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My vote will go for 1, after finding something better than a coffee filter for a weapon. The police station will likely have better equipment for defense and at least one bathroom I would think.

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Police station, after grabbing a better weapon than a portafilter.

Mechanic shops have towels for grease right? Maybe grab one of those two. Might need to staunch the flow of blood later (or pee).

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"We should go to the police station. It's not too far a walk down the road, just past the newsagent," Claire says after a moment thinking. "It's the obvious answer."
"Yeah that makes sense." Frankie nods. "Best case, we find police, worst case, we find something we can arm ourselves with."
"Right-" Claire says, looking at the portafilter. "Think I could take something from here, in case we see more zombies on the way there?"
"We're going just down the road, Claire." Frankie points out. "There's got to be something better in the police station any way, don't bother yet."
"Yeah I guess so - What do you think we'll find in the station?"
"Maybe more zombies. Maybe a weapon like a baton or something." Frankie says with a shrug. "Hopefully a toilet."

Frankie swings the door open and steps outside,Claire following close behind and clutching her portafilter like her life depends on it. The streets are still mostly empty, but now there appear to be a couple of people sauntering around. They walk sluggishly, with limp arms and slow, heavy steps. These people are a fair distance away, but it's easy to see that they aren't normal people.
"Quiet now," Frankie says, turning to Claire. "Don't want to attract anything."
"N-no, we don't." Claire whimpers, looking up and down the street. "T-the police station should be to the left out of here, past the newsagent."
"That's right." Frankie says. "I don't suppose we have time to stop for a pack of smokes do we?"
"N-no, we don't"
"Oh lighten up would you? End of the world or not, we can still have a laugh right?"

"Hey! Hey!"
A voice from somewhere above shocks the two girls as they pass the newsagents.
"Who is that?" Frankie asks. Claire shrugs.
"Up here!" Comes the voice again. It's a young man's voice. The two girls look up to see him waving out the window.
"Oh it's you," Frankie says with a smile. "How's things?"
"Not great" He shouts down. " - there's some nutters downstairs trying to get in! They killed Harry, now they want me - I've locked the door but I think they might get through."
"How many of them?" Frankie asks.
"I think there's about five of them!" The man shouts back.
"Five's quite a lot." Frankie turns to Claire. "Think we can handle them?"
"Err-"
"Perhaps not. Hey Gavin!" Frankie calls up to the man in the window. "Me and Claire here are going to the police station - we'll try to bring help!"
"Righto!" The man, Gavin, shouts back.
"You just wait there!"
"I don't really have a choice!"
"Err, Frankie?" Claire says, tugging at her arm. "Someone's looking at us." She points to a disheveled man inside the shop. He's slowly making his way out the door towards them.
"Shit, right." Frankie hisses. "Listen Gav - we've got to go - we'll be back as soon as we can! Keep them distracted!" She shouts, starting to walk away.The zombie attracts the attention of one of his friends on his own way out
"Right!" Gavin gives them a thumbs up out the window.

"Come on, let's move," Frankie says, breaking into a jog. "Don't want to leave him on his own for too long."
"How do you know him?" Claire asks, hurrying after her.
"Local newsagent - I go there all the time - they've got this drink you can't get anywhere else!"

It's a short walk to the station - and a shorter jog. The light's aren't on, but the door's hanging open. There's no movement inside, aside from a desk fan slowly rotating on its own.
"Not a great start." Frankie says, looking through the window. "Think there's someone inside?"
"I...haah, I don't know." Claire says, panting. She's not used to running.
"Want to check?"
"N-not really." Claire answers timidly.
"Tough, let's go."

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The police station is as empty as it looked from the outside - almost. There's a muffled banging coming from behind a door labelled 'cells', but not on the door itself. Otherwise the only sounds in the room as the girls enter are the quiet whir of the desk-fan and Claire's heavy breathing.
"Well it looks like we aren't getting any help from here." Frankie says, stepping further in. "But there's also no one to stop us rooting around, right?"
"Right." Claire says, looking around. "Are we looking for anything in particular?"
"Well I'm gonna look for the toilet first." Frankie says, spinning on her heel and crossing her legs for effect. "I have to pee to no end."
"And me?"
"Yeah you can go after - but for now see if you can find anything cool."
"Won't the doors be locked?"
"Err, maybe." Frankie  pulls on the handle of a door and it swings open with ease. "Apparently not - come on, let's see what there is."

Frankie darts through the open door, and then Claire can hear her bump up a wooden staircase somewhere out of sight. Claire thinks for a moment in the silence about what to do. She starts by looking around the entrance room for anything interesting. It's quickly apparent that the only things she can take are either some chairs or the pen that's chained to the desk. She decides to move to the next room.

Taking the door at the back of the room leads Claire into the area where a policeman would usually sit in, behind a glass dividing wall. There's nothing too useful lying around - it's mostly files and personal belongings. A half-empty coffee cup suggests that someone was here recently. Claire goes to feel it, dipping her finger into the coffee. It's lukewarm - someone was here earlier. She looks around again to see if there's anyone still here. Upstairs she can hear Frankie's foot steps, occasionally stopping in place and tapping quickly. Deciding there's nothing in the room however, she decides to open the door at the back. She pushes the handle, but it doesn't budge.
"Dead end." She whispers. She looks to her left, her eyes catching a post it note on the wall. It reads 'Keys in first draw'. The writing is messy and looks rushed, and a bloody fingerprint on the corner makes Claire nervous. She follows its advice though.

Sure enough, the drawer slides open and a set of keys jangle as they hit the front. Claire takes the keys out the drawer and over to the doorway. After trying the first two with no success, the third fits, clicks as she twists it, and the door is open. The room inside is nothing too exciting, a simple desk, some papers, and a half-open window - but something catches Claire's attention. Something small and brass on the desk, glistening in the light. Claire steps over to the desk and picks it up, looking at it.
"A bullet." She says out loud, looking over it. It's not massive, but it's certainly more useful than a little coffee tool. She looks down at the desk, seeing a couple more. She walks around the desk, the chair behind it creaking as she takes a seat. She pulls open the two draws. One has a black box, the latches on either side hanging loosely open. The other has a number of more bullets. Claire takes her time to count them - twenty one in total, plus the three on the desk for twenty-four. Beside the box is a sturdy looking wooden baton.
"So inside the box must be..." She says, slowly lifting the lid. "A note?"

Inside the box is the padded outline of a revolver, but no revolver inside. Instead there's another bloodied note. Claire picks it up and reads it.
"The captain has the gun." She says, reading the note out loud. The handwriting seems panicked, getting faint toward the end. "I left him in the cell and tool? Took. Took my own gun with me. To whoever reads this, may god help you..."
Claire puts the note down, trembling a little. The note hasn't exactly set her at ease.
"Hey!" Frankie's voice from upstairs cuts Claire's thoughts. "Fuck off!"

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"Frankie!" Claire leaps from the chair with a shout, kicking it backwards. She charges out the room and straight for the stairs, scrambling up them as fast as she can, hearing the sounds of clashing and swearing from Frankie.
"Hey!" Frankie shouts, right as Claire reaches the top of the stairs, just in time to see a pale hand slap at Frankie's chest, tearing at the collar of her shirt. A chunk of fabric is ripped off before Frankie leans back and kicks hard as she can. Claire runs closer, leaning behind her.
"What's going on?"
"Found this fucker in the toilet." Frankie spits. Claire looks over to see a bloodied man staggering to his feet - his eyes almost completely grey. "You take one step closer and you're fuckin' dead." Frankie raises her wrench again, shouting. He steps closer. Frankie brings down her wrench with a sickening wet thwack. The zombie staggers back, but seems to regain his balance for a second. Frankie doesn't want to give him the chance though - she throws her arm upwards, hitting his chest with a thud. He staggers back further, landing onto the toilet, cracking it slightly off the wall. Frankie takes one more swing, this time at his head.
A heavy 'thunk' and the zombie is knocked through the toilet bowl which shatters under the hit. The pipe bursts and sprays the now-very-dead zombie's back with water, throwing the body forward.

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"C-Christ...." Claire mumbles, staring at the body on the ground. His head is in pieces, but the water's washed away most of the viscera.
"Bastard scratched me." Frankie says, panting.
"You don't think you're gonna 'turn', do you?"
"Well I fucking hope not." Frankie says with a smirk. "Keep an eye on me though, if I start getting bitey then-"
"Stop!" Claire shouts. "I don't want to think about that."
"That's fair. Well I found the toilet at least. You wanna go first?"
"I wanna go out of here." Claire says.
"Did you find anything cool at least?" Frankie says, wiping the sides of her wrench against her legs.
"I found bullets." Claire says. "And a note that said someone's taken a gun, but that the captain also has one."
"Think the gun's on this guy?" Frankie asks, pointing.
"Maybe? I'm...I'm not touching him though."
Frankie rolls her eyes.
"He's already dead."
"What if he starts moving?"
"Then I'll clamp his nuts in this." She says, lifting the wrench up.
"I'm serious."
"So am I." Frankie says, walking over to the body. She rests the bottom of the wrench between his legs. "The second he moves then...crnnnch"
Frankie starts to pat down the body. Water's still spraying from the wall, splattering on the floor.
"I thought I had to pee before this." She says, looking up to Claire. "This splashing's killing me."
"Just search him." Claire says, looking away. She can hear her pat against him a few times.
"Nope, nothing."
"So he can't be the guy who left the notes..." Claire says. "So there's someone out there."
"Here's wishing them the best." Frankie says, walking back to Claire. "Now what about that police captain?"
"Said he was in the cell."
"Did it say anything else."
"It said 'God help you'"
"Huh, inspiring." Frankie groans. "Well let's check out this captain."

"He should be through here." Claire says, putting a key into the lock of a door labeled 'holding cells'. "Think he'll come with us?"
"Hopefully." Frankie nods. "Unless he's a zombie."
"Well...I guess that'd explain why he's in the cell...."
"So you're not gonna even mention the shirt here?"
"What?"
"Zombie dude ripped the collar." She says, flapping at the loose fabric. "I can pop my titty through it."
"Err...."
"Watch this." She says, flapping it open. "Bloop! Titty."
"Are..."
"Not gonna mention that at all?"
"Err...no?"
"Suit yourself."
"Why aren't you wearing a bra?"
"Do you have any idea how sweaty it gets at the shop?" Frankie asks. "I spend all day working, I don't want some sweat-collector on my chest. It's airier this way."
"But what if something tears your shirt?"
"Well usually that's not something I have to worry about...So you gonna open the door or not?"

Claire doesn't say anything, but leans into the door and slowly opens it. A sudden clashing from inside the room causes her to slam it back shut.
"What's in there?" Frankie asks. Claire goes pale and doesn't say anything. "Oh for...Let me go in there."
"Wait -" Claire starts, but Frankie's already barged the door open. She closes her eyes for a moment and can hear rattling and snarling from inside the cell room.
"Oh relax Claire." Frankie groans. "The guy's behind the grate. He can't hurt you." She insists. Claire opens her eyes. Behind the thick Iron bars is a large, built up man. He's about six-foot tall and he's clutching the iron bars of the cell. The cell door has a sliding bar keeping it closed, but it isn't locked - though for now he doesn't seem to be able to unlock it.
"What the fuck is that smell?" Frankie asks, taking a step closer. "Aww, fuck - you want the good news or the bad news?"
"Err...good news?"
"Well, firstly, there's another toilet here." Frankie says. "Also this guy's got the gun on him."
"The gun didn't come first?"
"I am about to piss myself" Frankie insists, wrapping one leg around the other. "The pipe upstairs was too much - I can still hear it fucking splashing!"
"What's the bad news?"
"I think the guy's spent all this time puking into it."
"The gun?"
"No the toilet, genius." Frankie says. "I'm not sitting on that."
"You'd rather wet yourself?"
"Well, no...but it's a close call. At least pissing myself would be warm."
"You sure you can't hold it?"
"I might be able to make it to the newsagent...but it'd be fucking close."
"Should we go now?"
"And leave the gun?"
"You want to risk fighting that guy?"
"Dude, do you have any idea how great a gun would be right now?"
"I mean-"
"I would piss myself if it meant getting a gun. I'll do it right now."
"No! D-don't do that."
"So what's the plan?"

1) Kill the captain. He has the gun that the bullets were left for, although he looks quite tough.
 1a) Frankie should use the toilet - disgusting as it is.
 1b) Frankie can hold it until she reaches the newsagent. There's a toilet there, and with a gun, the zombie inside shouldn't be a problem
2) Ignore the captain and go back to the Newsagent. Claire will take the baton she found before.

These zombies sure spend a lot of time around toilets, don't they?

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Sorry the update's a day late - site was bugged out.

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Kill the captain and hold. They should also take the baton on the way out, it won't hurt to have a backup weapon.

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1a). We need those bullets. She doesn't need to sit on the toilet to use it, and having the distraction of a full bladder out in the open is detrimental for our survival chances.

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"Come on Claire, what's the plan?"
"It would be useful to have a gun..."
"Right."
"And I've already got the bullets for it."
"How many?"
"Twenty four."
"That should be plenty."
"But he looks pretty tough..."
"Yeah but so do the others."
"What if he hurts us?"
"What if one of the others hurts us?"
"They might not..."
"They might be even bigger?"
"I don't know..."
"Too long, I'm deciding."
"What?"

Frankie slaps the lock to the door open and kicks it in. The Police captain rises to his feet, ready to attack. Frankie stands back and readies her wrench for her first swing - Claire hangs back a little, clutching her portafilter.
The undead captain is the first to attack, lunging towards Frankie with all his weight. He lands head first in her chest, lifting her off the ground and throwing her back into the wall - Frankie takes a moment to steady herself before swinging back at the captain, hitting him squarely in the arm. He recoils to the side, giving Claire a chance to attack - she swings her portafilter at the captain's head, knocking him in the chin. The captain staggers with a growl, before swinging back at Claire - missing her face by mere inches. Frankie steps forward, bringing the wrench down onto his head with a crunch.
The captain staggers back again and roars in pain, clutching his now bleeding head.
"That hurt him!" Frankie shouts, readying her wrench for another swing. She swings but the captain catches her arm in his hand and follows up by punching Frankie in the chest, knocking her into the bars of cell.
Claire swings at the policeman again, bouncing the portafilter off his arm seemingly harmlessly. The policeman doesn't even flinch before taking another swing at Frankie and slamming her back into the cell wall with a snarl.
Frankie drops her wrench from the impact of the hit, leaving her defenceless. She flails her arm at the policeman, slapping him in the face - just enough to knock him back, giving her space to move. Claire kicks at the back of the policeman's knee, causing him to buckle over backwards. Frankie kicks him in the chest, knocking him entirely to the floor. She pants and wipes her face, bending down to pick up the wrench. The Policeman kicks wildly at her, hitting her shoulder and knocking her down.
"Pin him!" Frankie shouts, clasping at her shoulder. Claire nods and steps on the Policeman's neck - he snarls back at her with venom in his dull grey eyes. He swipes at Claire's legs, but she manages to keep her balance. Frankie grabs her wrench, and stands back up.
"Step back!" She shouts to Claire, lifting up her wrench. Claire leaps off the policeman, crushing his neck as she does. He gurgles at them, trying to pick himself off the ground. Before he has the chance though, Frankie brings down her wrench, landing a hit directly on the top of his head.
The policeman gurgles again before going quiet. Frankie lifts her wrench and slams it down again into his head with a wet crunch. The policeman stops moving.
"I think...I think he's dead." Claire pants, stepping back and leaning on the wall with one arm.
"Better be sure!" Frankie shouts, slamming the wrench back onto his head. Gore splatters about the room as it hits. Claire covers her eyes as Frankie hits him again and then again with her wrench. When she moves her hand away she sees a bloodied Frankie, breathing heavily and standing over the body of the policeman. Where his head once was is now a grisly mess of skin and bone.

"Jesus..." Claire groans, looking down at the mess before her,
"Well..." Frankie says, wiping her forehead. "He hit me."
"D'you think he's dead?"
"Want me to hit him again?"
"N-no! I think he's gone!"
"Good...haah!" Frankie pants. "Damn, he hurt me bad...Wanna get his gun?"
"I don't want to touch him."
"Fine." Frankie groans, kneeling down over the body and patting down his waist. Claire looks away, trying not to gag.
"I'll wait outside," she says. "You do you."

Frankie flicks open the policeman's holster, takes out his revolver, and stands once more. The cell is gore-splattered, and the toilet is no exception. To think it was bad before there were zombie brains splattering it.
"I'm not even gonna think about using that." Frankie sighs, holding the revolver by the barrel. "Jesus..." She grumbles, walking outside.

"Here," Frankie says, tossing the gun to Claire. She catches it clumsily.
"That was quick," Claire says, looking at the gun. "Didn't you have to pee?"
"Did you see the state of that toilet when we left? I wouldn't even touch that, let alone sit on it."
"You could stand up?"
"Dude, it is hard enough to pee in overalls as it is."
"You look like you're about to pee in them anyway."
"...Shut up."

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"Come on, let's get a move on," Frankie says as the two make their way back to the newsagent. She's trying to walk faster but she's clearly bothered by something.
"What's up with you?"
"I have to pee," Frankie says.
"How bad?"
"Like I'm about to piss myself."
"That bad?"
"Yes it's that bad!" Frankie shouts. "Come on, let's go," she adds, hobbling forward.
"Think you can make it to the newsagent?"
"No," Frankie sighs.
"Want to go on the side of the road."
"And squat down bare naked when there's zombies around?"

Frankie's hobbling begins to slow as they reach the halfway point of the road. She's clutching herself with one hand as she steps forward, practically limping.
"Claire," Frankie says.
"What's up?"
"I can't hold it - We're stopping here."
"What?"
"I can't....Fuuuuck!"
"What's wrong?"
"I think I'm wetting myself."
"What?"
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"Fuck- Yeah, I'm wetting myself!"
"What do you mean?"
"WHAT DO YOU THINK I MEAN!?" She shouts, bending over double and groaning loudly as a dark streak begins to blossom from underneath her backside.
"Why didn't you say something earlier?"
"I DID!"
"I didn't think it was this bad!"
"Well it is! Fuuuuck!" Frankie yelps, staggering on the spot. A few drips fall from between her legs and hit the floor beneath her. Frankie goes to take another step forward but buckles and lands on one leg.
"Frankie?"
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck...help me get these ooooooof!"
"I-"
"Just! Fuck!" Frankie shouts. She's now leaning on one knee, grunting as she tries to move. Her body doesn't want to cooperate though, and she barely manages to lift herself to one foot before falling back on one leg. "I can't hold it!"
"Try to hold it!"
"Claire I swear to Chriiiii-! Oh god, it's coming out!" She moans again, bending over further. "I can't stop it!"
"Frankie?"
"F....Fuck!" Frankie yelps, falling to both knees. She struggles and groans for a moment before going still. Before Claire can ask what's happening, she notices a puddle beginning to emerge from underneath her backside.

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"Fuuuuuuuuck...." Frankie sighs, leaning forward further, giving Claire a complete view of her backside as a dark patch begins to swell over it. Streams of pee begin to fall from off the denim as Frankie loses the battle to stay dry, splattering to the ground between her legs. Her hand clutches hopelessly to her groin as pee begins to flood over it, spilling out from between her fingers. The back of her pants grows darker still as more and more pours out of Frankie's bladder and down her legs, pooling at her knees.
"Gooood...." Frankie moans. "Oh god that's better..."
"Are you gonna be okay?"
"Jesus Claire," Frankie sighs, more relaxed this time. "I'm just wetting myself."
"Think you can stop?"
"No point..." She sighs, dropping her soaked hand to one side, flicking it dry. "I'm already soaked...might as well finish."
"I guess..."
"Shut up."

Claire watches Frankie as she sits on the floor, with a puddle spreading beneath her. The only sounds in the street are the splashes of pee hitting the pavement, and Frankie's laboured but relieved breathing. After what seems like a minute and a half, the splashing stops. Claire thinks for a moment as Frankie sits in silence.
"Feeling better?"
"Warmer, for sure." Frankie sighs. "God I needed that..."
"Shall we start moving?"
"I...yeah...let's go." Frankie sighs, lifting herself off the ground. More drops fall from her overalls as she stands. She flicks her legs off until they stop dripping, and then turns to face Claire. "Shall we?"
"Err....yeah?"
"Good."
"Err, if you're done, I kinda have to pee too."
"How badly?"
"N-not that badly. I'm not about to have an accident," Claire says, shifting from foot to foot. After watching Frankie's accident however, she's not so sure any more. She'd been neglecting her own bladder until now, and now she realised quite how full it had gotten.

"Could be worse, right?" Claire says, trying to cheer Frankie up. Frankie squishes slightly with each step as her sodden boots hit the ground.
"Yeah I suppose." Frankie giggles. "There could be zombies here, or I could have needed to-"
"Frankie!" Claire shouts, stopping her.
"What?"
"Zombies."
"Where?"
"Newsagent."
"Looks like it's worse." Frankie scowls. She looks to the Newsagents, barely a few yards from them both. One of the zombies from inside has taken an interest in the two and is beginning to saunter outside. Claire readies her pistol. Frankie puts her wet hand in front of Claire, stopping her.
"There's not many, save your bullets for later."
"R-right."
The two stand still and stare as the zombie begins to meander toward them purposefully. Another one comes out from within the Newsagent, staring at the two.
"There's more of them, Frankie."
"So there is... Maybe they can smell the pee?"
"What?"
"Well...they've all been hanging around toilets, right?" Frankie says. Claire thinks for a moment before nodding. "I guess they're attracted to the smell?"
"Why do you think that is?"
"It comes from living things maybe?"
"I guess - why didn't you use the toilet before?"
"Dude, did you see it?" Frankie asks. She slaps her wet thigh and smirks at Claire. "I think I made the right choice here."
"I think there's a third zombie coming out the building."
"What should we do? Think we need the gun?"

1) - "We need the gun." Claire will fire at the zombies as they come out. Low risk, but will use up bullets.
2) - "We could shoot one or two of the zombies." Claire will fire at some of the zombies, but Frankie will try to bludgeon the others. Middling risk, but uses fewer bullets.
3) - "We won't need the gun." Frankie and Claire will try to fight the zombies in melee. Higher risk, but it won't use up any bullets.

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Update later than the last one for reasons. I'll *try* to keep a schedule.

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