Sixth Iteration

( cw: violence, zombies )

arrival; fountain; after the groups of three have arrived

Owen comes to submerged in water, something solid and braying pushing on his chest. A splash, concrete at his back; his hands instinctively find and map the object at his chest, pressing him up out of the water. Wet nose, wicking in fur, a wide brow. He coughs and sputters awake to find a cow blowing hot breath and shockingly loud calls into his chest. It butts him with its brow, shoving him all the harder against the side of--

A fountain.

One arm wings back over the edge, steadying him as he looks for any kind of bearing. Cattle's not unheard of in the right places; but a fountain that's still running, not overgrown with ivy and moss--that isn't something he's seen. People build wells if they're smart, aqueducts if they're trying to save the world--but they don't build shit for decoration.

Satisfied with his grip, the cow butts into him one last time, before paddling to the right. He's still catching his breath when it reaches over the short barrier with its head, dragging with its heavy chin in the grass until it can scrape a foreleg over the edge. On the other side of the centerpiece, there are wide antlers breaking the water, a bull moose pushing a younger one similarly onto the grass.

Did he get out? Did he push north? The tree cover is a little heavy for where he'd been, once he starts looking out. When he looks down, he's in blue-green scrubs, and there are black straps on his shoulders. Did he steal the scrubs and pack, had they prepped him for surgery or had he simply escaped?

He can't remember. Just the bite of the needle, and the fountain.

On the list of vital information, he shoves am I infected to the bottom. There are others a short distance away; their similar attire answers no questions, but it might let him blend in. They're disheveled, long-haired, and someone appears to be taking stock. Did they all escape the compound? Were there more unwilling victims, hidden deeper in the facility? Right now, it doesn't matter. He could be infected, they could. He needs to roll himself out of the fountain--accomplished after a few floundering tries, and find a place to watch.

Next to him, the cow keeps trying to drag its second leg over the stone lip. Its legs aren't as long as the moose, and it doesn't appear to have any family to help it besides. Livestock has to be important, and at this point--one good turn deserves another. Owen pauses briefly in his retreat, dragging off the backpack and looping one of the straps around the cow's head in a makeshift lead. Digging booted heels into the dirt, he leans back, adding his weight to the effort to pull it free.

( post-arrival prompt )