UPDATE: New installment will be posted soon!

The next section of The First Scream will be posted in a couple of days. I hope you've all been enjoying the story so far.

Any more comments/criticisms/concerns? They have been very helpful.



Until then, see you in the game!


VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
New Installment Below
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

This post has been edited by Jest3r on November 28, 2005 10:36 pm

RECAP: Izzy, Harper, Poole and Davis have made it back to the Southern Precincts. The rest of there team is eradicated. Izzy has taken Davis down to a treatment center in the building which they are in, a confiscated skyscraper. Harper has delivered the mission data from the downed helicopter, and it is being analyzed. As of the moment, the Southern Precincts are quarantined, its borders protected from the bloodied masses still lurking just north of them

Twenty-eighth floor. A ceiling fan hummed softly. Corporal Michael Harper of the West Town Police Department was kneeling down inside of a small office cubicle, a space to become his home during the crisis. The gray, ambient sound emanating from the endless motion of the fan calmed his trembling nerves. Every echo on the floor of the building seemed to make his hand leap, reaching for the .38 still stuffed in his right boot. His shotgun and regular sidearm had been taken to the second floor for inspection.

The burden of the day seemed to nearly lift from his shoulders as he finally sat down. The occasional burst of gunfire came from the nearby barricades, but the heaviest of the fighting seemed to come from the disheartened souls around him. Physically uninjured yet broken looking men and women were in the various cubicles around him, their dull stares lending promise to what they had experienced.

"Harper?" called a familiar voice.

The corporal heard no one call his name. His eyes began to sag as sleep overcame him.

"I said, Harper."

A second familiar voice. Harper looked up to see Izzy and Poole looking over him.

"Sleeping on the job?" said Izzy with a smile. She reached down to catch Harpers hand and pulled him on his feet. "It's probably best to keep your gear on. There hasn't been hostile contact for a few minutes now, the barricades are just calibrating their fire on the wreckage down there but you never know."

"Calibrating?" inquired Harper. "What for? Don't they know how to-."

Izzy interrupted. "Lieutenant Daniels found records of some older surplus machine guns. Un-accurate as hell but still useful. We've got one down on the western Platinum Bridge, one at the center, and two at the eastern Bridge."

Harper nodded. He slid his thinly armored shirt over his head, then snapped on his vest. After strapping on his leggings as well, he asked Poole for help with his forearm plates. Poole expertly attached the left arm plate, then picked up the right arm plate. "Jesus. Harp, take a look at this."

Poole rotated the armor plate in his hand. There was a long gash running vertically down the side of it. "It didn't break the padding. No holes." Said Izzy. She smiled at Harper, but he did not return the gesture. He nervously laughed for a moment and then finished placing the plate over his arm.

Within a few minutes, Harper was fully equipped and ready to move again. He started to say something, but the radio on his shoulder interrupted him. "Officer Poole, the Lieutenant approved your request. Come pick it up at weapon-locker C at the precinct down the road."

Poole quickly replied "Roger."

"What was that all about?"

"I put in a request for an M-24. Mine was apparently lost with the APC."

Izzy nodded understandingly, but then asked, "Wasn't Mullins' team supposed to get extraction from-."

Harper interrupted. "Mullins and his team haven't been heard from since they entered their mission area." A silence fell on the trio of comrades. More friends, deceased. "Anyways how's Davis doing?"

Izzy took a deep breath as if contemplating something. She then looked up at Harper. "What?"

"I asked how Davis is doing. What'd the doctors say?" repeated Corporal Harper.

"Oh he's -."

"I'm heading down to pick up the rifle. Stay frosty people," said Poole as he walked toward the stairwell. Izzy and Harper nodded their goodbye and then the conversation continued.

"Davis should be fine. The bullet was a ricochet, but it tore a nice hole. I don't like leaving him in the medical area down on the street though. It's too damn close to the bridges," explained Izzy with a hint of worry in her eyes. Harper had grown too accustomed to that look over the past hours. The thought of the emotions tore at his memories he could still feel the hunger closing in on all sides of him.

As the night wore on, the lights on his floor were shut off to give the weary officers a chance to rest. Their only lullaby was the ever faint occasional blasts of gunfire from the Northern Precincts, and the occasional pass of an overhead helicopter.

***

"Michael Harper?" a droning voice called out a familiar name. Three weary sets of eyelids slowly opened. "Corporal Michael Harper?" called the voice again.

"Yeah," replied Harper in the darkness of the office floor, "is it time to roll again?"

"New patrols and shifts start at 0700, you've got about another hour. I have your team's armaments back from the lockers, all except a Spas-12... the Lieutenant said that was replaced," said the supply officer. He dropped a pile of weapons from his shoulder and began to sort through them. "M3 Tactical Shotgun?" The officer picked up one of the slender objects from the pile, "And some ammunition. Eight extra shells. Good huntin'."

"Goody. Oy, Izzy," he nudged the sleeping figure next to him. "You and Poole get your asses up. Santa's just arrived."

"Elizabeth oh, sorry, Izzy Stripes? I read here that you've got an MP-5, which one?"

"It's the one with the smiley face carved into the stock... yeah thats the one." She took the weapon and a magazine that the man handed to her.

"I heard about what happened. You three are the last known S.W.A.T. officers in the city, other than that we've got the usual blue behind the barricades."

Poole sleepily asked, "Who's on the machine guns then?"

The supply man began to walk off, saying "Some National Guard types, nothing big, just local militia units."

A few minutes of silence passed in the office floor. The dormant cubicles seemed especially hollow, their original occupants gone to fates unknown. A stiff smell of sweat and odor was rampant throughout the air. "Well we're geared up already. I think that the good Lieutenant Daniels hasn't assigned us any patrols or shifts on the barricade, but lets head out. I'm restless," said Harper, breaking the silence. He smashed his shotgun stock into the ground to shift his weight upwards, and he began to walk towards the staircase. The heavy-booted footsteps and jingling of equipment and ammunition told him that Poole and Izzy were following him.

***

0840 hours, street-level, in front of the wide street leading to the central of the Platinum Bridges. Poole was walking casually in front of Izzy and Harper, all three chewing on some stiff jerky commandeered from a local drug store. Poole stopped suddenly, looking up at the building on his left.

"Check out that balcony, on the third floor."

Harper looked up, shifting his shotgun at rest on his back to his chest. Seeing this, Poole quickly said, "Nothing hostile, but look at the angle of the balcony and the building next to it. That corner," he pointed at the adjacent, "and that vantage point," he held up his other arm to point at the balcony on the other building, "would make a perfect nest. I could cover half of the barricade, and the entire through street."

Harper swung his shotgun to his back again. "That is, if we ever need to cover a retreat. God forbid."

Suddenly, a large pack of regular officers and a pair of National Guardsmen went jogging down the street towards the bridge. The officers were armed with an assortment of simple pistols and shotguns, while the Guardsmen were armed with M-16s. Izzy and Poole nervously glanced at each other as they ran past. A swirl of shouts rose into the air from the barricade.

Harper began to dash toward a side rail, one overlooking the river, where hundreds of men and women were lined up. They were all gazing out into the Northern Districts. The river was at its usual leisurely pace, its normally dull roar being droned out by the excitement in the air. "What is it?" asked someone from the crowd.

One of the two National Guardsmen Harper had seen jogging replied, "I just got word from my C.O. that the last chopper patrol-there they are now," he aimed his finger into the sky at the distant form of two low flying black police helicopters approaching from the west, flying below the bridges, "just saw a massive movement of hostiles, all coming from various buildings and the back streets. All of a sudden, just bam, a whole nother couplea hundred thousand."

Harper angrily said, with revenge on his mind, "Did they take any hostile fire?"

The guardsman looked at him inquisitively, "No, they just reconed the hostiles I was briefed on, bloodied, hysterical people." Poole shook his head.

"I doubt it. If they weren't out before, why would they just suddenly appear? It's gotta be a mistake."

A high ranked officers voice could be heard from the west, from the Western Platinum bridge, yelling, "Long distance communications just went out, keep your local channels clear and ready!"

The ranking officer at the central barricade, just a short distance to Harpers right side waved, confirming this information. As he did, the two police helicopters flew underneath the central bridge. The guardsman, now clear to reply to Poole's statement, just shrugged and returned to his post. "I can't see anything, maybe you're info was-"

"Wait! Look across the water, at the streets, I think I see something!"

"Dear Lord we don't even have enough ammunition to keep 'em at bay!" cried a panicked voice.

"They have no reason to cross the bridges, they haven't been for hours, why would they start now?" said a much more purposeful voice.

Izzy and Harper turned to request Poole to do something, but he was far ahead of them. His long, slender M-24 was supported against the side rail along the waterfront. His eye to the scope, he began to speak. "Thousands of the bloody bastards. I can't see an end to them... they just keep pouring out of the streets and onto the causeway a lot are going to each of the bridges. Still just shambling though, thank God," he said with an ominous tone.

"That vantage point isn't looking like such a bad idea right about now," said Izzy, a note of fear in her voice. "I'll get to the balcony with you if we need to get out." Poole nodded sternly. He looked to Harper, but he found his friend to be transfixed on the sight across the river, the sight in the Northern Precincts. An enormous, edging mass was creeping closer and closer. Something was happening.

Harper opened the side chamber on his shotgun and made sure that he was loaded. The resulting click gave him confidence as he saw a red shell disappear behind the weapon's exterior once more. The police helicopters had reached the eastern Platinum Bridge, and began to turn around when a strange sound echoed throughout the air.

A burst of thunderous sound caused everyone along the bridges to become dead silent. They listened again to see if they could hear it but could only trace a faint whistling sound. The helicopters crested the eastern bridge, when suddenly...

A dashing missile, red plumes of vapor behind it, crashed into the lead helicopter, sending it down with a puff of crimson smoke into the river. The second chopper veered slightly to avoid hitting the wreckage, but yet a second missile crashed into its fuselage, sending it spiraling down into the eastern bridge. Armed women and men began to run everywhere to their posts. More came pouring from the local buildings which had been commandeered during the emergency, all moving toward one of the three barricades positioned at each of the bridges.

Izzy, placing her helmet on her head, crouched in the machine gun nest, her MP-5 comfortably rested on the newly erected sandbags. Harper was standing to her left, behind the simple wooden barricade. Officers and National Guardsmen alike had their respective weapons all lined up along each barricade. The police had their pistols, shotguns, and occasional small rifles pointed at the empty, bullet-ridden cars ahead of them. Poole glanced to his left, then his right. The western and eastern barricades were undergoing the same procedure.

The sniper, Poole, walked between Harper and Izzy, nearly shouting to be heard over the din of footsteps and orders being shouted out. "I'm heading back to the vantage point, I wont be much of any good at this range. If the order is given, hustle your asses up and maybe we can retreat out of this alive." Harper nodded firmly, and Izzy did the same. Poole smacked Harpers helmet, then sprinted off.

As soon as he began to run off, a strange sound began to ring throughout the city. Three distinct thumps rose up in volume, then quickly quieted down again. A strange whining sound flew through the air until someone shouted "Incoming! Get down!"

An explosion shook the earth some distance behind Harper. Similar explosions shocked into the earth, all close to the barricades. "Clear up!"

"Clear do- wait oh shit gas! GAS!" cried a voice. A red mist swirled about the air for a brief moment, the wind carrying it for an instant, then eradicating it.

"Private Lorens Lorens are you alright?" said a higher ranked officer. "Lorens?"

"Clear down. It was nothing, maybe just..."

His voice was drowned out by the sound of bodies, hands, legs, arms, scrambling up on top of the wrecked cars at about the crest of the bridge. A low hum of moaning reverberated throughout the cold morning air. The sound of weapons cocking went down the armed line as the men and women took aim.

"Oh God..." came an awed, shocked voice. "Here they come."


To be continued

***

This post has been edited by Jest3r on November 16, 2007 10:09 pm

Any comments/concerns/criticisms are appreciated and noted. I know that it's been a while since I've updated The First Scream, but I figured better late than never.

What do you think? Too sudden of a twist? What do you think will happen?


VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
NEW INSTALLMENT POSTED BELOW
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

This post has been edited by Jest3r on January 01, 2006 05:07 am

It's pretty damn good. And don't worry - I wouldn't say that the twist was too quick.

...Haven't got much else to say, really...Just bring on the next installment!!!

gjyjg

This post has been edited by magnus399 on May 11, 2010 11:07 pm

i dont get it zombies with rockets and morter like weapons thats some crazy shit there man

Thank you for the comments, Keyes and AcdM, I appreciate it. As to magnus, I take that as a great compliment, thank you. To answer your question, I must say that I am not an author, yet do have works which I would like to get published. I will continue to develop the characters and tell the story of how they react to each new situation which arises.

As to ShadowGL, you will be cleared as to the mortars and missiles soon. They are not from the undead, they are from an as of yet anonymous group. You will find out shortly.

Thank you for your time in reading The First Scream so far. As always, I'm open to any new comments/criticisms/concerns.

New installment coming soon!

Until then, keep reading!


VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Installment Posted Below
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

This post has been edited by Jest3r on January 01, 2006 05:08 am

RECAP: Two police helicopters have been destroyed by missiles from an unknown group. Immediately afterward, three mortars strike the Southern Districts of the city, each mortar landing just behind each of the Platinum Bridges. A strange red gas was suddenly emitted, yet vaporized quickly. Davis is still in the medical tent, while Izzy and Harper are near the central barricade on the middle Platinum Bridge, preparing to hold the line. Poole is a few buildings behind them, ready to give covering sniper fire for the retreat, if one is needed. The undead hordes seem to have a renewed interest in the Southern Districts, their hunger growing with every beating moment of the harsh, cold air

They could hear them coming. The bullet-ridden, smoking tangle of cars let loose the whine and cackle of hundreds if not thousands of starving hands and feet dashing across them. Still, none were in sight yet. The occasional shout could be heard from up and down the line.

Izzy wrapped her fingers tightly around the grip of her MP-5, her anxiety making itself known through the sweat running down her face despite the coldness of the wind. She shifted her gaze from down her sights to Harper. He coolly returned the look with a smile, then turned back to face the oncoming horrors.

An assertive voice called out, "Hold your fire, wait till they're in the open... we don't know how long we have to hold this position.:

Tension seemed to crack throughout the armed line. Every once in a while a gunshot rang out, followed by harsh shouts to cease fire.

The terrifying sounds of hundreds of hands and feet rushing upon the smoldering wreckage of cars became louder and louder in a crescendo of hunger until...

"I can see them!"

Bloodied heads began to appear over the top of the wreckage, their wards moving toward their well armed and armored meals.

"Christ, I can still see them coming from the streets across the bridges, how many do you think are on our bridge?" inquired an unknown person.

Izzy coolly placed a bloodied head in her sights as it began to crest over the wreckage. She replied "Too many. Stay calm and pick your targets, take your time."

An authoritative voice cried out "Slide 'em out towards the middle lane in front of the machine gun, take aim!

With that, Izzy's entire body seemed to relax. The head was in her sights as the creature fell off of the wreckage and began to lurch forward. More and more came over the cars.

"Lay in to them! Open fire!"

Izzys MP-5 let out a solid thud as the hammer cracked back, ejecting a smoking shell. Her target slumped to the asphalt in a bloodied heap, never to move again. The military men and officers all around her opened fire. The barricades to the west and east appeared to be doing the same thing.

"Clear that right side! Fold them in!"

"Crossfire, crossfire! Simms, Tart, swap lanes and cut them across."

Harper fired his weapon, dropping two targets at once, but quickly fired another shell into a corpse that began to get back up again. Immediately after, the machine gun to his right opened fire. The thunderous ring of its projectiles quickly silenced all opposition in front of it. Bodies were torn to shreds in seconds as they withered beneath the heavy automatic fire. If they strayed too far out of the machine guns path, they were quickly eradicated by the small arms fire from the officers and military types.

A few personnel dropped metallic magazines to the ground, quickly slapping in fresh new ones, ready to eliminate more hostiles, opening fire as soon as the cocking hammers had slammed back into position.

"Cease fire!"

The plinking of bullets continued for a moment, each ricocheting off of the smoldering wreckage.

"Cease fire!" cried the commander, who was now situated behind the machine gun crew. "Wait for confirmation." The soft sounds of the wind mixed with the emissions of the river, adding to the quiet noise of the moment.

"Confirmation on what, sir?" No reply.

Harper looked to his right, gazing at the eastern barricade. A man was giving hand signals, waving his arms in an understood pattern. "Confirmed," remarked the commander with an overconfident grin. "No one can see any more coming."

With these words, Izzy looked uncomfortably at Harper. While some of the men and women cheered, the pair of comrades stood up and walked to the thin railing to the west overlooking the small, rocky beach and the river. The smoke of gunfire rolled over the water, moving with the current. "We were only engaged for less than a minute. Where the hell did the rest of them go?" asked a bewildered Izzy. "There must have been thousands of them, hundreds of thousands of-"

Harper waved at her to be quiet. He held his ear to the cold air, trying to blot out the sounds of celebration all around him. "What is it?" asked Izzy.

"Shh I think I can..." He furrowed his brow, trying to concentrate on some odd motion he could barely pick out through the opaque smoke clouding the full view of the river. "No," he began, "it's nothing."

Izzy patted Harper on his helmet. "Buck up. "I'm heading back to Poole to fill him in, I don't think our damn radios are working." She ran off down the street, then turned a quick right and proceeded to their sniper.

The young corporal took off his helmet and began to calmly walk back to the barricade. The cries of victory filled the air. "Hell yes!"

"Did you see that? Took 'em right out."

Harper could only look on with despair at the bloodied bridge. Torrents of blood and grotesque forms of what must have been human at one point flowed freely down the curve of the bridge, pooling at the edge of the barricade. He looked up at the authoritative commander, expecting to see the same glee. But some other emotion ran across his face. Confusion. He and a handful of other officers were hunched around the long range communications set.

Harper, recognizing a watch commander from his precinct, slowly asked, "Weren't long range sets picking up interference?"

The police officer looked up, smiled and shook Harpers hand. "Good to see you, we thought that you all had... well... nevermind," he glanced at the bridge, then back again at the radio. "We've been hearing some chatter, sounds like an older military code. Its jamming our radios. Even the short-ranged ones now."

Harper stepped into the crowd of personnel and listened. A faint whine and beeping sound came over the equipment. A military-looking officer quietly added to the noise, "That's definitely military encryption. We're the only outfit deployed here though, and we sure as hell aren't scrambling our own systems. Maybe-" His thoughts were interrupted when a sudden rash of loud thumps rose into the air, obviously coming from somewhere within the Northern Precincts in the city of West Town.

"Everybody!" cried a voice, "Get down!"


To be continued

***

This post has been edited by Jest3r on November 17, 2007 02:59 am

Awesome, im looking forward for the next instalment.

Superb
You're the best talent around here, easily.

Thank you for the comment AcdM, it should be out soon!

Also, I appreciate your compliments and support Elite viking.

The next installment of The First Scream will be coming soon, I hope you will enjoy it. I also hope that you have been enjoying the story so far.

Any other comments/questions/concerns? All are appreciated, noted, and taken into account!

Until then, keep reading!

Enjoy.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
New installment posted below.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

This post has been edited by Jest3r on May 03, 2006 11:06 pm

Sorry for the bump. Anyway, this is an awesome, incredible story. The grittiness and everything just pwns. Thats all I really have to say, because I'm too stunned to say more.

My only problem is why the "unknown group" which is probably the sector of the government testing out their new virus keeps messing up everyone. The red smoke is probably "flesh scented" in order to lure the undead into the bridges and attack. I hate it. Why is there always someone else added in to complicate things? Its like Umbrella. It should be left between the people and the zombies, no secret government ops or anything.

BTW, you HAVE to update this! I'm way looking foward to reading more!

RECAP: The first wave has been repulsed. The three bridges- the West, Central, and East Platinum Bridges are still manned by still-living forces, trying to protect what remains of the city as civilians attempt to escape the coming madness. As a voice calls out a warning, projectiles can be heard spiraling through the air

Harper did not stick around to ask questions. He placed his helmet back on his head and sprinted away from the barricades. A high pitched whistling sound amplified and amplified until

Silence. As those who have been under a barrage of fire would say, when you can hear a shell in the distance, there is nothing to worry about. When the sound of spiraling death is loud, count your blessings and get down. However, when the atmosphere is completely silent, the shell is directly on top of you.

With a sickening snap of silence, Harper felt his feet tear away from underneath him as his world was turned upside down. A hollow, ringing sound was all that remained of his hearing. A red vapor gusted around him as dust and bits of the road sprinkled around his shaken form. Their impacts on the ground were only seen, not heard. His trembling hand found its way to grope his head, searching for a helmet that was no longer there. Instead, it was met by the warm matting of blood in his hair.

A muffled shout came from somewhere behind him, close to the bridges.

Harper felt detached from his sense of self, each movement surprising him, as if the sensation of feeling was new. He took his weapon and rammed the stock into the ground, trying to prop himself up. "Harper!" cried a familiar, muffled voice. The butt of his shotgun slipped on the cratered pavement. He fell uncontrolled, lying on his side. His desolate eyes looked out to the bridges, and the water. Something was wrong there were screams in the distance, and something new in the air...

"Harper! Clear out, clear out!" the voices swirling around him seemed to grow in amplitude.

"I'm" he gave an attempt to wave his arm in the air, "I'm fine, just give me a minute..."

"Clear out! The voice called out in a new direction. Christ, button up that flank! Where the hell are you going? Stay at your positions!"

A response cried out from somewhere on the barricade.

"What?" said the familiar voice.

"I said," a more distant voice cried out in the distance. The ringing sound began to fade away as the true volume of the moment became apparent. "They're coming out of the no no, check your fire left she's coming up that lane!"

Harper gazed back at the water. He slowly dragged himself to his feet, weapon in hand. Splashes of white erupted out of the water, as if the officers along the barricades were firing into it. The owner of the familiar voice arrived at his side, slinging his arm around her shoulders. It was Izzy, who had obviously run back, having delivered her news to Poole.

"You are one lucky piece of work, you've still got your legs, maybe we can- fold back from that railing! Don't pull back to the secondary lines, we can hold."

"There's too many of them! They're... they're coming out of the damned water! Thousands of them!"

Izzy bore the brunt of Harpers weight across her shoulders. The young corporal could feel his feet slowly straggling along until he finally kicked something that felt like a sandbag. "Izzy, where where are we?"

His friend hit her back heavily on the sandbags as she sat down. Her rough hands seemed to be busy working to piece something together on the pavement to his right. "Damn ejection port..." more gunfire lept into the air.

"Where are we? I can hear the river," moaned Harper. His voice seemed barely audible. Everything seemed to come alive with bursts of sound now as his hearing gradually faded to normalcy.

"Shells're always getting jammed come on you shiny bastard," a sharp click, "there we go. Izzy held her left hand up to her ear. Come again Poole?"

He suddenly realized that the blast must have ripped his own radio from his ear along with his helmet. He listened intently. Above the gunfire, screams of terror, and the sounds of tramping feet and splashes coming nearer and nearer, the young corporal could barely hear slight bursts of static when Poole attempted to speak to Izzy through the headset. She cursed softly at her radio, as the signal was losing itself to static.

Harper leaned himself upon the sandbags, relying on their rough comfort to temporarily relieve him from the terror of the things rushing toward the Southern Precincts with the speed and ferocity of primal hunger. He stretched his head over the top of the barricade, seeing only the occasional corpse crawl over the twisted wreckage, only to be blown away by a nearby officer. From what he could make out, most of the men and women had run to the sides of the Southern causeway, the road which ran parallel to the river. Round after round from their weapons poured into the river and the beach. Harper could not yet see their targets, but with each passing second their chatter grew more and more desperate.

"How are they all coming at us? Got to use it all- frag out!"

"Frag out, heading right," an explosion, followed by a brief splattering sound.

"More targets, downrange. Where the hell are they coming from, we can't-"

"Shit! Watch that one coming up the bank to the left-"

Of the two main causeways in the city, the southern one was the only road with living denizens. The cold asphalt, running perpendicular to the bridges, was alive with commotion. Everywhere, men and women ran about, firing into the water as thousands of ripples stretched across the surface, bringing with them a new horror to face the Southern Districts, a new mouth to feed. Yet, beyond this, as silent radios could not report, the barricade at the Eastern Platinum Bridge began to break. Once proud officers and soldiers sprinted away from their emptied magazines and slavering targets. Some tried to run to the west as bloodied hands groped the railings overlooking the river and the beach and began to fling themselves onto the road, and closer to their prey.

Their cries for help went unheard to the other barricades. No radio could accept nor hear their screams. Static.

"Where the hell are the vehicles?" Shouted a commanding voice from the central bridge, somewhere close to Harper. "Gare, get on the comm, maybe it can reach them... check for the convoy, call sign Switchboard. Try and get East PB line on the air too, I can't see their signals."

"Aye sir! Switchboard Switchboard, this is Central PB, come in. This is - god damnit, get a team on the beach and clear the wall! They're climbing up- Switchboard leader, I say again, Switchboard leader, this is Central PB defense line, requesting- get off! Get off me! Christ, somebody help me, they're-"

More bursts of weapons fire followed the terrible sight. The radioman, terrifying hands groping all over him, was thrown onto the small rocks below, close to the raging river. The air was truly alive with noise. No amount of bullets could stop the torrents of undead coming out of the water, yet those who remained to defend the bridges still fired desperately. Across the river, thousands upon thousands of creatures still launched their bodies into the water, clamoring madly for the Southern Districts.

To be continued

***

I appreciate the support you have all given me so far. I must apologize for the fact that this installment was late in coming. I hope you enjoy... look for the next installment soon.

This post has been edited by Jest3r on November 17, 2007 03:07 am

Well, I hope you've enjoyed The First Scream so far. More to come soon.

If you enjoyed what you read (however many installments that may be) I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me.

1. Are the Recap sections helping you jump back into the story?

2. Do you find the story to be accessible? As in, do you feel like you can effectively understand what is happening?

Entertainment question: If you were a character in the story, who would you be? Who do you relate to the most?

COMING SOON:
- More installments, and the beginning of Part III.
- A broad Recap post, containing key plot points and characters, meant to refresh your memory if you need some help diving right back into the story.

REMEMBER:
Please read the latest installment, tell me what you all think! It's posted just above this one.

Any comments/questions/concerns/criticisms? All are appreciated and all are read!