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Post by Generalfoley on May 2, 2011 18:19:14 GMT -7
Joe smiled as he drove through the now open gates of EC's walls. He was glad to get out of the city now that he had the stuff that Briggs owed him.
"So, ready to set off to New Chicago?" Joe asked his friend. He knew his friend was still irked, but hoped that Briggs offering the Swede stuff helped settle his mood. Joe smiled once more as he saw that the mechanic back at the garage had done well on his job. The old yellow and blue paint job, albeit covered in oil smudges, gave it that gritty feel that he liked. And besides, in this new world, black didn't really help out much.
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Post by God Mike on May 2, 2011 18:27:03 GMT -7
Alright, this was officially a bad day. Mike had behaved, he hadn't randomly stabbed anyone, or even picked a simple fight, and he had offered to save some girls he didn't even know for a guy he didn't even know, without demanding a reward, and what did he get for it?
Nothing! Not only that, but that bastard Joe had even had the audacity to get those fuckers at the garage to paint over Mike's masterpiece! The hell?! Yellow and blue may look more 'survivor,' as Joe called it, but black with a freaking skull on the side added to the intimidation factor, and mixed nicely with the color of the armor plating. Who's gonna tremble in fear when they see a yellow truck coming at them? Freaking no one, that's who!
Mike stomped the floor of the Jeep in frustration, his arms crossed. "I hate this, man!" he said angrily, ripping off his gas mask. "The one time I actually behave somewhat, I don't get shit for it! That's it, no more Mr. Proper Mike. From now on, all of America is gonna get a taste of Mr. Full-Blown Bat-shit Insane Mike, with a side of Crazy!"
Digging his hand into his pocket, he took out the cigar cutter he'd stolen from Mozzie, and started playing with it, keeping his eyes on the road. "And you," he said, looking at Joe. "Oh, there's gonna be a lotta dangerous shit stashed under your seat from now on. A lot of it."
Surviving Zombie-Land Lesson 56: The only thing worse than a bored Mike is a pissed off Mike.
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Post by Generalfoley on May 2, 2011 19:11:32 GMT -7
Joe sighed. He was afraid of this. Perhaps taking Mike to Empire City was a bad idea...
"How about this? I give you what's in the large case that Briggs gave me, most likely a high-caliber rifle, and in return, you don't put explosive or otherwise dangerous objects under my seat. Besides, does it really matter if you do? 'Cause if they go off, I'm not the only one in the truck." Joe's frown remained on his face. He just hoped that Mike cared more about his well being than everything else.
"And stop about the paint job already, man." Joe said. "It's not like it makes any difference. We're yellow, we're noticed, we're black, we're still noticed. And you can barely see it between the plates anyway." Joe took a deep breath before he said anymore. He was starting to rant again. He hated it when he ranted. If he went to far, then things would get out of hand. And then there would be yelling, punches would be thrown, and he just didn't want to get into that.
He pulled down another street, and looked in the mirror.
"Mike," He said. He hoped the Swedish Ninja could put their differences aside for this. "Five armored Chevy Silverados coming up right behind us." These guys were different than the ones before. They looked organized, purposeful. They were uniform in their green paint jobs, and the darkened metal of their armor plates were pre-outbreak quality.
Shit.
"I think you should man the gun." Joe said, opening the window and picking up speed.
"Now."
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Post by God Mike on May 2, 2011 19:28:13 GMT -7
"How about this? I give you what's in the large case that Briggs gave me, most likely a high-caliber rifle, and in return, you don't put explosive or otherwise dangerous objects under my seat. Besides, does it really matter if you do? 'Cause if they go off, I'm not the only one in the truck."
Mike shrugged as he looked at Joe. "Maybe so, but I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I didn't die first," he said as he clicked his tongue, spinning the cutter on his finger as Joe spoke. He sighed. "It ain't the fact that we're noticed. It's for intimidation purposes. Plain yellow isn't as intimidating as black with skulls. Badass skulls that I put a lot of time into painting..."
Mike scoffed again, stomping the floor once more. "Fuck it... I'm gonna get a car as well... No fucking yellow on that..." The thing one needed to know about Mike was that he could get grumpy, and throw temper tantrums like a kid, but when he entered his 'red zone,' he'd get dangerous. He would no longer be the comical kind of insane. He'd become the psychopathic kind of insane, and he was very, very, very close to his red zone right-
"Mike. Five armored Chevy Silverados coming up right behind us." Mike's eye twitched as he looked in the mirror, seeing the incoming cars behind them. "I think you should man the gun. Now."
"Alright..." Mike whispered as he opened the glove compartment, taking out his tool belt. His face had gone completely stoic, emotionless. "I'm in the red now," he hissed, crawling out of the window and standing up behind the M60. Taking out his tools, he took the machine gun off the mount and sat down, sliding over to the back of the truck and resting the M60 against the tailgate.
He wasn't gonna have his gas mask on this time. He wanted these fuckers to see the face of the maniac who was gonna kill them all.
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Post by Generalfoley on May 2, 2011 20:26:45 GMT -7
"Hold on!" Joe yelled to the back as he sped up more. He looked back to see Mike had the mount on the tailgate. Without his mask. Jesus H. Christ, Mike really was angry. He saw the madness in his friend's eyes, the rage behind the emotionless mask that he had suddenly put up. In the year Joe had spent being Mike's friend, he had never, ever seen the young man stoic, unemotional. He had the cold feel around him, as if he was a machine. He was, for all intents and purposes, a methodical killer. In those few seconds, he had transformed from the fun loving ninja thief into the serial killer who never showed the joy he took from killing another, be it living or dead.
And for the first time since he had met Mike, Joe was frightened. He didn't care what people said, if he ever got like this again, he would run away as fast as possible. He wasn't afraid of Death, nor was he willing to embrace it anytime soon either. But with this new Psycho-Mike, Joe felt, for the very first time in a long time, fear for his own life. And it sucked balls.
Joe turned around a corner, the squad of Silverados still following. He sped up more, waiting for the fuckers to make their move. And they did so. Two stayed in the back while two other made their way to the J-10's sides. The last, apparently the leader, drove off into some other direction.
'To flank us, no doubt.' Joe thought. He searched under his seat, and found the last HE grenade Mike had hidden under his seat.
"Perfect." Joe said, pulling off the pin as he released the fuse-lighter.
"One," Joe held his left arm out the window, waiting for the right time to release the grenade.
"Two... Three!" Joe dropped the grenade, which was heading for the left Chevy's underside. Two seconds later, the Chevy was blown into the air by a ball of fire, it's flaming wreckage landing upside down on the sidewalk. Joe could hear screams from the overturned truck, not because they were burning to death, but because sprinters had rushed the disabled vehicle, tearing apart the burning occupants. Joe shook his head sadly.
"Rest in peace, you fuckers." Joe muttered.
Gunshots rang out, bullets hitting the Jeep's armor plating, thankfully. But soon a bullet crashed through the glass and through Joe's bicep, finally digging into the dashboard.
"Fuck!" Joe cried, inadvertently turning a corner, down Broadway Avenue. Joe held a hand on the wound, which bled profusely. They needed to end this now. Joe looked to his right, seeing a Silverado driving parallel to them. The armored window was lowered, revealing an assault rifle aimed right at his head. Joe's eyes widened as he turned the wheel, ramming the right Chevy with great force. Joe turned back onto the road as the Silverado crashed into a streetlamp, crushing the truck's engine from the force of impact. The poor bastards couldn't get their window up in time before a sprinter reached them, pulling itself in. Joe could see the blood splattering what was visible of the windshield.
Joe's vision blurred, and he shook his head. Blood loss was making him hazy. He needed to dress the wound.
"Mike!" Joe yelled through the window. "I need you to take the wheel! I'm bleeding out!"
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Post by God Mike on May 3, 2011 8:13:01 GMT -7
Mike opened fire on the cars behind them, cursing the fact that he liked the M60. It worked better at closer range. They should've gone with the .50 cal Browning that was stored in the bunker... The bullets just bounced off the armor plating on the Silverados. Mike clicked his tongue as he dropped the M60. "Alotta good you are..." he muttered as he upholstered his pistols, standing up.
Carefully, Mike took aim at what was no doubt the lead Chevy, as it was the only one with a plated windshield. However there was gaps in the plating, probably so that the driver could see where he was going. Firing, Mike was happy to see the car turn so sharply, it flipped and rolled. One down, four to-
Just then, an explosion went off to his left, and he saw a second Chevy get blown up. A third one was to their right, but Mike's attention was on the last one right behind them. A bullet tore through his shirt at his shoulder as a Marauder poked his head out from the passenger side. Mike took aim again, but just then, the Jeep jerked as Joe rammed the car to their right, knocking Mike off his feet.
"Mike! I need you to take the wheel! I'm bleeding out!" Mike, sitting up, looked back at the Chevy behind them. He was going to kill those fuckers. Ignoring Joe, he took aim again. Then, he somewhat came back to his senses, realizing that his friend was gonna bleed to death, and no doubt crash the Jeep in the process if he did.
Grunting, Mike moved to the front of the bed and hauled himself into the car via the driver side window. "Move over," he ordered calmly as he none too gently pushed Joe out of the driver's seat, into the passenger seat. That wound looked pretty bad.
He saw that the street ahead of them was straight for a long time, so he decided a blast from the past was in order. Mike pulled on the hand brake, turning the wheel sharply as he put the car in reverse.
As they backed down Broadway Avenue, Mike stuck his head out the window, his left pistol upholstered. He took careful aim and fired. The Marauder in the passenger seat, who was still poking half his body out of the window to fire at them, had his head thrown back as one of Mike's bullets penetrated his skull, 'causing him to fall out of the Chevy.
Mike turned the car again and floored it. The Chevy was still hot on their trail as Mike looked around, trying to find something he could use to his advantage. Finding it, Mike grinned as he let up on the gas. The Chevy came closer and closer, finally ramming into their rear bumper. The Jeep jerked, but not too much, as it didn't hit them that hard.
Seeing that they were now close enough, Mike swerved out of the way of the massive piece of debris right in front of them. The Chevy wasn't so lucky. He turned sharply to the right, causing the Chevy to skid, slamming the driver side straight into the debris with enough force to bend the car.
Now that the threat was gone, Mike slowed down, but kept his eyes on the road. He was still in the red, and didn't wanna risk lashing out at Joe.
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Post by Generalfoley on May 4, 2011 9:03:53 GMT -7
Joe moved over to the passenger seat, hissing as he tried to put pressure on the wound. He opened up the glove compartment, taking out a small bag of powdered disinfectant, tearing it open with his mouth and pouring it's contents on the bullet wound.
He grunted in discomfort, and pulled out the gauze, wrapping it around his arm. He'd have to fix it up properly when they got back to the Bunker. With the events that had just happened, they'd have to go back, just to fix up the J-10, resupply, and get ready for the journey for New Chicago. They hadn't packed enough for the trip west.
He held on as Mike used a variety of maneuvers with the J-10, showing the young Irishman how skilled he really was behind the wheel. When the last Silverado crashed, Joe sighed in relief. He looked at Mike, who was still calmly driving, his eyes forward. That, calm, calculating, machine like stare. It unnerved Joe, so he decided to pull out the First Aid Kit he put under Mike's seat.
Taking out a small bottle of Ibuprofen, he popped two of the painkillers to help him focus. He took a deep breath, and put the bottle back in the first aid kit and shoved it back under the seat, trying to think of a plan of action. It was obvious that Mike needed to cool down, and they had to get something from New York that wasn't given to them. Joe liked to think it was good luck, to loot stuff from the city they were in. It worked so far, so he was sticking with that.
Joe put what was left of the gauze back into the glove compartment and took out a map of Old New York. He knew where they were, still going down the street they were on, and saw the passing street signs, so he used that to see where they were, and mark a place where they could go.
He looked at an oncoming street, and said, "Hey, Mike, can you turn right here? There's a mall that's mostly untouched by looting that we need to go to. Full of shiny objects, just how you like it."
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Post by God Mike on May 4, 2011 17:08:05 GMT -7
"Hey, Mike, can you turn right here? There's a mall that's mostly untouched by looting that we need to go to. Full of shiny objects, just how you like it." Mike nodded as he did as he was told, turning the wheel.
He was calming down now, taking long, deep breaths as they charged down the empty street, luckily enough not attracting too many zombies. "I hate the red..." Mike muttered as his emotionless look disappeared, only to be replaced by a tired look. "Being bipolar sucks donkey balls..."
Alright, now that he was calming down, it was time to joke, to make sure he didn't slip back into the red zone. "You know, it would be pretty nice to actually see a donkey again... then eat it... I'd even eat a donkey steak, what with all the canned food we've been forced to eat so far..."
He sat in silence for a while, then looked at Joe. "I'm sorry you had to see that, bro," he said as he reached down to the floor at Joe's feet, picking up his gas mask and looking at it. "The last time I entered the red was when Miyagi died."
He felt a need to explain himself to Joe. After all, he didn't want his only living friend thinking that he'd turn on him and slit his throat in his sleep. "I've been... special... my whole life. You know, violent urges and tendencies, and all that bullshit? That's why I got moved from foster home to foster home before Miyagi found me. He taught me to, you know, mask myself, hide who I really was, suppressing those tendencies. That's where all this humorous insanity comes from."
Grinning suddenly, a grin that seemed to be a mix between a bloodthirsty grin and his usual, joking grin, he turned to Joe. "After all, Miyagi always told me that laughter was as far from hatred as you could get, so I try to focus on that. And going to Empire City, toning down on that... I guess I slipped."
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Post by Generalfoley on May 5, 2011 17:39:26 GMT -7
Joe listened to Mike's story as he looked over the map. The Irishman turned to his friend, putting the map down for a minute.
"It's... understandable. There were a lot of people before the outbreak who went through what you did. And around nine percent actually got a handle on it like you did." Joe went back to his map, taking out a Sharpie. He pulled off the cap with his mouth and proceeded to circle various areas on the map.
"And those people are who had the best chance of surviving the outbreak, by not only focusing on what they did already their entire lives, they were allowed to vent that out. But it's still amazing, that you've managed to keep those urges down post-even, even with all the combat." Joe's little speech was somewhat muffled by the cap in his mouth, but it was understandable for the most part. He looked up at Mike, the Sharpie cap still clenched between his teeth.
"You, my friend, have an amazing amount of willpower to be able to keep your urges under control. Whatever your father taught you, he truly was a master at his art." Joe recapped the marker, and folded up the map. He looked over to his left and pointed at a parking structure next to a large shopping mall. It wasn't as decayed as the rest of New York, but it was still in pretty bad shape, bullet holes and scorch marks from the riots that happened there still littering it's surface.
"This is our stop. Park the Jeep in the structure there, and we'll head into the mall."
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Post by God Mike on May 5, 2011 17:57:00 GMT -7
"You, my friend, have an amazing amount of willpower to be able to keep your urges under control. Whatever your father taught you, he truly was a master at his art." Mike slowly nodded at that. Though how the hell Joe could keep track of all the percentage and shit, he'd never know.
"This is our stop. Park the Jeep in the structure there, and we'll head into the mall." Mike nodded again and pulled into the parking structure, looking around. It didn't exactly look like the safest place in the world to park your car, but then again, Mike wasn't an expert at vehicular stealth.
"Shouldn't we just head straight back to the Bunker?" Mike asked, gesturing for Joe's arm. "You're pretty useless with your arm like that, and I have to get another machine gun for the mount 'cause, as awesome as it is, the M60 kinda sucks compared to some other weapons."
He headed straight up to the top of the parking structure, where they were outside, in daylight, where they'd see if any zombies were hiding by the car. There weren't. Mike parked the car and killed the engine, sighing tiredly. He always felt so exhausted when exiting the red.
"And see? I can drive a car just fine. I just feel like driving recklessly every once in a while."
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Post by Generalfoley on May 5, 2011 18:30:47 GMT -7
"My arm may be fucked up, but I can still use it." Joe tried to demonstrate it, but the grimace on his face when he moved his arm around betrayed his statement.
"I can use it well enough, at any rate. I can still shoot, and I'm still useful in a fight. Besides, there used to be a free clinic in here, who catered to the sick when the infection broke out. We need the supplies, and I think it's always good luck to loot at least some of the city before we go." Joe said, almost child-like. Weird. Maybe the painkillers were affecting him. He shook his head to clear it. At least he wasn't on uppers. Then he'd be practically hysterical. Joe gestured to his arm.
"I've stopped the bleeding, I'll be fine until we get back to the bunker. Besides," Joe said, opening his door and hopping out. "This mall has quite a bit of loot to give us, since a lot of people didn't really start going here before Z-Day happened." Joe was blabbering now. He hated it when he was on pain-meds. They always messed with his speech. But he looked towards the doorway where they could actually enter the mall. The mall having the nation's largest bookstore helped too.
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Post by God Mike on May 5, 2011 18:41:34 GMT -7
Mike got out of the car, then looked at Joe. "Alright, but this'll be at your own risk. I only just got out of the red, and more violence might cause me to slip back for a moment or two," he said as he did a few stretches. He needed to be in prime condition when going in there, after all.
Mike walked up to the sliding doors, then let out a groan as he walked into them, seeing as they had no power anymore. "Damn, forgot about that..." he muttered as he backed away from the doors, pulling one of his swords and stabbing it between the doors and twisting it, opening them a crack. Then, he stuck his fingers into the crack and forced the doors open.
The entire mall was silent. Too silent. Putting on his gas mask, Mike cracked his neck as he walked inside. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered, more to himself than to Joe, but he was sure Joe heard him.
The mall was huge, eight floors high. There was the main floor, and the others simply had catwalk-like things on the sides, which let shoppers look straight down to the first floor. Mike idly wondered what this design was called, but ignored it for now as he walked up to the railing, looking down at the floor below. He looked around, and saw a piece of glass from the shattered storefront behind him. He picked it up, held it over the railing, and dropped it.
There was an audible crash when the glass impacted with the floor, but no groans or anything were heard... for now, anyway. "I think it looks clear."
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Post by Generalfoley on May 5, 2011 19:43:47 GMT -7
The Irishman grabbed his rifle from under the seat, unfolding the stock. He needed all the stability it would give him. Joe turned and watched with a raised brow as Mike walked into the sliding doors, and then opened them with his sword. Maybe he should've told him about the door release at the top of the frame... Nah.
Joe walked after the Swedish Ninja, his carbine shouldered. His arm started aching, but he ignored it. It was dark inside, the power gone from the lights. He switched on the flashlight he duct taped carbine, illuminating the hallway.
"I've got a bad feeling about this." Joe closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. Ten... Nine... Eight...
He heard glass shattering, and opened his eyes, seeing Mike staring down the abyss that was the center of the mall. He must have dropped the glass to see if there were any zombies around. Nothing... Yet.
"I think it looks clear."
Joe shook his head. Not for long. Joe chuckled as he pulled over his goggles. He shook his head again as he pulled over his mask. The small filter made his voice sound as if he was speaking through a microphone.
"I can't believe you just said that." Joe chuckled out, aiming his carbine around in case any ghouls jumped out. Finding the stock too uncomfortable, he folded it back. His arm was bothering him again.
He glanced towards a shop before looking away, then looking back at it. He shifted his light towards the sign above it, seeing it was just an antique store.
"You see anything?"
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Post by God Mike on May 5, 2011 20:03:37 GMT -7
Mike kept staring down into the abyss of the mall, at the shattered glass below. Why did it feel like this place was gonna start swarming with zombies like some kind of bad zombie horde game? What if they- Mike froze when he saw something... Movement on the second floor!
"You see anything?" Mike made a hand-sign for silence, a sign they had worked out long ago. He gestured for Joe to come closer, and pointed down. His eyes were tracking the movement on the second floor. Then, a blur shot out of the darkness at an incredible speed, landing on the floor below. It was a zombie, but a zombie unlike anything he had ever seen.
The zombie's legs were about one third longer than an average human's legs, and had one extra joint. The legs were folded, so as to make the legs shorter than normal, allowing it to crawl across the floor.
The zombie let out a hiss as it crawled up to the glass shards. It seemed to be sniffing the shards, and then, obviously finding that it wasn't edible, it let out another hiss, louder this time, before tensing up. Then, its legs unfolded, and it sprung up, leaping high into the air all the way to the third floor. It grabbed onto the railing, and swung itself up, then crawled back into the darkness.
Mike slowly turned to Joe. "What the fuck was that?" he whispered in shock. He had never seen anything like that before, and that thing was just creepy as hell!
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Post by Generalfoley on May 5, 2011 20:56:49 GMT -7
Joe came over at Mike's call, and saw the creature sniffing the glass. His eyes widened. This shouldn't be happening. He saw the creature leap into the darkness, and unfolded his rifle's stock again. He looked around, aiming down his sights. He backed away from the edge and walked towards the wall of shops.
"Mike... Get away from the ledge." Then Joe heard footsteps. He aimed his Em-One to the right, his eyes wide with panic. This zombie could ambush them from anywhere, anytime, and in anyplace. It wasn't like a sprinter that he could shoot while running, or a screamer that he could just shoot in the head. This was something new, something dangerous, something mobile. Something that evolved. He'd have to relay the news to the other cities about this.
The footsteps were coming closer. But it wasn't the thing that they saw at the bottom floor. It was a human being, a young woman in her twenties. She ran past Joe who wondered if she... No, too young, and she didn't look like the photo Mozzie gave him. The young woman looked back at Joe, a strange expression on her face. She had a black ballistic vest on, with "ECS" painted in yellow on the back, from what he saw, and an M4 rifle in her hands. Her sneakers squeaked when she stopped, grabbing the edge of the railing. Joe was about to whisper to get away from the edge, but it was too late.
The... thing leaped onto the railing she was on, and grabbed her shoulders. It leaped again, only to the floor above to hang it's legs over the railing. It proceeded to hang upside down and move the woman's neck towards it's gaping, sharp toothed maw, it's teeth gleaming from Joe's flashlight. It was there that Joe saw that the thing didn't have any eyes, in their place only empty, bloody sockets.
The woman said, "No no no, please, help me, help me!" And then she started to scream. But she screamed too late, however, as it bit down on her collar bone. Joe could hear the bones snapping under the pressure of the bite, the flesh ripping from the sharpness of the teeth.
But he heard her scream turn into a bloody, high pitched gurgle over it all, blood from the wound in her neck splattering the side of her face, and even more running down her front, pouring form her mouth. Her head turned toward Joe, her eyes focusing on his. Her eyes, full of bloody tears as the whites of her eyes started to fill with blood, still pleading for help.
Joe's breath hitched, and the thing's head whipped around to Joe's direction, flesh and bone being ripped from the woman, who screamed ever more. Flesh fell out of the creature's mouth as it hissed, and leaped into darkness, taking the woman with it, her scream finally breaking the flood of blood in her lungs. Until it was silenced by the sound of breaking bones and the squelching of the creature feasting upon her corpse.
Joe stumbled back before he collapsed, his breath quickening, his eyes wide with panic and, for the second time that day, fear. He started pushing himself back before he hit the wall as he started to hyperventilate, his hands shaking.
That image, the image of her bloody and tear filled eyes, her blood splattered face, her mouth frothing with blood while the beast engorged itself on her flesh... that was a memory that would haunt his very soul for all eternity. And then the realization hit him. He could have done something. But he didn't. He just stood there and watched as the woman pleaded with him, screamed to him, as the thing ate her alive. He... he couldn't breath... he couldn't breath! The Irishman tore off his mask, his shaking hands fumbling with the seal, and gasped for a mouthful of air. His breathing wouldn't slow down, and he tried to close his eyes to calm himself, but the woman haunted him still.
He looked over at Mike.
"What..." Joe gulped again, trying to control his breathing. No such luck. "What the fuck was that!" His voice was barely above a whisper, but anyone could see and hear the panic, the guilt, the absolute fear within him. He still couldn't breath.
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