Highway to Hell || Tod, Harper, Jeff, Bastian, Alana, & Nigel
Harper had given up walking aimlessly around the RV. She felt trapped, nervous energy welling up inside of her and crawling under her skin. Sitting beside Nigel, Harper leaned her umbrella against the side of her chair, gazing out at the line of cars that stretched before them. Trapped. Silence was thick, almost suffocating with fears that coated the RV. Were they going to make it? What if they didn't? The dagger's hilt pressed into her thigh, as if in answer. Not that a tiny little ceremonial blade was going to do much harm against the end of Ashkent. Staring out the window, she saw something move. The sound of a crash- headlights went out. Harper leaned forward, squinting. Was someone running around destroying cars now? "Nigel." She said, her voice interrupting the lazy, staticy radio. "Nigel, I think someone snapped out there." Had it been the heat? The endless waiting? Either way, she empathized. That is, until she saw the lights ahead all just...go out. "That's not a good sign..." She whispered, jocular voice cracking with fear.
Nigel glared at the cars ahead of them. Next time the town was set to disappear on a very specific date, he was leaving five days early. None of this waiting to the last minute in case we find a way to fix it bullshit. They hadn't even passed the edge of town. From what he could tell, there were still five miles to go on this tiny, overcrowded road, before they were actually out of Asskent Creek. Goddamn it. The urge to honk was strong, but he resisted. That wouldn't make a difference. He blinked at the sound of Harper's voice, eyebrows furrowing as the guiding lights ahead suddenly went out. The RV's headlights were still going strong, proving that the cars in front of them were still there, but up ahead, in the darkness, there were shapes, dark figures moving about. They were running from car to car, climbing over them. Then the screams started. "That's a worse one. Guns are in the bag toward the back. Get 'em now."
Alana pressed a sullen finger to the glass of Briant’s tank. The lizard didn’t acknowledge her, which may have been due to the creature’s uneasy stomach. Clive had mentioned Briant didn’t do well in cars. Stupid Clive. Stupid Jared. Stupid everyone who was making the RV late when they were supposed to be doing the smart thing, leaving town while there was still a town to leave. Honestly, the traffic was ridiculous. They’d probably moved about five feet in the last hour or so. At this rate, it wouldn’t matter who stayed in town and who left it. Even with her head pressed against the window, Alana didn’t hear the screams at first, only until she felt the vibrations running up the side of the vehicle did they register with the faint noise outside. She jolted up, whipping her head from side to side. “Um, Nigel? What’s going on?” But through the window, Alana could see the dark silhouettes sprinting through the streets, headlights snuffing out in their wake. She knew. Oh good god. Looking back down at Briant, she stroked the glass a final time before rising to her feet and looking around the vehicle for something she could use as a barricade. Like duct tape, or a convenient wardrobe that could barricade the door. “What do we do?”
Bastian had decided to stay on the roof and lay down after Harper left to go hang out with Nigel or check on her lobster, preferring the outdoors to the stifling little RV. Granted, it wasn't exactly a pine wonderland, but there was some of that buried under all the exhaust and fear that tainted the air. A low, grating noise caught his attention, and then a crash, screams. Not good. He sat up and leaned to the side, eyes narrowing as the sea of red and white lights dimmed, flickered. Bodies. There were bodies, figures weaving through the traffic, pausing to stare into the cars. He glanced down the side of the RV and a pair of eyes stared back at him from the darkness, followed by a snarl. Really, really not good. He shuffled a few feet and pulled the roof hatch open, swallowing hard. They were like those little fish that came in a can, trapped. "I think we have a problem," he half-shouted over the sounds of scraping metal and screams, tone carefully calm. "Maybe a few."
“Tod, your seatbelt.” Tod rolled his eyes. With all the bags squeezed in the backseats next to him he barely had any room to breathe, he wasn’t going to wear his freaking seatbelt. Car crashes weren’t what had him tapping on his phone furiously, alternating between sending messages to the people left behind and the worst game of Tetris of his life: they were running away from almost certain doom, there was no time for seatbelts. “B-but mooom, we’re n-not even moving,” he whined, before quickly adding in a hopeful tone “C-can I go to the RV and see how they’re doi—” As expected, his dad’s voice cut him off. “No. The police said to stay in the car and that’s what we’re going to d—” Glass breaking. Lights going out. Even worse, screaming, and what looked like walking corpses making their way closer and closer. Tod quickly pulled up his window and focused once again on his phone, sending one last message. Mom’s sighing wasn’t nearly as panicked as it should’ve been, and dad grumbled under his breath. Even now they didn’t get it? “Dude!. It’s t-the start of every f-freaking horror movie ever, and w-we’re stuck and we’re g-gonna…” He took a deep breath. Luckily for them, he could see an RV filled with real life horror experts just a few feet from them. He looked through his contact list and called Harper, voice growing higher and louder as he kept talking to his parents while he waited for her to pick up. “It’s… Uh… It’s g-ghosts!” If nothing else his parents had seemed shaken enough by the spirits they’d seen during the blue moon, and mentioning them again had the desired effect: dad started the engine again, hands gripping the wheel tightly. “So we g-gotta listen to Harp and Nigel, o-okay? I’m p-putting her on s-speaker and… Holy c-crap!” The Prius’ headlights illuminated one of the things banging against his friends’ RV, and that was the last drop. Not even sure she’d picked up or not Tod started shouting at his phone. “Owl! Y-you have a t-thing on your r-right! I d-don’t know wha—Tell us what to do!”
Harper didn't need to be told twice. As soon as the order left Nigel's mouth, she launched herself into action. Snagging the umbrella to lift herself, she was stopped by the sudden approach of them- not just one type of horror, but many. Oh, so many. A regular tossed salad of impending death and chaos. Harper didn't have any damn time to get the guns, but she heard the other voices. They may be trapped, but they could make their own goddamn Fort Knox if they had to. "Guys! Someone go in the back, get the weapons!" Bang, bang. She could hear them close now, moving closer. She removed her own tiny handgun, more of a pea shooter, but at least she could take a few down while they waited for the main cavalry to arrive. Her phone gave a ring, and she glanced down- Tod. Oh shit, the Bowens were stuck in this. She answered. "Hello--" The slam was closer, and suddenly the shrill voice of a teenager was screeching in her ear. With a yelp, she dropped the phone, and aimed the gun, shooting the zombie right between the eyes. No time to think, only act. It reeled away, but it wasn't through yet. "Shotguns would be lovely," She called to the others on the RV, "you know, if you can spare a minute!" The phone was snagged back up, and she put it on speaker, placing it on the dashboard. "You're on speaker." A glance over. "Game plan, Nigel?" The next was a set of chopping fangs at her window, repelled back with a solid crack from the end of her gun.
Nigel put on the parking brake with all the reluctance in the world. Not moving seemed like the worst idea possible, but there was nowhere for them to go. The last thing they needed was the damn RV rolling all over the place while zombies or vampires or whatever the hell was out there started moving in. "Watch the door, I'll grab weapons," he said to Harper as he pushed himself up out of the driver's seat. At least They were prepared. Having expected the worst, they were stocked up not only with food and water, but with an arsenal... or as much of an arsenal as they had managed to scrounge up in the hours before leaving. He set the bag down next to Alana and pressed a gun and a baseball bat into her hands. "Go up top with Bastian. Harper and I'll stop 'em from getting in." Hopefully one of them actually knew how to use the gun he had given her. They would find out soon enough. Their "captive" in the back had made an appearance as well, so the bag was shoved his way as soon as Nigel had tugged out a tire iron and a shotgun, tucking both under his arm as he moved back to Harper's side. "We need to clear a path outta here. Soon as we do, we're goin' off road."
Something was wrong. That much was clear from the way DI kept zipping around the room, a nervous bundle of fur and and ears. Jeff stayed focused on his phone, admittedly taking out his frustration on the internet. Bastian had given him next to nothing information wise, and he was still missing a goddamn pair of pants. A dull thud pulled him from his rancor, and DI whined high and sharp. Setting his phone down, he moved cautiously to the tiny window and pulled aside the blinds. "Holy shit," he muttered, slapping the blinds back in place almost immediately. The thud he had heard was definitely a zombie ramming at full force into the tin can he and god know how many other people were situated in. Screams and the sounds of scraping metal began to filter in through the walls, and Jeff ran at the bedroom door with all his force. The door burst open, and he slammed it closed behind him in a ditch attempt to protect his dog. But before he could so much as open his mouth, a bag of make-shift weapons was shoved into his hands. Alright then. He pulled out a golf club and took an experimental swing before nodding. Yeah. That'd do just fine.
Alana: “G-got it!” Alana wasn’t sure where those words had come from, most likely a deeply rooted desire to be useful and to not die, but she barely blinked as murder weapons were practically thrown into her arms. Now was not a good time to ask questions. The pounding on the sides were getting louder, and she could feel her heart skip a beat as presumably-undead fists tried to hammer their way the RV. Clutching the baseball bat, Alana looked up at Bastian through the hatch. She had to admit, he was doing an excellent impression of a sitting duck on the roof all by his lonesome. But even though she would deeply enjoy seeing him uncomfortable, or even terrified, actually watching him ripped limb from limb by a hoard of various bloodthirsty creatures wasn’t on the top of her list. She found a small box to stand on, but her fingers fell just an inch short from the hatch. Tucking the weapons under her arm and silently begging the gun not to fire as she did so, she raised her free arm towards Bastian. “Bastian, pull me up! Nigel’s orders, so, um, that means you have to.”
Tod was freaking out, hearing bits and pieces of what was happening inside the RV through his phone. “Are y-you shooting? You have g-guns?!” Tod didn’t have any gun, he only had a sword that he was desperately trying to free from its sheath in the limited space inside the car and a water skin filled with holy water that he definitely was in no condition to waterbend right now. As more creatures showed up and started banging against the Prius, scratching and ruining his dad’s pride and joy, his parents both turned to look at him, showing an adequately terrified expression that matched their current desperate situation as the awareness that they were starring in a horror movie finally dawned on them. “Tod, they have weapons?! They can fight these… These things?” Tod rolled his eyes. “Yes, of c-course they have weapons! They know how t-to deal with these thi—” His father interrupted him, voice strong and commanding, the kind of tone that always had Tod tense like a violin’s string. “Tell them to open the doors. We’re going in.” Tod hesitated a little before speaking into the phone again “ Y-you heard the Bowman, Harp? W-we’re comi—Whoa!” Wheels screeching on asphalt, the car jumped to life, wheel all turned to the right as Mr. Bowen drove off the road. One of the monsters, the same one Harper had shot into a stupor, suddenly crashed against the windshield. “Grab what you can and go!” Again, dad’s authoritative tone had both Tod and his wife moving quickly, scrambling to get out of the car now that the side of the RV was temporarily clear from any dangerous spawns. “You… You ran it over, dear!” Tod had no time to gag at the way his mom was eyeing dad nor at the broken look on said dad’s face as he shot one last loving look at the damaged car: he was too busy banging his stupid sword on the RV’s door frantically while screaming at his phone. “Harp! Open up! L-like… N-now! M-more are c-coming, and we c-can’t… Hurry!”
It was almost unbelievable, watching Tod's parents cut a swath through the hoard with only their small car leading the way. The RV was clear, although, who knew how long that would last. Harper slid the shotgun out from Nigel's arm, careful to let him keep the tire iron. "Oh yeah, now that is what I'm talking about." The family was darting towards the RV now, and Harper raised the gun, taking aiming and firing out from her seat to take down another approaching creature. They were moving in fast, more already taking their place where they'd been cut down. She leapt to her feet, grabbing her make shift cane as she moved to the door, aiming the gun at it. "Nigel, open on three. I got you covered."
Nigel nodded, moving to the door, standing opposite Harper. They couldn't leave Tod or his parents out there. For one thing, Clive would kill all of them for it, because he was still alive and fine, where ever the hell he was. And they sure as hell didn't deserve to go out like that. On three, he threw the door open, stepping out with it to fend off approaching spawn. "Get in. Now," he said sharply, moving out of the Bowens' way, tire iron already striking an oncoming ghoul. It was a mess beyond the door. There were clear signs of cars where the passengers had been ripped out, some pieces of them left behind here and there. Screams still tore through the night, but it was the growls and hisses that held his attention. The tire iron was good, but there was only so much he could hit at once. A chilled hand with the flesh all but sliding off it curled around his elbow and tugged. With a sharp curse, his feet left the ground as he was yanked away from the RV, crashing hard into the hood of the minivan next to them. Noises behind him made it clear Harper hadn't been kidding around when she said she would cover him. Claws and teeth threatened to close in. Next time, they were leaving a week early.
Bastian 's eyes flicked between the people scrambling in the RV and the carnage on the roadway. Cars trying to reverse out of the gridlock, pinning other vehicles and slowly crushing the drivers beneath. People being ripped out of their cars in ragged pieces, their heads and limbs still caught on their seatbelts and guts stretched across the road. Alana's voice caught his attention and he glanced down, watching her small frame stretch towards the hatch. She could go back to not trusting him and he could go back to pretending it didn't bother him later, this was more pressing. He didn't really want to see anyone in the RV shredded like the people in the cars. The roof was a good vantage point, better than being inside. They could be useful. He huffed out a breath and crouched down, hand wrapping tightly around her wrist and pulling her up in one smooth motion. She'd brought weapons, hopefully for both of them. He could hit them hard, but if Alana wanted the bat he would suffice with his fists. Potentially a tree. "Which?" he asked, eyes widening slightly as a half-rotten arm reached over the back of the RV. "Quickly."
Alana immediately regretted listening to Nigel. As Bastian pulled her up onto the roof of the RV, the sharp tang of blood hit her nose like a sledgehammer before she saw its source. Which was everywhere. Even for someone who earned a living by gutting various types of marine life, this much gore had passed excessive by miles. Leatherface would find the traffic jam massacre to be too over the top. There were people, or to be more accurate, part of people, scattered through the street. People who not ten minutes ago had made the conscious decision that they wanted to live, and now had shards of their windshield lodged in their skulls and throats torn open by ravenous not-humans. Alana felt sick. Maybe zombies would be deterred if she vomited over the side of the RV. Too focussed on the all-too-familiar stare of a corpse, Alana didn’t see an animated one crawling up to join them on the roof. Except their eyes weren’t blank and glassy, they were filled with ravenous light. Bastian uttered two words, but for once Alana was grateful for his brevity and went for the gun. Her hands shook as she leveled the shotgun, barrel aimed at the creature’s face- twisted with hunger, but all too alive. Sure, ghouls weren’t on the roster for the ‘people’ section of the supernatural, but they still felt pain. ...Probably. She couldn’t kill someone. Not again. “I can’t.” She dropped the shotgun at their feet, taking a step back from the edge. “I cant” It was a whisper, but somehow the undead seemed to sense her surrender as an undead hand shot out and gripped her ankle, pulling so hard it knocked Alana flat on her ass. Her feet kicked uselessly as it dragged her across the roof with a force stronger than anything she could’ve imagined in her school books, straight toward its other hungry friends. Alana blindly fumbled for something to hold onto, something to save herself with, only to find the baseball bat again. Without thinking, she brought it down hard on the creature’s arm, and felt the bone shatter against it’s heft. She struck again, knocking her assailant back into the street and scrambled back. Alana rose to her feet, clutching the bloody bat like a security blanket. “This one.”
Tod kept his eyes glued to the door to the RV, because he knew if he'd looked around he would lose his shit. Years of Resident Evil hadn't prepared him for this: the sight of corpses dragging people out of their vehicles to do only Cthulhu knew what could be avoided by simply closing his eyes, but there was nothing he could do to fight off the smell or the screams. People never screamed so much in videogames. Finally the door to the RV opened up, and if it weren't for the fact the Prius' sacrifice hadn't stopped the undead invasion Tod would've hugged both exorcists. Instead he moved to the side, letting his mom get in first -she wasn't crying, she was just side-eyeing Harper's shotgun, he tried to convince himself- and waited for his dad to follow her. Just as he was about to get inside too something grabbed his backpack, and on instinct Tod swung the sword around, feeling it cut through dead meat and muscles. It got stuck in the corpse, still clawing in his direction. Tod pulled with all his might and got his weapon back, rolling uncerimoniously inside the RV. Curled up on the floor, he could only fight against his stupid dinner threatening to make a comeback. Nigel's cursing had Tod raise his head again and he tried to get up, a painful throbbing informing him that he'd failed his Tumble check and his ankle had paid the price. Broken? Sprained? Didn't matter right now. His vision foggy through the tears, Tod looked at his dad and handed him the sword. "H-help him!" Mr. Bowen started moving, slow and sluggish and probably in shock, but someone else was already on it.
He was there and then he wasn't. Like a nightmare, Nigel was hurled back into the growing mass of various undead. Harper didn't have time to think, only act. Shotgun in one hand, umbrella, in the other, she gave a cross between a battle cry and a scream of terror. The shotgun went off, the hoard opening as she plunged in. Thank you, PT. A solid thwacking of the umbrella on undead flesh joined in the screaming around them, her leg burning but supporting her hesitantly. She soldiered her way through, blood and dirt and gore flying in the air, and she had the dim understanding that it wasn't the bad guys who were getting eviscerated. Not this time. Keeping her mouth clamped shut, jaw gritted, she hauled herself to the minivan, turning with her back to Nigel to give him time. Positioning herself, she aimed the shotgun and fired. Somewhere in the distance, another shot retorted. Good. Some people had thought to fight back. "Are you ok?" She called behind her. "Because if you're not, I swear to god, I'm going to have words for you, sir!" Out of shells. She dug into her pocket, and reloaded as he had taught her. She had obviously been practicing.
Nigel cursed creatively in several different dead languages as he was hauled up onto the hood of the already blood drenched minivan. His tire iron made contact over and over again, howls and shrieks and hisses making that clear enough. But it didn't stop the teeth from sinking into his left shoulder, just above the place his arm had once been. The space where his arm wasn't suddenly burned as he thrashed anew, kicking out at the ghouls coming up from the other side. A shotgun blast sent a ghoul crashing down as Harper rushed in. Muttering, he threw the tire iron down, swapping it for his own gun. Already wincing in preparation for the sound, he fired two shots into the head of the vampire, that released his shoulder, teeth sliding free with a slick pop. Forcing himself up and off the minivan, he rushed back to Harper's side, pressing his back against hers as he took aim at an oncoming zombie and the vampire that was still hungry for more. "I'm fine. Really don't like this whole 'playing the hero' bullshit though."
Bastian didn't want this either, but they didn't have a choice. He opened his mouth to try and offer something reassuring, but all that came out was a surprised huff as Alana was dragged across the roof. In the two seconds it took for him to get closer, she'd already dispatched whatever had grabbed her and stood up, bloody bat in hand. She wasn't as frail as she made herself out to be. Good. He crouched down and picked up the shotgun, testing its heft in his hands. It was weighty, sturdy. He could use it like a bat if he needed to -- and three seconds later, he did. He turned around to check the other side of the RV and another hand clamped down on the roof, a grey, snarling head rising after it, the mouth smeared with blood. It was another one of those vampires from before. They didn't have any wood except the bat, and he didn't really think Alana wanted to give up her only weapon. Trees were another option, but it would take concentration that he couldn't spare. It clawed at the roof as it scrambled up towards them, nails leaving scars in the paint. He swung the shotgun like a golf club and nailed the vampire's head with a wet crack, sending it flying onto the already-dented hood of another car below. They'd drawn some attention, apparently, because as he looked across the road a sea of beady, hungry eyes stared back. He flexed his fingers around the shotgun as a few of the monsters discarded their victims and changed course, scrambling over cars and each other to get to the RV, clawed hands scraping at the sides.
Standing on top of the RV, Alana and Bastian had become a beacon to a horde of ravenous, flesh-eating monsters. Like a neon sight flashing in the dark, telling zombies and vampires alike: ‘Get your hot, juicy flesh over here!’. And they listened. Their claws dug into the sides of the vehicle, tearing through the metal with a shrill screech and sending a shudder down Alana’s spine. Thank god Bastian was covering one side of the roof, because playing whack-a-ghoul was difficult enough on with the two of them there. Through her haze of adrenaline, one sobering thought reminded her that if Bastian wasn’t keeping at the other half of the creatures at bay, she might be dead. Ugh. God damn it. Why couldn’t things just be simple, back when the town wasn’t vanishing, and they weren’t being attacked, and she wasn’t grateful for the leshy? A type one had managed to evade her steady downwards thwacks, and wasted no time in climbing up to join them. Gritting her teeth, Alana swung her bat low, the wood colliding with the side of the vampire’s kneecap. The creature crumpled, it’s leg jutting out a nasty right angle, but still managed to crawl towards her. Alana whimpered and rubbed her fist in a circle on her chest. I’m sorry. The second blow hit the vampire directly in it’s pointed, gnashing teeth. The third sent it tumbling from the roof. There was no time to think about what she’d just done- chalky, gnarled hands were still groping at their feet. There was barely any time to look for a way out. “Where are you all coming from?" The only answer was a collective moan of hunger.
"Shit!" Jeff cursed as he watched the one armed man get pulled into the undead horde. Drunky dove in soon after, a fucking menace with, what else, a goddamn umbrella and, more surprisingly, a shotgun. The bartender moved forward, keeping track of the two as they moved further and further away from the safety of the RV. With a couple decisive swings, he cleared the door enough to slam the door shut once more. Turning to the young man on the floor and the couple he assumed were the parents, he said, "I'm gonna drive this thing forward and try to get closer. Keep an eye on that door. They'll need all the help they can get." With that moved to the driver's seat, taking the vehicle out of park and viciously mowing a path closer to their lost passengers. He heard the door open once more and turned to help fend off whatever fresh hell might be waiting when the windshield cracked ominously. Jeff turned back in time to catch a face full of glass and a hungry zombie clawing at his chest and face. He managed to subdue the creature with a lucky swing from the golf club, but with blood running into his eyes near constantly, he had to surrender the wheel. "Time to switch places!" he called desperately as a dozen hungry eyes suddenly saw a new way in. "Relatively soon. Please."
Tod stood up as quickly as the sharp pain running through his leg allowed him and nodded. “H-help with the d-door. Sure, I can do t-that,” he mumbled, using the walls as support to limp toward the door, the moving vehicle making it harder to keep his balance. His dad opened the door and Tod had to swallow back a scream. Nigel and Harper were freaking surrounded. On instinct he opened Clive’s water skin. Turns out, fear could be a powerful motivator, strong enough to make him forget for a second about the fact his freaking parents were there and watching: as soon as he focused on the holy water inside he felt the liquid respond, and a stream of it floated in the air, hitting a couple of spawns standing between the exorcists and the RV. As the vampires curled up in pain for a few seconds Tod jumped off the RV and took two painful steps toward the exorcists, one hand extended to help them up. His mom and dad did the same, but when the attractive man called out Mr. Bowen turned around. “Switch places? Wha—” To his credit, dad somehow managed to keep his cool long enough to run toward the driver seat and took his place there, handing Jeff his son’s sword. “Keep them at bay until they’re all on board!” He nervously turned around, hands white on the wheel as he waited for his family to get back inside.
Alana was starting to get in the zone. Or, as much of a zone as viciously beating back things that were trying to kill you offered. Occasionally, she’d shout out ‘On your left!’ or ‘Behind you!’ in Bastian’s direction, but for the most part they were actually doing a spectacular job at not dying. If she imagined all these various undead people weren’t actually people and were pixelated bad-guys instead, the guilt of denting the skulls of her supernatural brethren didn’t weigh so heavily on her shoulders. See a head, hit it with a bat. See a hand, break it’s fingers. Adrenaline churned through her, and her worldview narrowed until it was just her, her bat, and a constant flow of hungry monsters to mash. She was aiming for a home run with the head of an over-confident ghoul as the RV lurched forward, jerking Alana from her rhythm and off of her feet. Her skull collided with the roof, and colors blurred in her eyes. It was impossible to see, but she could feel clawed fingers scraping at her sides and a heavy weight on her chest. Legs thrashing, Alana tried to struggle to her feet, but something was pressing her down. Something was on top of her. A sputtering mewl of pain bubbled from her lips as she felt the hot, sickening crunch of her own rib snapping in two. And then the next one. A third threatened to go, pushed down hard by the same ghoul she’d been trying to beat. Pain replaced the air that should’ve been in her lungs as it leaned in closer, the stench of its breath hot on Alana’s face. Where was her bat? She fumbled for the weapon, and curled her fingers around it just as claws ripped her skin. With her fading strength, she raised the bat over her head and brought down hard on the ghoul’s skull. She hit again, and again, and again, until a sizable bump in the road finally threw it off of her and she scrambled to her feet. Alana wiped the creature’s drool off of her cheek, and finished the job. But she had no time to revel in victory. With shaky breaths, she lurched back to the center of the roof and poked her head through the hatch. “Is... is everyone okay in here?”
"Wait...was that a... Nigel did you get...bitten?" Back to back was how Nigel and Harper often found themselves in sticky situations, and it was the exact way they had found themselves at the moment. Deja vu wasn't as strong as firepower, however, which proved itself in resounding thunder of shots from the two exorcists and their guns. The two adapted to one another, as they always had, working with only the slightest silent indication from the other when to move, how to move, where to move. Like clockwork. "Running out of ammo." The last of the shells hit the ground, and she was forced to switch weapons. A snarl, and a zombie lunged for her. Reflex took over, and she grabbed her umbrella, plunging it straight through its rotted chest. It popped out on the other side, and some bone or fragment must have triggered the lock, because the umbrella sprang open, blooming from the back like some kind of strange flower. No time to think about it. Leaning on Nigel's back for support now that her make shift cane was now lodged in the enemy, she could only swing her shotgun, keeping snapping jaws away. "Nigel, if we don't make it...I'm the one who keep putting the ice cream cartons back empty. Accidentally."
Bastian was pleasantly surprised how well they were faring on the roof. It would probably be better if he actually used the shotgun as an actual gun, but it wasn't a very opportune time to learn. Something about kickback. The RV braked hard beneath his feet and he stumbled forward, the shotgun slipping from his hands as he tumbled down the gore-spattered, shattered windshield. He landed hard next to one of the front tires, head smacking against the side of the RV and a writhing heap of torn muscle and bones breaking his fall. Everything was hazy, but he could make out vague figures fighting the horde and voices calling to them, hands reaching out of the door and beckoning them inside. Human hands, not the rotting, grey ones. Nigel? Harper? Why were they outside? He climbed to his feet and squinted against the harsh, blood-streaked headlights, head throbbing. Exhaling slowly, he took a few steps towards the exorcists and began to tear the creatures away from them, ripping them apart or shoving them to the side as he tried to clear a path to the RV. His shoulder still wasn't completely healed, and every motion tore the new skin and tissue apart a little more. It didn't matter, it would heal again. He jerked another one of the vampires away from them and ripped its lower jaw off, leaving its tongue to dangle against the empty socket as he shoved the monster up against the oncoming horde, a path briefly opened.
"Yeah." There was no point hiding it. Nigel could still feel thin streams of blood trickling from the entry points where teeth had gone straight through cloth and skin. The vampire hadn't gotten enough for it to be dangerous, but he wasn't quite as steady on his feet as he wanted to be. Leaning back against Harper, he took shot after shot, beating away ghouls with the butt of his handgun in between. The ammo wouldn't last forever. But they weren't alone. A vampire was suddenly yanked away just as it leaped at him. "Bastian," he muttered, relief washing over him. They weren’t going to be zombie bait. He turned, grabbing Harper around the waist, noticing her impromptu cane was long gone, and started toward the RV. "Let's get the fuck outta here." Reaching the steps, he shoved Harper inside first then turned to hold out a hand for Bastian. They were going to make it. But at this rate and with the traffic ahead, they sure as hell weren't making it out of town.
One minute Jeff had a golf club, the next he had a sword. How. Fucking. Awesome. He wiped the blood out of his eyes once more and dropped the golf club to the fool with a clatter. "Hell yeah," he said, stabbing at the monsters that threatened to climb through the windshield. "I don't know who you are, but you are on my top ten list of favorite people right now." He hacked at a particularly ambitious zombie's hand until the offending appendage finally severed and the tag along was crushed underneath the RV's wheels. He spared a glance behind him, and seeing Drunky and one armed guy back in the vehicle, not unscathed but in one piece, and nudged his new companion. "We're good to go," he said, and then grinned. It wouldn't be easy getting through the piles and piles of reanimated, flesh-eating monsters, but he had a sword now. If he went down, he went down in style.
Tod watched as Bastian single-handedly tore a path through the horde, impressive enough to make him forget it was his batman umbrella stuck inside a freaking zombie. “W-whoa… B-Bastian smash,” he mumbled under his breath as he focused again on the water, doing his best to keep the couple of vampires that had escaped Bastian’s wrath from reaching the trio making their way back to the RV. Tod helped them up before limping to the side and sitting on the floor again, one hand holding his head as the inevitable headache that always came with actually moving water made itself known. “A-Avengers assembled, g-go!” Tod shouted toward the front, where the man he didn’t know was using his sword to keep even more monsters at bay. “D-dude, I w-want that back once we m-make it out of Silent Hill.” Meanwhile, his mom had gone to check on the girl hanging from the hatch. “I think we’re leaving, dear. Are you hurt?” Polite even in the face of danger she raised her hands to help Alana down as best as she could with her body shaken by barely-contained sobs. Once Jeff gave him the go-ahead Tod’s dad pressed his feet down, and the RV’s engine roared again as he drove it off the road, away from the army of undead. The highway was crawling with monsters and people running and fighting for their lives so Mr. Bowen did what any sane person would: he turned the wheel and forced the RV away from the street, into uncharted –and hopefully safer– territory. “Sean Bowen,” he introduced himself finally, voice heavy and tired. “I’m going to look for an alternate route, but...” Hopefully the storm that had Tod and his weird, way too old for him friends so worried wouldn’t care too much about punctuality, because there was just no way they’d make it to the town’s border before midnight. As the RV was shaken by the impact against the umpteenth zombie even Mr. Bowen had to admit that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t really a storm and they were all screwed.
