, but was pushed back down by Gruug.

"Sit, listen to the ghoul." said Gruug.

Apparently, the rest of the men was too shocked to say anything.

"Right," continued Virgil, "there is only one way we can stop this thing-it's by going to a pre-war school, a university. They may have some medicine there, and it's the only way to save your own godforsaken lives. We need more men, more guards to come with us, and James here figured that you'd be trustworthy enough. YOu need to come with us, now, and not tell anyone, we don't want a panic outbreak, and it's the ONLY way we can get out, the ONLY way we can save everyone's hide around here."

"But-but..." was the only thing one of the guard's could say.

"If you're not up for it, we'll have to kill you. We can't let anyone tell anyone, we do NOT want panic around here."

Looking at the holstered plasma pistol, and the huge mutant, the men gave in.

"A-alright, we'll come. We'll come."

"Alright, pack your stuff, grab food, water, and some stuff to trade. Take along your weapons as well, stay here and don't tell anyone about the plague. We'l come get you when we can leave..." said Virgil.

Now the four people came into the tent, left the five guard's to themselves, packing their stuff, and speaking and thinking about what just happened...

 

[Reaper]

Syphon looked out through the crematorium windows, examining the layout of the streets, the spacing of targets, checking angles. The building would provide a decent firing position.

Staring out at the sky as the first signs of the false dawn were visible, Syphon knew it was time.

He just hoped he could keep the Trogs off Gabriel's back once all hell broke loose. More than that, he hoped the assassin could make it to the church undetected. Helping Gabriel get back was one thing, keeping him alive there and back was another.

He glanced down to where Gabriel was crouched, stretching his leg muscles, preparing for the tense stealth approach and the hasty retreat after he torched the church. After a few moments, the assassin stood and moved to Syphon, slipping the strange sword from his back. Gabriel leaned forward till his mouth was almost touching Syphon's ear.

"This will slow me down. Hold it for me, it's important." The sniper took the weapon and nodded sincerely. He understood the attachment between a man and his weapons.

"It'll be as safe as I am." he whispered in reply. "I've got your back on this one. Just get in there quiet, then I'll take care of anything in your way."

Gabriel nodded lightly clasped Syphon's shoulder as he moved past him toward the exit. The assassin paused by the door, then slipped out into the moonlight.

Once outside, Gabriel dropped to the ground, just another shadow on the moonlit landscape. He closed his eyes, listening intently, making sure no creatures were skulking nearby, hidden from view. Satisfied the immediate area was clear the assassin rose to his knees and began moving in a swift crouch, jinking between the graves, flitting from shadow to shadow. He slowed as he neared the wall, knowing this was a dangerous moment. He was going to be vulnerable as he vaulted over the obstacle. He stopped and listened again. Now Gabriel could hear the sounds of movement. The big Trogs were not stealthy as the hunted through the town. They were angry and some had already been wounded by his and Syphon's explosive escape, though only the critically wounded would still show injuries after five hours.

As the noises died away, Gabriel took a breath, then pushed himself up, rolled onto the wall and dropped down on the other side. He listened again and detected no sounds of surprise or alarm. He was still undetected.

Now out of the cememtary he had to move quickly. The church was just across the way, not far now but it could become an infinite distance in a few minutes as he tried to get back. He was preparing to move off when he heard the thud of heavy footsteps coming his way. Gabriel's position offered little protection from view so he made a snap decision and powered forward, crossing the narrow pathway and taking shelter behind a low fence which surrounded the church and the smaller, original cemetary. He could still hear the noises but they were slower.

Damn. Gabriel figured the Trog must have spotted something. The beast had probably caught a glimpse of him in its periphiral vision. Now it would surely investigate. On cue, Gabriel heard the footsteps come toward him.

The assassin knew the Trogs' nightvision wasn't fantastic but adequate to see him in the moonlight. He had to move into deeper shadow but his small patch of cover was surrounded by the serene light of the moon which glared brightly to he Nightblade.

The beginnings of a meagre, inefficient but possibly successful plan formed in his mind and he cursed himself for his inexperience in dealing with superior opponents. He was used to dealing with inferiors who could not overcome him, regardless of numbers. Now, faced with inhuman beasts, he felt weak and most frustrating of all, he felt like the prey.

No, he was the predator. That was the way of things. He had always been the predator, he always would be.

He had to deal with the Trog the way a predator dealt with enemies, and he had to do it soon. Gabriel could not let Syphon believe he had been compromised or else the sniper might start shooting and then the plan would be much more difficult to complete.

Gabriel's body began working in its customary synergy with his fighting brain. Weapons filled his palms, the panga in his right, the tanto in his left, and he waited, pressed hard against the low wooden fence, silent, hidden.

The big trog plodded forward glancing around, hoping to catch sight of whatever the fastmoving shadow had been. The beast was hungry and it hoped to find a lost and lonely rat, which would soon become its breakfast.

Gabriel heard the creature lumber forward. Soon it would be able to look over the fence and spot him. The assassin wished there was another way but to move to either side would certainly reveal his presence. Stillness and timing was his only hope.

Thud, thud, thud...

Two more steps, thought Gabriel.

Thud, thud...

"Huh?" came the Trog's confused voice as it watched in stunned surprise as the air in front of him suddenly became occupied and it saw two bright blue pricks of reflected moonlight. It heard a dull, wet thunk and the trog opened its mouth but no sound came. Then the pain hit it.

Gabriel's right hand was still locked onto the handle of the heavy panga which was buried deep in the Trog's throat, cutting off the windpipe and silencing the massive beast. The creature was mortally wounded and unable to call for help but it wasn't down yet. Gabriel knew he had to kill it before it had time to react. Without hesitation, the assassin leapt up for height, balancing on the creatures thick legs, and slammed the tanto into the Trog's right eye. Gabriel twisted the blade savagely savagely, then wrenched both weapons free, dropping back to the ground, away from the dead Trog.

The beast stayed on its feet for a second before toppling over. Gabriel darted forward and swiftly wiped his blades on the corpse's clothes, as he was unwilling to re-sheath his weapons while still stained with the Trog's blood. Then he was away, moving fast toward the church. Time was of the essence. He guessed Grim would be trying to distract the Trogs in the vicinity of the fire-station but it could not be long before another hunter happened upon the new corpse outside. He had to hurry.

Gabriel scurried quickly to the busted down door and moved inside. He had to prepare the blaze and set about the task. They had found incendiary fuels inside he crematorium as Grim had hoped. Most of it was gone or decayed but two sealed cans of fuel for the furnaces had survived and were tightly fastened to his belt, he removed the tight wrappings which had stopped them moving or making noise on the trip over. He opened the cans and began spreading the fuel over everything. THe blaze had to draw a crowd. He emptied one can and used half of the other, then he placed the half full can in a large pool near the doors. His plan was for the second can to explode, hoping the noise would help bring the Trogs in. Hopefully this would happen after he had time to get away.

Gabriel stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The church would burn alright. He tensed his muscles and worked his neck, preparing for the escape. He was as ready as he was ever going to be. He pulled a flare from his belt and donned his goggles, then he looked up and saw, through the length of the church, framed by the opposite, half closed doors, a tall, wide Trog staring at him.

Fuck.

Still, at least he was ready to leave, Gabriel told himself. The assassin hammered the flare against his leg, triggering it, and lauched the fiery tube into the building, turned and ran.

He heard the whoosh as the fuel caught a wave of heat hit him from behind but he kept running. Now it was up to Syphon to keep any swift footed Trogs off his back. Gabriel didn't like relying on another person to keep him safe, but at least he knew he wasn't expected to go hand to hand with every Trog that got in his way.

That was a small consilation.

 

[Sander]

Pip, Virgil, Gruug and the blonde guard entered the tent again, telling the guards to come along. All of the men had packed their stuff, usually consisting of a gun, ammo, a bit of food and water and one or two valuables. The guards were distressed, but as they left the camp, heading for the unknown, towards the university, they realised that this was serious.

ANd so, the lone group of nine left the camp, leaving behind them a disease ready to start taking victims.

OOC: Alright, that's my last post for a week. Smar, you'll have to lead the group towards the university now. Welsh, if you need the caravan to follow, it'd be best if one of the men still told one of his friends, thus leaving another man knowing where the group is heading.

 

[welsh]

OCC- Ok there is a bit of confusion at the caravan, so I will try to clean that up. Also, back at Trog-town.

ICC-

Ibis looked over at Blade, who was now coughing up phegm and blood. It was possible that a drug treatment, even now, could save the man. But that would put the rest of the caravan in jeopardy.

He stepped out of the tent where Hook was waiting with McReady.

"He won't make it." Said Ibis.

Hook nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"Better let me. I have been most exposed and I'm not sure how infectious the virus is." Said Ibis.

Hook nodded again. But his attention was elsewhere. Further down the road he could see the group of nine going ahead. Speed was of the essence and so he had approved that this small group should act as forward scouts. The rest of the caravan would follow.

McReady shook his head. "Should be me up there. I know the country, they don't."

"I need you here. If they fail, then you need to get us through." Said Hook.

Virgil had spoked to both Hook and Ibis before leaving, outlining his plan. Hook, now in charge, had first doubted the idea, but there were no other alternatives. Reluctantly he had agreed. Ibis had offered to go as well, but Hook had restrained him. They needed Ibis with the caravan, Hook had said, but not telling him that Ibis would only slow them down.

Not everyone was happy.

"There things out there that could kill 'em." Said McReady.

"Their expendable." Replied Hook. "Now we got to get this caravan moving. They'll be talking about Reed soon enough and then things will get tense. Keep em active is to keep em quiet. Lets go."

Ibis nodded and watched the others walk away. When they had passed some distance he removed a poison-filled syringe from his bag, lifted the tent flap, and went to Blade.

___________________

Grim had waited for the final hour before exiting out the cellar doors and into the grass. On his belly, he had crawled across the cold dirt, focusing on what was ahead of him. Only 50 paces away, the manhole was almost invisible on the dark earth.

He had gotten a quarter of the way there when he had heard the sounds of fire, the sound of old would combusting, behind him. He hurried. Soon the old church would light the town like a giant torch.

Still moving, still concentrating. He thought he could see the shape of Talon and Rogue ahead, down and waiting near the manhole.

He kept crawling. The manhole now less than 20 paces.

He didn't hear the Trog until the creature was nearly atop him. It had come out from behind the fire station. Hit three time by Grim's silence 10mm, it had figured the bullets had come from the fire house. Years of hunting had taught it patience.

He moved quickly, its massive powerful body moving like a locomative.

Rogue saw it and fired, twice, but it wasn't enough. Talon got up on a knee and fire a burst of fire. The bullets stitched into the creature, but still it came.

"Grim, run!" Called Rogue, now worried about other targets.

Grim got on his feet and jumped ahead. He could feel the rush of air as the the swing of the club narrowly missed his head. Knowing he wouldn't make it, he turned and fired his six shooter, as he ran.

Whether the bullets hit or missed he would never know. The second swing caught him and picked him up, carring him back, past Rogue and Talon, over the manhole. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

 

[Gruug]

The rest of the people still had not noticed pip, but Gruug had. A tiny shadow, darting here and there in the glowing green ground. Gruug waited for the little pip to start walking next to him, and then, SNATCH! Gruug pulled him up to face level.
"So, what are you up to, little boy? How do we know you won't just find the medecines and scamper off with them all for yourself hmmm?"

 

[welsh]

When Grim came too, he was being pulled across the ground, and he could feel water, his feet and lower legs wet.

"Where are we?" He asked.

"South of town. In a ditch heading east. You're lucky we were there." Said the voice.

Grim tried to concentrate on the voice, but it was hard. Talon.

Grim was becoming more aware of the ache and pain in his side. "What happened?"

"Those Trogs are faster then they look. One of them nailed you with a club. It threw ya, but you seem to be ok. Some ribs might be broken though. Little worried you're bleeding inside. Still we need to go."

"The Trog?"

"Dead. I got him hard with the 20 mm and Rogue's hell with that rifle." Said Talon.

"I should be. Damn near raised with it." Said Rogue, who was now peering into Grim's face. "Almost lost you old man."

"Not that old, youngster." Grim tried to smile. But it was too hard.

"Yeah well you still look like shit." She smiled.

"What did ya see? Asked Talon.

"Fire is going strong at the church. Seems to be keeping the monsters busy." Said Rogue. "We follow this ditch a ways, we should be ok."

"Gabrield.... Syphon?" Asked Grim.

"Not yet." Said Rogue, now more serious. Where were those guys.
"Can you walk?"

"I can try." Said Grim. But walking wouldn't be easy. Still, a lesser man might have been killed with the blow. But then Grim wasn't wholly human anymore. But the price of that needed to be paid, and soon.

 

[Syphon]

Syphon broke the one of the buildings main windows and layed his rifle on it, for stability. The dirty, old glass crushed to the floor, making a loud crackle. With a lite cigarete in Syphons mouth, he crouched down and now at level with the rifle, he began his work.

Syphon grunted lowly as he viewed through his scope, overlooking the whole ordeal. Syphon blew out some smoke from the side of his mouth, as he tossed the cigarete, with his free hand, out on the outside of the building.

"Damn, Where's Gabriel?" Syphon mumbled as he searched for his comrade in his rifle scope.

 

[Reaper]

Run. Run. Run. Gabriel's mind kept telling him to keep moving. IT wasn't that far to go back to the church but all his movements seemed to be in slow motion. He hadn't been going long but it already felt like an eternity. The knowledge that any moment a Trog could ambush him hammered at his brain but he would not let the fear reach him. Still, he hoped Syphon was keeping a careful look out.

Gabriel pushed harder and saw the cemetary wall coming up fast. He leapt forward, planted one foot on the wall and pushed off in a long jump. He landed easily and continued running, dodging between the graves.

He could see the crematorium and he was glad that it had transpired that no trogs had passed by as he they hurried to the burning church.

His Pipboy vibrated in his pocket and he looked down in surprise. losing concentration for a second cost him as his foot snagged in the weeds and he flew forward slamming his shoulder against a gravestone and knocking his head against the hard packed dirt of the ground. Gabriel's vision blurred and he fought against the seductive allure of unconsciousness.

He tried to sit up but stabbing pain shot through his right arm. The impact hadn't broken anything as far as he could but apart from the pain, his arm was numb, just the kind of dead weight he didn't need. Gabriel used his left arm to push himself to his knees when, as the thudding noise of rushing blood in his ears subsided, he heard the crunch of heavy footfalls.

Gabriel looked up and saw a massive Trog bearing down on him. The thing would have been a serious challenge even he was fit but now the assassin knew he had no chance. The trog swung its heavy club but Gabriel launched himself to the side, avoiding the blow, which demolished the tombstone he had been resting against.

The assassin stumbled as he tried to find his feet. He could sense the beast righting itself and moving to give chase. Gabriel's only chance now was to run, a feat he was not in the best shape to do.

He hurried forward, racing for the shelter of the crematorium and the protection of Syphon's powerful rifle. But even as he ran, Gabriel knew the thing was gaining on him. Escape and evade where his usual tactics against insurmountable odds but that was impossible here. Fighting was pointless as well.

It was a simple choice, picking between the two hopeless plans. Gabriel may have been an assassin; a cold murderer who struck from the shadows but he was also a fighter. It ran in his blood, and blood decided for him.

Gabriel skidded to a stop and turned, drawing his SiG left-handed. Even with his off-hand the assassin knew he could hit a moving target in the head at ten yards, maybe more depending on the particular conditions. He raised the the powerful handgun and fired a single round.

The trog's head exploded in a shower of gore that reached several feet above the Trog's massive shoulders. The huge body was carried forward by its momentum and came crashing down to the ground two feet in front of the stunned assassin.

The loud echo of the gunshot reverberated a moment in the eerie accoustics of the graveyard. It was a second before Gabriel realised what had happened and he turned and raced toward his saviour.

He could see the barrel of Syphon's rifle protruding from one of the windows and gun-smoke still wafted from the muzzle, floating gently up towards the sky.

Thank heaven for sniper cover, thought Gabriel as he hurried to the crematorium.

 

[welsh]

OCC- Ok, Reaper and Syphon, the next post on Trogtown goes to either of you. Everyone else is already out and making their escape.

ICC-

Ibis came out of the tent, the poison having done what it was designed to do. He had already wrapped up Blade in sheets and would burn the body after the others had left. It was better that way. The caravan men had to focus on the business at hand, dwelling on Blade's demise wouldn't help them.

"Morning Ibis. Said Jim smiling, then he looked about. "Looks like Cerberus didn't make it back last night."

Ibis shook himself awake. "What, no. They didn't get back in last night. But they probably will catch up."

"Hope so." Said Jim. "Hate to see more of them Trogs, especially at night."

Ibis hadn't thought about Grim and company. Their fates were tied with that of Caleb, their destiny was somehow shared. Life had worked its mysterious magic to pull them together once, fate, and now they were together in destiny.

It was a destiny that he didn't share, however.

Ibis looked over at Jim. Why hadn't he come down with the virus yet? What about the others?

He had given Jim a shot of antibotics early, right after he had been engaged with the Prairie Dogs just shy of Pope's Waystation. Perhaps that antibotic had got the disease early.

"Blade is dead. So is Reed. Keep it to yourself." Said Ibis, quietly.

"Dead? Christ. What the hell....." Said Jim, now suddenly less pleased with himself.

"Plague. I got Blade wrapped up and we'll burn him as soon as the caravan has past. Reed is still in his tent. He needs tending too, but I'll take care of that. You are to stay away from the bodies. Just get the carts ready and hitched."

"Well but I am supposed to drive Nat's wagon." Said Jim.

"Nat can find another person or she can drive the wagon herself. She'll probably be working with me until we are through this, anyway. If we make it."

"Damn, is it that bad?" Said JIm.

"Probably. We'll know by tonight how bad it is, by how many survive."

Ibis could hear Hook shooting to the others to get going. Already many of the wagons were hitched and were on their way. But the path had changed. They weren't following the same eastward direction. Now they were heading in the way that Virgil and his company had taken.

Hook was issuing orders as if it was his caravan. One of the men yelled over, "Hey where the hell is Reed."

Hook merely replied. "Don't you fret about Reed. It won't do him no good no how. Just mind your work, that's what you're paid for."

Then Hook continued to move about, urging the caravan on, pushing them for speed.

Nat had woken up after not having much sleep the night before. "What's the rush?" She asked Hook.

"Speak to Ibis and he'll fill you in. And remember that money that you owed Reed for package?"

"You mean the money I had to work on my back for? What about it?" Asked Nat. The deal with Reed was still a sore topic for her. She wasn't much for freebies, but was glad that Reed had not visited her that night.

"Well ya don't owe it no more." Relied Hook.

"I think I need to square that with Reed." Said Nat.

"Reed ain't much for squaring things with anyone anymore. Speak to Ibis." Said Hook.

"What the hell does Ibis have to do with it?" Said Nat, thinking that perhaps Ibis had paid her debt as some kind of charity.

"I want you working with Ibis closely. He'll need an assistant and you seem pretty competent doctorwise." Said Hook, ignoring her question. "Now we got to move and be quick. We ride for our lives today."

With that Hook turned his back and made to where the food cart was preparing breakfast, telling them to hurry and get going.

Nat watched him pass, and then went to speak to Ibis.

 

[welsh]

Grim felt weak in the legs. Whatever damage the blow had caused, he was at his limits.

When was the last time he had eaten a real meal? Not since Tabis, really. And then only because Ibis had forced him.

For the past few weeks he had been learning about the changes done to him. He had adjusted to the coldness of his skin and the lower body heat. He had become accustomed to less sensitivity in his fingers, or how the sun hurt sometimes. He had discovered he could go for long days with the feeling of hunger and still function.

But in the process he had begun to starve himself.

Ibis and Wally had made a choice for him . To save his life. They had made the choice because of what two friends had done out of necessity to save his life. Others had made choices not of his choosing and now Grim had to pay the consequences.

So when Ibis had told him that his new diet required that he ingest human tissue, he had resisted. It was his choice to eat or not, and he refused. Ibis had warned him that eventually his body would give in or it would collapse.

Now he was about to collapse.

Yet he did not want to die. He thought about his daughter, out there somewhere. He thought about his friends who needed him. He thought about the times he had laughed, the emotions he had known. He was not yet ready to leave.

But few rarely are. It was beyond reconciliation. He had told himself that this new lease was nothing more than an extended death sentence. That he had become something other than ghouls. Ghouls didn't eat humans (regardless of what the prejudices said) unless by necessity. But for him to survive he would have to eat either living tissue or recently dead tissue. Like some vampire.

It was unacceptable. He would not be that person.

Yet he did not want to die either.

He leaned back against the sides of the creek bed, and rested. His legs felt so heavy. The blow stung fiercely. Talon had gone back to wait for Syphon and Gabriel, Rogue was up ahead, leaving him alone.

He lay back and looked up at the stars and wondered how easily it would be, just to close his eyes and let his body finally give up the struggle.

____________________________


The first man came back from the front of the caravan before the caravan had gone half the day. He had the buboes.

It wasn't even noon yet. Ibis knew this because of the place of the sun in the morning sky.

He let the man into the cart and gave the reigns to Jim. Than he shot the man with an injection of antibotics and drew blood. It wasn't easy to test the blood in the rocking of the cart, but Ibis tried the best he could.

Ibis's cart was last in line, just behind Nat's who drove her cart alone. By the evening, he half expected that it would be filled with bodies.

Hook called back, before noon, telling the men there would be no break for lunch. That they had to make better time. He also said that anyone who showed signs of buboes or began coughing should speak to Ibis.

Less than a half hour latter, a man in the fourth cart started coughing.

He was brought back to the Ibis's cart and given an injection, but Ibis had no hope.

Jim watched this with growing fear and dispair. More to liven Jim's spirits, Ibis gave Jim a booster shot of antibotic.

By mid afternoon, there were four other men coughing.

Sun was nearly setting and Hook had stopped the caravan to change brahma. He had come back to Ibis. "What do you think? Should we camp or keep going?"

Ibis shook his head and went back to check on both men. The coughing man was dead. The man with buboes had begun to cough of spittel and blood.

Ibis looked to Hook. "If we camp tonight, I can't tell you how many will still be alive."

Jim, his mouth covered with a surgical mask, dragged the body of the dead man, and lit it afire. The other men in the company watched. The feeling of dispair was beginning to grow among all of them.

Hook moved to a spot where all could see him, atop a large rock.

"Alright now, you all know me." He said, standing tall. "You know how I make my livin'. I ain't going to bullshit ya. Reed's dead. He died because of the virus that its spreading among all of us. We have lost two others already, and God knows how many of us are already infected. Maybe all of us. "

The caraven men began to murmor among themselves.

But Hook spoke louder. "Now I ain't Reed, but I am running this show until we get to Grey Cliffs. I aim to bring as many of you out of this as possible. There's a chance that we can get medicine for what ails us up ahead. We've sent men to try to secure it for us."

"So you knew?" Called one of the men.

"We suspected and we got plan. Now some of you might think to cut and run. If you do, chances are you'll be dead by tomorrow. But it don't matter. If I catch you running, I'll damn well shoot you myself."

And Hook drew his long sidearm.

"Why should we stick with you?" Called another, 'Why should you be boss."

"My job is to help provide security for this caravan, to escort. My job ends in Grey Cliffs. That's what you hired on, that's the deal you made, that's what you keep. It's non-negotiable."

Before someone else could speak, Hook continued. "Now we going, all night if we got to, until we get to where we can get some medicines. Then we continue. But there will be no rest tonight. I know you're tired, but if you sleep now you won't likely wake up."

Hook paused. But no one spoke.

"So we push on. Or we die tryin. Lets pack it up and move." Said Hook, and then he walked away.

As the sun was setting the caravan was on the move again.