The black clad hero struggled and finally swung a leg over the cliff face, before rolling onto his back on the grass. Deep breathing still coming across in a morbid pitch through the voice modulator. He lay there for a few seconds more gulping down air before finally rolling over and getting back on his feet.
“Alright, let’s get you lot out of that tree. We’ve got a boat to catch.”
Isaac made his way over to the tree and held his hand out for the small boy, only for the child to burst into tears. Moving on, he held his hand out for the young girl only to get the same response.
“Oh for crying out loud… Come on! We’ve got to get moving!”
Haliaka pleaded with the man “Just give them a few minutes! They’ve just seen everyone they know, everyone they care about pour over a cliff to the jagged rocks below!”
This was too much for the boy, “Now they’ll never get a cure!” he wailed.
“There is no cure. We don’t have time for this!”
the Vigilante growled.
“What?” asked Haliaka.
“He means they were already dead. Dead has no cure.” The portly Aukai stated.
“Yes. But more than that, there is no cure. There’s no plans to ever be a cure. I’m not with disease control. This is a rescue operation. The only rescue operation.”
“But now they’re dead!” the boy moaned.
<”They were already dead, idiot.”> The hot headed Uleki spat in native tongue.
“They’re already dead.”
Isaac confirmed, adjusting his communicator to check in “… just like everything on this island will be. I meant it when I said there’s not going to be any cure and that this is the only rescue mission. As soon as we’re out they’re going to bomb this place to dust. Scorched earth… Hello, D? Are you there? Do you read?”
Uleki spat out some phrases and words not suitable for translation at this point, before Kanani urged him to stop in front of the boy.
“About time you called in, over.” Came the reply. “The only thing holding back the bombers was a report that they’d seen candlelight.”
Isaac held a hand over the communicator “They saw the flare, they’ll coming to pick us up from the beach.”
“How many are you now?” Asked the Director, formality barely covering a seething tone.
“One, two, thr-- We’re 5. Six including myself.”
he gave a quick headcount.
“A dinghy’s on its way to the coast as we speak. Get your butts over there or I’ll tell them not to bother and send the bombers early.”
Isaac thought. “He’s really pissed off…”
“I love you too, D. Over and out.”
Isaac killed the communicator again for some peace and quiet and turned to the other 5 survivors.
“Alright, out of the tree now. We’ve got to get hit the beach.”
The five kept tight formation while they walked carefully down the hill away from the cliff face. Isaac held both berettas and looked to pick off stragglers as the others acted as spotters. He had the silencers back on the handguns now, so as to keep new attention to a minimum. The zombies that were left seemed to be a lot less mobile, with most of the more physically threatening specimens being the first ones to chase their hanging Guardian-meal over the cliff.
Survival of the fittest gone wrong, only the slowest of the mindless still survived. Give me your tired, your rotten, your ghoulish specimens whose end came because zombies tore and ate their ears off… your huddled masses yearning to eat meat…
Approaching the outskirts of the village and turning to complete their journey to the beach they began to come across more stragglers. Presumably zombies from the other side of the village who slowed their trek when the dinner’s din stopped at the top of the cliff.
FWIP! FWIP! FWIP! FWIP! Clik.
Another empty clip, Isaac discards it to the ground as he re-loads. He gives Uleki the other beretta in his stead.
Kkt. Tsh. Clik. “I’m good to go, hold fire and preserve.”
He said, giving the fiery islander a spare clip.
The handgun crack, the re-coil by moonlight. Taking his time to steady his hand and make sure of his shots he fells most with a single tempered blow to the head. The growing numbers of growling ghouls heighten the tension and shots start to be fired more loosely. Staggering from the village a mis-shaped form, somehow strangely familiar (but then again, he’d seen so much death tonight), lopes towards them, the black clad hero turns and fires.
“Damn, too low.”
He muttered to himself, feeling his shot was off even as he fired it. The figure is struck in the torso and drops like a sack of potatoes. The hero turns to clear the rest of his immediate area and then stops.
Something’s not right.
His mind races back and he pictures the moment when he gunned down the zombie that attacked the others in the tree, he thinks back to other shots of that bloody night, he thinks back to what Gunny said.
Originally Posted by Gunny
“...Fires off standard 9mill ball rounds, which gets mixed reviews from your stock standard soldier for stopping power...”
Originally Posted by Previous events - Last Vigilante post
“The unsilenced Beretta fires two shots into the tree trunk, one into the zombie’s torso… it shrugs off with complete disdain and a fourth which pierces and bursts its decaying skull.”
Originally Posted by Gunny
“...don’t waste ‘em, go head-shots. As I said, there’s been issues with stopping power...”
Isaac ran back to the fallen figure, dropping to his knees as he realised how he knew her.
Tears welled up, his lower lip trembled and then he let out a bellow that echoed for over a mile around. The voice modulator crackled with static under the strain of converting the volume and weight of his voice, but it was the heart rending nature that put the others most ill at ease.
“What’s wrong?” Haliaka’s well-tempered voice echoed to deaf ears. The Vigilante wasn’t here to have heard anything. He was in a world where only saving the woman mattered. To tell himself that he really is what he always claimed to be. He entwined his fingers and putting them over her chest he began a feeble untrained attempt at CPR. Adrenaline had him so tight in its grip that the gap between thought and act had almost completely evaporated, and while he was well-trained in his own ways he’d never needed to initiate CPR. The situation had never come up. Adrenaline began to work its way out and he regained his situational awareness.
“What is it?” Haliaka repeated.
“She... was different. Not a zombie. Just sick. Alive. Still well alive. Alive enough to be killed.”
Isaac was barely making sense and still frantically, obsessively trying to fix his mistake.
“She’s dead.” Said Kapali.
<“This is the Haole that you think could save us..?”> sneered Uleki with another racist jibe.
“Stop calling him that!” the boy yelled, “At least he’s trying to help! What have you done but threaten and complain?!”
Isaac kept fighting for a response that would never come. Pounding on her chest, he stuck gloved fingers into her mouth to clear the airway and jumped back in surprise when he felt the tongue move.
<“What have I done?!?”>
“She—she moved! She’s alive!”
<”What have I done?!?”>
Eyes that were admittedly listless before she was shot, flickered to a glowing vacancy that all of the survivors could instantly recognise. Isaac, who was in no position to respond, leapt back.
<”I did this!”> And with that Uleki took aim and blew whatever held onto former Patient Zero’s physical form out of three exit wounds in the back of her head.
FWIP! FWIP! FWIP!
<”F***ing Haole ***** brought this on all of us. Killed us all.”>
Isaac sat back in the mud, gazing up in stunned silence. Still severely hit from what he had just done and replaying everything that he’d seen, heard and done in these past hours one fresh thing stuck in his mind with a new clarity.
Originally Posted by Previous events - View page two of this thread
“Keep moving, back-pedal, balance each shot, head-shot sweep and back-pedal again."
"You've thought about this before..."
"You'd be lucky if you found a veteran who hasn't dreamt of it..."