Santana_

@king_saturn: do you do fantasy bball?

@gambler: @jameswest007:

Santana felt a sense of relief of the arrival of the Deliverance, its warm engine flooding the platform with a gush of hot air. The commotion of the zombies and the revelation of he himself shooting one in close proximity made the gathered scared of the possibilities. Some people ran from the station, others ran fast to board the docking train, but the winding day revealed another horrible option as the platform passengers waiting to board saw the deadly zombie fate of the passengers inside. They clawed at the windows, beating upon them with closed fist and heads spreading their green ooze on whatever they touched. Santana noticed this as well, he himself taking a step back noticing only the train engineer depart from the front train as he had been beaten.

Mano, Santana shouted, as it seemed his words fell the engineer to the platform itself. This was turning into a Hell not even a killer like Santana ever dreamt. Santana touched the engineer on his back, only for him to fall on his back revealing an unhealthy shade - one he had seen on the now departed William Westwood, but not as severe.

Diablo, Santana uttered as the change begin to infect the engineer as he screamed in an agonizing pain. The next was reaction, not wanting the engineer to go through what William did, and with not even a thought, Santana launched a round into the engineer's head, halting the change.

Suddenly there was crash and screams from the far end of the platform. Zombies began to pour out of their section as if they were escaping from Hell. Santana readied his firearm, taking aim at any that would eventually approach, but as a man that has killed he noticed something different this time. Their movements were not as clumsy, or as slow. They moved like a pack, decisive in their movement of human flesh. Santana knew that with luck, he may be able to take out the entire section of the zombies that had freed themselves, but the entire train - it was war he would not have won due to attrition.

It was then Santana could hear an explosion in the distance. He knew not where it originated (sheriff station) or what had caused it (the burning ammunition) but the flames in the distance gave him an idea. He rushed into the front train compartment, unable to actually work the train, but he saw the fire that still burned strongly from engine. Taking the shovel , he dug into the firey embers, tossing them onto the wooden platform to stoke flames that hopefully would divert the zombies or even slow their advancement. It took a moment, but the embers smoked and then burned, forcing others to make a decision as Santana took on any non-infected onto the train front, Santana pulling the blare string strongly to echo any that heard it to come and come quickly.

@silence_thereof: @jameswest007: @gambler: @black_bullet:

Santana stood there, still as a statue waiting for the walking corpse of William to make a move. Santana looked into the zombie's eyes, they were the windows to the soul he was told. It revealed if a man could kill or not as they stared death before them. Santana did not see any resemblance of William anymore. Just the cold glaze of the beast before him and then, he heard it. A shot in the distance, and another. With a grin, Santana knew the battle had begun and yet, the sound of the coming train sounded aloud.

Santana tipped his hat, a condolence to a good man who deserved better. Much like others who had heard the shots, and others who had witness the transformation of others, Santana ran. He did not run out of fear, but he ran with purpose as he attempted to reach the train station as William seemed to follow with a quicken limp. Santana could see scattered situations much like his as he passed many screams and running groups as anarchy set into Creedence. All that mattered to Santana was the train station as he saw it in the distance.

He could see curious eyes look at him from the platform, not fully knowing what was happening as more and more screams could be heard from its location as his feet set foot upon the station's wooden platform. Santana's eyes looked intensely as he rushed package after package, looking for something he knew was already at the location. Santana tossed bag after bag, still not seeing what he was looking for, until his mind shifted toward the building itself. He looked through the stained glass windows and saw nothing until he noticed a lock on on a barn sized door down the platform as he could hear the whistle of Deliverance blow in the distance.

Santana kicked the door, and kicked it once more, and kicked it yet again as his life depended on it and down came the wooden planks. He stepped into the room noticing numerous boxes with tags on them. With quickness, Santana pulled out his tag which William gave him when he checked in his pistols. He rummaged through the packages again until he held a box with a matching number. Santana smiled, knowing the weight of both his pistols were in his hands. He raised them over his had, smashing the box down onto the floor revealing his two colt peacemakers.

Santana arose from the storage unit unnerved as he could hear a scream nearby only to be drowned by the coming Deliverance. On the platform stood the rotted William, as people scattered by his presence. William turned, locking onto Santana not as of a man he knew, but of prey that he hunted. Santana blessed William with the sign of a cross, for he knew not what he was doing. He grabbed one of his peacemakers, cocking back the hammer as he took aim as he pressed the trigger seeing the head of William snap back upon the hit, falling to the ground as if he had removed his soul from his soulless body. Santana walked up slowly to the fallen body of William as he laid there with a hole in his head. Santana could hear the brakes blare loudly, feeling the steam press heavily on his back as Deliverance slowed to a halt behind him as he pressed the trigger once more into William's head out of respect for the man that was long gone.

@silence_thereof: Santana smiled at Sissel's quick tongue to go along with the sell of his product. Santana had never seen the circus, only rumors of bearded woman, a strong men. It was a fantasy that did not cross his path. Now Sissel, he had encountered many like him in his line of work. His ascent was foreign to the outlaw, but his desire and pitch could be found in every town and now it was discovered on the World's Edge.

Though he was leery of all men like Sissel, the word's of another caught his attention. He would grasp her soft hands within his callous grasp, showing a sophistication of a kiss to greet the woman. Walking corpses? He uttered aloud, maybe you are not the only act in town, no?

His eyes would lock onto the lady, trying to show his Mexican suaveness. My name is....Julio Garcia, Ms Trixie. Sadly, I am not from around here. I am just a man trying to get back to Tulsa, but Im more than willing to experience the cuisine with a fine lady such as yourself.

Santana could do nothing else but smile, seeing that his venture was not at a complete loss. Just then, from the corner of his eye he could see the man who had brought him to Creedence Junction stumbling about, William Westwood. Trixie, if you are seeking information on this town, then Senor William over there can help. Let me introduce, no?

Santana carefully peered out of the saloon's door, noticing a pick up in foot traffic and noise but nothing too unusual. Walking in between the small crowds that happened on the street he made his way to William, still stumbling as if he had visited the canteen. Senor William, it looks as if I should have stuck with you for a drink my friend. He would nudge William on his shoulder, mocking his shuffled gate, but as he turned Santana would notice something that was no longer a man.

Dios Mio, he said aloud as he could see the rot creep onto his face, his mouth foaming a green substance as if he were some rabid animal. Santana paced a few steps backward, instinctively grabbing for his pistol that was no longer there. Santana focused on William before him, not paying attention to any scream or crowd. Santana had just met William Westwood, even considered his company to be that of a friend, but at that moment there was no longer the disguise of Julio Garcia, but that of only Felix Santana.

Deliverance Train

Eoghan (Owen) Boyle splashed his face with water as the pain in his stomach seemed to radiate almost outward. He was not well, his symptoms increasing as they approached Creedence Junction. There was a thump at the door, which Eoghan ignored as he took in the cool water for it to only have a brief effect. There was another thump, which garnered Eoghan's annoyance. With one final breathe he just hoped to rest in his seat, hopefully a small nap help with his condition. Exiting the bathroom door, he would enter a world he knew not of anymore. It was Deliverance but the living was no longer, now was just the rampage of the walking dead within a confined space, and all there eyes upon him now.

@silence_thereof: Santana kept the brim of his hat low, and his gaze lower, as time seemed to have frozen as he waited for the train to arrive as he grasped the ticket to get his pistols back as it waited to get loaded onto the train. Santana remained in the shadows as best as he could, avoiding anyone that came close. Unexpectedly, he saw a few people in a small group talk with a foreign ascent, their attire not suited for the common day man - or woman.

Curiosity got the better of Santana, figuring these were not people who crossed common circles, following the group to an old saloon. Creedence was big enough to hide if needed, and this new location seemed to fit that billing. Santana seemed to have entered a new world, the inside of the dwelling arranged like nothing he had ever seen. Santana's straight stare cracked into a smile assuming this was some sort of circus, and better yet, out of streets.

Hey 'Mano, he yelled aloud with a childish glee, waiting for anyone to answer. This a circus, no?

He could hear the horses in the distance stir, striking some anxiety but Santana continued on into the world of vast colors and arrangements that were before him.

Sheriff Office @gambler@jameswest007

William continued on, trying to find the right words to explain the situation that they had just encountered. Julio was a great help, yet he did not know the Campbell's like he had, and as such was not his duty to report the incident.

He entered the sheriff office, hearing a commotion as he entered as his heart skipped a few beats. What in the blazes is that, William shouted, as he quickly turned running out of the office to stumble hard only to recover just as quickly as adrenaline quickly rushed the into his system as he sought anything to get away from what his eyes just saw.

1:24PM

Words on the remaining ride into Creedence Junction were few and far between. Felix had shielded the site of the actual scene from his new compadre, but the news of losing a someone weighed heavily on William. For Felix, he knew it would plague him for a few days, the unholy nature of the scene resting heavily on his consciousness.

The site of the town came into view once they crossed over the horizon hill. The design of the town resembling that of a large cross from his perspective. Along the outer most edge of the town, farthest away from them, they could see the train tracks which would lead Felix to freedom.

Compadre, Felix said allowed. Allow me to deliver your cargo if you check in my firearms for the train and also tell the sheriff about your friend's death. I think it would be better if it came from you. In truth, Felix did not want to face the authorities. Deniability was his best ability, and the fact that his ride in town could vouche for his presence as Julio Garcia made William valuable.

With a small stop, Felix's eyes fixed on his freedom so close to him, his eyes down as he exited to the back of the wagon to carry the delivery for William as he checked in his gun for the train. Freedom never seemed so far away though.

Deliverance Train:

inbound to Creedence Junction

Eoghan (Owen) Boyle was a dreamer. It was what brought him to America. An area where dreamers could reach out and grasp their future. His future was is what led him west toward a new world. He looked out the the train window looking upon large dry plateaus in the distance. From his vantage, it was really the edge of world.

They say over the horizon no one can hear you scream, a voice uttered. His name was Julius Turner, and he had noticed the look of amazement of Eoghan's face for he too once shared it. A prospector, he asked, but carefully looking at Eoghan once more he saw something of himself in him. No...you are a dreamer. A man wanting to claim his own destiny.

Eoghan smiled. Is it that easy?

Julius took a sip of his glass and with a sour look from the whiskey he sought to ease Eoghan's anxiety. If you work hard enough then destiny is closer than you think. This I promise. I would even drink to that.

Eoghan excused himself as he coughed, only to return to the possible celebration. I think I will drink to that. It was a simple gesture of two men, one looking to dream and one living the dream. But for some reason, the nagging ache in Eoghan's gut signaled something else as sweat begin to trickle down is forehead. It had started in Wayward, but no sickness was going to prevent him from his journey, even if this was no sickness he had ever encountered.

But so a dream can turn into a nightmare quickly as it would for the patrons of Deliverance.

Day One

8:47 AM

Felix Santana awoke to a bed that was not his - the bright, hot sunlight peeking through the windows with its Southern power even in the morning. It made him grimace, but not as much as the feeling that radiated from his shoulder. It was not a new feeling for a man in his career. He had started many of days with the same experience. It was the eerie feeling of someone's gaze locking onto him that he did not shake at the moment. He looked for the doorway, seeing a boy still and silent within its cut out frame silently looking at him.

You have a name, Felix asked.

The boy merely blinked through is hair that made its way barely over his eyes.

Felix looked around the room, confused as his last memory did not have such a boy in the equation. He looked around the room to see his clothes and his two revolvers hanging from a chair in the corner of the room. He slowly rose out of bed, seeking answers he did not know but at the same time reaching for his gear.

Pa! The boy yelled with a voice unexpected as he scattered away outside the main door. The dead man is alive.

His label made him a little curious, though his body had felt that he had been dragged to Hell and back. Felix slung belt across his shoulder, holster ready to grab his revolver if need be as he made his way to the door and toward the porch. He peered a dusty yard, chickens running free across his gaze as a older man appeared with a smile.

So you are alive? The man asked, passing Felix to gather a knife in a commotion and back out. The strangers movements made Felix take a step back or two, trying to distance himself from the blade, but the man merely smiled as he made his way back out to the yard wiping the sweat from his brow as if he had already worked a full day. I could use some help, he stated aloud as he went behind the house.

Felix followed, turning the corner carefully as the stranger busted a bag of feed making the chickens scurry to the location. My name is Julio. Julio Garcia. It was a lie, as he was a fugitive who robbed stagecoaches and trains from Mexico to Kansas but he did not want to alarm the man nor any possible authorities.

William. William Westwood, he said aloud. You were in pretty bad shape when I found you on my property. Found some trouble on a coach run I assume from the outfit I found you in. William passed Felix again. Bandits are notorious around here from what I hear. You lucky to be alive when I found you.

Felix merely laughed as he rubbed his hair, attempting to go along with the established rouse. The story had some merit though, as he remembered his last score in Tulsa. It was a big one as some stealth was needed to accomplish it. Things went awry as it always does, but it was the stupidity of the crew that cost him to flee to Mexico bruised and battered. Somehow fate must have had other plans.

Yeah....I was guard on a load from Santa Fe on its way to Austin. Felix continued with the lie, leading the story as far as possible from his actual origins. Some raiders showed up and I got dislodged from the coach. I should get in contact with the company before the weekend.

Well... William arose, clutching his back as his thoughts were visibly at work before Felix's eyes. Creedence is just above the horizon. They got a train station that arrives at three. I have to go to town anyways, so if you help me load my cargo I can give you a ride there. I have to make a drop by the Campbell's property to make a drop too.

Felix nodded with a devilish smile. I can arrange that, William.

10:17 AM

The ride had been a fruitful one as Felix had not laughed so many times in years. William Westwood had a unique perspective of life which made the ride enjoyable. The wagon which they occupied pulled up to another house, no bigger than two rooms as it occupied still a couple of hours afar from Creedence Junction. Felix unloaded the wagon, following William onto the property. Even with all the bumps and bruises, Felix loaded two bags onto his shoulder as he followed William to the door as he called aloud, alerting anyone of their presence.

There was silence, which was strange to William as the Campbell's were always ready for their weekly delivery. With a suggestion, both moved from the door and toward the back, hoping they were in the shack near the creek. Following, a familiar scent caught Felix's attention. It was that of death. Not of the steel aroma that lingered from a living being, this one was of rot. William picked up on it too as he got closer to the shed. Felix readied his guns which were holstered on his hips, his hands ready to pull if needed while William called out for anyone to answer. Felix gestured William to stay while he moved closer to the shed. The door creaked heavily as Felix slowly pushed in the door with his foot. The smell multiplied with the door now open as Felix entered, as he tried severely not to gag furiously. He saw bodies laying there as if they were ripped from some savage animal. Days had past, Felix knowing as he had seen death up close, some by his own hands, but Felix had never seen anything like this.

@prasinus_terra:

(I gtg)

@prasinus_terra: