PRINCESS
Picketfence thinks he can win this race by oppressing the American people with chemical and civil war. We all know he's crazy. Apparently, however, sneaking into a man's home in the middle of the night, murdering him and then making an attempt to take his child's life is a way to get even more political followers. What kind of fool would follow such a monster? What kind of fool would agree to devise a chemical weapon to take out all political candidates who oppose your party?
When my refugees are ready, we will attack. We will take him out just like he took out my father.
It only takes one girl to start a revolution.
Fortunately, one of my women is a warrior. A very disturbed warrior, but that's the best kind! Probably!
My refugee camp is on the campus I attended a week ago, before the war started. Several of my students make for decent warriors too, especially my art student. He's just as disturbed as the warrioress, but more likely to act as bait.
I usually wait in the highest tower on campus in a lookout I fashioned with the school's security cameras and computers.
The dome my father's loyal party members built for me acts as a camera. Each of its separate lenses shows me a different view of the surrounding city. Every time I see a potential helping hand in the revolution against Picketfence, I go out to fend off zombies and let them in. Speaking of which, I have to go.
PRINCESS
Our population boomed the first two days after the chem bombs were dropped. After that, we were lucky to get a survivor a day. Even with the dome shining hundreds of feet high on the horizon, we still seem to be ignored...or the Specter population is just turning into zombie fodder.
When my cameras picked up a straggler on the grounds, I ran out of the watchtower, alerted the warrioress Peachy and told the bold art kid Vik, both of which would look after the camp in case of my unlikely death.
I ran into the decontamination chamber, past the codelocked seven inch steel door, and out into the spore filled air where my fellow human being stood, surrounded by towering pink zombies. Unlike the rest of my refugees, this man was armed. I had heard from my architect chief that we would be receiving a foreign aid to decode and infiltrate enemy messages and bases and all that fun spy stuff.
I had two daggers and one firearm, he chose bigger and badder weapons, bats.
But the larger zombies were desperate. They knew we were hidden in the dome. They could smell us. And now they had their lunch.
When I ran out of the door, immediately I unloaded my handgun's nine rounds into nine zombie skulls and threw both daggers into the mouth of the last one.
One zombie survived, and our spy cracked its skull open with his aluminum bat. I grabbed his free arm and we both ran back into the dome.
"Welcome to Georgia! I'm Princess K!" "Shane."
He stripped and then entered the decontamination without another word.
CARLA
Malcolm's sense of direction sucks, as does every man's. It took us three days of going up a highway ramp to even agree that the dome was on the other side. Every time we got halfway up the ramp and I tried to see over the hill, Malcolm would let the wagon roll down to position his stupid gun to shoot some abandoned animal that rustled in the closest car. He's also convinced all animals burn in hell anyways.
On that third day we saw the dome on the other side. It was still a ways away, so I convinced Malcolm that we should stay in an abandoned laundromat, so we could wash our clothes and be butt naked in a heated room together.
By the time I had removed my stockings(which I took from the corpse of a rotting corner whore), Malcolm was already outside, "standing guard". I asked him why he didn't want to stay in the building with me and he started preaching more of his internal scripture to me. First it was something about not laying his eyes on a woman that wasn't his wife, then he started calling me a harlot, so I punched him in his face and dragged him in with the built-up strength from being highly offended. Little butt.
Once we were both inside again, I removed his headband first...then his green army jacket, then his white t-shirt.
Eh, he was alright. He shaved his armpits and his chest. That, or he was really young.
The rest I can't say without incriminating myself. His clothes are clean, now, though.
MALCOLM
Harlots burn in hell! I will bring her and her wicked ways to the refugee camp and let them do to her what they will. I cannot save her. I cannot forgive her for what she did to me. And I -know- she did something to me!
I woke up without a single thread of clothing on me, and she was laying her whore body all over me.
She thought she could hide my firearms and my flamethrower from me too, claiming she had gained a fear of fire. Of course she had! And it was going to be worse when the flames of hell lick her filthy heels.
I tied her up, which of course as a harlot she turned into something dirty, and threw her back in the wagon. She claimed that it was okay though, and that she was unable to walk anyways, thanks to 'last night', whatever that means. She makes me feel like such a sinner. Forgive me, Lord.
The entire time we were going up over the hill, she made references to filthy things and how she'd like to get another taste of me or that I could get a taste of her now that she was tied up like a present.
Before she could go on, two travelers called out to us from below. I descended the ramp and saluted them. They were of high school age, a girl and a boy. He was carrying her on his shoulders, so she must've been a good woman, possible his fiancée.
They quickly rushed to the harlot's side, and she told them I was crazy and had a gun. Partially true, partially another opportunity to tell more about the Lord.
They untied Carla and the boy took the wagon handle from me and told me to instead guard the rear of the group.
He had an oddly feminine voice for a man. Perhaps he was friends with the witch. Perhaps they were all tests of my faith.
ANGEL
Carla seemed like a sweet girl, so I spent the majority of the trip to the dome talking to her. When I noticed Maurice was far enough ahead, I leaned over and told Carla that I'm trans. She told me she thought it was cool that I could be myself, and we talked girl stuff for a bit, until Carla's friend Malcolm rudely interrupted. The guy was one of those religious maniac types, and honestly he was kind of backwards in most ways. He wanted to know what it meant to be trans, which was good for me, because it meant I was passable as a girl.
I was going to inform him and attempt to open his mind a little, but Carla stopped me. She told me he was dangerous, that he might react in a way I might end up physically hurt by. Apparently he talks to himself, and had been calling Carla a witch and a harlot every chance he thought he was out of earshot. Poor girl. She had already been tortured by her own family!
I told Malcolm some on-the-spot lie to avoid a grim fate by firearm execution. He believed it. Now the poor guy thinks trans means I'm from Transylvania. I didn't know people could be so dumb. Too bad it's always the dumb ones who have the biggest guns.
It's not like the current president is any better. The entire non-straight community is frowned upon by Picketfence's party, as well as the non-religious, and people like Carla. Now's the time for us girls to stick together it seems.
Hopefully once we're in the dome, I can avoid him at all costs.
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