Post by Claire Cooper on Apr 19, 2011 18:07:05 GMT -5
50...60...70 and climbing...speeding down the highway away from her childhood home of Staten Island she raced back to where she belonged in Queens, where her duty as a Police Officer was to keep the streets safe and from what she had heard on the phone that was not the case right now...80...90...faster...
The workaholic had left her precious job behind in an unexpected and sudden trip to Staten Island where she had grown up. Only days previous Claire had received a distressed phone call from her father, a man who was no longer in her life, though that didn’t ever stop her thinking of him. The panic and terror in his voice was not one that was common for the research scientist, there was something tainting and unnerving about his words and the lingering atmosphere over the phone call that just wasn’t right. Her father had rambled on about apologies and how she was his daughter and how he was proud of her, how he always had, and still did, love her. The last Claire had seen her father had not been the most pleasant of experiences. Travelling from Queens every week to see him their relationship reached dangerous limits upon her discovering his recent research. Though the blonde did not fully understand the concepts and depth, she wasn’t stupid and most definitely understood the dangers that were gleaming in her face off the dog eared sheets. The two had come to blows with a tense argument spiralling out of control. That was the last time Claire seen her father. They didn’t speak until that unexpected phone call. Claire is stubborn, she gets it from her father, her father would not call her so willingly, breaking his pride was just not Frank Cooper. The call was strange. He barely listened to her. He didn’t answer her, didn’t define his worries or reasons for wanting her to leave. New York was her home, Queens was where she lived, why would she leave all that she knew? And because her father, a man who she hadn’t spoken to in years, practically a stranger now, told her to do so. Still, he was her father and he had sounded almost maniacal in his urgency. Claire had tried to call back but his phone wasn’t ringing out. Either it was off, or something terrible had happened to him.
And so that was how Claire Cooper had ended up finding herself back at her old home full of memories that she had both missed and wanted to keep forgotten. A few days later Claire’s boss had called her, asking if she was still in Staten Island and if it was possible could she return back a.s.a.p. It was urgent! Crime had escalated greatly. Something was wrong.
But Claire already knew that. Her father’s panic. His disappearance. His research left in his home study, he always took it to work with him, never left it for prying eyes to see. She had to get back to Queens, whatever was happening, it had to be bad or they wouldn’t have called her. But how bad it was Claire had no idea. She’d grabbed books of research along with a journal her father had kept before rushing out of the house and back on the road where she was now, shortly approaching her work as she speed into Queens down the familiar streets.
“What the - ?” she exclaimed to herself as she exited the car steadily, taking her rucksack filled with her father’s work from the passenger seat and holding it by the strap. Walking into the station was only worse, cries and groans could be heard echoing around them. What was that?! There were no cheerful, sarcastic, friendly faces roaming the corridors today, instead everyone looked worried, grim, fearful and some even physically pale in complexion. Deciding not to leave she wanted to find out what was going on, what she had missed! Completely forgetting about someone taking a look at her father’s research, instead that continued to hang limply by her side, comfortably within her rucksack. Blue eyes caught a news paper report. Bodies, half eaten, cannibals, a virus that caused madness and loss of sanity, deformity in some more extreme cases, typically the living dead.
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“Pub tonight then Cooper?” another officer flashed a grin at her but despite his cheerfulness, there was an unmistakable fear in his eyes. Claire looked up from her reading, her father’s frantic research that at times made little to no sense to her, “A place where no crazies are trying to knock down my door seems good enough for me...But maybe I wont even get that out there” she teased him jestfully but there was no humour in it, there was only words that may once have let an amusing battle run, but now mere nods and forces smiles were all that responded. Claire stood up, tossing her book into her rucksack along with the others and swung the strap across her left shoulder till it fit comfortably. “Time to go then...” this was her home, she didn’t want to leave but staying was not an option either, if she did she’d be dinner. The last two officers left the station and onto the derelict streets. It was typically a ghost town. As the two walked towards the evacuation point a cry pierced out, cutting the silence. Claire stopped. “Claire, no...Leave it” her fellow officer warned but she had already made up her mind, “You go ahead” she said walking backwards and calling back to him as she ran off, “I’ll catch up!” and with that she was sprinting away from her salvation out of this nightmare.
Claire fought the urge to cry out for the scream. There was clearly danger somewhere, attracting anymore certainly wouldn’t sustain safety. Pulling her gun out of her belt pocket, Claire held it stationed in front of her for protection, briskly walking towards the continuing screamers direction. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” she pleased to the oncoming walking corpses, “NOT MY SON! LEAVE HIM YOU BASTARDS!” she cried out in pain, tears streaming down her pale, terror stricken face. “Miss!” Claire shouted her attention and the woman looked up to her, “Please! Save him!...SAVE HIM, PLEASE!” she shouted in her downwards despair. “I...I...” she couldn’t, though she truly wished she could say she could, “I can get you to safety, but you have to follow me. He’s gone...I’m sorry...But you can still survive” she tried to talk to the woman calmly though the on watching zombie hoards began to approach making her feel more and more trapped herself. “NO!” the woman denied with a scream and Claire felt a pity for her. The dead corpse lay lifeless on the sidewalk, the woman clutching his hand in hers trying to pull him, scraping the deceased across the harsh road, “Not without my son!” she began and Claire found herself pointing her gun in all directions. One of the dead approached the woman, only an arms length away and Claire shot. Straight through the head. Bullseye. Why was the woman just standing there?! “We have to go! NOW!” she shouted more forceful in fear of her own safety now but the woman done the most unexpected. Wide eyes of the civilian clocked Claire. She breathed deeply then without warning charged towards the zombies, physically trying to beat them to death by the looks of it, being swarmed by them and in a swift pulling movement, was ripped to a jigsaw of flesh and bone, scarlette ink staining the street floor. “NOOO!” Claire was unable not to shout. Immediately she wished she had controlled herself. Those who hadn’t been lucky enough to claim a piece of the civilian turned to Claire. Dessert.
“Shit” she cured under her breath as she fired a few rounds, knocking some of the impossible to the ground. There were too many and she didn’t have enough bullets for them all. There was only one thing for it and that was to run. Speeding off on foot she raced down the streets, around the alleyways she knew so well, searching for somewhere, anywhere that was safe. In the distance a siren could be heard. The evacuation was over. She was trapped.
The workaholic had left her precious job behind in an unexpected and sudden trip to Staten Island where she had grown up. Only days previous Claire had received a distressed phone call from her father, a man who was no longer in her life, though that didn’t ever stop her thinking of him. The panic and terror in his voice was not one that was common for the research scientist, there was something tainting and unnerving about his words and the lingering atmosphere over the phone call that just wasn’t right. Her father had rambled on about apologies and how she was his daughter and how he was proud of her, how he always had, and still did, love her. The last Claire had seen her father had not been the most pleasant of experiences. Travelling from Queens every week to see him their relationship reached dangerous limits upon her discovering his recent research. Though the blonde did not fully understand the concepts and depth, she wasn’t stupid and most definitely understood the dangers that were gleaming in her face off the dog eared sheets. The two had come to blows with a tense argument spiralling out of control. That was the last time Claire seen her father. They didn’t speak until that unexpected phone call. Claire is stubborn, she gets it from her father, her father would not call her so willingly, breaking his pride was just not Frank Cooper. The call was strange. He barely listened to her. He didn’t answer her, didn’t define his worries or reasons for wanting her to leave. New York was her home, Queens was where she lived, why would she leave all that she knew? And because her father, a man who she hadn’t spoken to in years, practically a stranger now, told her to do so. Still, he was her father and he had sounded almost maniacal in his urgency. Claire had tried to call back but his phone wasn’t ringing out. Either it was off, or something terrible had happened to him.
And so that was how Claire Cooper had ended up finding herself back at her old home full of memories that she had both missed and wanted to keep forgotten. A few days later Claire’s boss had called her, asking if she was still in Staten Island and if it was possible could she return back a.s.a.p. It was urgent! Crime had escalated greatly. Something was wrong.
But Claire already knew that. Her father’s panic. His disappearance. His research left in his home study, he always took it to work with him, never left it for prying eyes to see. She had to get back to Queens, whatever was happening, it had to be bad or they wouldn’t have called her. But how bad it was Claire had no idea. She’d grabbed books of research along with a journal her father had kept before rushing out of the house and back on the road where she was now, shortly approaching her work as she speed into Queens down the familiar streets.
“What the - ?” she exclaimed to herself as she exited the car steadily, taking her rucksack filled with her father’s work from the passenger seat and holding it by the strap. Walking into the station was only worse, cries and groans could be heard echoing around them. What was that?! There were no cheerful, sarcastic, friendly faces roaming the corridors today, instead everyone looked worried, grim, fearful and some even physically pale in complexion. Deciding not to leave she wanted to find out what was going on, what she had missed! Completely forgetting about someone taking a look at her father’s research, instead that continued to hang limply by her side, comfortably within her rucksack. Blue eyes caught a news paper report. Bodies, half eaten, cannibals, a virus that caused madness and loss of sanity, deformity in some more extreme cases, typically the living dead.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Pub tonight then Cooper?” another officer flashed a grin at her but despite his cheerfulness, there was an unmistakable fear in his eyes. Claire looked up from her reading, her father’s frantic research that at times made little to no sense to her, “A place where no crazies are trying to knock down my door seems good enough for me...But maybe I wont even get that out there” she teased him jestfully but there was no humour in it, there was only words that may once have let an amusing battle run, but now mere nods and forces smiles were all that responded. Claire stood up, tossing her book into her rucksack along with the others and swung the strap across her left shoulder till it fit comfortably. “Time to go then...” this was her home, she didn’t want to leave but staying was not an option either, if she did she’d be dinner. The last two officers left the station and onto the derelict streets. It was typically a ghost town. As the two walked towards the evacuation point a cry pierced out, cutting the silence. Claire stopped. “Claire, no...Leave it” her fellow officer warned but she had already made up her mind, “You go ahead” she said walking backwards and calling back to him as she ran off, “I’ll catch up!” and with that she was sprinting away from her salvation out of this nightmare.
Claire fought the urge to cry out for the scream. There was clearly danger somewhere, attracting anymore certainly wouldn’t sustain safety. Pulling her gun out of her belt pocket, Claire held it stationed in front of her for protection, briskly walking towards the continuing screamers direction. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” she pleased to the oncoming walking corpses, “NOT MY SON! LEAVE HIM YOU BASTARDS!” she cried out in pain, tears streaming down her pale, terror stricken face. “Miss!” Claire shouted her attention and the woman looked up to her, “Please! Save him!...SAVE HIM, PLEASE!” she shouted in her downwards despair. “I...I...” she couldn’t, though she truly wished she could say she could, “I can get you to safety, but you have to follow me. He’s gone...I’m sorry...But you can still survive” she tried to talk to the woman calmly though the on watching zombie hoards began to approach making her feel more and more trapped herself. “NO!” the woman denied with a scream and Claire felt a pity for her. The dead corpse lay lifeless on the sidewalk, the woman clutching his hand in hers trying to pull him, scraping the deceased across the harsh road, “Not without my son!” she began and Claire found herself pointing her gun in all directions. One of the dead approached the woman, only an arms length away and Claire shot. Straight through the head. Bullseye. Why was the woman just standing there?! “We have to go! NOW!” she shouted more forceful in fear of her own safety now but the woman done the most unexpected. Wide eyes of the civilian clocked Claire. She breathed deeply then without warning charged towards the zombies, physically trying to beat them to death by the looks of it, being swarmed by them and in a swift pulling movement, was ripped to a jigsaw of flesh and bone, scarlette ink staining the street floor. “NOOO!” Claire was unable not to shout. Immediately she wished she had controlled herself. Those who hadn’t been lucky enough to claim a piece of the civilian turned to Claire. Dessert.
“Shit” she cured under her breath as she fired a few rounds, knocking some of the impossible to the ground. There were too many and she didn’t have enough bullets for them all. There was only one thing for it and that was to run. Speeding off on foot she raced down the streets, around the alleyways she knew so well, searching for somewhere, anywhere that was safe. In the distance a siren could be heard. The evacuation was over. She was trapped.