ArchivedLogs:Hunt

Hunt
Dramatis Personae Sebastian, Micah	17 November 2013 Just a father-son hunting trip...with zombies. (Warning: Gore of both the hunting and zombie-fighting variety.) (Part of Infected TP.)
Location <XS> Forest
Quiet and shady, the trees rise all around here high and thick. In stillness, woodland creatures make appearances, though sudden noises scare them back into the cover. Dappled sunlight filters down between the thick foliage, and the ground underfoot is heavily overgrown, though here and there paths have been worn, by deer or years of students wandering familiar trails. It is not the /most/ excellent of days, but out here in Westchester it's /far/ more pleasant than in the city. There's a very faint mist that hasn't actually worked its way up to being rain, damp out and chilly, but the woods lack the city's heavy odor of unclaimed garbage and rotting flesh. Just damp fall leaves and earth. In other circumstances it might almost be enjoyable, the quietly dripping autumn trees, the damp rustle of leaves underfoot, but Sebastian only seems businesslike-intent as he leads Micah out deep into the forest. The school itself has been cleared into safety, but out here they've had already one run-in, a middle-aged woman perhaps drifted over from Salem center and shambling her raspy way through the woods. Sebastian dispatched her quickly, one deep eye-thrust from the long knife at his hip; besides that he's armed with his webshooters on each wrist and a bow and arrow at his back. He's been restless, that much is clear; unlike his emaciated barely-functional brother he looks filled out, healthy. He has a hard time /staying/ with Micah, exactly. He spends a lot of his time in a low forward lope on all fours, nose to the ground, circling back frequently to make sure his father is never /actually/ out of sight. He's coming back again, now. Dropping into place at Micah's side. 'Close', he signs this rather than says it, one hand moving up to almost touch the other. Micah is dressed for being outdoors extendedly, in dark clothing including a set of sturdy hiking boots, his heaviest pair of not-denim pants, and an olive green waterproofed jacket worn zipped all of the way up over a black hoodie. He is wearing his bright orange Jayne hat that serves double for warmth and making him easily identifiable as a human-shape through the mist and foliage, especially when combined with an equally bright international orange vest--to those with good colour vision, at least. He is set up with the necessary supplies (small food stores, water, a first aid kit, and such) to allow 'Bastian to travel faster and lighter and carries a hunting knife and borrowed rifle. Unfortunately, he's not well enough versed in bow hunting to be functional with the less-noisy weapons. 'Bastian knowing the area well and having hunted it frequently serve as quite the boon, speeding their efforts in locating a good spot to set themselves up. His enhanced sense of smell, also, should cut down on their wait-in-quiet time. Micah nods at 'Bastian's sign, happy to follow his instruction and just play 'guy with gun' to make taking down any located prey faster and easier. Bastian himself is dressed in a waterproof shell over his sweatshirt, but his pants are lightweight hiking ones and he hasn't actually bothered with /shoes/. He does have a small pack at his back, but it doesn't seem that he's carried all that much /in/ it. He doesn't stay at Micah's side long, again. Speeding off through the trees and returning to continue leading the way on. But eventually he stops, lifting a hand for Micah to do the same; they're in a small dense copse of trees but some distance ahead where the trees thin out a little more there is a buck, large and antlered, nosing his way through the underbrush to forage himself up a meal. Bastian's nostrils flare as the breeze stirs towards them, his eyes tracking the deer hungrily. Micah is slower to follow behind 'Bastian between his greater encumbrance and greater effort required to move with any degree of stealth. His arms are kept free of other items for ease of access to the rifle, should it be needed quickly. Despite being well aware of the teen's capabilities, he is still somewhat surprised to spot the deer. No setting up. No planted food plot. No prolonged sitting and waiting and peering through binoculars. It's almost like delivery service. He stops once he is within a decent range, maintaining some cover in attempt to avoid notice. Not having to get from sitting to standing certainly helps with avoiding spooking the animal. Once set in a good position, weapon readied, he waits. Just to be still, quiet, certain of not frightening the deer away. Perhaps it will even move closer for better chances of a clean kill. Patience is the name of the game, and certainly easier when there has been no tedious wait beforehand. Patience is less easy for Bastian than for Micah. Disused to this style of hunting and more used to taking game down with his brother and Isra, he never practices patience in these efforts so much as just having one person /corral/ the prey into the jaws of the others. It shows -- /quiet/ he can do, and he's still enough, but there's a definite tension in his form when he settles down in a crouch next to Micah. His fingers curl in a hard grip against his toes as if holding on to keep himself from moving. His teeth are bared, black eyes fixed on the deer. His gills flutter silently, breathing slowed. His gaze tracks the deer in its slow movements. Pushing aside these leaves here, hooves rustling quietly as it weaves briefly behind one tree to emerge on the other side, slowly drifting their way. His ears twitch momentarily, but he doesn't stop his grazing. 'Bastian is spared only the briefest glance from the corner of Micah's eye to ensure that the boy is staying in place, focused as he is on sighting the target. Checking the shot is clear. Bracing his stance. The deer drifts closer, but it doesn't seem reasonable to wait for it to meander within a more ideal range in their current position. Micah takes the broadside shot, aiming behind the presenting left shoulder and squeezing the trigger. There is only half a thought dedicated to the hope that the report of the gunshot won't draw unwanted attention. The deer falls -- tries to get back up again, though its front legs are struggling to hold its weight. Sebastian is out of their hiding space the moment the report fires, though, dashing towards the fallen deer and steering clear of its thrashing hooves. A low growl rumbles in his throat as he circles the struggling buck, one side and then the other before he leaps. His teeth sink in hard against its neck, its struggling quieting and then falling away to nothing as blood pours from the newly opened holes. Sebastian unslings his pack from his shoulder, now, gesturing Micah over. In it is -- nothing, apparently, except for a sturdy tarp and a lot of twine. "Keep an eye out." He's unsheathing his knife with a frown. "-- 've you dressed these things much?" Micah stows the rifle safely before he moves forward, watching 'Bastian's slightly different method of handling felled deer than the 'stand back, give it a second, shoot again if needed' that a clear shoulder shot typically warrants. “Guess that /is/ faster,” he comments in a low voice, still too used to the quiet to speak in normal tones. He doffs his pack, setting it against a tree, and pulls a pair of gloves out of his pocket to protect his hands. Crouching by the deer, he unsheaths his hunting knife. “Every time I've taken one down, yep. S'required. Gonna need y'to make sure we don't get any unwanted company, though. Takes a minute. Know it's gonna be hard t'keep your attention focused /away/, but give me your best, okay?” With that, he rolls the deer to its back and starts the work of field dressing. "We don't, um, usually do it /right/. Shane and I can polish off half of a doe together on the spot. It kind of loses a lot of innards in the process." Sebastian is pressing a hand to his ear, head turning slowly like he's trying to listen. After a moment he turns deliberately aside from the deer, scanning the woods around them instead, knife still in hand. Far better than his /claws/ for penetrating through to brains. "Never really pictured you hunting." He speaks quietly, too, still rubbing absently at an ear. "But then I never pictured Lucien going all Green Arrow either until it happened. I mean. Normally everyone's so --" He exhales heavily, tipping his head up towards the mist. His breathing quickens again the more the smell of fresh blood fills the air. He growls, soft and low. "Shane'll like this." “That is an easier way of handlin' innards,” Micah replies with a soft chuckle somewhere between pulling out abdominal contents and slicing through the diaphragm. An impressive volume of blood flows out of the carcass. “Ain't exactly my first choice of weekend activities. All the huntin' an' fishin' stuff was really more my pop's thing. Y'get t'learn all sorts of interestin' things about your friends in crisis situations.” A memory draws another little laugh from Micah. “Matt was talkin' about gettin' Lucien into a Green Arrow costume one time. Totally works.” "Oh, that'd be /pretty/. Why didn't we do that on Halloween? You should've seen him out there, he makes the apocalypse look /good/." Bastian turns his head back towards the carcass with another rumbling-soft whine, but then tears his eyes away. "Pa says it's when things get really bad that you learn --" He stops there, though. Still and quiet, suddenly, eyes raking the forest around them. “Because everyone was startin' t'get sick already at Halloween,” Micah recalls with a sigh. He is distracted briefly by the hardest work of splitting the pelvic bones from their union, a tough job for just the hunting knife. He doesn't speak again until they separate and he's back to slicing through the last membranes needed to free up the remaining viscera. “We can leave the heart-lungs and liver removal for when we get to...where are we finishin' this thing? A shed? Safer some place with a door. Don't think anybody'd argue you'n Shane claimin' the heart an' liver while I take care of--” Micah quiets again, when 'Bastian starts scanning the surroundings. "There's out-buildings down by the lake," Sebastian answers in a low murmur. Then quiet again. From off west, back in the general direction of Civilization, there's a quiet shuffling through the leaves. And another, a little bit north of that. A third a little bit farther away. Slow figures, moving through the misty trees. "-- Jeez," Bastian mutters, "S'like Silent Hill all of a sudden." He's tense again, a little twitchy, but he doesn't yet /move/, clearly unwilling to stray too /far/ from Micah as the figures approach. Starting to speed into a faster gait as they near the steaming warm blood. “Good plan,” Micah's reply comes in a similar tone. “Ain't like dressin' a deer carcass is /subtle/ work. Could distract 'em for a few minutes with the pile of guts we got here, maybe. They'll go for the easiest meat, yeah?” He makes the final cut to pull the last of the innards loose. “Better idea for me t'keep workin' here t'get us goin' faster or t'help you with...those?” His eyes flick over the approaching forms with increasing unease. "Yeah. They'll go for what's easiest." Bastian sheathes his knife again, taking a step back closer to Micah. "No. Better you keep working, we stay here too long there may be more coming, too." He drops the twine and tarp beside Micah and then stoops to scoop up the bulk of the pile of viscera. Blood drips from the mass in his hands as he darts away from Micah, dropping the pile on the ground closer to the approaching zombies and then backing back away. The nearer two start heading for the pile, one falling on it with a squelching tearing sound as it starts to shovel innards into its mouth. Bastian waits for the second to join in eating and then darts in close to it, yanking the knife to drive it deep into the base of the zombie's skull, grunting as he yanks it back out. The second one gets a blow through the top of the head, but with the thicker bone here he struggles for a moment to reclaim his knife. The third figure is nearing while he wrestles with the blade -- though there's a fourth, too, stumbling out from the trees in the /opposite/ direction. Shambling towards Micah and the fallen deer. Micah cringes at the combined sounds of zombie viscera-feasting and 'Bastian's knife striking home. "That is...extremely unsettling," he admits quietly as he continues about his work, spreading the tarp and shifting the carcass one end at a time onto it. He starts to wrap the fabric about the form. He glances around nervously from time to time, quick looks over his shoulder, enough to spot the other form approaching. He stops in his task, reaching for the remaining pile of organs and chucking them toward the fourth animated corpse with a wet splat. The fourth zombie stops at the organs splatting down in front of it, dropping down to crouch over them and begin eating, as well. Bastian topples back once he manages to dislodge his knife from skull, grunting as his third zombie lunges forward along with him to drop atop him to the ground. He lets out a harsh snarl as it champs teeth towards his face, turning his knife outward to drive it up through an eye with a wet crunch. His breathing comes more harshly as he shoves the body off of himself, turning towards the last distracted zombie. A boy, probably Bastian's own age or a little bit younger. With him distracted with the pile of innards, Bastian doesn't hurry quite as much, dragging up a handful of the leftover guts from his own pile to toss it towards the zombie as he walks closer. "Oh --" he sounds unhappy, as he's watching the boy eating. "Nothing about this is ever going to feel right." “I'll take that as a /good/ thing, honestly.” Micah finishes wrapping the deer and removes his gloves before fetching the rope and tying off the tarp. His hands shake a little through this, unfortunately making the tying of knots a slower process. “You got those?” he checks in with 'Bastian since his eyes are occupied with knots for now. It's blind trust on the zombie front. He keeps close mental tabs on the location of his hunting knife, just in case. "Yeah. M'good." Though Sebastian sounds a little distant when he says it. "Know that kid. S'in my robotics club." Sebastian glances down to his knife, and then to the corpse eating nearby. He wipes his blade off first in the wet leaves on the ground and then against his pant leg. "Metalbender," he says, as he sheaths the knife again. "Nobody eats the head, right?" He glances down to the deer that is getting tied up, reaching a hand to grab one of its antlers before it can get tied the rest of the way. Turn the head so the antlers poke /up/ a little more. His own hands are shaking a little bit, too, though. "Ba, can you stand back for a -- a second." “Oh, hon, I'm s--that's...rough.” Micah /somehow/ manages the presence of mind to avoid the trigger word, though the rest of the sentence falls a bit flat. He finishes the knot he's working on before stepping back as requested. “Not usually. Part of why they use 'em for trophies sometimes. Mostly bone, outside of the brain an' tongue, up that way.” Guessing at the nature of 'Bastian's request, he also turns away. “I'll just keep watch for a minute.” "Oy. Hey." Sebastian picks up a rock to throw it at the zombie's head. Kicks dirt and leaves over its pile of guts. Rasping its rattly groan, the boy's attention shifts. "C'mon. C'mere." He's gesturing the zombie onwards, beckoning it forward towards the deer. It gets up to stumble towards him, lunging towards him with another rattly not-quite-breath. Sebastian grunts quietly at the impact, hissing as the boy's teeth clamp down on his bicep. Sebastian's knife rattles in its sheath. There's a scuffling of leaves as Bastian wrestles the corpse closer, turning to drop both of them down beside the deer. /Slam/ head down on antler with another hard wet crunch. His own breathing sounds a little raspy afterwards. "{Sorry, Em,}" he mutters down to the body, as he yanks the head back off the deer with another squelch, laying it gently down in the leaves beside the deer. He closes his eyes, dropping to a crouch and just listening. "-- I think we're clear. For now." His hands have stopped shaking, but his voice is, now. Micah does actually keep watch, listening and scanning for any incoming animated corpses. Blissfully, there seem to be no others for now. Less blissful are the sounds /behind/ him, especially that telling hiss from 'Bastian. Micah turns when the ruckus behind him quiets, regarding the teen's new wound. “How's the arm? We need t'deal with it here before we go, or can y'hold 'til we get indoors?” He finishes tying the last knots around the deer, so that, at least, will be ready. Pausing, he retrieves his hunting knife from the ground and wipes the worst of the gore from it before returning it to its sheath. "Ghh. I'm fine. /I/ heal way faster than -- this was a nice jacket," Sebastian mopes. A nice jacket whose waterproofing is doing a good job of hiding a lot of the bleeding once he sadly lifts its torn flap back up into place, at least until the blood starts dripping down his arm and off his fingertips. "It's fine. Let's just --" He eyes the smallest of the bodies on the ground, his jaw tightening afterwards. "I'll come back for him." He moves to take one end of the tarp in his uninjured arm, starting to pull it with only a small grunt of effort. "-- Under normal circumstances I'd think it was nice, going hunting with you." "Hm. Might be able t'repair it some. Won't be quite as waterproof, though." Micah collects his pack and rifle before taking up the other end of the tarp. "That's bleedin' pretty good, though. Soon as we're inside, I need t'clean an' dress that for you. Good thing I travel everywhere with a first aid kit. Benefits of bein' a little paranoid." He manages a little smile at 'Bastian's comment. "We'll have t'do it again some time. Not horrible at fishin', either. Though I'd guess both you'n your brother are much more /efficient/ on your own. Could...do some fishin' later today, even, if anybody 'round here has the gear." "It'll heal just fine." Sebastian hefts his end, muscles tensing up with the heavy weight. "I don't think it counts as paranoid anymore. I couldn't go outside without --" His head bows, and he slips back into quiet for a moment. "I don't even know how to fish the normal way," he admits. "But people do it so there must be gear around somewhere. I've been out getting things for -- Shane's barely eating even now." He sounds distinctly unhappy with this. “Still should clean it t'keep it from gettin' infected. Human bites are nasty.” Micah pulls up on the tarp to help haul the load back toward the out-buildings. “Prob'ly your way is faster. Definitely better exercise. 'Normal' way's a lot of sittin' an' waitin'. Only a sudden flurry of action when y'actually catch somethin'. I can show you if y'want, but...definitely more of a diversion than just doin' it your way. An'...well...I guess better for /sharin'/ your catch if y'mean to.” He bites at his lip, given the news about Shane. “Is he stayin' in the infirmary? They got 'im on an IV or anythin' t'supplement?” "I share my catches. With, um, Shane." Sebastian turns to look back over his shoulder with a small wrinkle of brow for Micah's description of fishing. "-- Could bring my textbooks. The lake is a nice place to study anyway." His shoulders slump back downwards after this. "He's in the lake. Though we found one biter down there already. They don't really drown, they just -- bloat, it's disgusting. I couldn't even tell if it was someone from here or just someone who wandered over from the other side." “Don't guess he much /minds/ eatin' things you've already bit.” Micah nods at 'Bastian's plan. “Maybe some of this mist an' drizzle will burn off as the sun gets higher.” He frowns at the idea of Shane alone in the lake. “Honey, is that the best idea? Can't nobody monitor 'im when he's in the lake. Sounds like he needs medical attention the way you're describin' it. Sure we can arrange t'get 'im in a tub back at the school somewhere. Keep 'im warm an' watched an' fed. An'...away from bloatin' zombies. Ugh. That sounds even more awful.” His nose crinkles at the thought. "It was horrific, it --" Sebastian's mouth clamps shut before he gets into any graphic description, but a shudder runs through him. "I went through a lot of the lake and didn't see any more. I have Nemo on guard duty, there's only one way /into/ our home under there and he'll tell me if anything's getting near." He shakes his head uncomfortably. "I don't know if it's the best idea, but it's where he wants to be. I think he'll be able to handle a little more food once he's had a day or two of /having/ food. I can't believe I just left --" Another shudder. "I've done a lot of terrible lately, though, I guess. While you and Pa help save the world." Micah's lips press into a thin line, but he skips right past the horrific-ness. "Good. Good...wait, who's Nemo?" He sighs heavily, shifting the weight of the deer carcass slightly. "Guess I'd feel better if I could /see/ 'im. Ain't seen 'im since he last came into the clinic days ago. An' he was just...really thin, then. Think maybe he'd talk t'me if I go out, once the deer's done with? Gonna be out that way a lot, sounds like." Micah shoots 'Bastian a concerned look. "Why would y'say that? I mean, we sure would've liked t'hear from y'more t'know y'were okay, but... The one update we had on you while y'were out was from Lucien. He said y'were savin' a house full of trapped kids from zombies. That sounds like helpin' t'me. I mostly sat around an' let people stab me with needles for days. An', well. Ain't fair anybody ever tryin' t'compare themselves with all Jax is up to." "He's my carp." For a moment, Sebastian actually sounds a little lighter here. "I mean, he's not a /real/ carp, he's a robot. He's keeping watch outside our cave." He starts to reach for his pocket but then grimaces at the sticky blood on his fingers. "-- When I'm cleaner I'll show you what he sees." He drops back into quiet for a moment, head tilting to listen again to the woods around them. He speaks again once he's assured himself they're still quite alone out there. "Your arm's full of bruises. And that's not even talking side effects. You don't know what could've happened, those drugs weren't exactly getting normal safety tests. And Pa -- he does too /much/. I should've been there. Helping more. There were so many people I didn't -- I didn't --" His voice cracks for a moment, and he stops, slowly lowering his end of the tarp to the ground so that he can rub hard at his eyes with his hand. Micah actually laughs out loud, a sudden, bright sound of amusement before managing to quiet himself. “Sorry. Just. Robocarp.” He snickers a bit more. “Honey, it ain't like it was a sacrifice t'go in t'the testing. I...very likely would've died if they hadn't been givin' me the medicine. I'd gotten t'the point where I /bit/ Dusk. The hardest part was not bein' /home/ more. 'Specially with Spencer.” When 'Bastian lowers his side of the tarp, Micah sets his down as well, stepping closer to the boy and pulling him into a tight hug (avoiding the injured arm). “Honey, this has been a wild situation. I'm sure you were... I don't honestly know what y'were up to, so--” Sebastian's arm curls back around Micah, fierce and tight. He presses his face up against Micah's jacket, his breath hitching with sobs. "I was -- I went to -- help make a. A thing to fight the -- to help fight the. The zombies, I think I got really caught up in -- working and I -- then I was going out to get food and there /was/ no food and." He just trails off into another sob, here, clinging tightly to Micah. “Sweetie, no.” Micah presses a kiss to 'Bastian's forehead. “How is that not helpin'? Y'said it yourself, that y'were tryin' t'help find a way t'deal with all the zombie-people. An' then t'find food. It's not your fault there's a food shortage. We all been havin' trouble findin' food. That's why we're out here doin' /this/. An' look, you're here helpin'. I couldn't've done this by m'self. Would've been sittin' around all mornin' waitin' on game t'show up. Then there's no way I could've managed the zombies /and/ made it out of here with the deer on my own. You're helpin', hon.” His arms squeeze the small teen tighter. “Love you, B. This is a horrific situation for anybody t'be in. An' you're doin' what y'can.” "Because when I was out in the -- when I was out looking there was no -- I couldn't find enough food so I --" But this just breaks off into more sobbing. Sebastian burrows into the hug, mooshing his face up against Micah's chest. "Oh. Oh gosh." He pulls back abruptly, cheeks damp with tears. "I'm s -- oh. I shouldn't. We shouldn't just be sitting here with blood and meat and -- this is not. Safe to. {Sorry.}" “Honey, it's important t'be able t'talk about these things. We've all done...things we ain't the proudest of t'get by in this. An' we've all done brave an' impressive things tryin' t'help. It's what comes of these situations.” Micah gives 'Bastian one more squeeze before letting him pull away. “But you're right, this isn't the best time or place for talkin'. We can do that later, okay? I still wanna hear what y'need t'say. S'important. But we do need t'get this back before we're attacked again.” He bends to retrieve one end of the tarp once more. Bastian wipes his hand against his eyes once more, swallowing back another sob. He draws in a deep breath, steeling himself, and lifts his end of the heavy weight to carry it back to the school.