Anthony Hunter

I killed my own wife. And she wasn't even alive when I did it.

[ava--reed-deactivated20150213]

She glared at him with an intensity that promised him an early death. “Fuck you,” she told him, putting the rifle down and pulling out her knife. She drove the blade into the skull of a zombie that managed to hang from the car door. Right then she didn’t really have the time to call him all the words she wanted to. Ava made quick work of disposing of the infected that managed to get a grip on the vehicle. 

The sharp turn he took made her head spin for a few, uncounted moments: the little contents in her stomach churning and threatening to crawl back up her throat. Ava held it in: wasting food like that would be shameful. 

After the turn, everything seemed quiet again. No groans, no growls, no blood pumping and deafening her ears. Just the engine humming and Anthony’s sigh. If it were any other day she would’ve taken this chance to snap at him and tell him he was an idiot in the first place for assuming she knew how to shoot a rifle. Ava could handle the pistol just fine, but until that day weapons like rifle’s had been out of her reach. An inconvenience she was actually a little grateful for. Right then, though, snapping at him didn’t matter. Now was the time to come up with a plan B.

Everything she had was in that car: her makeshift weapons, her food, her clothes, her photos. Her life was in there, or what little she had left of it. She wondered if the infected had somehow broken into the vehicle and hoped they hadn’t. They ruin it all. Ava had no desire to smell zombie dirt or to find Ellie’s pictures contaminated with any bit of them. 

Ava felt his gaze on her, probably checking for any danger seeping through the surface. There was none. The blood that stained her right hand almost touched her elbow but as long as it didn’t get in her body, it wouldn’t do her or him any harm. Her eyes stared at the crimson blended with her skin. The sound of his voice broke through her numbed thoughts, shattering the silence that had finally found it’s way there. Ava turned blank eyes at him, not really caring what he opinionated or what his methods of survival were. Everyone was different, everyone had their own way. Whether he’d believe it or not, Ava had already done her fair share of terrible things to survive. 

She stared at him, at his angered eyes and found herself only rolling her eyes at him. All her sarcastic, mean retorts hushed under the shadow of her thoughts. She found herself saying something different, though. Something with no spite or malice behind it. “The parking lot,” she began, eyes blankly staring down at her bloodied arm with only one thing on her mind. “You think it’ll be clear again tomorrow?”

[prisonhunt-blog]

Anthony frowned in slight confusion when she spoke. Her tone was a lot more neutral and perhaps sullen than their earlier encounter. 

"Unless some idiot grabs the attention of those walkers, they're not going anywhere," he gaged. She seemed a lot lonelier all of sudden. He wasn't trying to act like he was genuinely concerned and worried for her. He was just plain curious as he asked, "Why? Was there something you needed to get? There's plenty of other places to get resources from Ava. Geez."

He shook his head, almost as if he was disappointed at the absurdity of her logic. If she wanted supplies she didn't have to be emotional about not finding them at some derelict place. Anthony failed to register that there could have been sentimental objects that Ava could have left behind. 

[prisonhunt-blog]

trespassing | cheyenne | Anthony & Dean

[closer-is-god-blog]

At the mention of a back room Dean’s mirth comes to a halt; he didn’t like to feel like he couldn’t trust a sheep to be a sheep. Being jumped for having the gall to look for supplies in someone’s chosen refugee irritated him. He didn’t think it was always so hard to get along with one another, was it?

He nodded and waited to follow the other man from a safe distance, speaking only briefly in acknowledgement of the vocalized plan, “Lets go, then.” A plan he wasn’t ultimately pleased with, but still held some hope for.

Once he’s behind the man the gun comes up again, pointed directly at him, warily, distrustfully. Dean’s nerves weren’t enjoying this prospect, the one of him being fought for an unnecessary dominance. It was putting a damper on his earlier good humour, and he couldn’t dismiss the possibility, the very high one, that his friend here was trying to lure him into a trap.

A thought the rifle only cements. It was another cock-show and he didn’t like it.

"Yes. I’m intending on going down state, heading to some place rural and out of the way," his eyes don’t move from the other’s form, and he refuses to come within six feet of him now. Watching the gun and wherever the man’s hands go with a heightened unease.

"How about you?" he’s almost mocking him with the returned interest, "why’re you in an airport? I assume you don’t have any plans on leaving?" He seemed awfully attached. Dean’s watchfulness doesn’t waver, and it certainly didn’t only apply to the man before him—Dean had never been to this building, so he’s constantly checking the corners, the doors, there could be others here, even traps, or hidden means of self defense. It’s all enough to keep him on edge.

[prisonhunt-blog]

"I don't think the rural places are any safer than here," Anthony replied frankly, still trying to find those batteries and lantern lights. He had not glanced once more at the stranger, oblivious to the gun pointed at him again. He only shook his head at the question posed back at him. He wasn't convinced by the genuineness of the stranger.

Nonetheless he answered. "Landed here on the day of the outbreak," he briefly said. "Might as well stay here instead of trying to find a safer refuge at some unfamiliar state." He might have been telling the truth, but he was careful not to reveal too much about the fact that the airport was in fact the safest refuge for him, what with all the abundant resources.

He finally catches sight of the batteries and the lantern lights. He would need these for his own use - but there was plenty of that somewhere else within the airport anyway. 

"I'd have plans on leaving once this nightmare is over." He almost seemed amused at what he was saying. He jolly well knew that this was life forever and the thought of even pretending to believe that the world would be a better place seemed completely ridiculous. 

Anthony turned to the door with the things on his hand. "These are the things you need, right?" He looked up and his face faltered, disappointment and hatred creeping inside him again. "You've got to be fucking with --- " 

His attention was taken away when he heard the shattering of what sounded like glass. He frowned at this, which was followed by the familiar gurgling and groaning of the walking dead. Anthony couldn't believe it - there was no way in hell there could be zombies within the airport. He had cleared them all already.

Unless... he deadpanned at the stranger, his eyes slowly burning in fury. He must've done something to let zombies in. Anthony quickly cocked his gun and positioned it right at the stranger's face. 

"What the hell did you do?"

[violet-porter]

the absence of god :: cheyenne

[violet-porter]

Allowing the weapon to fall to her side feels a little like getting off one’s feet at the end of a long day; an incredible relief. The metal still cuts into her hand, a reminder that she is still unsafe, but so long as she’s not staring down its sight she feels a little better. For the first time, she allows herself to get a good look at the man she’s only just stopped viewing as a threat. Her consideration of his face is cut short though, as she feels bile rise in her throat at his warning. It was foolish of her to consider herself reasonably safe in their stronghold, but she can’t quell the shattering feeling that starts deep in her stomach.

Briefly, she looks out over the roof, expecting to see them coming now, but only darkness and soft-bodied trees stare back at her. Violet realizes she’s been holding her breath and chuffs a sigh. “Thank you, Anthony. For the warning.” Reluctantly, she returns her gaze to his.

"I appreciate it." Sincerity has always been her strong suit, and on this roof she’s nearly made her gratefulness as palpable as the chokingly humid night. She begins to walk past him, mind reeling, wondering who she should wake first, who’s the best shot, praying they don’t make it here at all, but catches his arm with her hand as another thought dawns on her. Holding his bicep, firm but still gentle she cants her head inquiringly, "Are you alone? You’ll stay here with us until they pass, won’t you?" 

[prisonhunt-blog]

Anthony appreciated the woman's genuineness. The other survivors that Anthony had so unfortunately bumped into were always cynical and life-threatening. Perhaps they were just like him. But to realise that people can actually be soft and ... nice - that felt like a reminder of what life used to be like. 

He watched the woman move. But upon feeling a grip on his arm, he couldn't help but tighten his hold on his rifle as if his security was being compromised. That changed however at the woman's questions.

Yes, he was alone. But would he stay there until the walkers passed? Marie-Rose would insist on that, but he wasn't her. He knew the consequences of choosing to stay behind, thinking that it would even be possible to win the zombies headed their way. 

He waited, thinking about a response to her question. That was when he heard the first signs of the incoming horde of zombies. The echo of a loud groan was heard from the distance. They weren't visible yet. But they were bloody near.

"Violet," he said, believing that calling her by name would help ease the fear that he had unwillingly injected in her. "They're not just gonna 'pass'. They've probably smelled the aggregation of fresh human flesh from your barracks and I'm willing to bet that they're not going to leave this place untouched."

He checked that his rifle was still fully loaded nonetheless. Anthony looked up at her again and jerked his head to the other end of the road where there was a junction.

"I would advise that you lead your group down the next road. There's an abandoned building that will camouflage you guys with its strong cement smell. At least till morning. Then you can find another place to reside in - perhaps a distance away from this wrecked place." 

[ava--reed-deactivated20150213]

The cold hands the grazed her back and chilled her to the bone: leaving her with a sense of death she didn’t quite understand yet. Ava idly wondered what it would be like to give in, to say goodbye to all the pain and misery and loneliness. She wondered if a better sensation would take over. Before the feeling of death could get a full, ripping grip on her, a loud noise interrupted and made those frozen hands disappear. A gun shot.

Anthony shouted her name like he knew her. Like he cared. Like the fact that she lived or died actually meant something to him, whatever that may be. It’d been an unbelievably long time since her name had been mentioned in that tone, regardless of the curse it was accompanied by.

Somehow. the combination of his holler and the desperate eyes he shot her brought her back. The need to know what the other side felt like turned to dust and vanished into the soft nocturnal breeze. There was no time for thinking then, only acting. Her survival instinct took over, consumed her whole. The way her legs pushed against the concrete seemed like something from a a dream. It wasn’t her. It was something else. Something she didn’t control.

Whatever it was, by the time she realized it’d taken over her hands where pulling Anthony’s car door open and lifting her up: accommodating her backside into the seat. By the time she noticed her momentary blackout the car door was shut and a rifle sat uncomfortably in her palms, her chest heaving in anxiousness. 

Ava did her best - as she had done so many, many times before - to adjust and rise up to the occasion. Without a second thought she rolled down the window and pointed the rifle out the door, relying on luck to actually hit a target. 

[prisonhunt-blog]

Anthony kicked onto the gas pedal and zoomed past the horde of zombies that were dangerously close to the car already. When he glanced sideways to where Ava was, positioned to shoot the zombies, he shook his head. 

"Will you stop wasting precious ammo and actually shoot them?" 

He hated the sound of bullets going to waste. Each was representative of a chance given to them to survive another day and it was a traumatising sight to see how those bullets were going to waste - all because she couldn't shoot.

He made a sharp turn to the right to avoid the zombies immediately. As well as to give a reason for Ava to stop shooting aimlessly. They found themselves driving on a quieter road and Anthony sighed in relief. The danger they had just faced wasn't extremely close, but every zombie encounter was always a dangerously close distance to their impending doom. 

He turned to her, checking to make sure she hadn't been bitten as he scanned her exposed skin. He hadn't registered the fact that his 'checking' could be misinterpreted as 'checking out'. When he looked back up at Ava, he asked in a tone of disbelief, "You cannot be serious about relying on a knife to stab your way through to survive."

[ava--reed-deactivated20150213]

She heard the noises before reaching her car: his warning deemed unnecessary yet appreciated, for what it was worth. The lack of artificial lighting made it difficult to distinguish clearly where the creatures were. Their smell did an alright job of giving them away, though. Ava would’ve scrunched her nose at the stench of rotten meat but there was no time even for small luxuries. 

Ava slipped the knife from it’s holder around her waist and took cautious steps towards her car. Maybe she could reach it in time. She was tempted to pull her gun out - the one safety rucked behind her back, on the waistband of her dirty jeans - but she decided against it for the moment. Only for emergencies, she reminded herself.

Now halfway to her car, Ava took careful steps and tried to distinguish the figures of the undead with what little amount of light the moon dared to provide them with. The fact that there was a cloudy sky didn’t help at all. It became like an unwanted, forced game of guessing. The objective: live. That was enough to make the adrenaline rush through her. 

It doesn’t take more than a tad of instinct and a trained ear for Ava to realize where the zombies were coming from: their migration seemingly moving from behind her car and now beginning to rain into the small parking space in a scattered, disorganized mess. There weren’t enough of them, not yet, but like anyone who’d been in this apocalypse since the beginning she knew that would change soon. A large group of these things and it truly didn’t matter how fast or witty or strong anyone was: they were as good as dead. 

A zombie came too close and Ava made quick work of killing the rotten being in a single, clean stab to it’s head. She’d gotten the hang of it quite easily. After that one came another. Stab. Another. Stab. The process repeated itself a couple times until Ava decided to leave her damn pride aside and retreat slightly, by then the zombies were already covering the totality of her vehicle. The attempt to reach the fragile safety of her Volkswagen was no longer a valid escape route. 

[prisonhunt-blog]

Anthony whipped his head back at Ava when he heard panting and what sounded like the tearing of dead flesh. It was all too familiar to him already. She was retreating backwards, but she had failed to notice a zombie coming from behind her. 

Where the fuck did you come from? He pulled up his rifle and shot a bullet through the zombie's head just as it had laid its decaying hands on Ava. He shot it once more just to make sure it was dead. He knew that a lone zombie coming out from nowhere meant that there were more to come. And he was damn right when he looked over his shoulder to the back of his ride. 

There was a horde of them. He tried shooting them one by one - all clean shots through the head - but they only seemed to be increasing as more appeared from behind.

"Goddammit - Ava! In here!" He hollered at the woman, beckoning her to get into the car immediately.

There was no way in hell they could win over these ghouls. Two against fifty or so was nothing but death. He jerked the door open and jumped inside, pulling the rifle off his shoulder to give it to the woman so that they could clear any zombies that were after them while he drives.

[prisonhunt-blog]

trespassing | cheyenne | Anthony & Dean

[closer-is-god-blog]

Releasing a wide smile, Dean lowered the barrel of the gun from its intimidating position, making it face the floor instead, though he’s still wary of this guy making any moves for dominance—something that would undoubtedly get in the way of his amusement.

"Triple A’s mostly." He replied, still appearing in good spirits from his victory of sorts; he supposes other people’s frustration was a bit of a happy pill for him.

"I was even hoping to find some lantern flashlights from the emergency supplies if I could. It’d go a long way even if I just had one more." He arched a brow and watched the other man, eager to see if he could keep his amicable act up for much longer before the anger and irritation came crashing through again.

[prisonhunt-blog]

Anthony eagerly wished he had more than just a crowbar as a weapon. The wicked smile that spread across the stranger's face was full of deceit and ill omen, it was utterly sickening. But seeing as to how he had lowered his gun, Anthony loosened up his tense muscles and decided that he should give himself a little break. 

The stranger was clearly enjoying this.

"They're in the back room." He sounded almost as if he was seething the words through his teeth because his jaws were clenched in annoyance. 

He made sure to close the main kitchen door before circling around it to where the appliance store room was. The action of closing it would have probably piqued the stranger's interest but he could take care of that. At least he knew that there was a spare rifle he had stored in the back room. 

The airport was a huge place for one man. It was a good thing that Anthony had distributed whatever spare weapons there were - with the main bulk hidden near his main place in the airport of course.

He led the man to where the back room was, walking as casually as he could so as to not rouse anymore suspicion from him. He was not in any favourable position to attract any more bad attention. When they reached the store room, Anthony unlocked it. The first thing he took was the rifle, slinging it onto his back. 

But he made sure to show that he wasn't going to use it. He carried on with finding the things the man needed. 

"Are you loading up for a trip or somethin'?" He asked, for the sake of small talk, because having the stranger keep a vigilant eye on him as he searched for his things was very uncomfortable. 

[digitaldiscjockey]

Visit Original Link

[ava--reed-deactivated20150213]

She’d hit a nerve. The way he flinched proved that. The fact that she’d gotten that one right was mostly just luck: she guessed by his age and his reluctance to spend too much time with her. Well, she wasn’t the greatest company to start with, anyways. Ava knew that. Her second lead had been one that applies to all survivors: they’d all lost somebody. Background didn’t matter nor did personality, or any other cliche category that could ever separate people. One thing was true, one thing made them all the same. They were all damaged. 

Ava gave him a grin at his attempt to show humor in the face of pain and then stepped past her. He was avoiding her and , probably, beginning to be very, very annoyed by her. Better. It was best that he learned not to trust anyone, not to love anyone. Things were easier that way.

Out of curiosity and a pure desire to be rude Ava followed him out the door. Anthony walked with determined steps, this made her smile. Getting people worked up was one of her talents and she was glad to find that it still worked. When he stopped, though, and looked at her from behind his shoulder, she was surprised. His kind offer shocked her even more. 

Ava bit her lip. It could be a trap. But maybe it wasn’t. Either way she could never be sure. And besides, she had enough supplies, it wasn’t worth it to risk her life. So she settled for regaining her composure and painting a smirk on her face. She caught up to him and slipped her index finger under his chin for a second. “Thanks but no thanks,” she told him, sly grin still in place and eyes digging deep into his. “I’m not ready for your wife to know about us yet.” 

With that said Ava turned and headed for her car; the dirty Volkswagen stationed a tad more than thirty feet away. 

[prisonhunt-blog]

Her bemused smirk only confused him. But as he registered his question, he realised how unbelievable he sounded. Sure, he was giving the woman a hard time - but she didn't seem to mind at first. It was quite ironic that she becomes unwilling when he genuinely offers her some help.

He threw his head back, chuckling, as Ava walked the other way. "That's nice, that's really nice." He nodded, deciding that he had enough humour for the day. "Whatever you say then." He wasn't going to push through with his offer. One invitation was enough. To reject it meant that he had more supplies reserved for himself. 

Anthony watched her walk away before he turned to his ride. But upon holding onto the car door, that was when he heard it: the familiar rumbling and groaning coming from the vicinity. Shit. 

He took his assault rifle and positioned it, briefly ensuring that it was loaded. He didn't bother to turn back to the woman. His eyes were searching the emptiness before him. 

"Um, Ava..." The least he could do was to warn her. 

[ava--reed-deactivated20150213]

Ava shrugged at his flat out denial of her statement. “Gotta learn where to look then,” she told him. It was true. For her, at least. Ava hadn’t known hunger since the breakout happened which was more than she could say for her life before it. She looked him over just once. He was a handsome one, she’d give him that. 

He spit the words like poison. Her name especially. The distastefulness he showed for her was actually entertaining and Ava found a smirk taking place at the corner of her lips. When he turned around to leave she decided to deliver a final blow to him. Ava made a quick escape to him and blocked his only exit. 

"You’re leaving without giving me an invitation? And here I thought we were friends. Ouch.” She feigned hurt and stepped closer to him, her eyes shooting daggers at his. “You got a wife you got to go home to, Anthony?”

[prisonhunt-blog]

He wasn't taken aback when she blocked him. It only further piqued his curiosity. However, at the mention of his 'wife', he flinched. Her tone seemed to have pierced through him but he quickly covered it up by forcing a smile. 

"Yeah," he played along, nodding in agreement. "My imaginary wife should be done cooking my imaginary dinner. And I'm just about to pick up my imaginary children from their imaginary school so that we could all eat in our imaginary dining room." The repetitive use of the word was exhausting, but this woman seemed to be in for some humour. And some humour would Anthony give to her.

He moved sideways where she wasn't blocking the exit and made his way out of the door. Anthony was well aware that she'd follow, or at least look on. So he asked, "No survival group to report back to?" He dearly hoped she belonged to one. Otherwise he'd have another mouth to feed and exhaust his plentiful resources out. 

But then again his selfish desires only seemed to evoke a sense of guilt from him. Marie-Rose would appear in his mind, doing the exact opposite, which was to extend whatever help she could give to those around her. 

Reluctantly, he paused in his tracks and looked at Ava over his shoulder. "I've got some extra supplies if you want 'em."

[ava--reed-deactivated20150213]

He avoided her jokes. This both bored her and sparked new interest. Hostility usually meant the person had something to hide. Ava walked back to him in a very cat-like manner as he voiced his suggestion. She shrugged, not phased by his words. “First thing you learn when you’re alone: food can be anywhere. You’d be surprised.” She rose on the tips of her toes to scan the top shelves, finding nothing but dust. “But since you said that, it must mean you’re out for something else.” Ava had always been swift at conclusions. “Now what might that be?”

The man asked for her name as she walked past him, eyes raking the store in search of anything useful. This guy’s sense of humor, for example. 

Her ever so observant eyes met his as she answered. “Ava,” she resumed her searching facade for a while longer before she realized that he probably expected her to ask him the same thing. Ava gave him her full attention. “And yours?”

[prisonhunt-blog]

"Wrong," he replied to her 'fact'. "Believe me, I've been surprised - at the scarcity of food available." This was perhaps his fact because he did have to look at every nook and cranny wherever he went. Nothing was as resourceful as the airport, thankfully. 

Anthony swore he saw a kind of light in her eyes ignite out of nowhere. It almost seemed as if realisation hit her. He frowned a little in suspicion as she forwarded him.

"Well, it's nice to meet you too Ava," he returned the same (albeit, mocking) gleefulness back to her. "The name's Anthony." He then crossed his arms and looked around.

"Trust me, you wouldn't want to know. If you still wish to look around this filthy place, by all means go ahead - in the meanwhile, I'm running late for my dinner." He uncrossed his arms and made his way for the exit, having decided that the woman was well off on her own. 

[prisonhunt-blog]

Where are the best places to look for supplies?

Anthony glanced sideways, almost amused at the absurdity of the question. He had the best place for supplies that was for sure.

"I don’t know, have you tried, like, the local grocery store already?"

[prisonhunt-blog]

Have you ever been married?

The question discomforted him. Anthony stretched his head a little before answering. “I would have been, were it were not for this damned zombie outbreak.” It took a lot from him to maintain his composure as memories of his late lover flashed back across his mind.

[prisonhunt-blog]

What are some of your survival tips?

"Kill. Gather. Hide."

[prisonhunt-blog]

Do you think there would be a cure?

Anthony groaned at the same question. The demons were out to mess with him, that was for sure.

"You’re screwing me…" he muttered. Then with an outburst, he yelled, "Take a good look outside and tell me that our lives will be going back to normal! Hell NO!” 

[prisonhunt-blog]

What do you want?

[ava--reed-deactivated20150213]

"Well, look at this place," Ava made a gesture with her arms, letting him know she was referring to the store. She went to a shelf a few feet from him and pulled out a random product. "Ah,” she grinned at the empty cereal box in her hands and turned it upside down, revealing there was nothing more than stale crumbs left. “Not much food in here anyways.” Walking towards another shelf she pointed at the now useless objects that had clearly belonged to a different aisle. “You need some new headphones?” She asked him in a sarcastic manner. 

[prisonhunt-blog]

He watched her wander around the desolate store with great indifference. Where could she have come from? It made Anthony interested to know why she was alone. When she turned back to him, asking a playful question, he only brushed it aside.

"If you want to get some food, a store like this isn't the smartest place to go to," he told her. He had not come into this place to look for food - he had plenty of that stored safely within the walls of the airport, his home. 

"What's your name?" he decided to ask. There really wasn't much to do - sparing some time to actually meet another human being would prove beneficial at the very least.

[violet-porter]

the absence of god :: cheyenne

[violet-porter]

There is no place for immediate trust in the face of an apocalypse. Violet has to remind herself of this, as her knee-jerk has always been to trust others, whole-heartedly, without question. Before, she’d seen it as a strength. Tonight, as she feels her hands automatically go to lower her weapon, she tells herself it’s weakness. Re-fixing the weapon on the target, still just a shadowy figure issuing a deep, distinctly male voice. She pauses, glancing briefly away as she considers his question.

"…You could say that. What is it that you need?" Leader is a strong word for what she is, but she supposes it’s apt. After all, she’s had the others look up at her, and seen the hunger for some direction in their eyes. It’s disconcerting, a little scary, most of the time, but she’s glad to provide comfort and guidance when she can. "I’m Violet. Porter," It seems archaic, somehow, to introduce oneself in such a situation, but old habits die hard and Violet is nothing if not polite. "And you are?" 

[prisonhunt-blog]

Anthony had decided to wander the empty streets of Cheyenne that night for a good kill. The time and lighting of the day did not seem the least convenient for hunting but it was the challenge that allured him out of the airport that night.

"Anthony Hunter," he returned her an introduction. The formality was quite unnecessary  given the state of their lives, but it did bring a sense of comfort and familiarity of what their lives used to be like. "I didn't mean to intrude - but there's a bunch of walkers out there who's coming their way here." 

He had narrowly escaped the walking dead when he saw them. He knew Marie-Rose would take the responsibility to inform any survivors in the vicinity. He was merely doing this to make her proud. It was a shame she wasn't around anymore.