Post by Marmalade Boy on Apr 10, 2009 12:16:10 GMT -5
It was that wet, misty sort of rain that usually fell in early Spring which bothered people the most. If you bothered yourself in folding out an umbrella, you'd only attract the stares of others and be constantly worrying if you looked out of place. Yet, if you ventured out unprotected, you'd get soaked in moments. A typical catch-22 moment, damned if you do, damned if you don't. It was this sort of rain that was collecting on the man's face, the man lying on the cold concrete of the road with his glazed-over eyes staring at the solid gray sky. Six stories above him, stood watching down at the street from the roof of the Clive Building, was Annie, a passive look on her bespectacled face.
Her heart was racing, her breathing was rapid, she could still feel the scratchy wool of the man's sweater on her palms from when she had given him that fatal push. The feeling was incredible, to her anyway. To the others, those that had heard the man's scream as he had plummeted off the rooftop, their's were the mixed feelings of fear and rage. Talk was rife of the so-called 'bitch of Brooksville', the woman with the large glasses who pushed people to their deaths when they were off their guard. A few of the larger gangs had started passing on the word that a reward was out for her head, but with no clear identification of the target, no one had called it in. People were not looking for a witch hunt. People were ready for action though.
She could almost hear the feet running up the stairs, in their hands a mixture of firearms and well-worn fire axes, ready to inflict their own form of justice to 'The bitch'. Annie wasn't ready to give in though, and as soon as she had appeared, she was gone, walking over the plank-bridge between the Clive Building and the Auto Repair Shop on Marston road, childishly holding out her arms to keep her balance. She didn't stay for long, simply crossing the roof of the Auto-Repair shop and onto the next plank bridge, curiously constructed out of two doors and mis-matched planks of wood, onto the roof of the Hotel, a worn sign advertising 'Cosway Hotel' next to one offering a nights sleep in a two-bedroomed room for less than twenty pounds. Not that it was anything to be bothered about, more a reminder of a more cheerful past, back before the whole zombie affair.
Ignoring these, Annie went to look around the rooftop, hand on the rough edges of the faded duct tape around the handle of her pistol. She wasn't exactly worried about being attacked this soon after her kill, but it didn't pay to be careless. She watched and waited for a moment, looking for the appearance of anyone...
Her heart was racing, her breathing was rapid, she could still feel the scratchy wool of the man's sweater on her palms from when she had given him that fatal push. The feeling was incredible, to her anyway. To the others, those that had heard the man's scream as he had plummeted off the rooftop, their's were the mixed feelings of fear and rage. Talk was rife of the so-called 'bitch of Brooksville', the woman with the large glasses who pushed people to their deaths when they were off their guard. A few of the larger gangs had started passing on the word that a reward was out for her head, but with no clear identification of the target, no one had called it in. People were not looking for a witch hunt. People were ready for action though.
She could almost hear the feet running up the stairs, in their hands a mixture of firearms and well-worn fire axes, ready to inflict their own form of justice to 'The bitch'. Annie wasn't ready to give in though, and as soon as she had appeared, she was gone, walking over the plank-bridge between the Clive Building and the Auto Repair Shop on Marston road, childishly holding out her arms to keep her balance. She didn't stay for long, simply crossing the roof of the Auto-Repair shop and onto the next plank bridge, curiously constructed out of two doors and mis-matched planks of wood, onto the roof of the Hotel, a worn sign advertising 'Cosway Hotel' next to one offering a nights sleep in a two-bedroomed room for less than twenty pounds. Not that it was anything to be bothered about, more a reminder of a more cheerful past, back before the whole zombie affair.
Ignoring these, Annie went to look around the rooftop, hand on the rough edges of the faded duct tape around the handle of her pistol. She wasn't exactly worried about being attacked this soon after her kill, but it didn't pay to be careless. She watched and waited for a moment, looking for the appearance of anyone...
