<strong>-- Hester Valdenor - Road Into Town -- </strong><br/><hr/><br/>Though the darkness seemed to press in from all sides scarcely a few meters from the street, here the crackling flames billowing from totaled cast strange and unnatural shadows.  It feels like their small group is walking into some surrealistic hellscape, the faces all around muddled and warped in that uncertain orange light.  It's the reds that stick out the most, slick shiny patches splattered every which way or dripping like melted plastic from mangled limbs.<br/><br/>"One helluva pileup," Gerry muttered, his smirk forced and short-lived.  "Looks like the whole damn area got hit."<br/><br/>"Hit by<em>what</em>?  It's like the whole damn world just had its switch turned off, for Christ's sake!" Hester furrowed her brow, trying her damnedest not to look at the occasional glass-impaled body.<br/><br/>They didn't have the expertise to help these people, nor the luxury of time.  If the hospital was too busy to send anyone that likely meant things were even worse in town.  The two glanced at one another and picked up their pace.  Marty was once a prize fighter back in his hay day and could damn well take care of himself, but that didn't mean they couldn't worry about him.<br/><br/>"Leo, what are we gonna do?" one of the youngest punks piped up from behind, addressing their de facto leader.  "Are these people gonna be okay?"<br/><br/>"How the h-hell should I know?" he snapped back, clearly shaken.  The rich city boys were certainly getting far more than they'd bargained for.<br/><br/>"We should get some guns, right?" another suggested nervously, flinching away from the licking flames of a nearby car.  "To defend ourselves, y'know?"<br/><br/>The second oldest, fully bearded and the only one whose fashion sense didn't seem to be restricted to obnoxious polo shirts, hocked a glob of spittle into the nearest engine just to listen to it sizzle.  "All I know is, if I see one motherfuckin' zombie then I am fucking<em>out</em>, man."<br/><br/>"Will you shitheads stop whining?" Hester said calmly, as though she'd just asked them the time.  "Save your breath for later, because I have a feeling we're going to need it.  That, and I'd rather not have you painting us as a nice big target for whatever scumbags are tearing through the town now that the power's out."<br/><br/>The four went silent after a bit of muted cursing, but the woman clearly had a point.  Unease set in as silence overtook them, as though all their talking had been a desperate distraction to keep from listening to the screams and crashes echoing far off in the distance.  The world seemed to come into focus again, and none of them liked what they were seeing.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Marty's house didn't take long to get to at a brisk pace.  It was set off the main road down a winding side street, a bunch of old Cyprus trees lining the gravel path that his family had supposedly planted generations back.  A simple raised ranch for a man of simple tastes and simple pleasures, and an old blue 1990 Honda Civic in the driveway that had been tooled up and repaired so many times over the years that one could scarcely say it was even the same car anymore.<br/><br/>Hester cautiously made her way to the front door, signaling Gerry to keep an eye on her back.  Everything was dark of course, and they could scarcely see two inches in front of their faces now that the stars were blocked out by foliage, but at least that'd likely keep anyone else from spying on them either.<br/><br/>"Oi, Marty!" she yelled, banging on the wood paneling with a balled up fist.  "Your ass better not be in bed, old man!"