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Gunner
Star
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2012
The Survivor and The Safehaven (Gunner x Sensualist)
It had taken some work. He'd first seen evidence of the scavenging parties; things disturbed in areas that shouldn't be, tracks that were deliberate & organized instead of haphazard like the infected. It had been another month before he saw an actual party. Technically he'd heard them before he saw them; they made enough noise to wake up a proverbial neighborhood. At least that was how it sounded to him anyway. He'd watched them from a distance, through both binos and a rifle scope as they meandered around the urban area, picking through the bones of civilization before finally loading back up into a boat. It was already starting to darken, so he bivouacked close to the beach that night, which allowed him to see the faintest hints of the lights just over the horizon, which had gotten him curious. It hadn't been too difficult for him to find a suitable craft; a kayak, and make it ready, load it with what he thought he would need. The harder part was the weather. It was almost a month before the weather was right; foggy enough to cover his approach with winds towards the direction the lights came from to lessen his exertion while covering his approach. He'd found the island easily enough, once he got close the lights had been like a beacon, seeming to be magnified by the fog. He had paddled around to the far side, found a small cave barely above sea level to hide the kayak in, then humped his gear inland a bit to cache it; hiding it well enough that he doubted anyone would find it unless they knew where to look, carrying with him only a minimum of supplies and his rifle.
He crept inward, slowly moving more or less toward the lights, in some places having to feel his way through the underbrush in the dark. He had already evaded one patrol, apparently their isolation was making them lax. He'd almost tried to make contact with them, but for some unexplained reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. Silently he'd been working his way closer, trying to see what they had, when he heard the snap, felt the sudden yank, and was up in the air in one violent motion, his head cracking against the tree they'd used for the snare, knocking him out cold.
His rifle came free of his hands, although he didn't lose it, thanks to sling; something he'd learned in his time in the Army. His pistol was still secure in it's holster, also attached by a lanyard in case it had failed, as was all of his important gear; it made it harder to set it down and forget it or for it to fall out of a pocket, although a few minor items, a lighter, lockpick set, and a couple loose bullets did fall from pockets & pouches as he hung, unconscious from the tree.
It had taken some work. He'd first seen evidence of the scavenging parties; things disturbed in areas that shouldn't be, tracks that were deliberate & organized instead of haphazard like the infected. It had been another month before he saw an actual party. Technically he'd heard them before he saw them; they made enough noise to wake up a proverbial neighborhood. At least that was how it sounded to him anyway. He'd watched them from a distance, through both binos and a rifle scope as they meandered around the urban area, picking through the bones of civilization before finally loading back up into a boat. It was already starting to darken, so he bivouacked close to the beach that night, which allowed him to see the faintest hints of the lights just over the horizon, which had gotten him curious. It hadn't been too difficult for him to find a suitable craft; a kayak, and make it ready, load it with what he thought he would need. The harder part was the weather. It was almost a month before the weather was right; foggy enough to cover his approach with winds towards the direction the lights came from to lessen his exertion while covering his approach. He'd found the island easily enough, once he got close the lights had been like a beacon, seeming to be magnified by the fog. He had paddled around to the far side, found a small cave barely above sea level to hide the kayak in, then humped his gear inland a bit to cache it; hiding it well enough that he doubted anyone would find it unless they knew where to look, carrying with him only a minimum of supplies and his rifle.
He crept inward, slowly moving more or less toward the lights, in some places having to feel his way through the underbrush in the dark. He had already evaded one patrol, apparently their isolation was making them lax. He'd almost tried to make contact with them, but for some unexplained reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. Silently he'd been working his way closer, trying to see what they had, when he heard the snap, felt the sudden yank, and was up in the air in one violent motion, his head cracking against the tree they'd used for the snare, knocking him out cold.
His rifle came free of his hands, although he didn't lose it, thanks to sling; something he'd learned in his time in the Army. His pistol was still secure in it's holster, also attached by a lanyard in case it had failed, as was all of his important gear; it made it harder to set it down and forget it or for it to fall out of a pocket, although a few minor items, a lighter, lockpick set, and a couple loose bullets did fall from pockets & pouches as he hung, unconscious from the tree.
