it's a very merry christmas

[monstermasher]

▶ WHO: Everyone!
▶ DATE: 11:11am, Day 6
▶ WARNINGS: FIRE AND DESTRUCTION.
▶ SUMMARY: It's your birthday.

WAKE UP, SUNSHINE!

---

At 11:11am, there will be a single flash of light, bright enough to show up in the sky over all of California. It won't give you any lasting damage, don't worry. It lasts for a second, if that, and is soon gone.

Only to be followed minutes later by a loud crack that shakes everything.

The sound eventually fades away, leaving a large trail of smoke pouring from some kind of accident.

If characters choose to investigate this, they'll find the remains of a high speed train that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere and had driven directly into a... mountainside. Everything is on fire and nothing is okay—but amazingly, there don't seem to be any people on board. Or, uh, remains of people. Only melting, twisted metal and heat—the train was large, and part of it was driven up the mountain by the sheer force of the hit. It's an immediate danger zone, not something to be trifled with.

Inside the wreckage is a large rate full of walkie talkie type radios. That's it. For a train that was at least three times the height of a normal train, it sure didn't pack much. And once the radios are found, three things will happen.

1. Zombies will start advancing on the wreckage from all directions. It's not night, so the running screamy zombies aren't around, but oh wow that is a lot of shambling guys...


2. A male voice can be heard through a speaker hanging half off of the side of the train. "Hey! Hey, look, I know it's all shitty right now—you need to find the s—and wait—go to V—idiot left it there before h—ied, and I'll—you in a few—" before the interference is just too much to hear.


3. A piece of paper is sitting on top of the crate. It gives clear directions to the new radio tower, situated nearby.

Now you have radios, and a horde is forming right before your eyes.

OOC NOTES.

---

The train crash is located five or so miles from the compound. The radio tower can hold around 30 characters at once if you squish. How you disperse the zombies and get back to the compound (or wherever you're going) is up to you! Please view the OOC Post for potential plans and strategies, if you'd like!

If you're not interested in anything in this log, you can stay behind—the compound and anywhere nearby might be a little safer for awhile, since the zombies are all flocking to one place.

And while you're exploring the crash/landscape/tower, you might find something... here is the new permanent turn in post!

Any attempts to contact the man from the train speaker will be met with... radio silence.

Comments

Claire Dearing ; Jurassic World ; ota

[rexponsible]

A: cool guys don't look at explosions
[Claire hadn't seen the bright flash of light that illuminated the morning sky, but she had heard and felt the loud CRACK that shook the compound like thunder. She almost jumped out of her skin with the shock of it, covering her mouth to stifle her scream. What on earth was going on in this place?]

[Once she came back to her senses, she made for the vehicle bay as quickly as she could. Looking out the door showed a large plume of smoke rising into the sky some distance away. What on earth was going on? Could it have been an explosion at a power plant? A bomb? Something else entirely?]

[Whatever it was, it was clearly a cause for alarm.]



B: ticket to ride
[Common sense had told Claire that it would be safer in the compound. However, the idea that other people might be there - others who knew what was going on, and others who they could join and rally behind - made her reconsider her stance. She only hoped that there were survivors in that blast.]

[She was just turning the ignition on a military truck, steeling herself as the engine came to life with a loud roar. This was what she could do, and Claire was a woman of action.]

[She rolled the window down and yelled out to the gathering crowd.]

Okay, truck's ready - let's go!



C: do you think they'll have that on the tour?
[Things were not going well at the trainwreck, and it was definitely time to get going. The zombies were shambling closer, and Claire didn't want to get up close and personal with them. As far as she was concerned, there had been enough attempts to eat her person back in Jurassic World.]

[This was why she was bolting back to the truck, her heels crunching in the dirt and debris as she scrambled to get back into the driver's seat.]

[She turned back to look at whoever was behind her.]

Hurry up and get back in the truck! We can't stay here!

[volumeone]

[Peter shoulders his way out of the crowd. That truck is ugly, looks slower than a second hand Vultarn landspeeder and there isn't even a real roof on the thing that he can see - it's like they looked at putting an ugly tarp on it and going yeah, I think that does the trick.

Still. Wheels. Moves faster than he can on foot.

Plus the driver's hot.

Peter hooks his boot on the tire's thick tread and hauls himself up so he can yell over the roar of the truck's engine]

Got room for shotgun?

[No way is he riding in the back where there aren't even real walls - he'd probably get bounced out for all he knows and end up stuck out there having to walk back with those corpses stumbling around out there.]

[rexponsible]

[The smile Claire gave him was warm and grateful - perhaps a bit too much for someone who'd supposedly just met a stranger. However, she believed that she was speaking to one Owen Grady, and while they'd both been busy in this new and strange place, that didn't mean that she held him in any less esteem and was happy that he was coming with her - or so she thought.]

I almost expected you to find a motorbike and ride out head on.

[Her eyes gleamed with mirth, and she nodded, gesturing to the seat beside her.]

Come on. We're supposed to be doing the "sticking together for survival" thing, aren't we? Your suggestion.

[Amused, she handed Peter the rifle that she'd been learning to use.]

Just in case.

By the way - where'd you get that jacket? I didn't think you liked warm clothing. [Her smile was wry.]

[volumeone]

[Peter's halfway through hauling himself into the passenger seat, patting himself on the back for scoring the ride, when Red starts talking at him like they know each other.

Uh oh. Truth is this isn't the first time this happened; won't be the last, either.

He tries to roll with it. First thing's first - establish if he was drunk or high when he was out doing whatever with this chick. If they have bad blood from past history, she sure isn't showing it 'cause she's smiling at him with some of the straightest, whitest teeth he's seen this side of the galaxy (seriously, they look like a movie star) and she's handing him a gun. ]

Uh, yeah, sure! Team Us. [Peter holds the rifle like it's an antique, looking at it curiously. Probably not as effective as the stuff they got in space but it beats his hands and fists.]

You never seen it before? [Peter casts his net, trying to get some context here. He reaches down, fumbles for the seatbelt. They do safety harnesses in space but it's been decades since he's touched a legit Earth-style seatbelt] Had this one forever. Figured it'd be awesome against zombie bites.

[He throws a glance Red's way, looking for an ID or a tag or something]

[rexponsible]

[She did keep her teeth nice. Good hygiene was important to her. Never mind that her hair was not as perfectly coiffed as she would've liked; hair driers were in short supply during the apocalypse, sadly.]

[When he started talking, though, Claire glanced at him, giving him a mildly quizzical look. He seemed to talk . . . differently. He certainly wouldn't have hedged on that "Team Us" business, as though he were a deer caught in the headlights - he was the one who'd come up with it in the first place, and with such straight-faced conviction.]

[Claire wondered if perhaps she was just over-analyzing things. She'd reason that perhaps stress was taking its toll on him, but no - she'd seen Owen during times of stress.]

No, I haven't had the pleasure. I suppose you didn't have much reason to wear it in Costa Rica, and I don't think it would've matched your board shorts.

[Her smile was dry, teasing - but it faltered when she realized that something was really off. The way he looked at the rifle, as though he'd never seen it before, or as if it was a collector's item . . an ex-Navy soldier would already be checking to see it was in good condition, right?]

Owen . . .

[She looked over to him with concern, her brow furrowed.]

Are you feeling alright?

[volumeone]

[Peter's like almost 90% sure he never used the name Owen as an alias. He stares back, still holding onto the rifle instead of checking the chamber out of instinct and muscle memory, and he does a very good impression of a deer going oh shit, I'm kinda fucked]

Uh... [Suddenly Peter's in one of those scenarios he really likes to avoid: tell the truth or bullshit his way through it until he hits something.] Never been better.

[The question is how long he can keep this up. Peter holds the rifle clutched between his legs and the business end aimed away from his face, reminding himself that it's been so long since he's been near an Earth gun that he better be real careful.

This isn't going to make lying on the fly any easier. Peter waits, the silence stretching out too long, nothing like the silences Claire would get from Owen when he was thinking about "his girls".

Peter decides to come clean for one of the few times in his life.]

Actually I'm not cool. And I've never been to Costa Rica.

[The whole time Peter is thinking please don't slap me or please don't kick me out of the truck]

[rexponsible]

[Was he really gripping the rifle with his knees? Was he really staring at her like Bambi's mother about to be run over by a 4x4?]

[Claire was beginning to have a strange suspicion that this wasn't Owen Grady - and the more she stared at him, the more it felt like that wasn't him, even if his face had scary resemblance. It wasn't even resemblance as much as "they have the same damn face and it's really disturbing". The differences were in the hair, the clothes, the way they spoke, and the way they dressed. Basically, everything, now that Claire really stared.]

[She blinked at him, opened her mouth - what the hell would she say? - then recovered by putting on her Operations Director face.]

I apologize. I mistook you for someone else.

[And suddenly she was formal, strict, no-nonsense - because he was a stranger. He wasn't Owen. She didn't know him, and he didn't know her. He didn't survive an Indominus rex with her.]

[She held her hand out for him to shake, covering up her confusion and her uncertainty with her brisk, businesslike attitude.]

I'm Claire Dearing.

[This wasn't the first surprise of this place, and she figured that it wouldn't be the last.]