[open] with those vague recollections

[Jacoby Michaels]

It was once a school. That was all he could think as he stood on the grounds of the now abandoned school. He wasn't from Georgia. Before this... zombie apocalypse (for lack of a better term) he had never even been to Georgia. He had come to the realization when he'd arrived in Georgia that of all the states he'd been through with Jonathan, the one right next to his own hadn't been among them. Jonathan had wanted to go, but it had been their last stop. The stop they had never made. "Better late than never," he mumbled as his eyes scanned the vicinity. It was just a shame that Jonathan wasn't there with him. Of course he wasn't. After what his family had done to him after they themselves had been attacked, there was no chance of him really seeing anything again.

Jacoby was standing on the playground. Or what used to be the playground, anyway. The slides that would have once entertained children were now empty. The monkey bars where they would have hung upside down were abandoned. He tried to imagine what the school had been like just weeks before. He tried to hear the laughter in his mind, as the kids enjoyed their recess, blissfully unaware that their time left on Earth was short. No matter how hard he tried, however, he could not. He had had children of his own. More than he'd ever wanted, and more than he'd known what to do with. But the end of civilization made him realize that he hadn't actually spent much time with them. Between work and Jonathan, he'd barely seen them at all. The strangest part about it was that he didn't regret it, even though somewhere deep down he thought that, perhaps, he should have.

Still, being there made him miss what once was. Because the last time he'd stood in a playground he had been at the park with his children. He'd found it to be the easiest way to give five minutes of peace. After all, they were loud, demanding, and all around ill behaved. Having lacked discipline from both of their parents. And whether he missed them or not, he realized suddenly that he'd never see them again. Or anyone that he once knew. They were all either dead, zombies, or in another part of the world trying to find some kind of safe zone the same as him. Jacoby was alone, and he was torn about that. Torn because while he loved his solitude, he also knew that there would be a greater chance of survival if he were in a group. He was sure to run out of bullets eventually, and he didn't know how far melee weapons would get him. He let out a sigh. He knew he couldn't linger long. He felt that lingering anywhere was dangerous now, and the last thing he wanted to do was become a meal.

[Jacoby Michaels]

He turned to face the building, staring at it for a while as if in contemplation. School had never been his favorite place. Even as a young boy, he had dreaded the time that he'd inevitably spend there five days of every week. But right now, entering it was more than tempting. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stopped anywhere. He supposed it was five towns ago. He'd collected some canned food from a store (what was left of it, anyway - both the store and the food) and went on his way. It had fed him for a while, but he was running low. He imagined a school would provide more. After all, they'd had to feed hundreds of kids at one point. Of course, that was assuming that others hadn't collected everything that had been left behind.

With a sigh, Jacoby reluctantly started for the building. He had one hand on his weapon, just in case. If all of this had taught him anything, it was to always be on his guard. Not that he hadn't known that prior to the events. In his line of work, he'd learned it long ago. But the zombies - if that's what they were calling them - had reinforced the belief. He didn't know who - or what, for that matter - he'd run into behind those doors, and if he had to defend himself, he figured he'd best be ready.

He entered carefully, checking both ways to make sure he was alone. He didn't see anyone, but he supposed that wasn't a clear indicator that he was entirely alone. He moved quickly and quietly through the halls, never stopping to enjoy the scenery. There wasn't much to see, anyway. Desks toppled over, dried blood on the floor. He had to step over something on his way to the cafeteria, but he didn't look down to see what it was. He was standing right outside his destination when he heard the noise. The scraping sound was loud enough to cause Jacoby to pause. He hesitated outside the door, almost afraid to go in.

The thing about facing an apocalypse was that every day you woke up, you woke up knowing it could very well be your last. He still hadn't gotten used to knowing death could be right around the corner. Which was ironic since he'd had to learn to face that fact long ago. But now. Now death seemed even more imminent. He held his breath as he pushed the door open and looked inside. There were no zombies. There was only another person. An alive person, he thought. He still didn't approach him. He'd learned somewhere a couple states ago that doing so could be risky. Everyone was on edge. And everyone had weapons. How else would they have survived so long? The words escaped his lips before he could stop them, "You scared the shit out of me," and then, still keeping his distance and gesturing toward the can, he asked, "Is there more of that around?"

[Jacoby Michaels]

He knew how intimidating he must have been. Standing there with a pistol in his hand. Back before all this end of the world stuff went down, one would have thought him to be insane. Or at the very least a fairly dangerous psychopath. Now, however, as far as he was concerned, he was just taking unnecessary precautions to ensure he survived until the morning. Whether he thought he'd die before all was said and down aside, he wanted to extend his life as long as possible. He wasn't sure why. Jonathan was gone, what little family he had was gone, even his dog had gotten the heck out of dodge. But for some unfathomable reason, his instinct wanted him to survive.

Still, he'd gestured at the pudding and not the man. He hoped for a brief moment that doing so was indicator enough that he was not aggressive. Well, not at the moment, anyway. There was a brief look of disappointment on Jacoby's face when he said it was the only one he could find. He knew from past experiences that many people weren't willing to share any more. Not that he could blame them. There wasn't much left to share. Then the next answer came and Jacoby gave a forced - and yet, grateful - smile. "I won't eat it all," he vowed, "I probably couldn't even if I wanted to."

On that note, he walked carefully across the room, eyes scanning the area for any signs of silverware. He occasionally glanced at the other as he walked, heading in the direction that he'd been pointed in. The other looked rough. He was unkempt and he was dirty. But Jacoby wasn't one to judge. He didn't look perfect himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd changed his clothes. And while he would sometimes wash up in bathroom sinks, it was nothing like a nice, long shower. He found the spoons promptly and without saying a word, wrapped his hand around two of them. No use starting a fight over food. They were both likely starved and exhausted, so there was no telling at all who would have the upper hand.

"I'm coming," he replied hastily, making his way for the other. It felt so strange speaking to another person after everything that had happened. As it was, Jacoby had never been the most social person before everything happened. It was harder now. Harder, but in many ways, more necessary. "Found one for you," he said, handing the extra spoon to the other as he sat down across from him, "Like you asked. I intend on eating as much as I can, as well," he was quiet a moment before he spoke again, "You got a name?" A normal question on its own. Would have been expected a few weeks ago. But now... now, Jacoby wasn't even sure whether he should expect an answer or not.

[Jacoby Michaels]

Jacoby watched as the man opened the pudding. With just a parring knife, he was sure that had been some amount of struggle. But eventually, the lid popped off allowing him to know that here shortly, they'd both have food in their stomach. And while it was certainly no full course meal, it definitely felt like it as he stared at the jar. The only thing preventing him from allowing his tongue to flick across his lips was the fact that he realized he was across from another living person.

He waited patiently - too patiently, he felt (for Jacoby was usually a fairly impatient man) - as the pudding was served. As soon as a plate full of the stuff was slid his way, all manners seemed to leave. He shoved the first spoonful in his mouth, allowing the flavor to linger on his taste buds, not speaking another word for a brief moment as he took another bite and then another. It was clear that he wasn't the only one who was hungry enough to dive right in. The other, eventually, used his finger instead of the spoon. Something that would have once bothered Jacoby, but now seemed quite normal given the circumstances.

He wasn't sure whether he should have expected an answer to his question. He especially hadn't expected one so quickly. But the reply certainly hadn't fallen on deaf ears. He had swallowed another spoonful of the pudding when he caught his name. After a very short pause, he nodded. "Yeah," he replied, "It's Jacoby," he fell silent for a short while, finishing the pudding that had been put on his plate. Only when it was all gone did he speak again, "Are you alone?" It was a simple question. Yet, in those times, the answer meant a lot.

[Jacoby Michaels]

OOC: I'm sorry for the delay. My muse hadn't been wanting to work with me for a while.

Yeah was the other's reply. Well, Jacoby had mixed feelings about that. There was some disappointment there. Perhaps a part of him had wanted some other company. To feel like he was part of a group again, even if for a very brief moment. And for him it likely would have been brief. Even in those times, he enjoyed being alone every now and then. And that, he supposed, could be a put off. After all, how would a group look out for one another with a loner among them?

He caught Jerry's stare, returning it with one of his own. It certainly was surreal to see another living person sitting across from him. He continued to eat, listening as Jerry spoke. When he replied, he still had pudding in his mouth, but he didn't care. Manners had left the window the day those zombies started... rising. Or whatever it was zombies did. "Pretty much in the same boat myself," he replied, "I can't remember the last time I saw a living person. Often when you do see someone who is living, they're not really in much of a mood for chatting, either," he added with a chuckle of his own.

He nodded. It felt strange hearing his name repeated by another person. He hadn't heard that in so long. The last person other than himself who had spoken it aloud was Jonathan. And Jonathan was long gone. "Yup. Jacoby Michaels," he said, "Would have been Detective Michaels. At one point. But I suppose that doesn't matter any more," he joked darkly. He laughed lightly at Jerry's joke. Making light of the situation was hard, but not impossible, certainly.

"I hear that," he said, "I don't think I've seen ice in miles. There was a gas station a few towns ago that had ice, at one point. People took the last of it before I could get there. I might be able to help you with the nurse's office, though," he added, "I think I saw one on the way in. I can show ya to it if you want. Wouldn't hurt to see what's left in there, anyway."