The Walking Dead: Blood of the Covenant - An Interactive Story
Howdy there. I'm a longtime lurker on the forums, having read stories and spun ideas around in my head for ages now, but I've never actively participated in them before. But, since it seemed that everyone was doing it, I supposed I would go for it as well. Why not, right? Anyways, I've taken a lot of inspiration from shows like The Wire for the character development and social commentary as I believe it's the top in that aspect. I've also taken inspiration from horror films such as Night of the Living Dead (of course) and 28 Days Later, as well as the graphic novels of Junji Ito and, obviously, Robert Kirkman. I'm going to attempt an extremely realistic story where consequences and danger are very real, starting off with groups stranded in three different locations in the wake of the apocalypse. The first locale is the city of Fayetteville, NC, one of the poorer, larger towns in North Carolina. The second is the small town of Georgetown, SC, which is the third oldest town in South Carolina, as well as the poorest town in the state. Finally, we have the unincorporated community of Port Republic, VA, a very concentrated, small area of the US. Since that's over and I've probably already come off as a pretentious ass, I suppose I should explain characters.
Of course, we have the Google Form where you can submit your own characters! While it's likely that these characters will make it to the roster, they may undergo changes to better fit the story. Don't take personal offense if that happens, it's just for what's best in the story. I'll also be making my own characters should I need to, as I kind of gotta fit with the demographic of locations if I'm going "realistic" or whatever.
With that out of the way, I really hope you all enjoy this story! I know I'll probably enjoy writing it, with all the twists and turns that come with it. Also, sorry for the long spiel, wanted to get everything out of the way now. I'd also like to admit I've taken inspiration from Monument to the Walking Dead by NoHopeLeft and Humanity or Survival by Domingez. You guys are both great writers and great folks, as far as I can tell. So, thank you for the inspiration.
A disclaimer; as this is The Walking Dead and I'm trying to make this as "realistic" as possible, don't expect any punches to be pulled.
Table of Contents
Part I: Counting Sheep
Chapter One: Lucid
Chapter Two: Nightmares
Chapter Three: Stage Four
Chapter Four: Insomnia
Chapter Five: Apnea
Chapter Six: Sleepwalking
Chapter Seven: Circadian
Chapter Eight: Night Terror
Chapter Nine: Hypothalamus
Part II: TBD
Part III: TBD
Part IV: TBD
Part V: TBD
Characters
Fayetteville, NC -
Fayetteville Fire Station 8: Drew Robinson, Roberto Davis, Eric Chandler, Patrick Hickey, Joseph Douglas, Orville Pagan, Christopher Miller,
301 Truck Stop: Isabel Shepard, Steve Hackett, Malcolm Hackett, Charlie Redman,
Georgetown, SC -
Outskirts: Dell McConagher, Ivy McConagher,
Old Fish House: Alicia Lamson, Gabriel Silva, Nathaniel Cohen,
Port Republic, VA -
The Farm on 825: Cpl. James Rodriguez, Sgt. Jason Clark, Pvt. Darrell Stewart, PFC. Janine Coleman, Pvt. Steven Smith,
Old Dominion University: Edwin Osborne Wilford, Cassie Phelps,
To Be Introduced: Cecilia Clayton, Eddie Burke,
Comments
Ah, I am very glad to see a new story here
Welcome and I hope you'll have fun writing! I am very interested in this and hope to support as good as I can. Though I am currently not at home, expect me to send you a PM in an hour or two in which I would like to talk more about a character idea I would like to submit 
Great! I look forward to seeing your character idea!
Hey ! Looking forward to it, i'll probably submit you a character in a few hours
Thank you! I eagerly anticipate your character
I just submitted a character and I'm interested to see where this story goes!
Gotta say that I was looking forward to a TWD fanfic for a while now, so I'm glad that someone decided to make one xD. I'm really looking forward to this, and I've even submitted a character. By the way, if there's anything you wish to change about him, please feel free to do so, to any extent.
Great, I'll check out your character in a few!
Alright, I hope to get the first part out today or tomorrow! Thanks for your characters all, but I could probably use a few more for all of the locations, especially Port Republic. I mean, like I said in the OP, I can always just make my own characters but I think the custom ones really adds to the experience.
The Walking Dead: Blood of the Covenant
Part I: Counting Sheep
I woke up.
It was then that I realized my age. My creaking shoulders, my groaning knees, the way my face muscles contracted and recoiled at the loathsome lamp light. All were tell tale signs that I was drifting… I was drifting into it. The bandage on my arm continued to scratch at my skin, stained blood on strips of Mike’s black sweater. My body was cold, yet I could feel beads of sweat dripping into my eyes. My time was coming.
I remembered how the wound had been dealt. Gretchen, that old hag, had moved faster than she ever had when she was alive. She had taken a bite out of arm, a good sizable chunk lifting up in her bloodied maw. I saw the wine of my life rushing from the wound, and it was dark for a moment after that. I woke up on the floor, with Mike pistol-whipping Gretchen’s skull in over the couch. I don’t quite remember much about that day; just the pain. The abhorrent pain that lasted until the morphine kicked in. Fucking hell. The morphine.
My head tilted at the sound of the door opening, and I caught a quick glance of my pale feet at the end of the bed. They were already white with the fever, purple veins stretching through my toes like transit lines. Mike caught a glimpse of this, I think, as he entered my room. He didn’t say anything, just hitched up his pants and kept his eyes on my writhing toes. I think it got to him, since he flipped the covers over the limbs for the sake of hiding them. Always was a squeamish motherfucker.
I had taken Mike for a hoodrat the first time I saw him. Rolling up on me and the old woman that tore into my forearm, a Colt in his right hand and that bandana around his neck like he was some gangster motherfucker. I’d never seen someone more scared in my life. He revealed himself as a good kid though, what with all he’d done. Forcing that morphine into me, patching up my arm. He rubbed at his shoulder, grunting in pain as he sat at the foot of the bed. I found my mouth opening, loosening a dying whisper from its grasp. “Your arm okay?” Was all I could get out, before sucking in more breath at the rapid burning of my throat. It was like I had the goddamn flu or something. It was too bad I forgot to grab my shot this year, wasn’t it?
“Nah, my arm fine.” He responded, refusing eye contact with me. His eyes just glared down at the floor, angry. At himself or at me, I couldn’t be sure. Mike wasn’t the most… revealing of people. A despondent silence followed him, settling in the room with the dust. “How’s yours?” He finally inquired, and I coughed in response. “Hurts.” Mike nodded. Why wouldn’t he nod? That was what he was expected to do… as if he understood this. This shit. Poor fucking guy.
“I’m sorry. I’m…” I could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, and I shook my head. “Nah. My fault. I checked her.” I had put my hand so carelessly on her throat to check for a pulse. It was because Mike wouldn’t do it himself, of course, but what the fuck was he supposed to do? He couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Hell, even I could see that when I looked over him, and I was busy going blind from this bite. This damn fever… this damn fever was the worst part.
Mike shut up for a moment, wiping at his eyes. Not too many tears shed for me. That was alright, I s’posed. Not like I needed’em where I was going. Mike stared at the closet doors of the room, rubbing at his face. I could see his hair standing on end, the gun in his hand trembling. “I wish we could go back.” He said, and my eyes lit up.” I wish we could just… fuckin’ go back, man.”
I sniffled, thinking for a moment. “No.” I croaked, and finally I caught his eyes. “Huh?” He muttered, blinking. “No. Just the same shit. Always the same shit.”
Chapter 1: Lucid
Then
The stench was what really got to him.
Drew Robinson looked through the smoldering remains of the Tellers’ house, his bunker gear still on. He had managed to hang his mask and helmet up on the engine, after taking one last glance at the fire that had descended upon the building, gave up. The Tellers, the remaining ones, were bawling their eyes out near an ambulance, the EMT and police talking things over with them. The daughter, the father, the mother. Some white suburban family in Fayetteville of all places, having managed to secure themselves a middle-class home for their middle-class family in this middle-class neighborhood.
And despite all the wreckage he could see, the piles of black wood, charred antiques, shattered glass, door frames still in their respective spots, and he couldn’t get over the goddamn smell. A mixture of ash and smoke flowed into his nostrils, and then, a new smell. Sulfur, the smell of charcoal, smelling like burnt hair. Drew wiped at his forehead with a gloved hand, sweat matted hair sticking to his temple like cobwebs. He continued his traversal of the young blackened ruins, dodging burnt insulation that was floating in the wind. The smell was getting the stronger; the new smell, that was. He could see others walking through the remains with him, other firefighters from the grand Station 8. Always had been a good crew of folks.
His boot knocked against a plank of fallen wood, an ember on the tip. The smell was almost unbearable now; to alleviate his mind from it, he placed his heel over the spark and smothered it out. The board responded by snapping in two, the other end refusing to move under the rubble. Drew peered over, gagging at the combined gases in the air. He swallowed it back down, eyes looking over the broken plank. It was only natural, then, that he descend upon the blocking debris. He chucked pieces of char over his shoulder, tearing through the cinders in record time. At around a minute of digging, he reached the other side of the plank.
The culprit that held it down were two shriveled black arms. Attached to those arms was a rib cage poking through soft, burnt skin. The face was rendered unrecognizable, the eye sockets replaced by a strip of melted flesh and the mouth permanently fixed in a closed grin. Drew recoiled, eyes widening as he stumbled back. “Oh, fuck!” He exclaimed, rushing away from the scene. He ran to the fire engine, leaning against it with one arm while he heaved air.
“There a body, then?” Some voice from behind him, deep and commanding. Drew turned around, anger in his eyes. “I ain’t ever seen one.” His scanned over the user of the voice, a police badge and uniform regarding Drew with quiet contempt. The firefighter himself responded with indignance, indeed. “I ain’t fucking police. I don’t see bodies.” The cop was taken aback, holding up his hands in defense. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Drew closed his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t seen a body before. Not one like that, not one when he wasn’t expecting it. He had never expected a burning body to smell so… so much like that. And the family was just over there… who’d have to tell them their son melted in their old house? “I’m sorry. I just… sorry.” He turned around to face the cop, wiping the bit of spit that had flung itself out from his lips. “I’ve never seen a body like that before. Fuck.” He winced, the vision dancing through his head now, the devilish smirk on the corpse’s face still directed at the sky.
The cop nodded, eyes gleaming as he looked over Drew with pity, perhaps. “Don’t worry about it.” He said, patting the firefighter on the back. “The body’s over there, then?” He asked, grimacing. Drew looked at him, closing his eyes again. Gimme a rest now, please. I can only take so much right now. Despite his thoughts, he answered. “Yeah. Over there, by that door frame.” He extended a hand, a trembling finger pointed at the location of the body. The cop nodded, tipped his hat to Drew, then walked off to do whatever police do with the bodies. He probably fucked it then, didn’t he? The sicko.
This took nothing of it off Drew’s mind. As if it would, anyways. He couldn’t help but think of his own boy, draped up in that house. He couldn’t help but imagine himself on the back of the ambulance, sucking air through a face mask while an EMT informed him of the charred body they found inside what was left of his house. Just… fuck.
He was surprised by a pat on the back, startling him into conniptions. “Oh!” He cried out, lost in his thoughts. “Whoa, Drew, chill, chill out man.” It was Hickey, some wonderbread firefighter that had joined the Station about a year back. Had always played around like the whole thing was a joke, like this was fun to him. He was a funny guy, but Drew couldn’t take him sometimes. He fucked around too much, and he didn’t know when to shut up. Drew could drink with him, but damn was it hard to mess with him at an emergency scene.
“Jesus man, you scared me. Fuck, warn me next time.” Drew spouted, looking away from Hickey. “Sorry, sorry man. Just… you looked pretty rough. You find something out there?”
Drew scrunched his nose up. “Yeah, yeah. I just… I don’t think I can fucking do this anymore, Patrick.” To this, Hickey smiled and slapped Drew’s back again. “Oh come on man, you’re the only black guy in the department, we gotta fill our race quota somehow.” This seemed to give Patrick a good chuckle, and he Drew shook his head. “I ain’t kidding around, man. Just…” Drew sighed, turning around to face Patrick. Patrick joked around a lot, but… Drew could talk to him. He was one of those guys you could spill your guts to, and they’d listen to every word like they were reading a good book. Yeah, he needed lessons in tact, and he had a bit of a drinking problem, but who didn’t in the service?
“There was this kid in there. Dead. I… I found him.” Drew stammered out, putting his face into his palms. “Shit… sorry man.” Hickey said, curls of blond hair slapped on his head. “C’mon man, let’s get you home, see your family.”
Drew didn’t look up.
Three Weeks After the Outbreak
They had been trapped in the station for about two weeks now. Hell if Drew and the other guys hadn’t tried to go with their families when the military rolled in at first, taking them off to some base in Raleigh, but the trucks were filled up and the men were left behind. They never came back for them. Figured, too. Why would they?
Of course, that meant it hadn’t taken long for the infected to come barreling into the streets. Gnashing and gnawing at the few on the street, tearing them limb from limb. Drew figured he’d seen it all. But it was him and six others in that Station, just a bunch of guys from Station 8 that had hung around when it became increasingly apparent help was a long ways off. They’d have gotten the fuck out of dodge if they’d known what was good for them, but that wasn’t much the way of the Firefighter, was it?
There had been eight others there, but the Captain Leonard Pickett and the Firefighter Carter McArdle had sped off in the pickup truck before the streets got entirely infested. But fuck’em, right? The six he had left were good enough. But it was becoming apparent they’d need to get out soon enough. Their food supplies they had brought to the station in the first days were wearing thin, as were the water. Biggest problem they had was the quint’s belt broke just a few days ago, when that damned idiot Pagan had tried starting it without Chandler there to help.
Drew was sitting in the day room, shoveling spoonfuls of Frosted Flakes down his throat. His beard had grown in the form of a black goatee, accentuating the black man’s curly hair. He had currently donned a black t-shirt with “FIRE STATION 8” emblazoned on the breast and a pair of jeans that fit snug. He was the only one in their at the time, and the alone time was beginning to take its toll on him. He missed the days of drinking with Patrick, Carter, and Chris at The Drunk Horse Pub, but those days were long over. Patrick and Chris were still hanging around, but Carter was, as aforementioned, out of town.
Drew’s prayers were answered when the door opened, and in stepped a skinnier fellow than Drew. His “tough” crew cut didn’t fool anyone; Christopher Miller was still exceptionally smaller than Drew Robinson. Compared to Drew’s broad shoulders and sizable stature of 6’1, Chris was only around 5’8 and weighed something like 140 pounds, if Drew remembered correctly. He’d probably lost a bit since they’d been there, judging by his sunken cheeks and bony arms. His Adam’s Apple had either gained size or he’d lost some fat; but it was rare for Drew to see Chris eating.
Chris smiled at him, holding up a hand in a sort of wave. Drew flicked his head up in acknowledgement, still swallowing the last spoon. Chris sat down across from Drew, throwing a leg up over his knee. “See you got your beauty sleep.” Drew smirked, tossing the line at the still yawning Chris. “I see you missed yours.” They both chuckled at the back and forth, before Chris settled on taking a gander at Drew’s meal. “We got Frosted Flakes?” He asked, and Drew nodded. “Yeah. Fuckin’ good too.”
Chris nodded, pursing his lips. “Any of it left?” To this, Drew shook his head, notioning his head towards the empty cereal box on the counter, the smiling Tony the Tiger front and center. “Nope, I got the last bowl.”
Chris smiled, looking off past Drew. “Figures. You always were a lardass.” They grinned at each other, and Drew leaned back. “Hey, this is all muscle. One hundred and ninety pounds of pure muscle.”
“Oh yeah? You crossfit and shit too?”
Drew sniffled. “Somethin’ like that.”
Something was bothering Chris, that much was obvious. Something had been bothering him for some time now. Somethin’ like that. He hadn’t been eating, he had mostly just hung around the dorms since the beginning of the outbreak. In fact, Drew hadn’t really talked to Chris much since the whole outbreak thing kicked off. Fuck was that about, right? He looked down at his cereal, considering offering the rest of the bowl to Chris. Lord knows Chris could use it.
[Offer Chris the bowl]
[Keep the cereal for yourself]
[Offer Chris the bowl] I'm assuming it's meant to say Chris and not christ.
A decent start. I'm interested to see where the story goes from here.
Yeah, Chris not Christ.
I was finishing this up at like, 2 in the morning so sorry if there's a few typos spread throughout.
It's cool!
I didn't even notice until I typed it and then I was all "Wait a minute..." As I realized I typed Christ. XD
[Offer Christ the bowl] amen
but in all seriousness, it was a great first part! I’m excited to see where this goes.
[Offer Chris the bowl]
A new story! I'll be sure to submit a character soon.
[Keep the cereal for yourself]
He's got to keep his strenght too ^^
[Offer Chris the bowl]
Ah, this was truly an amazing start! I already dig the story, being set at two different times had a nice effect. Really enjoyed Drew's perspective here in both times. The very beginning was a bit ominous though, I wonder if that was written from Drew's perspective as well, as it'd spell doom for him, but obviously we can't be sure about it yet. But yeah, I really liked this first part and you can consider me hooked already
Thanks, glad to see you're hooked already! The first part was just what you make of it I suppose, just what I felt would be a fitting intro and it involved some of my piss-poor social commentary, so we'll see what happens.
Hopefully the next part is written a bit better, considering I won't be going well past midnight writing this stuff. I can see where the vote is going, so I suppose I'll go ahead and get the next part up tonight if all goes well. If it doesn't, tomorrow it is! I hope to keep a somewhat regular schedule with this story, as I've got a ton of free time since I only have like, three classes this year. Anyways, suppose I should say voting is closed and thank you all for voting!
I sent you a pm.
Sorry for being late, ended up getting caught up on a camping trip. Anyways, the next part WILL be up tonight. If not, you can call me a liar
[Offer Chris the bowl]
Drew dropped his spoon in the milk, letting it rest against the side of the bowl. His fingers fell to the bottom of the dish, pushing it forward. “Here. I’ve already had enough.” Chris raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “You sure? I’ll be fine, y’now.” Drew sniffled. Chris was a good guy; but something was messing him up. Drew knew he had a girlfriend at the least and from what Chris had said, she’d been evacuated with all the others. “Yeah man, I’m full. Had a big supper last night.” He patted his belly like a drum, enforcing the idea to Chris with a smile.
“Alright. Thanks, man.” Was all he responded with, dipping his spoon into the cereal and munching down. Drew wasn't sure what the sugar would do to his mental state (having read something a while back about a link between depression and sugar) but it wasn't like not offering him the Frosted Flakes would do any better by the poor guy. They sat there in silence for a second, Chris engorging the remnants of cereal in the bowl. Ugh. Glad I’m done. Drew mused, the only sounds being the slurping and slopping that Chris was doing with the food. Pig fucker.
Eventually, after most of the bowl was gone, Chris looked back up at Drew. “I was thinking about heading out in a bit.” Chris raised both eyebrows, leaning forward. “Out there? What’re you gonna do?” He crossed his arms, regarding Chris with a raised eyebrow. It wasn't like him to have a sudden need for a walk, yet here Chris was advocating for a step out with the geeks. “Was planning on looking for a belt, for the fire engine.” Drew squinted, surprise on his face. “What?”
“We’re running out of food. We gotta go.” He spoke shakily, his hands trembling with every word. “I… fuck. How the hell are you gonna get past the geeks?” With that, Chris reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, dropping it on the table. “I’ll set an alarm and throw it out there. Won’t break either, I got a real good Otter case for it.” He gave a toothy grin, and it was then that Drew realized just how disgusting his teeth were. Yellowed and covered in plague, the gums showing signs of bleeding. They had brought toothbrushes too, so it wasn’t like Chris had an excuse for this. “Nah, no fuckin’ way. They groan so loud you won’t get enough of them to hear the ringer. And don’t tell me it won’t break if you throw it into the street.”
“I’m throwing it out to the side, in the grass. I already talked about it with Roberto.” He said, annoyance flaring in his narrowed eyes. Drew shook his head. “What if the military comes back?”
“Drew, they aren’t coming back.”
“I mean, they probably aren’t, but… just, come on, Chris. I wanna get out of the station too, y’now, and Orville and Douglas are gonna fucking kill each other if we don’t. But after the last time we tried to get out? I mean…” Chris leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, we screwed up that time. But for this one, it, it won’t be all of us. I was gonna ask…”
Drew’s eyes immediately widened. “You want me to go? Is that it?” He clenched his teeth, anxious all of a sudden. “...yeah.” Chris murmured, once again returning to his ways of avoiding eye contact. What’s your play here, Chris? Drew’s mind wandered, as he studied the tiny man before him. He pitied Chris, of course he did, but he’d perhaps empathize with him if he just told him what was going on. Was it just cabin fever setting in? Some other rising mental illness? Was he bitten? Whatever it was, Chris was keeping his mouth shut about it. He hadn’t really talked to much of anybody since he arrived at the station, instead referring himself to the dorms upon most human interaction. But then out of nowhere he has a change of heart?
Regardless, those sunken cheeks and those terribly sad eyes wrapped Drew in. He caved. “Alright. I’ll come with you.” Frowning, but reluctantly nodding to Chris, whose eyes actually beamed for once in the longest time. “Yeah? Okay, good, good. Uh… think we should bring anybody else with us?”
Drew looked at him, squinting for what seemed like the longest time. His thoughts went wild like fire, thinking over the few men they could take with them on this short journey. From what Drew understood, Eric had been talking about the church across the street as the best option to grab the truck’s belt. An ambulance had crashed through the front doors the last week, which of course led all of those damn geeks to the street in front of them. It was a dangerous play, but it’d get them the belt they needed to drive out of town. If they survived till then. If Chris really had this all planned out, Drew supposed he COULD reasonably lead the geeks away just long enough for them to run through, break into the church, grab the belt, then book it back. But there were too many variables; it would take a second for them to get the belt out from under the hood, and of course the dead would pursue. So, a third might be useful in defending during the scavenging of the truck’s carcass. Of course, they could just slow the crew down and create a bigger meal for the geeks.
Lieutenant Davis was definitely not an option. A Chicano from LA, he had moved to the East Coast for a change in pace and environment. Of course, he was a good guy and all, but he was basically holding the group together as the de facto leader of Fire Station 8, now. They couldn’t risk him leaving the station without everyone, nevermind him getting killed out there. Eric was their driver; probably the only one who really knew how the fire engine worked. So, the mechanic boy would have to stay behind as well.
So that left three. Patrick, good ol’ Patrick, sweet, funny Patrick. An absolute bastard as well, and that was one of the best things Drew could say about him. He was often jovial, often making jokes at others expense. He was arrogant, young, and believed himself to be the smartest motherfucker in the room. And he was Drew’s best goddamn friend. If it had to come down to it, he’d definitely expect Patrick to help him out in a slippery situation. But he had biting tongue, and Drew had seen how he handled stress. That first time they had all tried to leave, Patrick was the first to turn tail and book it when Eric’s bunker armor got chomped on.
Then that led to Orville and Joseph, the two “lovebirds” as Patrick had taken to calling them. Drew was personally surprised the two hadn’t started hatefucking yet. Joseph was a tall fellow in need of serious anger management. Often furious and often bitter, he was a particularly vexed young man. From the few times that Joseph had gone drinking with them, he had carried the hottest broad in their out with him each time, something Drew disapproved of due to the young Joseph’s wife waiting at home. Obviously he was handsome, but Drew supposed the ladies also loved how strong that Joe was. Which of course, he WAS strong, and Drew had seen him lob a few heads off with a fire axe, even kicking one of the geeks’ skulls in with his boot. Drew was too squeamish for something like that. He got an awful sensation of guilt every time he so much as saw one of those things, and killing them? Made him sick to the point of vomiting. But Joe was no stranger to violence against the geeks, and he was a smart little hothead too.
Orville was perhaps the “mentor” like figure of the group. He was an old man with a penchant for pudginess, and got tired after a brisk walk. He was quite critical of Joe, which of course led to the two to butt heads more than often. While Orville was wise beyond his years, his relative out-of-shapeness didn’t really lend him to making a dash to the ambulance across the street, so Drew crossed him out of the equation.
And then there were two.
[Pick Patrick to go]
[Pick Joe to go]
[“We don’t need anybody else. Let’s get ready.”]
Okay so we got Patrick , who is drew's bestfriend and good for lighten up the mood, but is not to be counted on in action ,
and we got Joe , who's a hot head , but quite good in action and smart , but is an "unscrupulous" asshole since he's cheating on his wife .
Or we could just go without them , which is giving both their stats , not such a bad idea .
But i'll pick Patrick
[Pick Patrick to go]
for one reason only , since he's Drew 's bestfriend , i would hope that he wouldn't let his buddy down .
[Pick Patrick to go] Can always count on a friend.
[Pick Joe to go]
Apparently, he can kill the zombies pretty easily. Also, apparently he can handle stressful situations better than Patrick.
[Pick Patrick to go]
I technically lean more towards Joe than him, but I don't want to put you into the situation where you have to solve a tie. Thing is, Joe seems to be the more useful guy all around, being strong and capable, even if he might not be the greatest guy to get along with. Patrick meanwhile, I am sure he has his advantages, but it was mentioned that he is not performing well in tense situations, so that could end up as a problem to him and others. However, he has the undeniable advantage that as Drew's best friend, he might work better in a team with him, as Joe sounds less reliable in terms of actually working with Drew. If Patrick can keep his calm, he might make for a better companion, whereas Joe gives me lone wolf vibes.
But ah, great part again, I really like how this develops, with the characters and their different traits and relations to each other
With that, voting is closed! Drew will pick Patrick.
I dunno when I'll be able to get my next post up, but at worst it should be Friday!
Promise I'll have something up soon fellas, just a bit distracted this week with Spring Break and Easter and all.
Ah, not a problem if you need longer for the next part, I think we're all patient and the parts so far have been great, so it's definitely worth the wait. Looking forward for when you have the next part ready, but take as much time as you need to make it right