The suburban air was still and quiet in the autumn evening. Once filled with the sounds of people going about their lives, the only noise that one could hear now were the shuffling footsteps of the risen dead. One zombie in particular, a dark-skinned male, noticed something that drew his full attention. A piece of red meat, somewhat well preserved, hung on a hook in the middle of the street. Groaning softly, he began to approach it, hands reaching out. When he was only a few feet away, he started to open his mouth in anticipation. From out of nowhere, a 7.62x51mm round impacted the left temple, tearing through the skull and exiting behind the right ear. As the zombie started to topple, a lasso shot out from behind a bush, snagging the zombie and dragging him away. All this had happened in a split second, in near-total silence. About forty yards away, another zombie turned, noticing the meat.
From half a mile away in the upper level of an abandoned house, Jonah Hale looked through the scope of his suppressed M21, grinning slightly. "Got another." Nearby, Danae Kratosky sat in a chair leaned against the wall, filing her nails. Without looking, she reached out with the file and made another notch on the wallpaper. "That's 23 so far. Another seven and we can stop for the day."
In the radio, Michael Wallace finished shoving the dead zombie into a ditch to join its predecessors. "Oh good," he gasped into the headset. "Jonah, man, quit picking the fat ones." He coiled his lasso in preparation for the next. As it, too, started to topple, he successfully roped the zombie and dragged it out of sight. This one, a slender female, was easier to move. "Better."
Jonah, looking for the next target, was about to reply when the radio crackled. "Team 4, come in, this is Outpost 1." Danae saved him the trouble of answering. "Outpost 1, this is Team 4. We are almost finished with our kill count, is there a problem?" "You need to return to the outpost immediately. Something's come up." "Roger that, Outpost," the young woman replied, picking up her Remington 870 shotgun. "Returning to base."
OCC: Everyone start your first post with being called via radio to return to base.
_________________ The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for.
-Tucker Max
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