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Yreka is a complete let down. Shaun tries not to show it, letting the cameras see the bravado of the Irwin, strolling through the ruins of the town on a sunny day. The prattle comes naturally anyway, hyping up the viewers with the promise of what they might discover— as though it wasn't an unspoken rite of passage. He hadn't wanted to come, originally, agreeing with George that it seemed like a thin story; only up for debate because of the cultural relevance. It wasn't really the Masons fault that his mom had visited early in her Irwin career, partially drawn to it as a stop on the circuit around Shasta— the national park was quarantined, but the border was all zone three or lower— but partially as bemused reference to some seriously pre-Rising trivia. William Irwin was a representative of the area in the late 1800s.
Unlike his sister, Shaun doesn't have a problem using his parents’s fame; he isn't solo (yet), and he's still building his audience.
"You can thank my mother for today's adventure," he chuckles, smiling into the camera, "In more ways than one." A theatrical kiss, and then back on track. He follows his instincts, letting his feet take him downward, the natural settling place for zombies at rest. Sure enough, a few infected shuffle at the end of the ruined town. His natural inclination is to keep going, get closer to the mountain, as close to the restricted zone as legally possible; he's not one to care about that, but— "For legal reasons, we'll be staying on this side of the fence, but I'm sure we'll still have an easy time finding some fun." Hard to trespass when he's streaming live. Off camera, he signals the cameraman: Sang-hwa, still more comfortable behind the lens than in front of it. He'll get over that eventually, Shaun thinks, or he'll give it up and become a Newsie. Shaun asks the younger man for the current viewer numbers. The cameraman shifts to one handed long enough for the sign back— just under a thousand. Rookie numbers, but he knows he's just being impatient. The problem with metrics in the Irwin market was that most of those viewers would be bouncing in and out of streams, looking for something exciting happening that moment.
Screw it, he thinks, taking a crowbar out of the largest vertical pocket of his cargo pants and fishes one of the zombies into arm range. The camera pulls in for some closeups, focusing largely on the clothes and body of the post-human. It's on the older side, sluggish, but still fun to pull noises out of, making up a narrative based on the surrounding building less than the actual facts. Shaun tries to keep the dialogue off camera, only turning his face back toward it when he's shouting exclamations or tossing a smile that direction. If he has to dub over all of this because of his editor, it'll be easier if he's got his back to the camera— and it looks good that way, too, making the shot a point of view for the viewer, coming with him on the journey.
The day passes quickly, and he shoves away the zombies an hour before dusk, Sang-hwa and him returning to the van and safety, driving an hour out of the zone for a safer place to sleep. Only a few hours in shifts— the zone is still high enough that it's necessary. With more personnel they could have kept going at night, but that would introduce extra factors that boil down to "George says no until we're independent." They keep the stream going, one camera pointed outside of the van, and one on the Irwin that's currently awake, shooting the shit and building an audience, maximizing the time spent with anyone watching. It's a little boring compared to playing with the infected, but Shaun isn't adverse to talking with people, finding out their stories. He doesn't have to fake interest, not like George, but he does have to keep in mind some basic coaching— stay in character, and don't engage too personally. He's privately glad when Sang-hwa comes to relieve him, saying goodnight and crashing for about four hours.
Bright and early, Shaun moves the van down the road, headed back into town— if he wanted to show off the scenery, he'd be a different kind of blogger. The scenery he needs is zombies, frenetic energy, mad scrambles. It's hard to manufacture that sort of thing without being stupid, but he hasn't let that stop him yet. He wanders through the ruined little town, noticing more activity toward the hospital. That figures, since the town itself didn't have anything drawing large numbers of people— little groups of hiker-tourists, yes, but large conventions of the tech or nerd variety, not so much. It stands to reason that the ruins would have collected infected near schools and hospitals. That was the first mistake, following the natural impulse to go to the proposed site where it all went wrong.
It should have been fine, but he didn't consider the facts in evidence as parts of a whole: that there was not just a hospital, but a school and a cemetery in the same little area. That the area narrowed as each side of the valley rose around them, putting them at the bottom of a hill. Lastly, he'd done the driving on this trip, leaving Sang-hwa to do the technical stuff while he managed the van. This would’ve been fine, but while he was exploring, the younger Irwin was following him in the vehicle, focusing more on filming Shaun in auxiliary than paying attention to the roads.
Things go a little too quiet, and Shaun cocks his head, trying to remember when he last heard the birds, the wildlife— anything but the quiet and a soft shuffling he was attributing to the tires following him at a slight distance. He swore, realizing that while he'd been nearing the hospital, focusing on the infected he could see with his eyes, the ones he couldn't see were circling, rolling into town in a mob. Despite himself, despite the fear and adrenaline pouring in him, he grins, his affect and spiel ramping up. Sang-hwa breaks into his earpiece, registering Shaun’s visible change on the cameras.
Shaun is short, aware of how audible he is to the viewers. "We've got company. Close the distance and buckle down. Keep the channel clear unless you're going to die so I can get it on camera." He winces internally, not meaning to treat his fellow Irwin quite as tersely as he would George. With his sister, there’s rapport, they have a relationship, and the way fans consume content means anything he says to anyone is up for discussion and speculation. Mentally, he makes a note to not punch with his words unless it's for kayfabe, for parasocialing the relationship. The distraction is brief, and he's making his way back to the van when it makes a sudden engine noise that doesn't sound great. He stops, trying to figure out what's wrong before he gets closer, and that is the last mistake. A zombie speeds up, Shaun can't turn in time, curses, tries to pull away, and finds he's stuck. It hurts, and he wonders if the thing that's caught his shoe has gone through his skin. Shit.
He doesn't say anything, just focuses on getting through this. His shoe is caught, and it's too tightly tied around his foot to ditch it easily. The closest zombie takes advantage of the predicament and goes in for the bite, wrapping hands around his leg. He twists to dodge, pulling out his crowbar—the motion hurts, and he attributes it to the metal in his shoe, scraping foot and leg alike. Shaun pushes the zombie far enough away that he can pull out his firearm and spares a glance to the van— still where it had been when it stopped moving— and clears the three closest zombies with four bullets. He finds the "boom, headshot" compilations that are inevitable for any Irwin a bit boring, but they always hype up the audience. Maybe if he survives this he'll hit the forecasted subscriber goal early. He frees his shoe, and notices for the first time that the pain isn't just a scrape, it's a wound on the same leg the zombie had tried to bite. His heart skips a few beats, even as he turns and hauls ass toward the van. It's just a scrape, not a bite, right?
Now isn't the time. He doesn't dare get in the van, not if there was a chance in hell he’s gotten infected. The area stings with pain, sluggishly bleeding. Shaun grabs the emergency kit stored on the outside of the vehicle and climbs onto the roof, frantically calling over on the earpiece again. On the other side, Sang-hwa curses and affirms it, even as he simultaneously performs a restart to the van's systems and gets another stream going with the forward, backward, and roof cameras going. He can imagine the viewer's excitement— why is he on the van and not in it? Of course infection is the only reason— that or nascent Irwin stupidity. The engine starts and the vehicle lurches, Shaun whooping for the benefit of the cams. He pulls his crossbow out and keeps a lookout, clearing the path when it encroaches too close to the route out of here. Only when they've sped their way out of the area and toward the nearby gas station does Shaun bother with a test. The longer he looks at his bloody leg, the more time he has to convince himself it's a bite. But if it was a bite, he would have started converting already. The sting of the needle reassures him, even though the lights cycle a longer time than usual, flashing red for seconds at a time before shifting green.
Only after the second negative result does he allow himself a theatrical sigh and confirmation to viewer and Sang-hwa alike that he won't be converting live on stream today. He had been scraped by the metal, twisted the ankle at the same time, and the blood and the zombies teeth were just contemporaneous unrelated events, not a bite. Definitely not. Everyone who got bitten converted eventually. That's just how it all works. Shaun puts it out of his mind, and focuses on how to swing this event into a multipart series.