<div style="text-align: center">《 MILES 》<br/>
<i>Location: Campsite to the East of Abendblume Community</i>​</div><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--left js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/large-1598473238-e908776a59dcdce06c33d52939dad74b-jpg.121119/" title="large-1598473238-e908776a59dcdce06c33d52939dad74b.jpg">
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</div>It was a bad time to be getting old. Hell, it was a bad time to be young, experiencing life and finding out that the opportunities you thought you were going to have had been jerked out from under you by a world bent on making shit pies and serving them out warm. This was supposed to be the best of times. The golden years. There was nothing golden about them now.<br/><br/>Miles leaned against the rail of his front porch and watched the dead bodies struggling against the wires. Nothing said 'Good morning, bend over,' like having a couple of undead flailing at your fence line like rapid fish caught on a stringers, except seeing them still dressed in their white shirts and ties and realizing that the young men knocking at his door had died the way they had lived; traveling in pairs and trying to convert the world through whatever means were left to them.<br/><br/>It would have been comical if they weren't threatening to bring the whole fence down.<br/><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--left js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/loretta-jpg.121120/" title="Loretta.jpg">
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</div>He felt the soft touch at the base of his back and the warm presence of Loretta. Turning towards her, he regarded his silver siren and smiled as she placed a hot cup of joe in his palm. "Morning Buttercream." His voice had that low, rumbling growl that came with spending long years smoking cigarettes, drinking hard liquor, and projecting his voice above the loud sounds of concerts and construction equipment.<br/><br/>"I see the Evangelicals are visiting," she teased, leaning into his side and resting her head against his shoulder. "You still meeting up with those settlers to the West?"<br/><br/>"That's the plan." He took a sip of coffee, then set the mug on the wooden rail. "You coming with me?"<br/><br/>Grinning, Loretta reached for her waist and pulled out a short dagger. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Old Man. I can't let you have all the fun."<br/><br/>They strode the short distance across the lawn, Miles' eyes scanning the treeline for more threats. Loretta walked up to the one on the left and jabbed her knife through its temple. Miles took out the one on the right, shoving the body backwards to ensure that it didn't tangle itself on the barbed wire and pull the strands from the t-posts.<br/><br/>"These look like second generation converts," Loretta said, noticing that they were not as decomposed as the ones they usually saw.<br/><br/>"They look like they were both shot," Miles agreed. "Target practice."<br/><br/>"Who's going to waste bullets on shooting missionary kids?" She peered closer to the bodies, then followed him as he walked over to the gate to go on the other side and drag them a distance away. "I mean, they're annoying, but they're not kill-them-for-fun annoying."<br/><br/>Miles chuckled. He grabbed one by the arm and began to drag it out towards the dirt road. Later he would come by and haul them off to the dump site, somewhere down wind where the rot and flies wouldn't annoy the crap out of them. The worse thing about all the dead was the mess they left behind. If people weren't careful, disease would kill them before famine and greed did.<br/><br/>As she grabbed the other body, Loretta grunted out her thoughts. "I think, (grunt), the Wilson boys, (grunt), are thinking about putting in some crops instead of just pot next year."<br/><br/>"Buttercream, let me get the bodies," he was already dropping the arm of the one he had dragged and heading back to her.<br/><br/>"I can do it," she insisted, grabbing the arm with both hands and hauling backwards.<br/><br/>"No, Hon – seriously. Let me get that one." She had been scheduled for a stent when the shit hit the fan. Every day since had been carefully curated to ensure that her blockage didn't progress into something worse, but the fiery Italian beauty insisted that a daily glass of wine and sex would keep her well.<br/><br/>"Ricardo Cyrus Miles, you know I am completely capable –" She stopped, her face going blank. Her hands fluttered to her chest as a look of surprise crossed her face.<br/><br/>"Loretta!" He was at her side just as she fell to the ground.<br/><br/>Her eyes fluttered, mahogany and full of life, it was the surprise in them that hurt him the most. It was as if she was thinking,<i>'No, this can't be! I have too much yet to live!'</i><br/><br/>He searched her neck for the silver chain that held her medicine. It was missing. He didn't know what to do for her; her heart wasn't stopped, yet, and she seemed to struggle to breathe. "Loretta, oh God," he could feel her slipping away. She let out a soft breath of air, her last breath, and her eyes stared off into the distance. "No, no!"<br/><br/>Frantically he went through the steps, even though he knew that it wasn't airway or breath, and when his fingers touched still skin, he began compressions. "Come back to me, come back." The faint memory of the Bee Gees singing 'Staying Alive' echoed in the back of his mind like a mocking ghost.<i>One, two, three, four, staying alive, staying alive. Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying aliiiiive, aliiiiive, oh!</i><br/><br/>He felt her ribs crack beneath his hands. Arms straight, each stroke straight down as he willed her heart to start again. This could not be the end. They had just gotten the ham radio to work with the little solar panels. They were going to find out if their children and grandchildren still lived.<br/><br/>She still needed to see the Grecian Isles.<br/><br/>This could not be the end.<br/><br/>He could feel the sweat trickling down his back. A droplet traced its way across his brow, slid down the line of his aquiline nose, and dripped onto his crossed hands. Miles didn't know how long he had been giving her compressions, but he felt her body flinch and knew it wasn't a sign she was coming back to life. No, Loretta was gone. The movement beneath his hands was certainly not<i>life.</i><br/><br/>Miles held the body down with one hand pressed against the now-ruined sternum. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mingled with the sweat of his desperate attempt to bring her back. There was no 'back' for her now, not after over thirty years together, not after three children, two bankruptcies, and countless ribbon cuttings at places he had dreamed to life – his beloved Buttercream was no more.<br/><br/>He unsnapped the buckle securing his fixed blade and pulled out the knife, eyes fixed on the snarling thing that animated the face of the woman he had loved. "Until death do us part," he said, slamming the blade hilt-deep into the temple, stilling the body that he had held for the last time that morning.<br/><br/>Two hours later he was throwing the last shovelful of dirt on Loretta's grave. He leaned against the rough bark of her favorite flowering cherry. They'd celebrated their last anniversary here by popping open their last bottle of Zinfandel as the sun set over the river glimmering in the valley. She had declared it her favorite spot in the world. Now she would see this view for eternity.<br/><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--right lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fcontent.osgnetworks.tv%2Fbowhunter%2Fcontent%2Fphotos%2Ftwo-bowhunters-meeting-in-woods.jpg&amp;hash=d2814aaaab06076b2ce645c7dabb33d5" title="two-bowhunters-meeting-in-woods.jpg">
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</div>He looked up as two camouflaged bowmen came out of the edge of the woods and walked towards his gate. The Wilson brothers, Jed and Josh, came in carrying two wild turkeys on their backs. They paused when they saw what Miles was doing, then Jed heaved a sigh, glanced at his brother, and opened the gate. Josh, the younger of the two, was shaking his head. They both knew that the man wouldn't have wasted his time burying a necro. There could only be one person who warranted that kind of care, and from the look on Miles' face, they knew who it was.<br/><br/>Jed spoke first. "I'm so sorry Miles," he rubbed a hand across his greying beard. "Was it an attack, or…"<br/><br/>"Natural," Miles said, wanting to shut down the talk and find out what the brothers wanted.<br/><br/>Jed unstrung one of the turkeys from the line and handed one over. "We thought she would have liked—"<br/><br/>"I don't need it, I got plenty enough for one." He cleared his throat. "But...thanks for the thought. She would have appreciated that."<br/><br/>"We thought you might want to know, Miles – there's people coming out of the Abendblume, It looks like they're cleaning house."<br/><br/>"What?" If he wanted something to take his mind off his loss this would certainly do it. "What the fuck are you talking about, Jeb?"<br/><br/>Josh piped up. "Carriages full," he said. "The old, the singles, it all started this morning. Rumor has it they're dumping about thirty outside their walls." He nodded as if agreeing with himself. "Ain't seen nothing like it before. They got only what they can carry, and no weapons," he said.<br/><br/>"Well, shit." Miles leaned a hand on the shovel handle and glanced back at his cabin. Thank God Loretta was gone. If she wasn't, this news would have certainly broken her heart. "Alright," he sighed. "Let me put my shit away, and then we'll go see what we can see."