thebreathing | TEST DRIVE MEME #1.

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TEST DRIVE MEME #1.

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WAKING UP

You wake up in a studio in an apartment building that's got windows all boarded up. You remember being sick, you remember dying, and you probably can't believe this is the afterlife. If you head out into the hall you'll see that others are heading out too, looking just as confused as you are. All of you died, most of you of the same thing. If you head down to the front office, you'll meet a native resident who will explain in brief that you're in Aqora, a settlement living among the undead and that people like you show up every so often. You'll be given an informational pamphlet, a shitty cell phone, and a walkie. Then you'll be expected to figure it out. No one has time to hold your hand.

EXPLORING

Miscellaneous things here: shops and restaurants turned into places to live, apartments full of people living day to day, the main focus (the library) being the hub where people come to learn and children go to school. Because school never ends, even in the apocalypse. Feel free to buddy up with other newcomers to figure out what the hell is going on.

OR, say you've been here a while. It's time to figure out how to get more supplies! Let's go on a supply run. You'll just be heading out past the barricades to start, and you'll have to dig through buildings to try and find things. If you're lucky, maybe you'll hit a cache. If you're unlucky, you'll find too many undead to fight. No one goes out alone though, so hopefully your partner can help.

"NETWORK"

Someone has set up a rudimentary network using the nearest cell towers. You can communicate with others in the area but only via voice and text. Anything further out is voice only via walkies. You can have a username or leave it blank.

Have fun, campers.

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Unfortunately, the place they woke up in had been pretty thoroughly cleaned out by whoever had brought them there. And eventually Daryl gave up on finding anything appropriate in any of them.

So instead, in the last apartment they checked, he moved to the window and looked outside. What he saw surprised him some. Not because of the people moving about but because of the skyline. It looked like they were in a major city.

He waved at Jesus to come over, the knife he'd 'borrowed' still in his hand. Still ready to be used if they encountered any of the dead. He'd just forgotten to give it back already. Mostly cause a knife in his hand was normal for him. More so than a gun. Less so than his bow.

"Hey, you been around D.C. right? This look like D.C. to you? Can't see the Washington Monument. Might be behind us if it is."

It's a tedious process but there really is nothing left. Paul moves to the window when Daryl waves his hand, brow furrowing a little as he looks outside. No, it's completely unfamiliar and definitely in the middle of a city. That isn't anywhere near where they're supposed to be.

"I'm from D.C.," he admits, "and this isn't D.C. I don't recognize it at all."

Growing up in the home like he had, it isn't like he'd had many opportunities to travel - money is always an issue when you're a ward of the state and even after they kick you to the curb because you're still poor. So Paul knows D.C. and the surrounding areas and that's about it. He sighs, moving over to the couch of the room they're in and leaning against the side of it with his arms crossed over his chest.

"None of this is adding up. We're not in the right place, we're healed up, we're alone, we weren't restrained, so what are we supposed to take from that?"

"Ain't Atlanta, neither," Daryl added under his breath as he stayed at the window just watching it all. He leaned against the frame and let himself relax for a second.

"They don't think we're a threat or they don't know we're here. One or the other. This place is cleared out, but it ain't dusty so they still get use outta it. Can't really see any way they didn't bring us here, so best guess is the first. We ain't a threat to 'em as far as they're concerned."

"They left us our weapons," he says, straightening and walking back over to Daryl. He looks down to the knife in his hand and reaches down to pull out one of his other ones, turning the handle over in his palm thoughtfully. No one does that.

"It's so empty. We should probably head the rest of the way down and get out of here, get the lay of the land, figure out where to go from here. There has to be somewhere we can scrounge up some supplies."

There aren't many floors, so they can just head on down and out unless there's something or someone to stop them.

Daryl finally realizes he has Jesus' knife in hand, but doesn't offer it back. Jesus had clearly seen it and hadn't asked for it. So until they found another one for Daryl to claim, he was going to use it.

He moved past the other man, heading for the door to lead the way. Taking point like he was used to doing. The other floors were empty right up until they got to the bottom and found a person sitting at a desk, looking bored out of their minds while they went over some paperwork.

They looked up upon noticing the movement out of the corner of their eye, sighed, and sat back, "Good. You're awake. Take a phone, a walkie, and a pamphlet. Then get out of here."

Daryl stayed where he was, looking confused by the reaction and the words.

Yeah, Daryl's keeping Paul's knife until they find him something else. It's better than having him unarmed when they don't know what's going on or who they're with.

Everything is quiet until they see someone and Paul stops dead briefly and then--

--riiiight. Okay. "What?"

A beat before the person at the desk replies. "Welcome to Aqora. You each get a phone, a walkie, and a pamphlet. If you have any other questions leave here, hang a right, and stop in at the dentist's two blocks down. The doc will answer you."

Paul just looks kind of nonplussed before moving to take one of each item slowly and hold them out toward Daryl, one hand still clutching the knife. Once he finishes that, he gets his own. Might as well if they're offering.

But still, "this is ridiculous."

Daryl takes the items only because Jesus is the one handing them to him. Like they'd passed some sort of rite of trustworthiness just because the other man had touched them. Mostly 'cause he trusted Jesus. The phone got shoved in his pocket, the walkie attached to his belt, and the pamphlet turned over in his hands.

He squinted at the person before lifting his chin stubbornly, "Why can't you answer questions? Ain't no one else here?"

"I have things to do," they said, obviously annoyed, and gestured at the paperwork in front of them. It looked like a list or schedule of some sort. Then they went back to it, practically ignoring the two.

Daryl stared at them for a second longer before moving closer to Jesus and actually opening the pamphlet to start reading,"'If yer reading this, you have probably died. Most of the people who show up in that building claim to have so we're assuming you have, too. We don't know how, we don't know where. We don't care. You're here and if you're going to be here, you might as well help keep the rest of us alive because you can still die all over again if you get bit.'"

He locked eyes with Jesus briefly, "The fuck kind of bullshit is this?"

Paul's quick as a pickpocket making his own supplies disappear into his clothing, turning toward the conversation and narrowing his eyes just a little. Just enough for it to be odd for anyone that knows his usual mild expressions.

Once the talk is apparently over, Paul leans in to read along with Daryl, but it really doesn't make anything clearer. He lifts his gaze at just the right time - they're oddly in sync, he thinks, before shoving it away - and then cards his gaze away, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest (carefully, owing to the GIANT KNIFE).

"You ever see the movie Beetlejuice? This reminds me of that, except at least they got a book."

If you get bit sticks with him. "You mean we die, which I know by now, and go from one place with the dead to another?"

A pause as something in particular catches his eye in the writing - "who the hell calls them zombies and what does it even mean?"

"Hell if I know," Daryl shrugs and flips the paper over to have a look at the back. There's a poorly sketched map of settlement. Just the area inside the walls. Enough space for he was guessing a couple hundred people to be comfortable without the buildings being a few stories tall. More with 'em like that. And if they had as much empty space as the one they were currently in, they probably didn't have much more than 150 or so. He could be wrong on that, but he didn't think he was. He was good with those sorts of quick calculations.

Daryl nudged Jesus with his shoulder to get the man moving and once more took point as they headed from the building. He was cautious doing so, of course. Pamphlet in one hand, knife in the other. Every step a wary one.

"Said we're lookin' for the dentist office, right? Think it'll be covered with dancing devil women and neon lights?"

Since Jesus had been going for that Beetlejuice metaphor and all...

Paul doesn't know either. Anyway he's not good at maps so this is a little better than what he could do but in any case he gets the gist of it and he can gauge population caps and all at about the same level as Daryl so they come to the same conclusions - with the size of their gardens they're either living under capacity, have a lot of outside food, or are struggling to maintain.

He lets himself be nudged along then keeps watch after Daryl as he follows him, knife in hand. A couple of people are out and about but don't seem too worried by the two grown men looking angry and alarmed and holding knives - they must be used to it.

"Right, the dentist." A beat. "Not my scene if it's dancing devil women, though." No, it sure isn't. "Hopefully the doctor will have more answers than this pamphlet. I'm glad to know they have a doctor on hand."

Lo and behold: the dentist's office.

If Daryl caught the remark about the women, he didn't show it. He was focused on taking in their surroundings and making sure he had his body between Jesus and any visible potential threats. He trusted the man to take care of himself, but old habits died hard and Daryl had always been protective.

"Dentist ain't the kind of doctor most of us need, though," he muttered back, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry. "'Less they're just working out of the office. If they got a real doctor 'round here, then they're doing better than a lot of folks."

Actually, even if they were struggling to maintain a food supply, the fortifications on the place made Daryl think they were doing pretty damn well. Whoever set it up when things went to shit around here did a damn fine job of securing it.

At the office, Daryl pulled open the door and held it for Jesus to go through.

It's funny, the way Paul can tell who's been here all along and who's new. The people that are new just look kind of alarmed and confused by them having knives out as though they're extensions of their arms and the people that are used to being in this kind of world have a look of understanding. Trust no one.

"Better than nothing if they're a dentist, better than gold if they're just using the office." Paul's voice has taken on the low and soft cadence it usually holds, adept at making sure no one will hear him but the person he wants to.

He's thinking the same thing. "Good borders," he mutters once, just loud enough for Daryl to hear. Then he's nodding his thanks, passing through the door.

Inside the office it's set up as a proper medical clinic instead - someone's opened up the half-wall for the waiting room and made it into a fully open area and there's a man at a desk with tattoos, a cigarette, and a crooked little smile on his face. "More newcomers?" he asks, lofting his eyebrows. Asian - Japanese - and pretty small, but looking sure of himself. "Before you ask, I'm not a dentist. I'm a surgeon."

Oh. Well that's one question down.

"You're the doctor then?" Daryl stated more than asked and he moved in close to the desk, keeping his body turned toward the room so he had the most line of sight possible. He slapped the pamphlet down and pressed a finger into it.

"The hell is this supposed to mean? If it's a joke, it ain't funny."

Paul remains silent, just standing next to Daryl and watching, fingers twitching like he's willing to grab onto his arm to hold him back. But not quite yet.

"It's not a joke," the doctor says quietly, looking apologetic and inclining his head. "Things have been like this here over a year, but no one's sure exactly how long. It's relatively safe here. I'm sorry that you've arrived like this."

There's a pause.

"My name is Kei."

"You expect us to believe we died? And this is some sort of afterlife?" He let out a disgusted tone and pulled the pamphlet back. "We go from walkers wanting ta tear our throats out in Virginia to them wanting to do the same in..."

He glanced at the paper, "L.A.?"

Daryl looked at Jesus, "Ain't that like, three thousand miles or something?"

Paul does some quick mental math before nodding. "About that." He sighs then, pulling off his hat and dragging his fingers through his hair. "Look, what he's saying is this is a lot to ask us to just believe wholesale like it's the gospel truth."

Kei sighs as well, nodding. "I understand. You said you had the dead where you were too? That doesn't happen often. I'm truly sorry that this has happened to you at all, and I'll answer any questions I possibly can."

"How can we get home?" Paul's voice is very quiet and almost dangerous. Almost.

The silence draws on. "No one knows."

"Could just walk there," Daryl muttered as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. It wasn't a real suggestion. It was three thousand miles through land he had no real knowledge of how to survive in. Desert anyway. Assuming they went straight across. If they went north, hell, he didn't really know. South he was pretty sure was more desert. And fuck the mountains in between. Could get lost in those for months. Best case scenario of heading east, assuming everything went in their favor, was they'd get there in three months. But knowing that nothing would go in their favor cause it so rarely did, they'd probably die (again) sometime before they even got close.

Daryl pushed those thoughts aside and tugged at the front of his 'borrowed' shirt, "Got someplace I can pick up some new clothes. These ones need ta go."

At that, Paul rolls his eyes even though he knows it's not a real suggestion. Even with a vehicle they'd be screwed, most likely. This doctor seems pretty earnest and Paul likes to think he's a good judge of character. Sighing, he drops to a chair and then just... watches a moment, ice-blue eyes sharp and bright. Intelligent and observant.

Eventually Kei seems to be looking Daryl over once, sizing him up, before he nods, getting up and moving into a back room. "One moment."

While he's gone, Paul gets up and moves closer to Daryl, voice low. "What do you think? If we really are in Los Angeles, there's no good explanation for why or how we got here. There's no way anyone could get us from home to here at all, much less without us knowing."

Daryl ducks his head and turns his body to keep his mouth from being easily visible while he answered. One hand coming up for him to chew on the skin between thumb and forefinger.

"Still some helicopters working, but the kind of trip that'd take just to do this?" He shook his head. That would be so pointless it wasn't even worth saying it aloud. "I don't know. Maybe we're having one of them joint hallucinations. Or maybe we're in purgatory. Hell if I know."

Paul licks his lips, shrugging a little. "Only thing to do is keep going like always. Not like we're about to give up now after everything."

It's true, though. When Kei returns it's with a stack of things - jeans, a shirt, boots, the whole nine yards. Simple but serviceable. "We don't have every size, but if the boots don't work we can try to get better fitting ones." A beat. "Found a good stock a while back, but..." But things get ruined easy in the apocalypse. "Anyway, bathroom's in back for privacy."

Paul'd quieted down as soon as the other man had joined them again, but now he nods. He's still wearing his coat with a hole in the sleeve; he's a little peeved about it still.

Daryl accepted the clothes with a simple 'thanks', then headed around back. He paused after a few feet to make sure Jesus was following before he continued on. When he found the bathroom, he checked to see if it was empty, then stepped inside. He was well practiced in getting dressed fast, so that part wasn't much of a problem and didn't take long at all.

He stepped back out, wiping at his face with the old shirt, the rest of the clothes balled up. Boots didn't fit very well so he was in socks at the moment. Daryl didn't go to try and get new ones just yet, though. He wanted to keep speaking to Jesus in relative privacy.

"We can stick around for a few days. Maybe a week. Learn what we can. Decide what to do then."

Paul trail after Daryl easily, walking practically in tandem with him in a way that implies they've worked together a lot longer and a lot more smoothly than they really have. It's a good front to put up, though. United.

He waits for the older man to finish and when he comes out Paul's got his arms crossed over his chest, hat and gloves shoved into a pocket somewhere. He nods about the assertion, though.

"It's our best bet. They seem to be really dedicated to this cover story, it might take us a little while to learn anything worthwhile." He sighs, shaking his head. "Going on some runs could give me the lay of the land. Good graces of the higher ups, too. I know you're good at helping shore up defenses. And runs. And hunting. And everything else. We can worm in close."

"Middle of the city... ain't much to hunt." Which was a damn shame, because if there was it would be easier to set him and Jesus up somewhere outside the walls where they could watch and observe and learn on their own terms.

"Let's take it one at a time. Get me shoes, get a sewing kit, find out where they expect us to sleep." He jerked his head for Jesus to lead the way back. Shoes he could put on anywhere once he had them.

Edited 2017-06-23 02:57 (UTC)

"Mm." Daryl is still good at plenty of things to make them "useful" while they're here. Paul nods though, pausing only long enough to squeeze Daryl's elbow lightly before heading back out.

"Boots don't work," he announces gently when they're in the same room with the good doctor again, "wrong size."

Kei nods, accepting them back. "What size would work? To make this easier on everyone." It's addressed to Daryl, and once he gets an answer he'll disappear again--

"--if possible I'd like to repair my coat," Paul calls after him, just in case. Then he looks to Daryl again and shrugs.

He stayed quiet until the doc returned with a different pair of boots. A full size and a half up from what he'd been given before. Close, just not close enough for comfort.

The clothes he'd been wearing he offered to the doc with a murmured, "Need to be washed." Much as he wanted to burn them, other people could probably use them in a place like this. Wouldn't last long either way.

"Sewing kit of you got one," he added on, unsure if the doc had hear Paul's request to fix his coat. "Where you putting us up for night? Got rooms or we gotta make our own?"

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