From the smattering of farmhouses, barns and fences rotted with overgrowth, there weren't many that boasted a secure place to stake out for the season. Ophelia and her group, an unusually large ensemble of a myriad of personalities and skillsets, wandered the pastures carpeted in tall, unchecked grass. Always, Ophelia had her rifle in hand, a long and slender model that had been her father's, now delegated to her. Despite the repairs it had seen throughout the years, it was still in tact and shot as straight as if it were new. On the barrel of the gun sat a scope, one that was clunky and obviously made for a different type of firearm. Yet, it sat firm and did its job, and from that lens Ophelia scouted the landscape around them, what lay atop and beyond rolling verdant hills and a land rich with life.
After days of wandering, they'd found a place unlike the others. Instead of wood, the barn and storage sheds were made of stone bricks. Mossy and vine-tangled as they were, they boasted a strong and cool building that housed the majority of the Outcasts comfortably. Near the barn, a colonial farmstead sprawled, in worst shape than the barn appearance-wise, but the supports still in tact.
The soft sounds of slumber stirred quietly around Ophelia. Most of her group were fast asleep behind the great wooden doors, barricaded with makeshift wood slabs to keep any nocturnal Infected out of their sleeping quarters. The one's who were awake stood vigil, weapons in hand and ears sharp for the telltale growls of Infected.
Ophelia did neither. She found she couldn't sleep, as her mind grew excited over the prospect of perhaps, finally, settling into a place and making a home. She liked to wander, sure- she'd wandered all her life, from back in her youth with her first colony, who made temporary hovels from the wreckage of other drifter groups. But there was something appealing about creating a homestead. Perhaps they'd be able to not only cling to survival, but thrive.
She sat in an upper loft, reclined against one of the barn's support beams. One leg was sprawled straight out in front of her, the other bent towards her chest with one elbow rested upon her knee. Her features were lit by silver moonlight, as hazel eyes gazed out of a small hole in the slanted roof that afforded her a clear and wide surveillance of the estate and its farmland. She was contemplative, already imaging where she'd install traps and barricades for protection against the dangers of No Man's Land. She'd barely heard footsteps that caused the wooden floor of the loft to groan from the weight. It was only when they drew near, and she could feel their presence in the way her hairs rose from her nape, that she murmured without turning to identify them,
Max glanced briefly at the M4 tactical semi automatic rifle in his hands. It's a powerful weapon, one that can easily kill a human. He's been killing the infected for as long as he knows. And it still puzzled him why it takes more effort to bring down an infected. He can remember the classes he followed while he was in military school. Unfortunately, he didn't pay much attention during biology class. They explained that the infected are far stronger than a normal human being. Max wondered how they managed to become that strong. Was it evolution like they really explained? Why were humans still weak?
Max didn't consider himself, weak, he considered himself to be the opposite of weak. He just thought that they would rid the world easier of the infected if they had the strength and speed of normal human beings. One of his ex military colleagues usually used to say, it's nature's way of trying to fuck the humans. A sigh escaped him as he looked back in front of him. He was on guard duty. Lucky for him, the moon was nearly full and it made it easy for them to see up to a distance. Nights without a moon were pitch black. Making fire works both ways, it helps them see, but it also attracts the infected. The best way was to find a safe space with four sturdy walls to crash for the night.
The sound of footsteps made him turn to see who it was. During the past few months, their group grew larger. It's easier for drifters to band together. Sure there are challenges, such as feeding all the mouths, but the more the easier certain things became. The group member relieved him of his guard duty. Max took a deep breath and then clenched his jaw tight suppressing a yawn. He glanced one more time outside before turning and heading towards the loft. He climbed the make shift ladder up to the loft, there he noticed that someone wasn't asleep.
Ophelia seemed to be pensive. He had been with the group for longer than a year now and he got to know the individuals in the group each a bit better. Hearing her question he stopped and glanced around the place. Most of the other buildings in this area were made of wood and most were rotting away. In some the ceiling even fell down. This is one of the few buildings that was made out of stone and thus survived the decay longer.
"It could work." He said as he looked back at her. He sat down next to her and rested his rifle on his lap. "I think we can fortify these walls with a little extra work. The roof also needs some work." He said as he looked up at the hole in the roof then back at Ophelia. The place is still sturdy, with some extra fortifications it can become an even safer place for them. The lands look fertile, they can definitely use it to stay here a bit longer. "What do you think?"
A grin stretched across Ophelia's face and she chuckled, lightly, "Ya think?" she responded lowly to Max's comment about the roof needing some work. And the whole place, for that matter.
Then, those curled lips tightened into what may have been a frown, as she gazed over the farmland, the house and dirt roads leading to it that had since become overgrown with grass and weeds. Her finger contemplatively toyed the the side of her sniper handle, as the gun rarely left her side.
"I think," she started, and then sighed. "-that we've been wandering too long. That I've been wandering too long." For a life time was, indeed, long. Hazel eyes glazed in moonlight flickered down to the darkness that stretched beneath the loft, the dark, inky forms that occasionally stirred in their slumber. Everyone slept lightly in the group, for they were used to camping out in places painfully open to Infected attacks.
"We're tired, Max. I think all the buildings we've seen, the empty towns we've come across of, have said one thing- that people weren't meant to wander and roam. And as much as I like to consider myself a free spirit, it might be nice to just lay down in a bed that's mine." Her eyes met Max in silence. And then, her gaze flickered away, back to the blanket of land before them. "But that's just what I think."
Quiet, again. Then, she closed an eye, lifted a finger and traced something onto the ground below, what was intended to an imaginary fence, that crawled from behind the farmhouse to the base of a hill that sat a half mile behind it. "That. That might be a good place to put a fence. We can place sentry posts on the hill. Allow us to spot everything, for miles."
Max glanced around, just making sure everything was safe. He was always on his guard, even when he was in the military. He knows that not everyone is your friend. He wasn't loved nor liked in the military. Only the higher ups liked his performance and kill streak. However, his colleagues, they hated him for his mouth. Max was just too direct. So far in this drifter group, he found himself to be less on edge. It could be because they're a clump of humans trying to survive in this land. The name says it already, no mans land. They need to work together if they want to see another sunrise. Max placed his weapon on the lock now that he wasn't on active guard duty anymore. A small, barely noticeable smile crossed his lips when she responded with a ya think to him.
Someone who understands a bit of his sarcasm. He listened to her next words. She was serious, he could tell by the look on her face and her voice. "I come from a different background." He responded as he looked at his weapon. His rifle was military grade, it's one of the few weapons he still had. He also had some knives and a hand gun. He still carried the weapons he was carrying that day. The military somehow hired him for a few jobs and they didn't let him keep any weapons. So this was what he has, and this one worked fine so there was no need for him to get new ones. Although, he is thinking of finding some smugglers and getting new weapons with his pay check.
"You mean sleeping in a bed would be nice for once." He said chuckling lightly. His back was as straight as can be from sleeping on hard floors. A soft bed would be welcome. But he understood what she meant. They would have to talk to the others and see if they agree. "We'd have to discuss this with the rest." He said as he looked at the others of whom most were asleep. He glanced back at her to see that she was drawing something on the dusty floor. He then glanced into the distance, thanks to the moon he could see in the distance. He can imagine a fence being built. The fence would have to be high and strong. They would have to build outposts too. It would be a lot of work to put up a fence.
"The fence will take up the most time. We'd need to find scrap metal or wood to build the fence high and strong enough against the infected." He said his sky blue eyes returning to Ophelia. The buildings are all old and dusty, some had fallen apart and some were somehow still standing. "We can demolish the buildings that are too far gone and re use those materials. But I fear we will have to gather most ourselves." He glanced outside looking at one of the buildings that were completely broken down. There's no saving that one for sure so they could use some materials. "Also, I suggest we scout the area well tomorrow. Make sure this is a good spot. The ground is fertile, there's fresh water." He said referring to the lake. The view of the lake during a full moon was actually a beautiful view, the moon's reflection was clear on the lake's surface.
Posted 08-30-2021, 03:05 PM
Her eyes followed his, to the service rifle strapped at his side, in far better condition than the piecemeal the other Outcasts possessed. This included the rifle that laid at Ophelia's side, bathed in silver moonlight- a relic that had once been her father's.
She muttered, "Oh. Right" and turned her head to overlook the farmland once more. She was silent as she pondered, the air filled with cricket-song. Then, after long moments, she asked Max, "What was it like? Growing up in the Stronghold?". She had only seen the Stronghold from the outside, its austere gray walls towering over her. She wondered how those barriers, the guard posts that housed fully-armed figures, would have looked through Max's clear blue eyes. Would he have found security, safety, where she only felt menaced? Did he yearn to go back, reconnect with his old friends, the ones Ophelia so despised and would kill if given even the smallest reason?
She closed her eyes, shook her head quietly to herself. No, Max would never go back. The Military abandoned him and he seemed to have little interest in rejoining.
Ophelia snorted, shifting her position to recomfort herself, "Right, we should let the others know. I'm getting ahead of myself." Yet the picture of a fully set settlement, with walls that would perhaps reach the height of the Stronghold's, never left her mind, as she imagined buildings sprawled beneath where she perched, like little eclectic boxes thrown carelessly onto the hillside.
Max's description of what they would have to do only fueled that picture. She lifted her hand up to tap the side of her cheek contemplatively. "The gathering shouldn't be an issue. There's plenty of trees around, and the Abandoned Town is not far off. We could always scavenge that." A smile spread slowly across her features, as the image of a settlement solidified in her mind. "And the lake's a great spot to stake a claim. Freshwater and fish never hurt anyone."
And then she turned to Max, with an injurious frown tugging her lips, "You don't think the lake would be a hotbed for other drifters like us?"
Before using this barn as a safe house, Max and a few others have thoroughly checked the area to make sure it was safe. The structure can use some work, but it will do and keep them safe from any infected. There was also an upper level with sight on the lower level. In the case an infected gets past security, they can stand from the upper level and gun it down. Max took a deep breath when Ophelia asked him what it was like growing up in the Stronghold. Max didn't really have a good upbringing. His parents had to work hard to put food on the table.
At times he wanted more, children always want more. Stealing even became a habit for him. Max isn't the type to give things a pretty name or act as if something never happened, nor the type to beat around the bush. "I grew up in the lower ranks. Not the very best upbringing. I mostly had to take care of myself and my siblings." He said looking from Ophelia and then towards the moon. He wondered how it was going with his siblings. He hasn't seen them in years now. He wondered if he will ever see them again. Last time he had a job as a mercenary, the military didn't allow him inside the walls of the stronghold.
He was to wait outside on the convoy. He wondered how drifters grew up. They had to face nearly the same challenges and on top of that infecteds. Children can make errors behind the wall, but out here they are fair game. "Did you have a better upbringing?" He asked his voice a bit sarcastic, a small smirk on his lips as he looked back at her wondering how her younger days were. Max knows that his career at the military is over, it will be difficult for him to go back to the Stronghold. He could get inside once he gets more popular as a mercenary. He might even be able to afford decent housing, but that is probably wishful thinking. There's also no life for him at the stronghold. "I could get used to getting better shut eye." He said chuckling at the thought of them having a community where he could finally get good shuteye.
Hearing Ophelia say they can scavenge the small town made him perk up slightly. Now she's talking. A part of Max likes the thrill of danger. Going on raids just made him feel alive in an otherwise dead world. He has heard and seen video's of how the world was before this, but it was still hard to imagine it. He never experienced a safe world, he doubted he'd be able to live a perfect stress free life in a safe world. How would he adjust? He would probably get bored. "If we clean it up a bit we even have a beach." He said liking the idea of living near a beach. He glanced at the others that were asleep then back at Ophelia when she stated her worries. "When they hear about it, others will undoubtedly want to see it and most likely stay."
Max knows how things can go. One rotten apple can destroy the entire batch. "We will have to figure out how to keep the rotten apples out." He said. He is pretty sure that even the military will want to see it and would most likely pester them. If they grew into a community, they could use the smugglers to get things in and out. And then again there will be a question, if they can get things in and out, so can everyone and not everyone is to be trusted. So far their group is a rather small tight knit group that works. Everyone has their own problems, but they understand that in order to see another sunrise they must work together. This is also the reason why this group was still going strong. Everyone got the script and stuck with it.
Posted 09-14-2021, 02:47 PM
Ophelia listened to Max's story, something tight in her frown. "That's funny," she said, her voice denoting a lack of humor as she did not turn her head to look back at him. "Us drifters always complain about how much better lives the Strongholders have." Her voice then took on a deeper tone, that was mocking in its inflection- one could only guess at who she was imitating, "With those fancy Military of there's, they don't have to worry 'bout Infected. They can just sit back and stuff their faces to their hearts to desire, while we're out here not knowin' when our next meals gonna be."
Phe shook her head, laughed, this time with an inkling of genuine amusement, as her voice fell back into its regular cadence. "Glad to know you guys are suffering like the rest of us."
She was quiet in response to his question, keeping hazel eyes cast over the silver-rimmed landscape, as if a fine layer of white silk had been draped over the rolling hills and forest edges. She murmured back, "No. I struggled, just like the rest of you. In a different way."
The silence afterward indicated she was done divulging that part of her life, only laughing, which came out as a rumble deep within her chest, "Me too."
At the mention of "the others", Ophelia turned her head then to peer down at the slumbering figures, quiet besides the occasional muttering or snore or the other myriad of sleep sounds. She did not doubt some of them would be awake, listening to the crickets that brayed through the night, fingers tapping their chests as they wondered when sleep would finally come to them, unfractured and peaceful. "That's what I'm scared of. What if we're making a mistake by settling down? What if people were just not meant to do that in this world."
She closed her eyes, let her curled head fall against the wooden pillar she sat against. Then, as if suddenly deciding something, she stood up and gathered the rifle up in her arms. She flashed a gaze at Max, one that only spoke of "I have an idea and no one will talk me out of it." "Well, I suppose there's only one way to find out." She held her gun up and at her side and one did not have to look hard to tell that she fully intended to set out and stake their claim in moonlight.
Max glanced up at the moon wondering how his family is doing. He rarely thought about his family. He wondered if his brothers made it. Are they alive? He is pretty sure his brothers most likely made it in the stronghold. His parents were middle class, not dirt poor. They still had some money to go by. It's not much bit it's something. However their infancy wasn't all for free. The things that they have been trough shaped them for life.
The stealing, the fist to fist fights, the running for their lives to not get caught by market vendors. They can definitely survive out here as a drifter. He glanced at Ophelia with an arched brow when she spoke. "It's funny indeed how this world works." He mentioned a sigh escaping him. Quite a lot of kids from the outer ranks grow up in a similar manner. Some of them probably grew up worse. They don't know when their next meal is going to be, there aren't infecteds chasing after them but there are many bad people in all the outer ranks. Hearing her sarcasm made him glance back at her.
"Three solid meals a day. Including dessert." He said sarcasm now in his voice too. Although, if they should talk about the generals, well those do stuff their face and live the good life. They literally don't have to worry about anything. "Those in the inner circle lead a rich life. They don't have to worry about a thing. While those in the outer circle mainly live like rats." He wondered how her upbringing was. He wondered if there are places out here that are safe. So far what they've discovered are areas where less infected roamed.
They would have to wait a few weeks here and see if this is one of those areas or not. Hearing that she too struggled was no surprise, everyone out here struggles. He wondered how long he would have made it with his injuries alone. The silence that followed told him what he needed to know. She didn't want to talk about it. He completely understands why she doesn't want to talk about it. It would most likely bring bad memories. He wondered if she had happy memories. Most likely, every kid has a few of those happy moments, no matter where they grow up. "It'd be nice to have a sandwich for once." He said his face straight, he then glanced at her a small smile on his lips.
The spoiled military. But there was some truth to that, if they could grow food they would create more stability for themselves. And a sandwich would be good. His muscles tensed slightly when she immediately got up. He glanced around then back at her. He let out his breath slow, to not get himself worked up. "I could also use a real bed for once." He said his smile now more of a smile instead of only the edges of his lips curling. Sleeping on the floor isn't pleasant, but his back has never been in better condition.
Posted 09-23-2021, 04:01 PM
It was intriguing to learn of the Stronghold and their ways, really. Like some distant empire one would hear tales of, but find it hard to picture in their heads. Ophelia had gazed upon the Stronghold a handful of times in her life- yet she could not picture those towering walls, designed to keep things in as well as out, without the bleeding, torn up body of her father.
She gripped the rifle tighter in her hands, shook her head. Those were just memories, so fuzzy they could have been dreams- memories could not hurt her. She would not allow them to.
Ophelia smiled at Max, careful to brush past him just slightly as she made her way to the ladder, the tip of it bathed in silver moonlight. "Well, you can sleep all you'd like tonight. I'm heading out." Then, she wrapped the rifle strap over her shoulder and torso, turned around and started down the ladder. Once her hands were planted firmly on the top of the rails, she flashed Max a daring look.
"Unless Sir Schneider would like to join me?" She found that men could hardly resist a challenge, and she let it be known in the play of her question.
Posted 08-27-2021, 10:01 AM
This post was last modified: 08-27-2021, 10:01 AM by Ophelia Warde
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to make a home
