A tear for every grain of sand

[skeggsismad]

Location: The remains of the Joshua Tree National park in the Mojave Desert Region

Time period: Summer of 2011, two years after the initial infection.

Transportation using normal freeways has been made impossible by car pileups and zombie swarms in the areas near cities. Anyone desiring to get anywhere between the vicinity of Nevada, California and Utah must go through the shabby roads that feed directly into desert country. Though the concentration of zombies is much less, they still exist, traveling in herds and becoming problematic when they appear because of sheer number. The desert is hot and water is scarce. Those who travel this way know they must be prepared…for if the zombies don’t kill them, the heat surely will.

(As a sidenote…I do have a rather elaborate backstory for this thread, so if you want some more information about that you can totally PM me)

It had been quiet lately; no more visitors. Only a couple of months ago military tanks would mill their way through the desert, pillaging whatever there was to take from whoever there was around. Thinking about it, Doug sneered. He hated the god damn US military.

He was out in open view, sitting on a large red-colored rock in the middle of what looked to be nowhere. The roads that had been sculpted to allow traffic of the survivors as they called them stretched miles away from here.

The man plucked his spare hand through his ducktail beard the whole five inch length of it. His shotgun didn’t appear to be locked and ready to go, and on occasion he wondered why he even brought it around anymore. The weapon lay to the side of him near his right foot, for he was too occupied with a walkie talkie in his one hand to hold it. Static carried over in loud sounds, the only noise around. Everywhere around him was desolate and silent. There were no houses out here…there were no people even on the distant horizon.
All that could be seen behind him if you looked to the further your eyes could go were black metal stakes that had been hammered into the claylike ground.
 
”Any sign of them Doug?” a masculine voice spoke over the walkie talkie, scratchy and deep.

“I don’t see shit,” The pot-bellied man responded, eyes deadening, squinting to look onwards for whatever was out there.  Rather quickly, Doug realized that he had spoken too soon. Just as he had finished his sentence he began to see what looked at this point to be a black lump moving gradually towards him. It was far as fuck but it was gaining speed, and Doug corrected himself rather promptly,

“Wait a second. Shit. I see something now. It’s alone, nothing else with it. Either a straggler or somebody who’s lost.”  He continued to narrow his eyes to try to focus on the ball of darkness, but the heat  waves obscured his vision, making everything harder to make out besides the additional side effect of being sweaty and miserable smelling.

“Shit, old man! The hot air gotten to your bald head yet? You sure you see something?” The voice over the walkie talkie spoke back in a rather backhanded remark that managed to solicit a grumble of laughter out of the bear-like looking Doug.

Despite the fact that had it been Joe scouting he would have gotten up and approached the object- and Doug was pretty fucking sure the same was expected from him- the man nearing the plump age of fifty just sat there. If their bikes still worked he would have jet over there and circled around the figure, but the last crew motorcycle had stopped working almost a year to the date.

The figure got closer and closer, perhaps at the rate it was going it would cross his path in fifteen minutes. Too fast to be a fucking zombie.

“You know what, why don’t you send at least Scraggly down to come check this out. My gut’s telling me this might be some bad shit,” Doug vocalized into the walkie-talkie, looking at the blurred figure with an eye of caution. He still couldn’t make anything out…but then, maybe his vision was getting bad. Old age did things like that to you.

”Sounds to me like you ate that whole can of beans last night,” the voice responded with a bit of a mocking snicker.  Doug shook his head in response, something that the man on the other end of the conversation clearly wouldn’t be able to see…but Doug knew him well enough to know that he’d assume.

“You better be on your way now Scraggly,” Doug replied, still  grinning outwardly  about the jeer his buddy had made, and the conversation ended like that leaving Doug to his thoughts while he waiting for that IT to get closer.

It could have been a number of bad shit, zombie being the least on the list of a dozen options. Was it one of what was left of the white team? Hell, if they think they can come into OUR territory and get some fucking help after what they did, they’re just plain mistakin’. Was it one of the vampire kind that bumbled through these parts sometimes when they’d heard the rumors, trying to get some of the healthy human inhabitants to be willing donors? Was it one of the other teams trying to raid their territory for supplies? The worst thing at the moment that crossed Doug’s mind was that it wasn’t any of those things…but an outsider. Outsiders were always fucks to deal with.

[CowboyBlonde]

Scott had been alone for months now, searching everywhere he could to find some sort of civilization.  Anything with a heartbeat was hard to come by these days.  It had been close to 10 months since he was deployed to New Mexico to set up evacuation operations.  On arrival they discovered they were too late.  The infection had already spread beyond what they had imagined.  The other members of his platoon were gone now.  The four of them, including Scott were left in New Mexico without any means of communication from their base camp back in New York City.  After weeks of no contact and New Mexico heat, the three humans were starting to lose their minds.  Sergeants Perez and Holmes had gotten into a fight over food, things got heated and Holmes ultimately took Perez\' life over it.  Sergeant Holmes took his own life a few days later.  Scott was left with Private Collins; together they agreed to drive back to New York in hopes to find civilization.  In Texas, Private Collins was taken over by a small mob of the infected while Scott had the chance to escape.

Captain Scott Peirce was on his own for more than a day until he saved a stranger named Alex who led them to California.  Alex had said she heard rumors that there was still some sort of life there.  Scott agreed to abort his mission of traveling back to New York, in hopes that the rumors were true.

Two months ago, somewhere in southern California, Alex was attacked in the bathroom of a truck stop.  Scott was in the car waiting for her until he heard her screams.  He figured she had met her end and drove off without checking.  Him and alex had always established a no tolerance policy with each other.  So he drove onward to find the rumors Alex had mentioned about a group of survivors.

Scott was determined to find some sort of life in California before returning to his original mission of heading back to New York City.  His platoon as well as Alex seemed like a distant memory now.  He was driving on a long stretch of road with nothing but desert surrounding him.  He had been driving for days without stopping.  Suddenly his eyes widened and he slowly pressed the brake.  In front of him were hundreds maybe thousands of cars trapped behind one another.  They continued down the strip as far as Scott could see.  There was no way he could get through all of these cars; none of them were moving.  Scott turned off the car and decided to walk.

The blonde had walked a mile through empty cars, looking through each one for any sign of life.  Nothing could be seen for miles except dead vehicles, not even zombies were around.  Scott looked down to notice tire marks in the sand just off the concrete highway.  A glimmer of hope flashed across his face as he left the highway of deserted cars behind and traveled into the desert.

It felt like hours had gone by and still he had found nothing.  The tracks disappeared about half a mile back and Scott was now trekking through thick sand.  The hot sun was beating down on his black shirt.  His cold blood began to feel warm; he almost started to feel human again.  He decided to remove his shirt and tuck it into the waistband of his green camouflage pants, alongside his pistol which now only had one bullet left.  His dog tags hung around his neck, slapping against his pale skin.  His pants were tucked into his black boots to deflect any sand from entering them.  His hair was sparkling under the sun as if grains of sand had been stuck in it, but that was just his natural hair color.  Even though his blood felt warmer not a drip of sweat pushed through his skin.

Doubt started to set in.  He thought he would be walking for days until he hit road again, until his ears heard a distant muffle.  A voice!  Scott followed the sound.  It was hard to see through the whipping tornados of sand blowing in each direction.  But Scott was able to make out a figure.  The blonde wasn\'t sure who or what it was.  Out of habit he removed his pistol from his waistband and let the barrel lead the way.

As he inched closer to the figure it was still hard to make out if it was human or zombie.  The dusty wind began to clear and Scott focused on the man sitting down.  "Are you infected?" Scott yelled, still aiming his pistol; but he wasn\'t about to waste his last bullet on an old man.

[skeggsismad]

Now, Doug had a better eyeful of what he was dealing with. The blurry shadow was melding into a person the closer it got, and in no time he could make out that whoever was on the horizon was shirtless and looked like he’d just gotten done rolling around on the floor of a slaughterhouse. From the looks of it, from head to toe the fellow was caked with mud and grease and all types of different blood. Poor vision wouldn’t allow him to make out much more- no any sort of face, but he squinted just as much trying to see if it was anyone he recognized. The voice wasn’t familiar- but who could recollect voices you hadn’t heard for how-many-years? Doug happened to be one of those face people.

Shifting his position and grabbing his weapon up in the process, though he still did not make any attempt to put it in firing condition, the male mulled over the words that had been shouted out at him.

He don’t know nothin’ about nothin’ here or else someone’s sent him here.

Alone, he didn’t have anyone to back him up if this guy started shit. Thinking about it further, it was unlikely that the man was going to do something, unless the heat had gone to his head and turned that brain into stirfry. If it was a stranger who’d gotten lost in these parts, no matter how unlikely that was…he’d want some food, shelter. There’d be no way a lost man was going to start a conflict with the only person around for miles and miles. On the other hand, if it was someone else… a sneaky spy one of the teams had rounded up, or a remaining member of the traitors…getting blood on their hands was just bad form. You just didn’t kill a man out here for no good reason.

Clearing his throat, Doug finally spoke up, projecting his voice loudly enough for whatever it was out there to hear him.

“What in the hell kind of greeting is that? Think a zombie’s gonna come right on and out say somethin’ back? Of course I’m god damned not,”

A chuckle belted out of him mid-sentence when he thought about one of them things speaking back to inform the stranger he was a zombie. Soon, the expression and mood turned somber again. Doug wasn’t up for fun and jokes and he didn’t want to mislead the stranger that he was up for having a good time rather than serious business. When people came onto their turf, it was serious business- there was no use labeling it as anything else. Until the man got a bit closer or until Scraggly was here to help assess the situation, Doug wanted to establish as much as authority as he could muster.

“And while we’re already asking stupid questions…why the hell are you here?” The man made a snore-like sound and hawked a rather large spitball on the ground next to him, demonstrating one of two things: he wasn’t one of those prim and proper types who was trying to go through the new state of the world with as much civility as possible, and two… he could waste water. Somewhere, somehow, the man had enough of the magic liquid that the majority of beings needed to survive. In the desert, that was more valuable than gold.

[CowboyBlonde]

The older man came into focus and by the way he moved for his weapon proved that he wasn\'t infected.  Even if he was, he would have attacked by now.  Scott lowered his pistol a bit, staring at the bald man who seemed to get a kick out of his own response.  What could this man be doing out in the desert alone?  Scott stared at the walkie and wondered if he had any communication with a military base.  Was he the rumor that Alex spoke of? Was this one man the civilization Scott had been searching for?

Scott realized that he must look a bit frightening with the amount of grease and a mixture of zombie blood as well as Alex\'s caked on his skin.  Scott lowered his gun and slipped it under the waistband of his pants and raised his hands a bit.  

"Listen my name is Captain Scott Pierce; I\'m not here to hurt anybody.  I was stationed to New Mexico.  I\'ve heard rumors that there was still a speck of life around these parts, though I\'m not sure where I am exactly."  Scott spoke with a bit of authority to his voice, only out of habit.  He wasn\'t sure if that would get him shot.  Of course he could over power the older man but Scott didn\'t fancy making enemies at this point in time.  The blonde stepped closer for a hand shake.  The wind started to pick up again.  Scott could feel every grain of sand punching his bare skin.  "Are you the only one?"

[skeggsismad]

Pretty soon, Doug wasn’t squinting anymore to get a good look. The picture was painted pretty clear: a young looking 20-year-old something standing right there in front of him dressed in the attire of one of them pigs. The old man wrinkled his nose a bit in reaction, too…because this fellow looked just like him , except this one had blonde hair and the other had dirty blond.

They could have been brothers or something, and that in itself put the man on edge. Everyone who was in the club knew how badly the military was treated around here and what they’d done- coming through, plundering through everyone’s weapons and stashes like they owned the damn desert.

Then why on earth would one of them come back and dress a spy up like that. Couldn’t have been that they would expect a non-hostile environment, or the strapping young man wouldn’t have been armed with a gun.  Twisting his neck until he heard that cracking sound, a smug smile had spread upon Doug’s maw.

“Cap’n, huh?”  He muttered, shaking his head as he looked up at the man.

Of course they’d sent a fellow like him. Can’t be the military…can it? They normally come on with their tanks and flying birds.

If this man really was from the military and hadn’t been sent her on some secret mission, he was sure a long way from Kansas, and with bad luck too…because the wizard of oz in these parts of town didn’t shine too nicely on strangers.

His meaty hands gripped the walkie talkie and held it up to his lips, still smiling as if he’d gotten wind of the joke of this millennium.

“Wooo-weee! Listen here, we got a Cap’n up here, says he heard some rumors about us,”  Doug’s voice was clearly condescending. He wouldn’t acknowledge for a second that the man had lowered his weapon, one of the most reputable signs of friendliness out here. Nor did he lower his own weapon- though, he’d never been pointing it at this Captain Scott Pierce…only holding it to the sky as if he were guarding the weapon itself from grabby hands.

“ Is that right? Well why don’t you ask what sort of business he’s on out here, old man!” The scruffy deep voice from the other end of the walkie-talkie was as equally mocking as Doug’s tone had been.

By now he’d turned the communicator off and was back to staring right at the male as if Scott were dressed up like a clown.

“Damn straight I will. See, uh, Boss here wants to know,” He leaned forward on the rock, turning the shotgun to the ground so that he could put some of his height on the handle part.

“If you wanna have some dinner with us and we can talk about this who-what-is you\'re on about. Now that’s an invitation for one, no more of your military friends invited,”

If the man would come willingly, there would fewer problems. Fewer being as it was stated- there were always a couple of hiccups in the roads when you tried to lock someone up in a cage and keep them hostage until they spilled their beans.

[CowboyBlonde]

Scott was starting to feel hesitant.  He wondered if he had bumped into the right kind of people.  From the voice on the other end of the walkie it was clear that this old man wasn\'t the only one around or the one calling the shots; he was merely a foot soldier, as it seemed to Scott.  Though the old man\'s gun never pointed at Scott his attitude was beginning to come off as anything but friendly.  The Blonde began to wonder if this old man was part of the good guys.  A scenario pasted through Scott\'s mind, taking down the old man in a flash and hunting down the rest of the party himself.  But there wasn\'t enough evidence to prove what side this team was on.

He figured the best way to go about things for now was to cooperate.  Scott stood up straight, "lead the way cowboy." Scott was throwing his own sarcasm in now.  Of course being a vampire, Scott wouldn\'t be doing much eating but he was willing to explain himself to the voice from the other end of the walkie.  Scott only hoped that they would have some sort of Military connection.  Scott reached around and pulled his black shirt from his waistband and slipped it on.  it was a snug fit but did nothing to hide the smudges of dried blood on his arms as it was short sleeved.

Being out of contact for nearly a year with base camp, Scott had no idea what was happening in the country.  No idea to what sort of operations were happening now that the infection was spreading so quickly.  Scott feared the virus had reached other countries.  Scott wanted a reason as to why he and his platoon were completely forgotten about.  Hopefully these people would have some answers.

[skeggsismad]

From the looks of things, it didn’t seem Doug had any intention of moving from his perch. Sure, the fellow was invited to dinner…but just because he’d checked the box yes didn’t mean he got to run the show and say when they were or weren’t leaving. Besides…It wasn’t a good idea to go out somewhere in the middle of nowhere when the other folks didn’t know where you were going to be, with some punk that looked like he’d been to hell and back in the past 24-hours. Scraggly was on his way, and hell…Doug was going to wait for him to arrive. Though his hearing that had been degraded by time didn’t sense it, it was likely that a pair of supernatural ears might hear the crunching footsteps of someone in the distance. The sounds were coming from a direction to Doug’s left, and they were coming at a rather steady pace.

“ I ain’t no cowboy, Cap’n, I’m a biker.” The old man dispelled, shaking his head in displeasure at being called a cowboy . How many times did this have to happen for people to stop thinking anyone who had an accent had to be some horse wrangling, hat loving, feces scooping gay westerner? After that Brokeback Mountain movie had come out…Doug knew he’d never hold the same opinion of saddle riders again.

“Now…I hear you Cap’n military folk like to hunt down these zombie things like no other,” His expression had changed to a bit more of a contemplative one. That was something that Joe would want to know- the first thing he’d need to ask is if the scumbag-doggie had killed anything.  

“Tell me…how many you shot and killed at in this here desert? Don’t be modest now, Cap’n. I wanna know about all of ‘em.”  

He was prepared to sneer, but for now, the state of his emotion hung where it was.

If he’s shot one of ‘em and we lose our pack of beer to those big brothers or lipstick lesbians, I’ll have to break every one of them bones in his body.
Surely, it wouldn’t come down to the mental threats that were emerging in Doug’s head…for as many as curb stomps and gang rallies he had been responsible in his life, as soon as old age had set in his he had become much more mild. As of now it was mainly just a bad temper that got the best of him here and there, allowing him to spit out more promising threats than he could deliver.

[CowboyBlonde]

"My apologies..." Scott replied while chuckling a bit to himself.  Scott\'s super senses started to kick in.  Someone was approaching; the vampire could hear the sand cracking under their weight, he could tell it was a man.  If the old man wasn\'t going to show him to the leader than hopefully this new person would.

"I have yet to see one in this desert, but yeah I\'ve killed my fair share.  I\'ve lost a few friends in the process as well."  Private Collins\' torn body flashed through Scott\'s mind.  "I started out in New Mexico and then Texas, swooped back around through New Mexico again and then through Arizona." He paused for a memory. "There were a a shit load of them in Arizona."  He recalled running down mobs of them with his car, painting the streets with rotted flesh and blood.  "The smell of the Arizona sun baking the corpses that lay dead in the streets was almost unbearable."

Scott turned his head in the direction of the crunching sand.  "Is this a friend of yours?" Scott asked the older man without looking at him.  Scott waited until the figure of the man was in view to a human eye, the blonde wasn\'t going to let anyone know he was a vampire until it became absolutely nessicary, but to a trained eye it would be easy to tell.  The Army Captain kept his hand at his side, hovering over his pistol just in case.

[skeggsismad]

As Scott spoke, the older man was silent for a long time. He wasn’t exactly captivated by what the military man had to say, but rather….he was trying to determine if he was telling the truth or if this was all a bluff. Plenty of people wanted to get into their base and see what they had, what the structure was, what kind of defense system they had going on. Whether it was to plan a raid or a sting to capture one of their people, it didn’t really matter…anyone who’d lie out here was bad news.

A scowl wrapped on Doug’s face when Scott had finished, shaking his head in obvious disapproval.

“Yeah yeah yeah, Cap’n. Save yourself the trouble and don’t go tryin’ to tell anyone else about how hard it was for you and how many of them have chewed off an arm or two of your tank runnin’ friends. We don’t take kindly to that crock a shit out here,”

Indeed, this was perhaps the friendliest advice he had given out so far. The rest of the crew, nonetheless the rest of the teams, didn’t like the military at all because what they had done and nobody wanted some sympathy looking crybaby running around telling old war stories off the back of their hand and acting like they deserved a cookie afterwards. Whether Scott was doing such a thing was debatable, but regardless, in this situation it was best he kept his lips glued shut.

“Well hold on a minute and let me look. How the hell you expect me to know all the folk who come runnin’ around here? I didn’t know you, did I?” Doug grumpily muttered in response to the question if whatever was approaching was a friend of his. Frankly he hadn’t noticed anything coming yet…likely due to his poor hearing, and so anything that Scott would have determined would be in range for the average human’s ears wouldn’t apply to him.

Doug squinted once more to the left where the blurry figure was becoming more and more in his clear vision, and when he did finally recognize the figure he mumbled an ‘ah-ha’, without explaining what he meant by that.

In the distance a thinly built man with long and dark ratty hair that fell to his shoulders was getting closer. His face twitched uncontrollably and were he to open his mouth, scraggly, uneven teeth would poke out...the pair of dentures you\'d often see on a crack addict.

Turning back to Scott, Doug grinned, not allowing a word to pass his lips for at least a minute, the tension building.

“Now you don’t move yourself a damn muscle ‘til Scraggly gets over here, you hear? Then’ll we’ll take you to meet the Boss ‘round here,”

Things would be safer if there were two of them against the one Scott.

[CowboyBlonde]

Scott was quickly beginning to dislike the older man, simply because he lacked any sense of respect, especially for the armed forces.  Scott was grinding his teeth in hopes to avoid saying something he would regret. He liked to show respect for his elders even if they never showed an ounce.  Scott wondered if he was like this with everyone or if he only acted this way towards new comers.

Scott focused his attention back on he who was approaching.  Scott could see the skinny man very clearly.  He looked like a character straight out of a Rob Zombie movie.  Scraggly?  It was a fitting nickname....if it even was a nickname.  The Vampire pitied the boy who had to grow up with that sort of name

Finally we\'re getting somewhere. Scott thought to himself, hoping that Scraggly had some answers as well as a better attitude.  The Captain awaited instruction sine he wasn’t alowed to move; he was playing by their rules….for now.

[skeggsismad]

It didn’t take long for Scraggly to cross the distance between them…and that whole journey was wordless. Doug didn’t say anything, and even if Scott had spoken something it was ignored, all up until Scraggly was an arm’s length from Doug. The old man on the rock tried to get himself up as promptly as he could, but it turned out to be a longer ordeal that it would have twenty years ago. He stood up after a couple of attempts with a loud groan coming from his mouth, the bitter expressions having dropped from his face and replaced with a more joking one. Doug snatched his gun up shortly after from the ground and tucked it to his side protective, but not defensively.  Whoever Scraggly was, it was obvious that Doug was comfortable with him, and it seemed they might have known each other for a while.

The bald man patted the other one on the shoulder- or what he could reach of the shoulder…for there was a height difference. Whilst Scraggly stood at about Scott’s stature, though without the muscular physique that was defining of the military man, Doug stood at least five inches shorter than both of them with a plump, apple shaped body.

Although it did cross his mind, Doug declined to introduce his friend to Scott and instead delved into the middle of a conversation.

  I don’t owe no dog an introduction.

“Scraggly…now take a look at that fellow over there and you don’t tell me he looks like Daniel,” Doug jabbed Scraggly in the side with his elbow and pointed towards Scott as if he were a spectacle. Scraggly looked, whilst the ride side of his face, from the eye to the mouth, twitched like it was seizing.

“H-h-h-heh h-heh  h-heh you’re right about that h-he-he- does…they could be brothers, brothers! H-h-h-heh! H-heh-h-heh!” As Scraggy spoke his response, he revealed his bad dental work,  although, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Both Doug and Scraggly were dressed in plain and dirty attire: blue jeans and dark t-shirts that likely blended in with the night….but during the day…made them both sweat like they were made of water.

The speech patterns of Scraggly didn’t get a rise out of Doug and it seemed that both of them were used to the stuttering and likely uncontrollable motor impulses of the man. Scraggly had let out a sort of nervous giggle that prompted a belly rumble from Doug as well until he quieted down and gave Scott a firm look in the eye as he spoke, mouth still upturned from a thought that the two men had understood but had never bothered to share with the outsider.

“Oooh, that’s what I thought. And did you hear? He’s a Cap’n. Boss gonna be clutchin his balls when we bring him back, won’t believe a damn word we say until he sees it for himself.” Doug responded, bringing the both of them to the edge of hysterics before Doug himself hushed down, ignoring Scraggly’s high-pitched squeals of joy, eyes on Scott this entire exchange. The older man’s eyes narrowed and an air of seriousness fell over the conversation.

“Now when we transport you Cap’n, are we gonna be able to do it without holdin’ your god damned hand cause you’re gonnna run, or are you gonna be a man and walk with us without pussying out and trying to make a run for it?” He asked bluntly and directly. There was no other way to interpret his statement, and perhaps, there was an underlying threat to it. If Scott attempted to run out, it seemed Doug would do everything in his power to chase after him and round him back up. Scraggly stood and observed, without moving or saying anything more. Doug was in control of the situation...and maybe it was because of his age. Scraggly was at least ten years younger.

[CowboyBlonde]

Scott raised an eyebrow as he was being gawked at.  Daniel?  Scott wondered how much they actually did look alike, but not before wondering who he was; enemy or ally?  As each minute passed, more questions started to develop.  In fact he wasn’t sure if he had even gotten any answers.  The blonde was beginning to get a little heated, and it wasn\'t because of the sun, since it was starting to set now.

Much to Scott\'s surprise, after hearing Scraggly speak, he knew he wasn\'t getting much further than where he was.  As of right now Scott was stuck in hillbilly heaven.  Scott prayed that they wouldn\'t all be like this, still not knowing exactly who they were.  He hoped there were some brains behind this operation.  Apparently the older man and Scraggly had some sort of an inside joke about not liking the military.  Scott wondered why since they were just trying to help...as far as he knew.

Scott\'s eyebrows pushed inward as the older man became serious.  Scott\'s respect mantra was beginning to fade.  Scott never had thoughts of killing a human but this guy just pricked Scott the wrong way.  Scott would be glad to squeeze his fat neck until his round head popped off and blew away like tumbleweed in the sand, but that would ruin everything.  Who knows, dreams come true all the time.  But Scott was a man on a mission; he needed to see this through.

"I have no reason to run." Scott said through his teeth, glaring at the old man.  "Actually, the only reason I\'m still here is because I don\'t know where I\'m going or what to look for or else I would\'ve found the place on my own, I wouldn\'t be wasting my time taking orders from you…” He paused, “…and what would you do?  Shoot me?"  Scott was sure that Doug wouldn\'t like his tone.  It was easy to assess this man after only spending half an hour with him.

[skeggsismad]

Military boy’s startin’ to get feisty. Doug thought, making no visible to reaction to what the old man interpreted very much so as an outright defiance of his authority.

Them military men with them tanks and guns think they’re so tough. Wait till they learn they ain’t the only ones. Huh! That’ll teach them to be so fuckin’ head up their asses.

Despite his internal thought, the man only shook his head, pausing before speaking in response.

“Nah. Wouldn’t wanna worry any of your pretty little military friends, Cap’n. It’s just awfully rude to refuse a damn good dinner offer when you’re out ‘n the middle of nowhere and all. You even said it yourself, you’re lost, ain’t you?”

He let out a chuckle, with resulted in Scraggly’s hyena laugh chiming in and they were at it again.

“H-h-h-heh h-h-he’s lost,” Scraggly wheezed in between laughs and his involuntary twitching. Once more, Doug’s expression went serious and Scraggly wasn’t far behind.

“Now. We’ll be on our way. Don’t wanna keep boss waitin’ any longer,”
Doug extended his hand out and gave it a twirl, gesturing towards Scraggly to get a move on it. The man did, uttering a small agreement of,

“No sir, no sir, boss doesn’t like to wait,”  before he headed off in the lead.
Scraggly and Doug took positions walking that somewhat boxed Scott in. Doug walked behind him, and Scraggly in front of him. If he really wanted to get away he could walk to the side and attempt to shake them off, but it would appear that any time Scott shifted even slightly in his walking pattern, the two lined up to follow, making it seem much more like Scott was their dinner prisoner rather than guest.

It wasn’t that long of a walk. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, and the whole time was filled with silence. What more small talk did they need to have? If Scott wasn’t going to run than Doug wasn’t concerned and if Doug wasn’t concerned Scraggly just did whatever the hell he was told. They stopped in front of a giant cactus that must have stood at eight or nine feet. Scraggly bend down and dug his fingers into the sand, until they gripped something, and a metal handle appeared. Pulling it upwards, a long shaft that went underground could be seen with a light shining towards the end that looked to be at least twelve feet underground, perhaps more.

Rungs started at the edge of the hole and led down until the bottom. Scraggly strapped the rungs first, heading down and vanishing out of site within five minutes. Echoes could be heard below, but they were unclear and even with supernatural hearing it couldn’t quite be understood what they were saying. Doug sighed, letting a grip out and pushing Scott forward rather roughly towards the ladder.

“Cap’ns first,” He proclaimed, watching Scott with narrowed eyes. He’d climb down that shaft…Scott would be sure of it.

Scott would find that at the bottom of the rungs was a room full of boxes, with Scraggly standing there waiting and one other stranger, another bald Caucasian man that was likely in his forties, fit and in shape wearing clothes that looked decently washed though not completely clean. The vampire would also be interested in finding what looked to be an empty miniature jail cell sitting in the corner of the room, metal bars and all. Down here, there was electricity and the temperature was cool. It was almost as if…people lived there.

[CowboyBlonde]

Finally they were moving.  Scott was forced to walk between the two men like he was their prisoner.  In some ways Scott felt that he was.  The sand under his boots was deep and still warm from the sun.  The walk was filled with silence, besides the breathing of both men who looked to be very sweaty.  Not a bead of moisture pushed through Scott\'s skin, even with his black shirt under the setting sun.  

The vampire didn\'t know what to expect or how long it would take to get here.  He figured their destination wouldn\'t be just out in the open, this group was definitely a secret one.  The trio came upon a tall yellowish green cactus.  A few more were spread around the area.  It was the first time Scott had seen one in real life.  Scraggly stopped and dug up something shiny and much to Scott\'s surprise it was some sort of hatch leading down into the ground.  Scott had only seen Military use such hideouts.  He began to wonder if these people had stolen it from them.  The vampire\'s hesitation began to grow.

Scott turned his head to give one last glare to the older man after being pushed forward.  Scott gladly took the same route as Scraggly, just to get away from the fat man even if it were just for a moment.  Scott\'s boots hit the metal floor at the bottom of the hatch with a clunking sound.  A sound which he hadn\'t heard in quite some time, he never thought he\'d enjoy it o much.  He turned around to a completely new world.  The temperature was cooler, lights were brighter and it seemed like a sort of civilization Scott had been searching for.  Now if only he could get to a radio.  

He noticed Scraggly standing next to a bulkier gentleman who looked relatively cleaner.  "You the boss around here?" Scott said with a confident tone.  Out of the corner of his eye he established the empty jail cell; hopefully that wasn\'t his next destination.  Scott\'s patience was stretching thin and he wasn\'t going to be taking orders very kindly anymore.

[skeggsismad]

Scraggly was now armed with a generic looking fixed cylinder revolver. The muscular man, named Joe and sometimes referred to as boss, didn’t appear to visibly be packing heat, but that might be because he figured the pure bulk of his body was enough. He didn’t have an inkling of a clue that the stranger was a supernatural so he had no reason to think that his body strength wouldn’t be sufficient in suspending an opponent if necessary, even if he was as fit as Scott and with a weapon. There was only one of Scott and hoard of them…Joe wasn’t worried, and his ease showed. He was on the opposite spectrum of the chronically edgy and neurotic Scraggly and not nearly as uptight as Doug though he did seem to display the same seriousness. Joe’s brown eyes looked Scott up and down and Doug and Scraggly moved in order to box Scott in once again, with Doug towards the hatch ladder and Scraggly on the other side, leaving a triangle between the three of them.

“The name’s Joe, and you could call it something like that. I hear you’re a captain. That true? You with the military?” Joe took a pause, eyes set on Scott in a way that made it an uneasy stare to receive.

“Now…I don’t enjoy this shit one bit, having to do this before greetings and all. But you came out of nowhere in the desert, Captain, and we haven’t had too good of a time with the military around these parts. I can’t let you running around here until we know for sure you’re telling the truth. We gotta ask you a couple’a questions.”

Joe daringly turned his back on Scott when he had finished his last statement, heading for the unlocked jail cell, pushing the door wide open and peering back at Scott.

“If you don’t go willingly inside of here, the boys will have to make you. It doesn’t have to be like that. All we wanna do is ask a couple of questions, and when we know you’re telling the truth, we’ll let you go.”

Doug and Scraggly took a couple of steps closer to Scott, making the box they had formed together tighter. Joe simply stared back, presumably waiting to see if the man was going to put up a fight or comply.