Open Memento Mori

With her hands in her pockets and her gaze set on the sidewalk ahead of her, Axelle sang dreamily to the tune of her dearest song. Though she wasn't alive when the song was released, a dear friend by the name of Andrew was. He would play the song on his old acoustic guitar and sing various songs of that age purely by memory, and thus the girl got her source of music. Though The Beatles weren't her favorite band ("For the record, Guns N' Roses kicks ass on a daily basis! They are beast!" she exclaimed one day, stomping a foot furiously on the ground when questioned), "Eleanor Rigby" was her favorite song. Why she felt so attracted to it was unclear even to Axelle, but something stirred inside her at the sound of it, and she would replay it over and over again in her head for hours on end.

Her voice loud and crystal clear as she roamed the streets to her destination, Axelle sang on.




Axelle ceased her singing as she stopped in her tracks abruptly, looking all around her with sharp, narrowed brown eyes. Who were the others that signed up for this zombie hunting stuff? Anybody she knew? More importantly, anybody worth taking a second glance at? Anybody attractive? How about someone that was just as in love with music as she was? Fat chance, but hey, she was open to anything she could get.

She saw a few people walking down the streets of the Sacramento Safe House, most of whom gave her a strange look or a disapproving shake of the head, and Axelle was sure she heard a "tch, teenager" being thrown at her. Whipping around to see the back of the person that insulted her, the girl flicked her middle finger in his direction and turned on her heel, arms confidently crossed over her chest and chin pointed towards the bright blue sky arrogantly.

Axelle squinted her eyes as a pole came into view, a bright green flag fluttering off of it. After signing up and getting assigned to the Green Team, she was told to wait at this pole for her teammates and the real-live zombie hunter that would be leading their team on the expedition. From this distance, she couldn't see if there were others already there or not, but it didn't really make a difference. Axelle was running a bit late as it was, so it didn't surprise her if she was the last to arrive. Always a chance to be fashionably late, after all.

Zach jogged toward the pole with the green flag, sure he was running just a bit late. He ignored almost everyone else around him as he shifted the bag he had with him and tried to pick up his pace. He didn't want to be the last one there, that's for sure. He took the fastest pace he could without trouble and plowed along.

He neared the pole and passed Axelle along the way, nearly bumping into her. With a quick "Sorry!", he turned, waved, and turned back, paying more attention as he kept running toward the pole. He wondered who else was in the Green Team, and who their expert zombie hunter guide would be. He reached the pole and stopped there, panting. He then turned and looked back toward where Axelle was, and just then realized she was headed toward the pole too. He facepalmed at the fact he'd almost run over a teammate and waited with his head lowered, leaning on the pole.

~Rodney

With a huff Rodney departed from his home, a small apartment on the third floor of a building somewhat close to the wall. He had a the remains of a fire escape rebuilt in a way to give him an easy way out. He landed on the sidewalk with a slight thud, and with a grunt, he made his way to the designated pole. He saw that there were two others already waiting, a younger girl, who was narrowly built in contrast to him, and dressed up in clearly out-dated clothes, as well as a fairly plain looking boy who looked about the same age as the girl, and somewhat favoring his one leg.

"Sup?" Rodney grunted somewhat uncaringly. Rodney honestly didn't give a damn about what they would say, but he felt that he should have a decent first impression on those he would be traveling with.

James' heart was beating harder than he would have liked. Although consciously he knew an anxious disposition would only make it harder for him to get along with his expedition, his body and mind were seldom in agreement. There was little he could do against it now, however, having already been signed up for the Green Team (his second favourite colour, a good omen?).

Still, there was a lot to be excited about. For all the information he'd scrounged up within the Safe House on Zombies, it would be exciting to go out and experience some for himself, with the safety of a professional Zedhunter, and with the virtue of doing it all for such a noble cause. This excursion seemed to be built for him.

It was a long walk from Safe Zone: Sacramento to the meeting point, half a city away really, and he was already feeling slightly tired, his inferior heart or maybe just the placebo effect sapping some of his energy. He knew that that was probably justification enough for him not to go, but it was simply too good an escape away from here.

He approached the pole that marked the meeting point, where a clump of three or four people waited. He walked quickly up to them, calling out to the group in general as he came within a few meters: "Hello fellow zombie killers! Brrrr, I'm excited. You?"

Zach shifted his weight a bit, looking as two more approached. He acknowledged the man first, shrugging before responding. "Not much, just waiting for everyone else, and the zombie hunter. I'm sure the team can't be this small." He looks at the gathered people with a quick glance, pondering.

Zach then turned to acknowledge the other guy, giving him a bit of a look. "I'm not sure I'm that excited, if that's what you're wondering, but sure, I am. Got all my stuff, too." He shifts the pack on his back after the last comment, smiling at the other. He then goes back to watching the street for any other members who might be approaching.

Miles wiped the grease off his face and fingers, clearing his throat. It was always a shock to see how many juices were in two squirrels. They hadn't even looked too fat. He reached into his bag and pulled out some toothpaste, and a bristley toothbrush. He usually didn't get more than one meal a day, and having always brushed after breakfast, he put it off until now, today. He was almost out of toothpaste, unfortunately, and sighed at the thought of having to hunt down more. This is pathetic. Me gripping desperately to remnants of my life before, trying to convince myself I'm more civilized than people who have adjusted. He laughed to himself.

After he put everything away, kicked dirt on his coals, and double checked every corner of the first floor in the three nearest buildings for remaining traps, he set off for his "appointment." He stayed on sidewalks, still looked both ways when he crossed streets. He took what rodent pelts he had on him, and offered them up to a man named "Hubert," who had taken pelts from him many times before. Hubert gave him a few bottles of water in exchange, and told him he'd look out for some toothpaste.

The word "pathetic" was still ringing in his mind when he found the gathering. Goody. He thought to himself. He caught a piece of their conversation, but stayed silent, sitting off to the side as though he had been there all day. Having nothing but a thin blanket, cheap eating utensils, water, a dirty cloth napkin, and trap components in his bag, he began fiddling with his necklace. He didn't speak, only observed, such was his job as a trapper.

Alayne watched from afar as the Green Team assembled. She counted them in her head and sighed. I might as well get this thing started, she thought as she watched them mumble to each other awkwardly.

They seemed like a pretty thrown-together-at-the-last-minute kind of group. What were the higher ups thinking when they put this team together? Ha, she thought as she got closer, "The Green Team", perfect name for this thrown together group of survivors. They're more green than the flag on the pole. Alayne knew she'd have to change that. After all, she'd be leading this very green team.

She started walking toward the group. Her hand rested nervously on her belt knife as she neared the group. She felt their eyes on her as she approached. She stopped in front of them and cleared her throat, "What's up, bitches?" she said with half a smile.

He nodded at the guy who responded, rather dismally, and instead focused as another member of their group came into view. So enthralled was James in watching the newcomer slide silently into the edges of their group (tall, neatly dressed, evidentially introverted, interesting, interesting, much more so than the unexcited guy) that the "What's up, bitches?" caught him completely off-guard. He spun on his heels, to a woman wearing combat pants, boots, and a black hoodie (military, military, street, respectively, not a good sign, not a good sign). Her appearance and entrance through him onto a defensive guard, and when he saw he hand on a knife he instinctively reached for the best thing he had on him in terms of weaponry-a perfectly ordinary umbrella, sticking out of the backpack that it was much to big for.

Bitches. Insulting; an aggressive start that either portrayed her true nature or hid an underlying shy disposition. Humour would appease the former and discourage such behaviour in the latter, so that was what he decided to go with. Humour, being much harder to logically plan, was tricky-and so all he could come up with was a "If she calls us Bitches, I wonder what she'll call the zombs,". He liked that, it showed him to be completely unworried about her demeanour. Excellent.

He still put a hand on the umbrella, just to be sure.

Zach looked up as Alayne walked up, and kind of gave a look, before glancing between her and the boy after his comment. If he starts something with that, things aren't going to go very well... He thought to himself, then just looked back to Alayne. This woman looked like she might be who they've been waiting for, by demeanor, the knife at her hip, and the black outfit. It cried zombie hunter to him. He decided not to make the second impression for the group.

Miles didn't acknowledge the rude girl who called everyone "bitches" with any more than a quick glance. He had reached into his bag, and was making sure most of his tripwires were good lengths, and that any he thought here too short had tight knots keeping them together.

It seemed to him that the others in this little rag-tag team were either very impulsive or very tactful but very defensive. He never planned to go off his judgements from looking at these people, but he got an impression from their appearance whether he wanted to or not. For example, the one that insulted them. She had a number of reasons for doing it. Possibly to lighten the mood, maker herself more likeable, because insults of that sort may be funny to her. Possibly to establish she is above us all, and is in charge. By insulting us with no concern for consequences, she would have to expect us to respect her.

It could be completely impulsive. Some people like it like that.

The most likely scenario with the girl with old-school clothes was probably close to something like wanting to prove something to the world. Avoiding conforming almost on purpose. The one who claimed to be unexcited was either sensible enough to realize that things like this weren't exactly enjoyable, or he was trying to look like this was an every day thing for himself. And then the one who had stared at him for a while, and apparently was excited. The way he examined people, Miles figured he thought carefully about his words, so didn't dare to lay out any sort of prediction for him.

Miles dsitracted himself, still half-ignoring the rude one, never looking up from his work with his materials.

Axelle could see more people starting to gather at the pole, but that thought slipped her mind as a man ran right past her, close to running her over. "H-Hey! Watch it!" she barked after him, her footsteps becoming loud steps as she crossed her arms over her chest and proceeded to go to the pole for the Green Team.

Aw, hell! Axelle thought glumly, frowning childishly as she stopped in front of the others. None of them are cute! This is going to suck without a handsome knight in shining armor to save the day...

Axelle scarcely noticed that the boy who almost trampled her was also there, and she looked from one guy to the next. She lastly blinked at the girl attired in military-styled clothing, and didn't as much as flinch as she called the rag-tag group of kids "bitches." Instead, she actually smiled, if not a bit crudely. "Nothing much," she answered nonchalantly, "just about getting run over, that's all." The thought that this girl was half-joking passed through her mind, but Axelle rashly decided to respond anyway. There would be no signs of weakness or timidity. Period. And if that meant to preserve her pride by rising up to counter insults, so be it. Some things were just too important to keep.

"So, it's all gonna be great fun, right?" she asked the other girl after giving everyone there a final look from head-to-toe. "I mean, you must do this all the time. Sounds like hard work, but I'm sure it works out in the end. Right?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Alayne smiled, "it's loads of fun. If you don't end up dead, or worse a lame brain."

Alayne stared at the kid that was holding... was that an umbrella? Really? She held up her hands, a smile still on her face, "Whoa," she said as she tried not to laugh, "Weather Man, you expecting rain or something?" She smiled, "To answer your question I call them whatever the hell I feel like calling them at the time. You might want to keep a list for later reference; zom, zombie, zombitch, lame brain, undead, dead man walking, geek, kisser, stinker, stiffs... Need I continue?"

She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. She smoothed it out on her leg before holding it in front of her. "Okay," she said looking at each of them in turn, "names, please?"

~Rodney

Rodney stood still, watching the other members of the group arrive. He shifted slightly when the zombie hunter appeared, and grumbled angrily to himself as she termed them all as bitches. Several questions later, the Zom-Hunter asked for role-call.

"Rodney Hill." Rodney stated as if it were the most important thing ever.

Zach straightened up just a bit when the zombie hunter asked for names. He gave a sideways glance at Rodney when he said his name the way he did. He wasn't a fan of the guy already.

He shook his head, looked to the zombie hunter, and nodded. "Zach Beller," he said fairly plainly. He shifted his bag and relaxed a bit afterward.

Mockery.
Mockery meant that she indeed did not suffer from a shy disposition, but was as very much the kind of person James loved to see suffer. Luckily enough, as long as he stuck around this girl-evidentially the zombie-killer of the group, this was obvious-he'd either survive or be comforted in the fact that this suffering was the last thing he'd ever see.

But he had questions, and the best way to ask questions, itself a usually submissive gesture, without loosing ground or provoking an aggressive response was to take the girl in his stride, and not return any direct insults, lest things escalate.

"One in five days here are rainy days. You should know that, this being the last civilised place in the country. It pays to plan ahead and keep an umbrella-wouldn't want to fail to pull a trigger because your hands are wet and numb. Besides, it's got other practical capabilities; keeping Zach at bay, an extra two feet of reach, a handy place to store knives and photographs-not that I want to exactly be in the position to kill Zach with either. Are we getting weapons? Proper, ballistic, ranged, weapons? As much faith as I have in my umbrella, I'll need more than that to handle a wave of zombies. Which I really don't want to be facing, anyway. Let's hope you're more of a stealth operator than a trigger happy, bloodlusting deathwisher. Oh, and James Culpepper."

Zach gave a sigh and rolled his eyes at James. This guy was a bit off too. Great. The thing he liked, though, was how this James turned a mocking comment into a point and a way to learn things. The group could use a slightly more level-headed person, that is, if James was.

Zach decided to stay silent in the end, looking at the others who hadn't spoken yet. He kind of smiled apologetically when he gave glance to the girl he'd almost run into, seeing as she was here at the end of the group.

"Miles Parker." Miles spoke as though distracted. Which, of course, he was. Specifically, making sure the knife he used to skin his catches was sharp enough, too sharp, etcetera. It wasn't a very good skinning knife for anything but rodents, so he doubted it would be much good. But, one never knew.

He folded the pocket knife, slipped it into his pocket, and checked his bag again. On more than one occassion, he'd had someone run off with his stuff in the short time he'd been doing inventory. He listened quietly after he made sure his belongings were with him, holding his tongue when Culpepper went on about his umbrella's uses. He wanted to tell him that if he didn't have his own firearms already, he wouldn't need any. A master with a stone can kill the novice with a gun, after all. If he knew how to use that umbrella right, it could be as effective as any other item.

But he didn't. He just kept himself busy.

Axelle noticed that the guy that nearly shoved her to the ground after a mad dash to the pole—she knew his name to be Zach after he stated it himself—gave her a smile, probably out of wanting to be forgiven. She didn't respond, though, and rather turned her gaze to the guy with the umbrella. The zom-hunter had mocked him for resorting to such a irrational object for protection, but he—Axelle heard him say his name was James—actualy gave a good argument in return. She grinned inwardly, straightening the headband resting on her forehead, and turned back to the other girl. That James guy might bit be so bad, after all. And besides, upon further inspection, he actually looked a bit decent... Better than the other three, at least.

Making a mental note to befriend him first, she cleared her throat, and shifted her weight to her right leg. "I'm Axelle Roswell. A-X-E-L-L-E, to be exact, because I'm sure they spelled it wrong," she replied to the zombie hunter, noticing her shoelace had come untied. Axelle fell to one knee and started lacing it back, and looked up to James. "If anything, you can probably defend yourself with that handy-dandy umbrella, right?" She smiled lopsidedly, rising back to her feet.

Alayne checked the list as they all said their names. Hmm, she thought, a couple are missing. Oh well, guess they must have gotten cold feet. "Roswell, they did spell your name wrong," she muttered as she looked over the paper one more time, then re-crumpled it and stuffed it back unceremoniously in her pocket.

"Weather Man, you find some way in hell to make that umbrella usefull for anything other than not getting rained on I'll owe you a drink," she chuckled, then shook her head, taking control of herself again.

"All right, Green Team, now that we're here it's time to tell you what exactly we'll be doing, as if you didn't know already," Alayne paused, "The lame brains have been getting stronger. For some reason they're faster and more capable than they were before. As you may know they've managed to already sack the other 'cities'; leaving us here in Sacremento the last left standing."

She paused again, letting them absorb what she'd just told them, "We need to figure out why. The squints in the lab need to study an active zom to do that, and maybe a few not-so-active ones for good measure. This isn't a vacation, and this isn't a game. There's a damn good chance that we may all die on this, and I want ALL OF YOU to understand that. If your feet are getting frosty now is the time to go, because there will not be any turning back once we leave the walls. We're going into hell, and we better be coming back with a live trophy for all our troubles."

"My name is Alayne. I'm the Hunter leading all of us into the shit storm out there," she pointed out over the walls. "I need to know what you guys can do, anything from trapping, to being a good distraction," she said looking at each of them in turn, "to what weapons you have."

"I'll start first off by saying that right now, we've got nothing so anything you can put on the table helps," she explained as she drew her pistol and opened the cylinder and let it spin freely a few times before closing it. "Out there guns are nice, but they can also be a death sentence," she said as she spun the revolver, "so I don't want to hear anything about why we aren't packing enough lead. Anything can be a weapon, even an umbrella as Culpepper so nicely said."

"But the best weapon... the best one is the one you never have to use," she said as she slammed her gun back into its holster.

Zach kept a straight, serious look on his face as he listened to the briefing, but inside his head that little voice was nagging and running around panicing. He tried to nudge off the feeling, and succeeded for the most part. Still, knowing that death was one of the things waiting out there unnerved him inside. A lot.

The zom hunter, whose name he now knew was Alayne, had pulled a revolver as she mentioned wanting to know what they could do and what they can put in. The spinning annoyed him a bit, but he listened. This part was obvious; from what he knew, the zombies were supposedly attracted to sound, and a gun was a bad idea. She ended with the most cliche thing he had ever heard and he watched the gun go back in the holster, then sighed.

"Well, if you're wondering what we have and can do, I'll start. I'm an ok camp-cook, but distractions and combat aren't the best position for me, I'll just put that out there. I do, however, have this..." He reached into his backpack over his shoulder, and slid a fairly big knife, around the size of a small machete, from an opening in the bag. "...Just in case. As you said, best weapons the one you don't need. And hopefully that stands well out there."

He slid the blade back into the bag and shifted his weight onto his left leg kind of suddenly. His expression doesn't change, but he thought to himself, It hurts again... bad timing. Baaaad timing.... He shifted the bag to draw attention away from the sudden switch of stance, or at least he hoped to draw attention away.