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Keith awoke the next morn, feeling a droplet of... of something trickling down his forehead. Blood? Could it be? With a startle, he sits upright and readies the pistol that is still in his grasp - how hard did he hold on to that thing, anyway? - and looks around the room. Seeing nothing or nobody, he frowns and lowers his ears, using his forearm to wipe away whatever it was that he had felt. Sweat.

"Go figure..." he mutters quietly. His thoughts the night before and his dreams had been all but pleasant. The husky sighs out as he forces himself out of the bed, much rather just wanting to stay put there and curl up underneath the covers. Perhaps if he shut his eyes and opened them again, he would wake up in his own bed. Yeah, wouldn't that be great...

Taking the time to stretch out to loosen up his stiff muscles from what can barely be called sleep, he grabs his rifle and checks the magazine just to soothe himself with the thought that if another one of those... things come at him, he will be able to defend himself. Shoving aside the makeshift barricade, he opens the door and steps out into the hallway. Still as abandoned as it was when he found the place. The winds blow through the shattered windows, papers and what not flying as they see fit, causing an admittedly eerie atmosphere.

A sudden thud against the door coming from the room right next to his makes him perk his ears up and press himself up against the adjacent wall, aiming his rifle right at the door.

Shit, that's their room! He curses low to himself. It is obvious that he hesitates as he approaches the door, though overcoming his momentary fear as he kicks the door open to step back, not wanting any surprises. He can see the bed clearly from where he stands, but to his dread and surprise, the dalmatians are nowhere to be seen. But they... What? He stands confused, just staring into the room ambivalently; the urge to head for the exit is getting stronger by the second.

Defying all logic, however, Keith grips his rifle tightly and steps inside of the room, his eyes fixed on the blackened spot on the bed where the pair used to be and even runs his hand over it to see if it would coat his hand - and indeed, he had not been imagining things. Keith feels a sudden chill travel up along his spinal cord and he freezes in place, ears perking up into attention on top of his head with the sound of the door creaking as it moves from behind him.

Didn't I check there? Shit, that was dumb... looks like I'm paying the price then. Quickly, the husky jumps up onto the bed and tries to swing himself around to see whom his assailant would be, but... there's nothing there to be seen. Just the door moving again, the creaking almost painful to the ears, the door before long slamming shut. "The fucking wind? Enough of this, gotta pull myself together... fuck." he stammers, shaking his head and getting out of the bed. With so much going on in the husky's head, he feels as though he might just go crazy. Seems like it's not enough that he had to find Clara and Ruby like that, now he has to kill them. It really isn't Keith's idea of salvation, but it would have to make do.

He takes a moment to sift through the myriad of thoughts in his head, staring out through the open doorway. "Don't worry... I'll put an end to your misery, I swear it," he mutters to himself, promptly leaving the room. He wastes no time in making his way back out onto the streets, where the day is still shrouded in a veil of night. Rays of light shine through here and there, illuminating certain spots of the town. Right, they can't have gone far... Keith takes a breath, then sets off, heading for the town's old church tower. If there is even a shred of humanity left within Clara or Ruby, he knows that's where they will be. In life, it was their favourite spot to just relax. They could spend days there, bringing their sleeping bags and some other necessities. Come to think of it, it'd be a great place to resupply if any.

He picks up the pace, being mindful to stick to the shadows to avoid any unwanted surprises. Around every corner he sees those things, stalking about mindlessly... just walking a line as though their bodies were programmed to. Keith finds his thoughts coming to a halt as he is about to round the corner of the church - looking back, he is able to see the point from where he came, even - as in front of him, just a few feet ahead... No...

Rising slowly from the ground with movements that are all but coordinated and precise, a groaning mess consisting of charred remains turns around to face him. What isn't already a charcoal black is an ash-ridden white and black spotted fur. It could only be Clara. Who else would be wearing such fine clothing in the middle of a catastrophy? Purple silk; always her favourite. The golden bracelets about her right wrist only add to the evidence, as does the choker about her neck that is all but shiny and pristine.

Keith grips his rifle tightly, squeezing almost. If the fur on his fingers weren't already white as snow, they sure would have been. His hands begin to shake, and he just stares dumbly as the withered remains of Clara begins to walk towards him at the pace of a snail, it seems. Shoot... shoot, damn it. Shoot! Keith grits his teeth. Impossible. How could he ever? The undead lunges at him, and all that Keith - a trained professional killing machine - can muster to out is "Stop! I don't want to hurt you!"

Barely does he have time to finish his sentence before he is floored and trapped underneath the husk. Such impressive strength... he thought that this time, after his previous encounter, that he would be ready - that his emotions would be shut off. Now, as he holds Clara up, unable to avoid the blackened blood that drips down onto his face and the ash that begins to coat his fur, he is unable to even get her off. Had it not been for the fact that he landed on his back with his arms outstretched to catch her as she fell along him with, his neck would most likely be mangled by now.

Very slowly, and with his hands trembling worse than ever before, Keith snaps out of his comatose and reaches down towards his holster, putting all of his strength into keeping Clara up and away from him - his throat, since that's apparently what she is after... snapping her jaws and biting at him tirelessly - he weakly grips at his pistol and tugs it out with just enough strength to press it against the dalmatian's temple. She barely even reacts to it, just grunting louder.

"F-... forgive me." Keith mumbles and shuts his eyes tightly, a tear trickling down his cheek from the corner of his eye as he squeezes the trigger. He hears only the gunshot and the sound of blood splattering before the dead weight that begins to press down over him becomes too much for his wobbly arms can take, and Clara falls down onto his chest. As the husky opens his eyes, he feels the content of his stomach about to up and leave again. Met with those cold, glazed over eyes, all that he wants to do is just... cry. The fact that her brains are probably scattered a few inches to his side doesn't make things better for him. He drops his pistol, shuddering. He has to gather all of his strength - physical and his mind - to push her off of him. He forces himself to sit up and eventually stand, picking up his pistol and staring at it with contempt. Disgust. Holstering it, the husky continues towards the church tower, no longer quite as eager to fulfil his promise...

He meets with none of the ghastly creatures on his path to the tower, fortunately, not that the husky thinks of anything but the previous event at the time being. Right now, he could walk straight into the arms of one of those things and not even care. The only thing he does walk into, though, is the entrance to the tower. Knowing the place as well as he does, he doesn't even have to stop to look around, knowing instinctively to turn to the left and walk up the circular flight of stairs that surround the massive bell to the very top. The steps seem endless and with each one, Keith's mind grows heavier and heavier. When finally the top has been reached and he sees Ruby there, sitting with the heating blanked he had left for them the other night wrapped around herself, he blinks once.

Then, something seems to snap for him. All of the thoughts in his head just... disappear, and... he smiles, widely. He even begins to laugh, then lifts his pistol, aiming it at the back of Ruby's head. Without as much as a second to even think through what he is doing, he fires, and the sitting figure falls over in a heap. Still laughing, Keith walks over the corpse and to the bottles of water that stand in the corner, picking up as much as he can carry and stuffing it down into his bag. The food is all ruined.

He stops laughing when he reaches the bottom of the stairs again and takes a moment to gaze at his bloodied hands, a stupid, sheepish grin on his face. Reaching for his pistol again, there is again no hesitating for him as he brings it up to his own head and pulls the trigger.

It is then that Keith with a hoarse scream finds himself shooting upright in his bed again. "H-holy..." he interrupts himself, bringing a hand up to his face to rub it roughly. He quickly bolts out of his bed and clears the door to make his way into the room beside his. The sigh of relief that he utters, finding the two of them on the sofa still clinging to one another underneath his blanket is loud enough to wake a hibernating bear. He slumps down in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Heh. It's not like I need my brain or my sanity anyway... The husky shuts his eyes, exhausted merely from sleeping too much, and drifts off to sleep anew.