Printable Version of Topic: Curing Traces (Story)
IronOak studios forums > Storyforum > Curing Traces (Story)
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- September 22, 2007 11:10 pm |
| BACKGROUND A small peninsula flourishing with city beauty and zero crime rates became the number one deadliest place to visit. What was started as a simple infection grew to a substantial sized pandemic. No one knew how it started; it just spread. As people began to fall, their bodies defied logic and sprang back up to life. The ghosts of the dead walk those streets, and they were taking survivors with them. Our government hastily made blockades, cutting through streets with giant walls. What blocked the dead in also blocked the living from getting out. After months upon months of construction, the wall that cut off the peninsula from the rest of civilization was complete: a giant prototype-metallic barrier. No simple ladder could get someone to the top, no explosives could blow it down; it was impenetrable and enormous. Bombs were dropped in critical parts of the city, but even after the thousands of tons of explosives connected, nothing could stop the infected from multiplying. Soon, areas around the wall were exhibiting symptoms that of the virus. Anyone with said symptoms were quarantined immediately. Thinking the virus maybe airborne, the wall soon went under more construction. Any city or town in a twenty mile radius was evacuated, and weeks after, they used biological weapons to eradicate any living entity. It’s been years since the utopias city of Engelstad was quarantined. The infected began to thin out, but were still abroad. What thought of implausible, contact was made with city via radio-station. A broadcast was sent out that there were survivors, that they have been inside the peninsula, living amongst others to fend for themselves against the horde. Hours were used to find the trace of the signal but it was lost shortly after. Speculation was made that these people inside the peninsula may have blood for a cure or immunity for this disease. If they could find the people inside, they could stop the regular sickness that plagued the cities and towns neighboring the quarantine. ======== THIS IS NOT - I REPEAT - NOT A RP! Just thought I'd clear the air; you make a character and I put him in the story. If you think it's stupid, congrats, but what do you want, a friggen medal? Shush. Yay, another story with forum memebers in it! Hooray! While the prelude isn't the greatest of quality, it isn't what makes this story the story, if you know what I mean. I will update this as often as possible, unlike yesteryear where I completely stopped at random moments. To sign up, just follow thy directions: Name: -First and Last Age: -Make an age, any age (don't be a smartass and put "eight years old" or "121 yr old lol") Type: -Immuned Civilian OR -Military Appearence: -Clothing -Physical Features Personality: -Traits that makes him/her stand out History (Optional) -Make a back story if you wish Weapons: -I don't care what, just PLEASE be reasonable. No three assault rifles and two sidearms; this isn't Half-Life, fools! ======== I'm grouchy dammit! |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- September 22, 2007 11:12 pm |
| Prologue Date: 12 November 2011 Time: 1303 Period: -3 Days of Completion of Wall “Son of a bitch bit me,” the soldier grunted to me as I was rummaging through my bag for dressings. I grabbed a role, tore some off to apply to his ruptured neck. Blood was squirting in bursts, every breath from the man making a longer spray. I frantically tried to place his own hand on the dressing for pressure. “Don’t let me die, doc. God, please don’t let me die,” he mumbled. His body was jolting slightly on the hard concrete sidewalk. A loud whistling sound could be heard from overhead, alluding to an approaching mortar blast. “Get down!” a soldier from behind me screamed. I used my body as a shield to cover the wounded soldier’s neck, to make sure no debris or further cleaving was enacted. The initial explosion came loudly on a nearby building, blowing a large chunk off of it. It all rained down onto nearby friendly soldiers. This mission was going straight to hell. The world seemed to have been moving in slow motion as I stared at their impending demise. Their screams were drowned out by the blast and crashing concrete. The bodies being crushed instantly, making me close my eyes, unable to bare the thought of the bones collapsing beneath themselves. The man underneath me began to convulse and stir, bringing me back to reality. I moved off his body and took out my bag once more to hunt for morphine. I felt a sturdy hand grab at my shoulder, launching me to my feet. I look over and see it being my commanding officer, his face smeared with dirt and blood. “We need to press forward!” he screamed into my face. His walkie-talkie that attached to his shoulder filled with screams and chatter. “Press forward to where, sir?!” I yelled back to him, looking over to my left to see our battalion pressing onwards, systematically firing off their assault rifles. More shells from the sky were rained down around us. Buildings struck by the explosive rain were quickly nothing more than rubble, firing off concrete and plaster in all directions. The officer grabbed me by my Kevlar and almost threw me in the direction of the waypoint. “Move!” he bellowed. I slung my medical gear over my shoulder, grabbed my M16 and began to haul ass over to my comrades. The sun’s rays shone through the smoke and fire, blinding my progress, but the sound of the soldiers pressed me on. I looked behind me and saw more soldiers behind me, following suit. Apache helicopters roared above us, firing rockets into the streets ahead of us, making us pace faster. I leapt over some rubble and stopped dead in my tracks, coming straight into a four-way intersection. Some ten soldiers were firing their weapons frantically down Fredrick Blvd. Smoke from the rockets and buildings made the area hazy ahead of us, distorting my view, unable to see what they were firing at. The soldiers behind me finally came and stopped with us firing with the previous soldiers. It was a choir of bullets and screaming, yet I kept my gun to my side, staring straight ahead. “Cease fire! Cease fire!” The guns stopped firing one after the other. The breathing from around me was brilliantly loud. As the smoke began to clear, silhouettes from people formed. I squinted harder, trying to make them out, then they moved briskly through the dispersing smoke. As far as the eyes could see, bloody, walking corpses ran towards our position. I brought my weapon up as soon as automatic fire from around me went off. I felt a couple of bullet casings hit my leg and arms, but the shock of what laid ahead of me was too great for me to feel anything. I began to fire off potshots at them; some fell, some kept moving, but they were all not dying. My view turned to the left, and saw some coming that way and then some to my right. There were only two dozen of us and there was not a snowball chance in Hell we could hold off all of them. The lust and hatred in these infected men and women burned our minds, and I began to turn tail. A hand clasped onto my shoulder, and I looked up to see my commanding officer yell at me. “Don’t you even think about it! We are ordered to stand ground!” “Fuck you,” I whispered into his ear. I knew the dead were near the wall, but not this many. We are only a few miles out and it still is a a bit behind in production. I ran back to where I came from. I went around the occasional burned or blown up vehicle, jumped over the charred bodies of the dead, even past the wounded mumbling for my help. I took a quick glance behind me and saw the dead engulf my fellow soldiers. I quickly focused my attention ahead of me, not wanting to see the carnage. I saw flashes in the sky and the tracer fire that followed; they were going to shoot large mortar shells on their position. “What is going on?” After a few seconds, it all went quiet, and then the foretold shells hit ground. I didn’t need to turn around to know that all that was behind me was dead, and the dead would be following me back. |
| Posted by: gordon_frohman September 23, 2007 12:28 am |
| Name: -Irvine Kinneas Age:18 Type:- ex-Sniper of specials ops Appearence: -light brown coat, black cowboy hat, blue mech vest, light brown pants -Pretty boy face with a diagonal scar going down the left eye, light brown hair. Personality: -Casanova, but jittery when under large pressure. Weapons: - Winchester Model 94, Legacy, 24 - Deagle good yeah ? go and play with him then  |
| Posted by: Tanker September 23, 2007 01:16 am | ||
small error in this... legally you have to be 18 to join any type of military force special ops would take you years of training to even get out to the field so unless he skipped training its not possible for him to be an ex-sniper the same year he joined... not saying you have to change it just pointing that out for future reference. |
| Posted by: iliketoblowzombieheadsoff September 23, 2007 08:00 am |
| So, we just add a character in here and then you'll do the work, chris? Say, this might sound good. Gonna make a FEMALE character for they've been left out too much. Name: -Antoinette Riviera *edited* Age: -27 Years Old Type: -Immuned Civilian Appearence: Clothing -Small Leather Jacket(Dark), White Collar Shirt, Slim Jeans, Blue Rubber Shoes Physical Features -135 Pounds *Edited* -5'6 Inches -Black long Ponytailed hair -Smooth, slight tanned skin. Personality: -Always hard-working. She had finished College at 21, and is currently an Engineer. -A bit of a Feminist. She does not allow any man to overpower her. -Not so social. You won't be able to converse for a long time unless you know her very well. -A good friend. She supports anyone she knows with all her heart. History (Optional) -She grew up in the dangerous urban areas of New York. Her parents took care of her until she was able to go to college. From there, she learned how to hold a gun, and had aiming lessons while at it. Years later, once she moved to Englestad, her parents were murdered. From there, she deeply changed. Now she took up Muay Thai and had practiced aiming with a Glock-18 everyday. Weapons: -Used Glock 18 -Holster Belt(with a few rounds on it) -Open-Fingered Gloves |
| Posted by: Tanker September 23, 2007 04:34 pm | ||
yeah female characters are left out... man you all sexist. not me im not sexist just sexy  edit: and yes i am making a character just give me a a sec |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- September 24, 2007 02:34 am |
147 pounds and only 5'6"? Large framed girl.  |
| Posted by: iliketoblowzombieheadsoff September 24, 2007 04:29 am |
| I was gonna lower her pounds. Hold on lemme do that now. |
| Posted by: Security Corporate September 24, 2007 05:53 am |
| *edited* Name: - Serenity "Ari" Allcroft (Female) Age: - 23 Type: - Military (Junior Officer) Appearence: - Service Dress Uniform with Combination Cap - Fair skinned - Shoulder Length Auburn Hair (tied up in uniform) - Deep, Pale Green Eyes - Physically Fit - 5'10" Personality: - Amiable and fair, determined to finish what she started. Trusts people too much though. History: - Studied in a military officer academy while the crisis in Engelstad grew. She had a fiance named Silus who lived there, causing her to almost quit out of the academy until he vehemetly assured her that everything was alright. About two years before graduated she lost all contact wtih him. Finally after getting comissioned as full fledged officer at 22, she underwent special training for a year that prepared her for the harsh conditions in facilities near Engelstad so she could find out if Silus was still alive. She was then stationed at a certain section of "the wall"... Weapons: - Custom Colt 1911 capable of firing 10 standard .45 rounds or 7 plasma heated rounds in seperate clips. |
| Posted by: iliketoblowzombieheadsoff September 24, 2007 06:07 am |
| This is great, female characters are being made for fanfics now. Nice character, Ari |
| Posted by: Security Corporate September 24, 2007 06:24 am | ||
Thanks Zombie! I figured I'd rip off your idea. By the way, lets keep this out-of-story talk out of the topic. I want to able to go the thread and read the actual story, not everyone's random posts. |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- September 24, 2007 07:30 pm |
| zombie, I presumed that you meant to say "Antoinette" not Antonette. However, if you want me to change it back, just post so. ====================== Date: 07 January 2013 Time: 2013 Weather: Cloudy; Cold Period: +1.2 Year of Completion of Wall The blood began to flow smoothly from her arm. Antoinette ran frantically through the streets, hopping over cars and light poles. The pounding of feet behind her began to overpower the pounding in her ears from her arteries. Her pony tail bobbed up and down against her leather jacket which was now torn in many places from a recent attack. “Shit, shit, shit!” She took a left at Drake St. and kept going, not wanting the infected to take her down like the rest of her group. In this vicinity, the buildings were still standing so there is less to maneuver around. Clutching her left bicep, she felt the moisture from the bleeding and pushed herself further. She didn’t know where she was going, but anywhere is better than here. The cold wind chilled her face and had her red lips shifting blue. Her eyes darted towards any salvation possible, any building that could hold life and keep the dead out, but not a single place stood out: all restaurants and hotels, or maybe a coffee shop, but none suitable for a safe-house. Her shoes slapping in succession against the pavement echoed through the empty, silent streets. She took a quick glance over her shoulder and saw fifteen or so runners hot on her tail. They were no more than a couple car lengths away and were beginning to back off. At least they weren’t given incessant amount of stamina, but damn they could run fast. Antoinette began to develop a stitch in her side; she couldn’t run much longer. With little hesitation she drew out her Glock 18 pistol with her right hand and clicked off the safety. She drew it up simultaneously as she turned around and aimed it at the moving beings. Ignoring the pain in her left arm, she lifted it up to steady her right arm and locked her sights on one of the beasts. The first shot rang out and connected with its shoulder, but it did not faze the thing’s onslaught. She fired again with little thought, and the bullet pierced its skull. It slowed to a walk and fell to the ground, a single moan escaped its lips before dying. Taking aim in the second creature, she fired at its legs and it struck its kneecap. It fell to the ground and tried to get up on the shattered bone, but crumpled down. Antoinette turned tail and began to run away once more. She didn’t realize how close they had gotten until she took another hasty look behind her. They were mere feet away from her. She took another detour through a different street and came across a heavily dense car jam. She leapt and skid her body across the hoods of the cars and the monsters did the same. She weaved through the cars, jumping and running across them, and then her foot beached in between two cars. “Fuck!” She tried to pry out her foot, but to no avail. She laid her back against a car and pointed the gun menacingly towards her predators. She squeezed off a couple shots at the moving targets, as they leapt and bound across. One jumped through the air and had a bullet lodged in its leg, fashioning it to fall face forward in a car’s windshield. While down, Antoinette fired an easy shot at its head killing it. Realizing how close they were getting, she began to fire frantically at the monsters, eyes wide with delirium. When her gun’s magazine dropped from the Glock and onto the car, she knew it was over; she was going to die. One of the zombies leapt from the car and onto her frail body, its breath emitting its previous kill. She closed her eyes, unable to cope with her own death, and screamed with fright. Over a year of being trapped in this hell, she is going to die because she got her foot trapped. A burst of automatic fire resonated through the streets, and the zombie that was on top of her flew off, its head riddled with bullet holes. Her attention was then directed towards the muzzle fire and the person controlling it, who was inhabiting a restaurant across the street. The zombies, not caring about its friend’s recent demise kept pouring towards Antoinette. The person, who ever it is, took, precise shots at them. They fell quickly from neck and head wounds, blood spattering and spraying onto the cars and road around them. Antoinette pulled with all her might and finally got her foot free and saw the person run in her direction, rifle held in one hand. The person clambered over the cars with ease and upon reaching her, grabbed her by the shoulder. “We have to move now! There are more coming this way!” the person yelled at her through a gas mask, pointing down where she came. As far as the eye could see, a wave of the dead was coming towards them. Antoinette looked back into this person’s mask, and nodded. The voice rang out like a man’s, his clothes of a normal civilian, but took charge like a commanding officer. He grabbed her roughly by the jacket and almost dragged her towards the restaurant he occupied. |
| Posted by: iliketoblowzombieheadsoff September 25, 2007 04:37 am |
Yeah I meant antonette, I know someone named like that and they call her Tonette. She's years older than me, but she's really nice  Anyway, please keep the name like that. |
| Posted by: Zombie Assassin October 03, 2007 11:11 am |
| Name:Charlie Foxtrot. Personality:Takes charge like a commanding officer, yet very brave and willing to jump out into even the slightest point of danger. Type: Immune Civilian Age:31 Birthdate: February 23rd, 1976. Clothes: Gas Mask, Nokia Velvet Shoes, White T-Shirt stripped and torn from his muscles growing, Blue Dirty Denim Pants. Bio: His natural intent and aptitude for being apart of the army stunned his parents, and they sent him to Military school. The kids did'nt enjoy it, but he was stimulated by it. At the age of 20, he moved to the city he is in now, and knows alot about it. He had a 80% off of purchases on everything at all stores, and could buy things even when the store was closed, for how trustworthy he is. But now, he is stuck in hell itself... Most recent thing done: Saved a junior officer called antonetta from death. ...You know what this means, don't you, That means i travel with that girl. lol. |
| Posted by: gordon_frohman October 03, 2007 02:48 pm | ||
you save her when chris says you saved her.... Besides i saw a lot of faults in that post .. so i edited it for yah in my quote . whats the point in being sent into military school if your already a part of the army ? the percentage cant be done... if not it was doing in the illegal, |
| Posted by: iliketoblowzombieheadsoff October 03, 2007 10:30 pm |
| Gawd frohman, leave him alone... o.o He gets enough flaming in one minute edit: But yeah minorly adjust that stuff, sir assassin |
| Posted by: Zombie Assassin October 04, 2007 12:19 am |
| ...That's it, im going to start a thread about my FREAKING AGE! IM 9 YEARS OLD! CAN'T ANYONE GET THAT?!?!?!?!?!? Jeez, im going to let out my anger on my sister's punching bag. In other news, my sister's comp (the one im using) broke down, so thats why i was gone for a while. Now, can everyone stop flaming me ALL THE FREAKING TIME?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?! What if you were me? Yes, im TALKING TO EVERYONE (except zombie, tanker and anyone else who gets along with me well, i dunno if zombieslaughterer does, but when i put those quotes in with mallic (HE CANT EVEN ASK ME POLITELY) and isit... well, he asked me through personal message. Which reminds me, im going to clean my PM filter. Ontopic, well, i dont really have a reply about ontopic. Sorry. |
| Posted by: iliketoblowzombieheadsoff October 04, 2007 05:47 am |
| I just noticed that you were trying to get close to Antonette? Noooo! Nooooo!! Not yet sir Assassin, nope. |
| Posted by: Security Corporate October 04, 2007 06:25 am |
| I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU ALL!!! WHAT PART OF "POST NONRELATED STORY STUFF IN THE OTHER CURING TRACES THREAD" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? DO YOU ALL LACK THE ABILITY TO READ? OR DO I NEED ASK THE MODERATORS TO HAVE A FIELD DAY WITH YOUR POSTS!?!?!?!? |
| Posted by: Zombie Assassin October 04, 2007 07:39 am |
| Calm down, Ari... we can read, but... Now you just did what we did. Wondering what? It wasnt related to the story. Now, to the story... Damn, i forgot what i was going to say. Crapfuck. |
| Posted by: SDWBOSS October 04, 2007 04:04 pm |
| Children, children, don't fight... Real men settle their issues in a professional manner... IN THE THUNDERDOME! |
| Posted by: Zombie Assassin October 04, 2007 11:14 pm |
| Im asking you politely, stay out of this. I don't even want to be in the story anymore. |
| Posted by: iliketoblowzombieheadsoff October 05, 2007 02:11 am | ||
Calm your ass down, please. |
| Posted by: Zombie Assassin October 05, 2007 08:51 am |
| Yeah, what zombie said. Besides, im undead. I'd just drag you bby the collar to my attic, and start smacking you around, also with the end of a sniper rifle, then i'd let you off with a warning. Besides, Zombie, you still haven't even finished RE4? Dude, im not flaming or anything, but in dead rising, i got frol level 1 to level 50 and got ending A, then the True Ending in 7 or 6 days. I would play it all day and time would just race by. When i was level 47, it took me half the day to get to level 50. But i can't even play RE4, I'm too scared. So, keep up the good work. To the story: Forget about it. I don't want to join anyway. |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- November 17, 2007 12:59 am |
| Date: 07 January 2013 Time: 1936 Period: -+1.2 Year of Completion of Wall My girlfriend’s screaming from the room adjacent to mine kept me awake. The eloquent ruby, red rooms disguised the smear of blood against the walls. They were cracking from age and grunge; in lament terms, the hotel was a mess. With eyes darted towards my door, I slowly got out of bed to check my locks. They were bolted shut with a chair against the door handle. I grabbed my brown coat and Kevlar, slipped it on in case I needed to break through the door. I looked through the eyepiece and saw my girlfriend’s door wide open, a few of the dead shambling inside to feast on her dying corpse. Through the moans and chomping, her screams pierced through it all. I couldn’t take it anymore; I removed my face away from the door, nausea built up inside my stomach. I walked briskly towards the toilet bowl, ready to puke my dinner back out the way it came. Face inside the bowl, I got a close up look on the colored ring from the dirty water. I didn’t help by adding slime from my vomit. I allowed my head to fall softly against the tile flooring of the bathroom, closing my eyes to drown out the screaming. I knew she wouldn’t change; she couldn’t. Something about our bodies would not allow the change to go through. I looked down on my arms and saw the bite marks that I previously acquired from the night before. Bastards bit hard, but not enough pressure to rupture the skin. They seemed to have gotten weaker without the fresh supply of food. The wall ceased all activity from leaving the vicinity, so no food for the dead, but as well for us. It’s hard to find rations for ourselves. A week back we came across a garden on top of the rooftops and feasted upon the fruits and vegetables. The person gardening it was found on the side of the building, skull crushed from the leap. Sad to die alone I supposed. This place ran water and electricity through some kind of diesel generators in the basement. Quite homey if I did say so myself. The thought of my girlfriend crept back in my mind, and I quickly shook my head from the thought. A stupid fight broke out and she decided to sleep in a different room. Bad timing on her part, and I paid the price: I was back to being alone. “Am I that selfish?” Maybe. I have saved others time and time again, but I was starting to question whether I should have even bothered. It went unnoticed every time. I snipe from the top of a building to save someone, and they don’t even give me a thumb’s up or any small notion of appreciation. That group of people from days prior… “Don’t think about it, Irvine. The past is the past; let it go.” I couldn’t let it go. I led them to their demise, every one of them. Accident or not they all died. The thought of leaving a child was the worst. Once we reached the underground trains and had a bit of R&R, they swarmed us. The face of the little boy was set in my mind though. First time I’ve ever left someone and last time. I promised myself that. Hard enough coming across more people as it is. The thought of her ran through my mind again. Water began to build behind my tear ducts. I blinked them away, not wanting to become attached to my emotions again. I loved her; I wasn’t going to lie to myself about that but becoming affixed to her was a mistake that I didn’t want to relive again. Being human was a downfall once coming this far. Augmenting yourself to become an emotionless robot was the only way to survive this onslaught. I peaked through the eye piece once the screaming ceased and the moaning stopped. Must have been an hour or so, but the feast was yet to be done with, I was sure. Sure enough, I counted five in all, bending over a slumped body in the bedroom. I couldn’t see her body as the undead were on top of her, but an arm was visible through all the carnage. A glimpse of the ring I gave her a month ago caught my eye every once in a while. A couple of times they would fight over a ligament, but they all seemed to be having a blast. I slid down my door, tears flowing freely now. My body shook with each gasp of breath, and with lips quivering, I grabbed my Desert Eagle that sat on a night stand. I checked the rounds and clip. My hand came up to wipe the tears away, the moisture spreading down my cheeks. I was still human it seemed. I quietly moved the chair away from the door handle, and peaked through the door once more. I quietly unbolted the doors and kept my eyes trained on the undead. I creaked the handle down slowly, every snap of the mechanism clicking through my ears. I pulled the door slowly inwards and saw them not even take notice of my movements. I looked through the hallway left and right and counted zero targets. I raised my handgun and locked my sights onto one of the thing’s head. It pulled off skin from the arm and began to chew loudly, blood flung behind its back. “Chew on this you piece of shit.” Things moved in slow motion: after the first shot collided with the back of its head, I ran to the doorway of the room and fired a second round at one to the right of it. The undead flew off my girlfriend’s corpse, and then his companions took notice of my presence. Without hesitating I kicked the one nearest to me to its back and fired a round straight to its face. Blood sprayed onto my face, but my vision couldn’t be blocked by anything: I wanted them dead-er. It tried to get up even with a crater in the middle of its face, so in response I pulled back on the trigger once more. Top of the head exploded out, brain matter following suit. The other undead came within a couple feet of me, but quick back steps to my room separated him from me. I hastily took a shot to its forehead and saw it crumple to the floor. Movement from the rooms around echoed through the hallways. I woke up the hornet’s nest. I ran inside my room and gathered my belongings. I put my massive pistol in its holster that was strapped to my body, and grabbed my Winchester rifle. I have never felt anxiety run through my body as critically as it did then. Legs pumping and gun rocking through my hands. I swiftly ran through the hallways. I came to the flight of stairs, and looked down. Six stories to go, and little time to have spared. I looked behind me and saw a couple doors fling open. As the first undead came waltzing out of its hideout, I was already down a flight. ========= I decided to do your's in FP Gordon. Don't know why, but I think I will do your character in FP. I am going to revive this thing. Can a moderator please delete the last, like, eleven posts? |
| Posted by: iliketoblowzombieheadsoff November 17, 2007 01:25 am |
| Not bad!!!!!! Very good, it kept me reading but there are a lot of short sentences  Take out teh unimportant details if ya can That way it can be shorter. Great however edit: BTW, I didn't leave any feedback on my character Sorry bout that. Anywayzor, it was good! It was heart-pumping and exciting and stuff... and it was just great. I've changed my mind now, it should really be Antoinette, yeah with the I. It sounds more right. So, use that |
| Posted by: Jest3r November 17, 2007 02:51 am |
| I like the rhythm of the story. You gave a concise yet intense introduction, and continued into the full story. Great job so far, I look forward to reading more. |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- November 19, 2007 12:17 am |
| Date: 15 May 2012 Time: 1213 Weather: Sunny; Warm Period: +0.6 Year of Completion of Wall The jets dipped low over the city, roaring past the Junior Officer’s head, her hat almost flying off saved for hand holding it down. She stared onwards into the heat of the city, the metal and cement gleaming in the morning sun. She sighed at the beauty of it while on top of the refinery she stood upon. Chemicals and other pungent smoke poured out of the pipes and floated freely towards the sky. What she was guarding eluded her, but nonetheless she would watch over the place. Stationed a good fourth of a mile from the Wall, it made her more than uneasy. The refinery was only half a mile long and wide, but the chemical towers that comprised the place stood tall and wide with pipes and bridges protruding out, connecting to others around them. The streets, if you could call them that, were littered with ash and minuscule amounts of smog, almost making the place unbearable. Only stationed here for a couple of months and sketchy of the place even in her sleep, her gun was always drawn when her brain was awake. Workers were few and far between; there were many military personnel but scientists and engineers were sparse. Counting three jets all in single line, she closed her eyes and could almost hear the clicking of mechanical claws releasing the bombs they dropped. The sound of the carpet-bombing filled the air, snuffing the moans the Carriers emitted. The noise was outstanding, even through the humming and chugging of the refinery. Her eyes opened slowly to observe the fire and explosions that lay beyond the Wall: buildings exploded to petty fragments, cars blew to fiery pieces and were carried away by the momentum, smashing into anything in their path. The section of that part of the city had been destroyed to nothing. The radio earpiece buzzed the “ok” for teams to be dropped down into the heart of that section. Multiple helicopters roared through the air past the wall and into the heat of the city’s vicinity. “So, what are they going in for?” a voice came up behind her. Startled, she whipped her head around to see another officer. He was in his early thirties, black shades to block out the sun, tactical gloves on for easier handling of his FN F2000 (assault rifle with 40 MM grenade launcher attached), cigarette dangling from lips, and eyes scrunched up to observe the helicopters. With one gloved hand he balances his weapon onto the railing and makes cartoony gun noises. “Don’t know,” Ari whispered as she grabbed the cigarette from the man’s lips. She held it in front of his face, shaking her head lightly. “This is what can kill us. Do you have any idea what could happen if this ignited a fire with all these chemicals? And why isn’t your gas mask on?” He grabbed the cigarette back with his teeth and took another drag from it. He smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. “Blowing up sounds nicer than being swarmed by the Carriers. No offense to ya’,” he smiled at her and flicked the cigarette off the side of the refinery and saw it catch in the warm breeze. “Gas mask is all protocol anyway. I like to live life on the edge.” Ari just sighed through her mask and looked back towards the commotion in the city. He did ask an interesting question though: what are they being sent in for? It’s been almost five months since any survivors were found, but something seemed off about it. “Well, for one,” the man started, lighting another cigarette. “it bothers me how there were only one UH-60 Black Hawk and five or so AH-64 Apaches. That’s not a search and rescue team if you ask me. In fact, it looks more like transportation of a few people. What do you think?” “Your guess is as good as mine,” Ari started, turning off her earpiece. “Something’s not right here, Benton. You remember, not too long ago-“ “Now, before you start,” Benton interrupted with a wave of his hand. “If this has anything to do with the Cincinnati Base incident or anything remotely about it-“ “Oh calm down. No it doesn’t,” Ari scoffed sarcastically. She remembered that incident clearly. A base five miles from here somehow got “the flu” and a couple people wound up with it. Anyone else that caught it was immediately thrown into detention, but it didn’t take long for those detention cells to fill up quickly. Whatever procedures the military went through, it didn’t stop the inevitable contamination. It spread like wildfire throughout the entire base; only one survivor was found, but he later died from bullet wounds to the stomach prior upon rescue. As to who shot him, no conclusion could be drawn. Chilled her to the bones to know that it was only a week ago and the same could happen to there. “Not going to happen again, Ari. I promise you that much,” Benton replied, reading her mind once more. He took one drag from the cigarette before throwing off. “I do need to stop that. By the way, it’s going to rain later tonight; cloud formation speaks for itself. Happy patrolling!” “It’s sunny right now, it’s not going to rain. Hopefully, anyway.” *** Date: 16 May 2012 Time: 0300 Weather: Rainy; Chilly Period: +0.6 Year of Completion of Wall The alarm blared loudly in the night, piercing through the quiet room that Ari inhabited. The room was clean with a vague odor of pinesol and a bit of age on the side. Her eyes snapped open and her head shot up through the covers. She pressed a switch on her nightstand and an overhead light flickered on. She leapt out of bed and onto the cool tile, stumbling groggily towards her closet for her gear. She slid the sliding door open with force and ripped her Kevlar and uniform out onto the ground. She began to throw her gear on over her bra and panties when the unmistakable sound of gunfire erupted from outside. “Attention: all military personnel please report to their stations immediately. This is not a drill. Lethal force has been authorized. Attention: all military-“ the mechanical, unenthusiastic recording kept repeating through the intercoms. What is going on? Ari thought to herself, tying her hair up into a bun. She grabbed her belt and holsters and attached them to her garments. She walked towards her pillow and grabbed her custom-made Colt 1911 (a very reliable handgun chambered for 10 .45 rounds) from underneath it. She pulled back the slide and chambered a round before placing the gun into her right side holster. Heavy footsteps radiated from outside her room, followed by automatic fire. Muffled voices could be heard, but she couldn’t make them out through the sporadic firing of weapons. Her hand rested on her doorknob, and cautiously pushed the door ajar. She peeked through the slit and saw the red emergency lights in the hallway. Immediately she was thrown off balance when her door was launched open by someone on the other side. She caught her balance and trained her gun on the intruder but stopped herself from squeezing the trigger when the silhouette of Benton came into focus with his gas mask actually on this time. “Grab your fucking gas mask, Ari and follow me! Shit’s hit the fan bad!” |
| Posted by: gordon_frohman November 19, 2007 12:25 am |
| wait im confused. irvine is one year approx ahead ? o.O good writing though ^^ |
| Posted by: Security Corporate November 19, 2007 12:45 am |
| I came... |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- November 19, 2007 01:49 am | ||
Yup. That he is. |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- November 24, 2007 01:57 am |
| Date: 07 January 2013 Time: 2130 Weather: Scattered Clouds; Cold Period: +1.2 Year of Completion of Wall The man held his assault rifle firmly, even after the monsters have migrated past their proximity. The restaurant used to be a fancy, upscale diner that was outfitted with a bar, tables, chairs, and even unlit scented candles for romantic nights. Its only source of lighting were three kerosene lanterns that kept the place alit with still shadows and warmth, a godsend compared to the bitter cold outside. Unsurprising to her, Antoinette found the bar completely devoid of alcohol; she could have really used a brandy or even just a pint of beer. Antoinette sat uncomfortably on a barstool watching the man carefully. It was not much of trust she was worried with, but the entire time she was here he just sat by one of the barred windows and peaked out between intervals of a few seconds. “It’s been about thirty minutes since one passed. I think it’s safe,” Antoinette murmured sternly, reloading her Glock and setting it down on the bar. The man didn’t even flinch at her words or seem to have even taken notice of her occupancy. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, he could pass off as being deaf. The rifle was held parallel to his ribs, swaying back and forth with his slow and steady breathing. After a couple minutes, a low-pitched sigh was heard through his mask. “Yeah,” the man said hoarsely through the gas mask, startling Antoinette. He leaned down and rested his rifle against the wall. He moved his hand against the mask and slid it roughly off his face. His head violently to rid his hair out from his eyes, exhaling deeply all the while. His brown hair reached to a little below his eyes and ears, his face had a five o’clock shadow, and the bags under his green eyes insinuated a lack of sleep. He sighed deeply, moved a gloved hand through his hair, and eyed Antoinette for the first time like he just now realized that she was present. The gas mask flopped to the floor with a clank from the filters and he sat down against the wall next to his gun. “Fancy looking gun,” Antoinette remarked, just to steer away from the awkward silence. She usually dealt with silence well, but this man was different. His eyes looked lost and sad yet at the same filled with anger and resentment. He looked at her with a blank stare, nodded, and responded with a simple thanks. Antoinette noticed what looked like a grenade launcher attached to it and pointed towards it in question. “Look, if you don’t mind,” he said, his voice cracking from yelling from some time ago. “I’d just rather not speak right now. If you want, you can go up that flight of stairs right there at the end of the room. It’ll take you to a room with another set of stairs which leads to roof access; it’s how I spotted your theatrical escape.” Antoinette was stunned at his response. She grabbed her handgun, holstered it, and marched briskly towards the stairs, her footsteps echoed softly through the room. She hated it when guys treated her like a mere child and when she turned around to give him a venomous look, he had already rested his head against the wall with his eyes closed shut. She went over to one of the tables and grabbed a lantern to guide her up the dark staircase. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at his motionless body save for his chest rising and falling. “There’s food and clean water on the second story,” he mumbled to her, slowly opening his eyes. “Try not to take a shower ‘till tomorrow morning. Trust me, it’s loud.” Then, just like that, he went back to sleep. His shoulders softened and slumped down; he had fallen fast asleep this time. Antoinette turned back towards the stairs and began her ascent. The stairs were sturdy without and hint of creaking or banging, no signs of rot, and the wooden rails looked polished and clean. Antoinette has become habituated with the zombie onslaught, but the immaculate building kept her shocked since most of the places she has visited in the last year have been grungy and grainy at best. Upon reaching the second floor, the lantern scared the shadows and dark away, revealing a makeshift bedroom and bathhouse. The bed was neatly made and smelled of laundry detergent upon further inspection. A nightstand rested on its legs next to the bedside, with another lamp on its top, an opened novel lay next to it. The bathhouse was on the other side of the room, with a shower surrounded by translucent walling. It smelled of a recent shower, its humidity brushing against Antoinette’s face making her eyes close soothingly. She assumed her shooting and escape brought the man’s shower to an abrupt end as she stepped on a fluffy, green towel. She turned around and went up the next set of stairs, with the words “roof access” in dark red letters against the wall that surrounded the staircase. The ascent was long and she guessed it must have equaled another two or three stories easily. Antoinette forced the metal door open with a simple push and twist of the doorknob. The cool, night breeze brushed against her cheeks, sending chills down her spine and down to her legs. She held the lantern’s handle with a tight grip as she moved outside onto the top of the building. The cement roofing was cracked yet - like the rest of place - well kept. The buildings that lined the restaurant were a few stories higher, blocking most of what was next to her, but what was laid behind her had gasping escape her lips. Unable to comprehend how she didn’t see from her previous ventures to this part of the city, a good mile of the city was no more than a smoldering rubble, smoke was still bellowing up towards the cloudy, night sky. She squinted her eyes with earnest and guesstimated that the devastation was nor more than half a mile away. If she didn’t take the intersection towards the car pileup but kept going straight, she would have reached that part of the city. “Airstrike from a coupe of days ago,” a voice from behind her. Antoinette whirled around to see the military man wearing a flak jacket now holding a lantern with his right hand and gun slung over his other shoulder. The grogginess and slur in his voice showed the sleepless nights he must have had. He moved closer to her and stopped next to her, viewing the smoking wreckage beyond. Laying down his gun and lantern, he moved to lean his folded arms on the cold, metal railing. Antoinette stood motionless, watching every one of his movements. After a few seconds, the man cocked his head to hers and bit his lower lip before speaking. “I apologize for coming off as a prick earlier. Been a rough few weeks.” Antoinette snapped her neck back like a crane and felt her mouth drop open slightly. She shook her head slowly in response. “No, don’t be,” she started with a whisper. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve saved my life, and I was less than nice to you. I should be the one apologizing.” The man just stared out towards the devastation once more and closed his eyes. He propped more of his weight onto the railing and rested his head in his folded arms. “Name exchanging has always been awkward for me, but just to clear the air, name is Benton.” “Antoinette.” Benton turned his head to the side to view her once more. He eyed her and propped his body up to stretch his back. The rifle that was lying on the ground was scooped up in his right hand with a fluid motion. “F2000, by the way,” Benton mumbled, fumbling for something in the flak jacket’s pocket. “You wondered what kind of gun it is, it’s an assault rifle. Thirty rounds a clip, battery powered scope and rail system, attached grenade launcher…” Benton traveled off and he just started eyeing his working hand in the flak jacket. He stopped for a second and pulled out a blue, cylinder shaped object that was a little bigger than a kiwi fruit. He pulled back his grenade launcher and slipped the blue cylinder inside it. With gun resting against his shoulder now, he aimed it towards the direction from where Antoinette ran from earlier. A few seconds passed by, and a loud whoosh noise with a following blinding light came from the launcher. Out came a screeching, bright-blue object that flew high above the buildings and what looked like quite a few blocks away. Even over the buildings, a blue tint could be seen in that direction. Before Antoinette could ask, Benton already opened his mouth to speak. “It’s a flare that, once after a few seconds, begins to make quite a clamor. Gets the things below us away about half a mile out that way. Saved my ass a few times.” Benton opened the launcher again and let the casing fall to the floor. It rolled away and onto the ground below. In the distance, the screeching could be heard, and what followed were moans and screams from the zombies. Antoinette could only stare as she saw dozens upon dozens of the things leap out of the windows and doors from buildings around them. Some fell to the ground, snapping their spines and bones while others got right back up to chase down the cacophony. It was a site to behold, that was for sure, but the look in Benton’s eyes still worried her. The look of melancholy ran true in them as if he went to Hell and back. Most people that were still alive at this point weren’t such depressed individuals, not like they were battling themselves mentally like Benton. “I’ve done terrible things,” Benton started, lowering the barrel of the gun towards the ground. “Terrible things that people should have never have done.” “We’ve all gone through a lot, Benton. All of us…” Antoinette was saying, but Benton turned around and walked back inside. He stopped at the door and, without turning around, said that a bed was made for her downstairs in the bar area. “In the morning we’ll sit down and have a nice breakfast, I’ll cook, it’s on me. You can take a warm shower, and afterwards, I’ll treat you to ammo and clothes. Until then, I bid you a good night.” |
| Posted by: Security Corporate November 26, 2007 03:44 am |
| +1.1 Year of Completion of Wall? That be wrong man! For the previous entry to this one it was 1.2 years. Either way, that's the only error I saw. Everything else was cumtastic. Well I know what happened to Benton, but the fact that I'm... I mean Serenity is not with him troubles me. Does she die?   |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- November 26, 2007 04:51 am | ||
Damn, that is definately something I need to watch out for, especially much later in the story. Thank you for pointing that out for me. Fixing it now.
Maybe, maybe not. Nobody knows... |
| Posted by: -=Chris Redfield=- December 05, 2007 01:01 am |
| Date: 21 January 2013 Time: 1300 Weather: Cool; Sunny Period: +1.2 Year of Completion of Wall My opens closed lazily as the boat rocked back and forth over the bright, green-blue water. Was a magnificent day to just relax and get some sunlight without a worry in the world. A simple radio rested on an end table playing soft ukulele music. A sigh of relief escaped my lips; it has been awhile since I have been this carefree and mellow. A slight tug on the fishing pole that rested in-between my legs jolted me forwards, eyes opened and filled with alert. “Ah-ha!” I tugged at the fishing pole, watching the splashing water from the silver fish fifteen meters or so away. With a right hand rotating the lever, other hand joggling the pole to the boat, I reeled in the fish slowly but surely. Once flopping around on the deck for awhile, I took out a carving knife and poked it a bit with caution, making sure it wasn’t like a few of the others. Some of the fish that I pulled onto the boat had awkward body dysfunction’s: some had multiple eyes that bled pus, tiny ligaments, or teeth that resembled razor wire. However, it was rare and the recent fish that lay before me was normal…or it appeared so. “Maybe it has a giant tumor that squirts folic acid when light reaches it,” I mumble, scoffing at the thought of it. It did trouble me why some fish were coming up with abnormalities. I was sure evolution didn’t take place in the matter of a year. “Even if it did, evolution should be used for a beneficial adaptation. Don’t see how tiny fins that litter its body is going to help it.” *** I cooked the fish and consumed it quietly inside the cabin of the boat. I looked out the window and at the residential area that I set anchor near. Land was roughly thirty-five meters away with privately owned docks jutting out. A few boats were still in place, but most came without keys. The houses that connected to the docks were middle-class, maybe a step up, but that was not the best part; no zombies were around. I took a gander at the theory that they were attracted to the clamor that took place in the major cities a few miles away. The residents weren’t exterminated as not a single body was in the streets, which was odd as the neighborhood he was by was gated, blocking anyone from coming in and out. There were a couple of decayed bodies in baby cribs inside the houses, but nothing more. It could also be that maybe these people were rescued via helicopters or boat. There was a large circular turn-around at the end of a road where a single UH-60 Blackhawk could land and evacuate the locals. However, a few months prior, I have met a few of the military that came to the rescue. “Or the lack thereof anyway.” I still remember the bullets that whizzed by my head as I peeked around the corner. The lad suited in urban fatigues and issued an automatic rifle almost had my head if another oddly dressed citizen had not of sniped him from a building across from me. A Little Bird landed in the street adjacent to mine, opening fire on anyone or anything that was moving. I had to admit, once I reached the top of a building and began to observe their voyage, they got pretty far until the dead maimed their bodies. Thankfully, they were not immune to the bites so they changed quickly after, not having to feel the pain and torment that would have ensued. My shoulders came up, shrugging my conspiracy theories and memories away. None of it really mattered anymore as far as I was concerned. Loneliness was public enemy number one in my book and coping with it was a struggle. Hell, just tying a zombie to a chair onboard “my” boat would have suited me just fine, but reality derailed that train of thought. Grabbing the dirty plate, I started to wash it off the side of the boat, using the salt water as aid. The clean plate was then set to the side and I looked to the fridge for refreshments. Before I stole the boat, the refrigerator was filled with hot, stale beer, moldy food, and a dead kitten. The cat killed me on the inside as I remove its pathetic carcass off the shelf and into the depths below. Now, it was filled with ice, water, lemony-fresh sweet tea, and freshly picked berries that were culminating on the fences of nearby houses. The tiny freezer that accompanied the refrigerator had to be emptied along with the fridge as well. Contents ailed with melted and spoiled matter, so I had to make room for the red gas cans that I filled to the brim with petrol to get the boat started. Needed a place that was dry and airtight and I didn’t know of anymore frozen foods readily available, so a freezer was a sensible candidate. My legs carried me over to the gauges and checked the gas: full. I proceeded to check the food supply: twelve bottles of water, two gallons of tea, and three pints of berries. Smiling to myself, I swore to myself that I was going to survive this, that once I stock up a amble amount of petrol, food, and water, I was going to sail towards the mainland. I stiffened my body up and checked towards the shore, to marvel at the cleanliness of this peninsula. A shadowy figure stood in sight in the backyard of a house, directly perpendicular to my boat. I speedily walked out of the cabin and onto the front to squint through cupped hands, just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. Sure enough, a man - or could be a woman - stood in black robes, with some instrument in his right hand. Could be a crossbow, gun, trumpet, but I couldn’t come to a concrete assumption; did it matter though? I started waving my hands in the air like a baboon, trying desperately to get his attention, despite the fact that he was facing my direction. With all my efforts of waving and hollering, he didn’t even flinch. After a few seconds, my arms lowered cautiously, and a feeling of dread began to creep up my back; something wasn’t right about this fellow. As soon as this thought crept to my mine, the man turned his back and began to walk slowly away in-between two houses. “Wait!” I cried. “Wait!” Without hesitation, I briskly moved to the controls, pressed the button to pull up anchor, and began the engine. The throttle was slammed forward, and through gritted teeth, I knew I had to catch this guy - or, once again, woman. I reached over to my Kevlar and rifle, setting them both down against my legs, preparing for the worst. “It’s probably nothing…” *** Date: 21 January 2013 Time: 1522 Weather: Cool; Sunny Period: +1.2 Year of Completion of Wall After tying up the boat, I hopped off the boat and onto the rigidity pier, eyes scanning the area for trouble. The air was still, no birds singing their chorus, no insect or toad sharing their songs of contempt, and not a sound of a single automobile or person abroad. It still, even to that day, gave me the chills and felt like an abnormality. I raised my Winchester and began walking down the pier and to the side of the house. The gray and brown grass crunched heavily under my boots, a clamor of noise that rocketed through the air around me. Once passing the moldy-white, stucco houses, I stepped onto the black tar, lowering the gun to observe everything around me. Pictures of children running through people’s yards, mothers cooking away in the kitchens, fathers coming home from a hard day at work stretched through the neighborhood in my mind. I could almost hear the sound of the imagined ice-cream truck rolling around the corner and stopping to pass out the delicious treats for the kids. I waded through these daydreams and pressed on into the middle of the street. To my right lay the front entrance exactly four houses down, cinderblock and titanium gates blocking anyone’s path from getting in. I knew the cloaked figure didn’t get through there, and couldn’t have by water as he would of have to pass my position in the boat. What lay to my left was a three-way stop sign three houses down. From there, you could take a left and come to the roundabout, or take a right which led to a back entrance some thirty houses down. I had to thank the builders for completing the walls but never completing the actual neighborhood. Must have been quite a close-knit community. Deciding the best course of action was to scan the streets and back entrance, I made my way left with gun ready. I looked at my Rolex and noted the time. I had three or so more hours of light left, and I have yet to explore this place at night. Even when you think a place is safe, nighttime was still an interval you would want to abstain from your schedule. As of late, the zombies were moving slower during the day, almost to just a fast paced walk instead of their quick run, but nighttime was a whole new ballpark. Before I reached the marina two weeks back, I came across another hotel that was breeding some funky- Movement ahead of me brought my attention back to full alert. I clicked the lever of the Winchester down then up to cock it, ready to fire at anything that posed a threat. My eyes trained onto a scrawny, orange cat. It was cleaning itself off the side of the road and once noting my presence, it scurried away at full blast, taking a right at the stop sign ahead of me. Maybe loneliness drove me to grab that cat, or sheer curiosity as to how it was surviving. Either way, I charged in its wake, gun rocking with my hips as I made long strides. Once my body turned towards the road the cat was on, I saw an orange blur dive underneath the front-deck of a house to the left, five down. In an instant, I worked my body towards it, falling to my knees to peer below the wooden work. Smells and odors of ammonia and death filled my nostrils, but I suppressed the growing urge to gag. “Come out,” I mumbled with a soothing voice. “I won’t hurt you, please? Please…” In response, the cat meowed hoarsely and hissed in my direction. I bit my lower lip, thinking of all the people that chased this thing around. All those zombies that must have tried to feast on this things fur and flesh. After a few minutes, I decided that maybe the cat was a lost cause, but when it stopped hissing and moving I stood my place. My hairs stood up on the back of my neck and slowly I tightened my grip on my gun, knowing that something was behind me. My eyes rolled to my left and without thinking I twisted my body around and aimed my rifle at the figure closing in on me. I fell back as the cloaked figure kicked the barrel of my gun away from him. In a nanosecond he was on me, shrieking madly with a bowie knife in his grasp. The Winchester fell out of my hands as they shot up for the man’s wrist to draw away the blade. His left hand struck the side of my head roughly, but My hands still held his other, afraid to let go. My legs shifted to place my boots between this crazy son of a bitch and me. As his left fist came to strike me once more, I kicked off, toppling him away from me. He staggered back a couple steps, yet it didn’t take long for him to try and charge me again. I reached to my side holster and grabbed my Desert Eagle. Without aiming I clicked back the trigger and felt the powerful recoil strike back against my hand. The large bullet pierced his stomach, into his intestines and out his back. I fired another round, aiming a little higher towards his ribs. The bullet flew to the bones, splintering each one it came into contact with. A yelp escaped his lips as he went crashing down next to me wit his knife inches away from my face. I rolled to my side and went for his knife instinctively. The knife was taken from his grasp without much struggle, but my animalistic nature took hold of my brain, unable to stop me from sending the blade deep into the man’s heart. I pulled it out and drove it another time into his chest, bringing blood up with the metal. I backed away as I watched his breathing slow down to a near halt, his eyes watching mine. Even though his death was upon him in the matter of seconds, a slight grin ran across his face as his head went limp. I backed away slowly, holstering my Desert Eagle, and grabbed for my Winchester that lay snuggly in the weeds and dead grass. With gun in left hand and knife in right, I crossed back onto the road to look back at the rear entrance. The blood in my veins chilled to ice, my heart stopped beating for a second, and the dead came swarming through the gate. “Oh my God. That son of a bitch.” I discarded the knife indelicately and brought the sights of the Winchester up. I counted a nine of the dead and my gun only held seven rounds. They shambled towards me, balance and equilibrium resembling that of drunks and the homeless. I took careful aim at each one, and measured them approximately one hundred meters and counting down. The first one’s forehead exploded in a firework display of gore, dropping him like a bag of potatoes. Feeling cocky, I fired swiftly at each advancing one to the head. When my gun ran dry, I set it down and brought my handgun back out. I dispatched them with ease and could almost compare that to target practice. While I reloaded both of my firearms I made my way back to the gate to lock it from the inside, checking my flanks to make sure the guy’s friends or any more surprises were not lurking around any shadows. The roads were congested with zombies. I dropped my guns and grabbed for the gate to bring it to a close. “God…damn…steel! Fuck!” Inch by inch, the gate was coming closer to the fortified wall. The shambling figures were nearing closer and closer to my proximity, bring sweat to my pores and anxiety ridding my thought process. I would have been doomed if I couldn’t get that gate closed. I would not fail where others have. When the gate was barely ajar, an arm from one of the zombies shot between the gate and the wall, and my fingers clenched tightly against the bars. |
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