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> Specimens, Teh new story from omgmaster Viking
Elite viking
Posted: January 11, 2008 10:13 pm
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Veteran Lord Carnage
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Posts: 2471

Joined: December 16, 2004



Here it is! My new masterpiece tongue.gif
I expect it won't be more than a few pages longer, and the next parts will include more violence and shooting. I t was hard to fit into the intro. Anyways, here ya go:

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I turn around slowly. The pain shoots through my leg again. They all came so fast. So damn fast. They were meant to be slow, shambling corpses. Hell, they weren’t meant to be moving around at all! They were supposed to be dead! How did things come to this?

The radio crackles behind me in a burst of static. Another person finding the survivor frequency. Some guys in the local radio station are broadcasting a message on all frequencies, telling anyone left of the one the most people are participating in. That’s how I found it. It’s basically people cut off from each other, desperate to find some way to survive this mess. Right now there’s dozens of people discussing basic survival. The newcomer is probably ecstatic that he’s found other persons, but it won’t last long.

By now most people have learned a few lessons: Don’t be noisy or attract attention, they’ll find you. And when they find you, they will tear you to shreds, eat you alive. Even your loved ones will. The only thing that’s remotely human about them is their looks. And as the flesh, smeared with blood of both themselves and those they’ve killed, rots, that last link disappears as well. They show no reaction to pain whatsoever; they All they have is a basic ability to move and the urge to kill the living. The only way to kill them is to destroy their brains. And kill them is something you’ll need to do.

If you want to live for a while, you should board yourself up somewhere along with food and all the weaponry you can find. Knives, explosives…and best of all guns. It lets every decaying son of a bitch in the area know you’re there, but if it comes to weapons you're going to need the distance. And, even if few of us have managed to make one, you need an escape route, if, or when, they break through your barricades. Our fences of planks, chairs, tables, couches and bookcases.

Now they’re discussing the food issue. What can they eat? Some of them have been very anxious to eat anything but canned food and drink bottled water in fear of getting infected. They want to find out if regular food that’s not hermetically sealed or freeze dried or sterile in one way or other is safe. Some say all the sterile food they’ve left got are snacks and candy, which won’t last long, and that they have no choice but to try. An old man, sounding desperate, says he ate the last of his supplies yesterday. Now all he has is his rifle. He says he doesn’t dare risk to go out alone and search for food, that they’re all better off scavenging together. The topic immediately changes into the issue of joining forces. Oh, how I want to break into the conversation!

I can’t remember if I’ve heard where these people say they live, but I know for sure that they’re scattered all over the city. I hear real enthusiasm in their voices, but I sense fear as well. Firstly, teaming up would be more strain on the supplies. A group of five eats through the food five times faster than one. Secondly, leaving the safehouse without being noticed is extremely hard. Earlier, a young couple said over the radio that they were going to raid a nearby store for food. The last we heard of them were mute gunshots, then screaming.

Thirdly, and most important, you never know if one of the others are turning. It takes anything between some hours to several days, depending on the immune system and how they got infected. If you’re mortally wounded, it happens almost instantly.

I want to scream into the radio, “Stay away from each other, you’ll all infect each other!” I don’t, for two reasons. The undead below could hear it and renew their interest in me. And my radio can only receive. I could probably have made a microphone and a transmitter out of something I own, if I only knew how.

I openly admit I never prepared for the apocalypse. I never bought “how things work”, I never hid backpacking equipment a place where I could get to it quickly, I never hoarded supplies, I didn’t own a gun. Lying on the floor in the attic, slowly turning into one of them, the thing I regret the most is not buying a gun.

On the evening of Wednesday five days ago I was shopping in the city along with my sister. We were at the local mall, along with what seemed to be at least a thousand others. Everything went slow, but that was okay. There was no hurry, no appointments or anything. Slow was good.

I didn’t see this myself, but several of the others on the radio were eye witnesses to a military convoy driving through the town. We have an army training camp a few miles out of town, so we’re used to seeing a truck or two, but these guys talked about dozens of vehicles. There was a group of humvees driving ahead of the main group, acting as scouts and clearing the road for traffic. With yellow lights flashing, several pairs of the cars sped through the main street. Marines jumped out of the cars, started erecting barricades, blocking the side streets. This might have been to ensure the convoy didn’t slow down, but in the five days that have passed we haven’t heard a word from army officials. Most of the soldiers are dead now, that’s for sure.

The blocking didn’t go as planned. There was intersection the marines missed. The street lights were on everywhere except in that space, so the scouting crew simply overlooked it. And when the bulk of the convoy drove through town, an oil truck turned out of that dark street. A large personnel truck drove towards it at 80 mph. No one had time to react, and the result fatal.

The shopping center was half a mile away. Even if I wasn’t there, I heard the explosion. It shook the entire town. The entire personnel of the first truck along with bystanders were burnt to ashes in seconds. The drivers behind them slammed their brakes, which helped, but not much. The entire convoy smashed together in one huge collision. The death tolls must have been huge.

The main theory is that this convoy was transporting scientific material related to the undead. Some of the armored trucks had probably contained samples, but for the thing to spread this fast…they almost had to have live ones as well. The vehicles that made up the convoy were mostly cargo and troop transporters. And in the mayhem of the collision, whatever held them locked in got destroyed. And most of the soldiers tasked with watching the specimens were now wounded or dead.

“What the Hell was that?” I said, supporting myself to the wall. Several of the people around me had lost their balance as well. No one felt like they had an answer to the question. People looked around for anyone to inform them of what was going on.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” my sister said. “I think we’d better get back home.” We began walking to the exit. I noted all the puzzled faces all around me. We got the exit, and as the sliding door opened, I saw the light. The explosion had ignited everything in the vicinity, even the sky seemed to be on fire.

My curiosity got the hold of me. “We have to see what this is about. If it’s a fire people are going to need help. ”

"you've got your medical bag on you?" Helen asked.

"No, I don't. Stopped that when I got transferred to the ear-nose-throat section of the hospital. But by the looks of it they'll need all the help they an get..."

I’m a doctor, by the way. Been so for the past three years. Even if I wasn't stationed at the ER anymore, I still knew how to treat the wounded, not just give people pills for their cough. I had seen people die before. Weapon accidents, burns... It gave me an advantage, although no one could have been properly prepared for the Hell I- that we all have been through. I’ve done the best I can to bandage my wounds, but… they won’t stop bleeding, no matter what I do. My strength is dwindling.


I and Helen jogged to the crash site. No ambulances had made it to the site, neither had any fire fighters. There were mostly marines running around, putting out small fires, dragging dead and wounded out of cars. A few of the city folks had begun helping as well. I grabbed Helen’s hand, ran over to the nearest truck. It was a large armored truck. The collision had almost toppled it upside down. I got to the back of the truck, peered inside.

There were eight men in there, all wounded. Some of them didn’t move. All around them were scientific equipment, crates, machines…I got to the nearest one, mid-thirties by the looks. So these weren’t regular privates, were they? He had been hurt pretty bad. By the looks of it he had been thrown into the sidewall by the force of the impact, which broke several of his bones. And his feet were pinned underneath a large metal crate. I shook him lightly. He responded with a moan.

“God…oh, that …whole body hurts…” he mumbled before beginning to whimper.

I shook him again. “Listen,” I said, “The entire area could explode any minute for all we know. We have to get you to the hospital.” He didn’t respond. He had lost consciousness I turned to Helen. “See if you can find anything to use as a stretcher.” I turned my attention back to the man. “Come on, stay with us now,” I said, before moving on to another of the moving figures.

“Are you all right? I asked. He turned his head slowly. He had several bleeding wounds, probably from colliding with the stuff around him, but seemed aware enough.

“We have to get out of here,” he rasped.

“Yes, I know that. But there’re a lot of people needing aid here, and moving them won’t be easy.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But you must believe me when I say we have to get out of here fast.” His hand moved down to his belt. I felt my body stiffen as he opened the pistol holster. Then he handed the gun towards me.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“If things go bad, you’ll need it. Trust me.”

I waved it away. “You keep it, don’t be ridiculous.” Oh, how I wished for that gun later.

Helen returned with a large piece of cloth. We carefully slid the first man we had found over to it, and lifted him out.

We’d lifted four more soldiers out in the open, all with more or less severe wounds, when ambulance personnel finally arrived. They had real stretchers with them, and began doing a much more effective job. I began searching for someone in charge here, to better organize the evacuation of the area. I walked over to some of the trucks in better condition, where I saw several marines standing upright. And holding their rifles?

A commanding officer seemed to be giving a briefing to those around. He was a tall guy, I could see medals all over his chest. Just barely beginning to get some gray hairs, I could see. “The situation’s running out of control. We don’t have the manpower to secure the perimeter, and we don’t have the wheels to get out of here. But the package is still contained securely. We’ve tried contacting HQ, but most of our equipment has been damaged. We…” The marine talking saw me, and his hand instinctively went do his holster. The marines around him gripped their rifles tighter.

“This is not the place to be right now,” he said in a much stricter tone. “I highly suggest you leave the area. Now.”

I ignored the authority in his voice. “There’s wounded all over the place,” I answered. “I’m a doctor. I can help you get your men to safety.”

“Safety? I doubt it. But we can hope,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” I said. “It’s just a matter of getting those people out of the trucks before they blow up.” I’ve already moved some of them, from that truck over there, there’s still some left…”

His eyed followed where my hand was pointing, mildly curious at first. Then his eyes widened. He stared directly at me, growing angrier each second. “You got into that truck? It was supposed to endure something like this! What did you do?”

“I carried some people out. For Chrissake man, those people could be dying for all you know, and…”

“No,” he said, cutting me off. “They’re already dead.” “He turned his attention away from me for a moment, looked around at his men. “And so are we, if we don’t figure out how to deal with this incident. You, Peterson,” he pointed at a marine, “Your task was to locate all the armored transports and ensure they were sealed, how did you miss one?”

“Anderson snapped a short salute. “Sir, I did locate all of them. That truck was sealed off perfectly fine when I checked it.”

The face of the officer darkened. He looked back at me. “Exactly how did you get into that truck?” he asked slowly.

“It was wide open when I got to it, that was, uh, eight minutes ago,” I said.

A marine came jogging towards the officer. “Bennings, sir, truck 4…”

The officer whirled around. “What about it?”

“It has somehow, um, been opened…”

This was too much for Bennings. He shouted, “For fuck’s sake, can’t anything work as it’s meant to be?” Then he pulled out his handgun, chambered a round. “Things just got real complicated, men,” he said, mustering every bit of calm he could find.

“We won’t have time for a proper evac. We’ll pull out in two with the humvees, with whatever of the equipment we can gather loaded into them. This has to get to HQ. Anderson, Miller, find the scientific gear in truck two. Be damn careful. Hughes, Pratt, Wells, you’re on me. We’ll rally everyone we can find. The rest of you, get to the humvees, remove everything we can spare. Load up on fifty cal link and rations, we might need it. Go!” As the others began running away, he nodded to me. “There’s a comm van over there, there’s megaphones somewhere inside. Tell everyone to get far away from here, we have a major crisis coming up.” Then his group disappeared as well, leaving me standing still for a moment. No one had answered my biggest question. What was going on?

I moved over to the van he had pointed at, all white, with what had once been a satellite dish at the top. It had taken quite a pounding in the collision, and the dish was twisted to the unrecognizable. I peered inside, and saw a megaphone in a corner. I tried to ignore the man in the front seat, head smashed to a pulp against the wheel, blood splattered all over the window. I grabbed the megaphone and quickly withdrew. I flipped it on, and tapped it at the receiving end. A loud crackle erupted.

I raised it to my lips. “To anyone in the vicinity of the collision site. The military has asked everyone to get away from here. This place could blow up any moment, so everyone should go back home at once.” If it sounded as weak as I thought it did, no one was even going to flinch. “I mean it, please people. Something bad’s about to happen…”

A machine gun drowned out my voice. For a moment, all the noises of the main street vanished, was replaced by a lone gun opening fire. I turned, saw a marine throwing a lifeless body off his shoulders. They were both covered in blood. A thumping sound of the body slumping to the ground echoed across the now completely silent street. Another moment of total silence followed, and then it seemed all hell broke loose. At least a dozen marines opened fire with rifles, shotguns and small arms, almost at once. I couldn't see clearly who they were shooting at. The flashes only gave the surroundings a dim light, barely showing dark figures approaching slowly.

Screams arose from the streets, where people had gathered. They had realized this wasn’t just a car accident anymore, a disturbing entertainment for their watching. The crowd turned into a huge mass struggling with itself to get away. At first I thought it was only panic from the gunshots. Then I saw them.

Those closest to the street tried desperately to carve their way through the others. A handful people were walking towards the crowd in a speed best described as something between walking and jogging. But they didn’t walk or jog. They shambled. Their clothing was torn, and the colors…They wore military uniforms. Were the military shooting civilians?

I couldn’t believe what I saw. And it got worse. My senses began focusing, thanks to adrenaline flowing through my veins. I saw the soldiers coming towards the panicking crowd had no guns, yet someone was shooting. A man in the crowd fell, tried getting on his feet again. He fell again. And now the soldiers had reached him. Two of them sort of tripped over him, simply dropping onto his body. And they pulled in him. The man began screaming in pain as the two soldiers tore his flesh.

Blood began pouring. One of them reached down to his exposed neck, bit it. Not like a vampire. A vampire was merciful compared to this. No, he tore out his throat, gushing blood all over the three of them. The man shook violently as life left his body. Other soldiers…no, beasts went past the struggling couple, found new victims.

A young woman screamed as her hair was grabbed from behind, throwing her to the ground. I couldn’t hear it, but I guessed her skull cracked from hitting the ground. A part of me hoped it was true.

A man turned around, gave up trying to force his way through the crowd, gave the closest creature a kick in the groin. Nothing happened, apart from it being pushed back a little. Then it continued forward. The man landed another kick, this time in the belly, again without effect. But now his foot got grabbed. He fell to the ground, began struggling with his foe. I turned away, suppressing the urge to puke.

Gunshots made hearing anything else impossible, mounted heavy machine guns roaring above everything else. The ground shook as cartridge after cartridge was pumped through faceless figures. But it didn’t deafen out the screams any more. I was surrounded in screams of agony, help, and anger… they were inseparable from each other.

I had overstayed my visit. I stumbled back the way I had come from, to get back to Helen and the wounded. They had to be carried away, or they would be killed without mercy. When I reached the ambulance, no one was to be seen. No doctors, no wounded, no Helen. All the chaos around me lost importance, I had to find my sister. Ran over to the ambulance she had been carrying people to, wanted to find her hiding somewhere inside. She was.

“Helen, we’re leaving now!” I shouted before pulling her up from behind the empty stretcher. It was, however spattered with blood drops. “What happened to-”

“They walk,” she said quietly, yet cutting me off instantly.

“What was that?”

“They walk,” she repeated. “The man was dead when we got him into the ambulance. He had no pulse. The driver closed his eyes. But when they returned carrying another, his eyes were open again. And he, he grabbed the driver, and he bit…him… he bit him on his cheek, he couldn’t scream, because then he tore off his mouth. And he tried to speak, but there was only blood coming out, and he fell to the ground, I saw him fall, he was dead! I hid in the truck, and then he got up as well! Why won’t the dead die anymore?” she sobbed, face twisted in agony.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know we are getting the hell out of here,” I said before grabbing her hand again, it was slick. I dismissed it.

“Home, I want to go-” she stopped, stared behind me. I interpreted it correctly a fraction of a second before a hand grabbed my shoulder. Instinctively, my right hand let go of Helen’s and twisted around whatever grabbed me. I spun in a half circle, throwing the thing to the ground in a crude self-defense maneuver. My Judo teacher would have scowled at me, but I hadn’t been there for years and I didn’t have the time to refresh my memory. In the corner of my eye I could see two humvees taking off, filled to the breaking point with men, weapons and equipment.

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Edit: I just read through Jester's story, and realized it needed more space. Now it's much more comfortable on the eyes, methinks.
comments are appreciated!

This post has been edited by Elite viking on January 14, 2008 05:55 pm
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-=Chris Redfield=-
Posted: January 14, 2008 06:40 am
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Baby Slayer
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I enjoyed this through and through. A few grammatical mistakes here and there, but nothing too major. It seemed a bit rushed in some areas, like when "the hist hit the fan" with the zombies. I mean, it happened out of nowhere. I know that's what you were going for, but from not seeing any zombies to dozens upon dozens? Hm...

When the protagonist mentioned how he was a doctor, it was a little random. Could have had a smoother transaction into the story.


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(1) I like to beat women. (2) I like to beat babies (3) I like to beat women while beating babies (4). I like to watch women beat their babies...and then I beat the women.
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Elite viking
Posted: January 14, 2008 10:16 am
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Veteran Lord Carnage
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Noted. I'll go through for spelling mistakes and make it more fleshy. I've actually noticed how my English have rotted since last year. Maybe because I write too fast :S

Anyways, a new part was done yesterday, so it's coming up soon, just have to gramatize that one as well wink.gif
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Elite viking
Posted: January 14, 2008 05:52 pm
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Veteran Lord Carnage
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Group: Old BB:S Betatesters
Posts: 2471

Joined: December 16, 2004



I recommend (for the 20-something persons that have read this...cough) to read part one more time, even if it might be a bit boring. I've added some new stuff that fleshes out.

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“Now we run,” I shouted as I regained my grip on Helen’s hand. Her legs slowly and reluctantly gained speed. As we moved towards our house, and before it, the shopping mall, I never looked back at the horror and destruction now spreading through the town. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since things began happening, how did it spread so damn fast?

The sounds of battle on the main street were dying out just as the town itself became a battlefield. I began hearing gunshots all around me, not just from military gear, but the familiar cracks of hunting rifles, shotguns, revolvers… We lived in one of the more liberal states. Basically, all you needed for a gun was a background check to see if you were an insane murderer.

A last, long machine gun burst erupted from ground zero, then nothing. Either the marines had died defending the street or taken off to wherever they were heading, but either way they hadn’t managed to contain this…incident, as they so nicely had put it. And whatever help they could gather would take its time. The army doesn’t deploy into a completely unknown situation. And certainly not a situation as bizarre as this one. We were going to be alone for some time, that was for sure.

I remembered the man offering his pistol to me, remembered me waving it away. At the same time I remembered the man getting eaten, the girl, so many more I didn’t see but even now could hear shrieking as their limbs were torn off. Even if we were surrounded by screams, there were no one in the immediate vicinity, neither man nor beast. We probably wouldn’t stay that lucky.

“Guns,” I said, partially to myself, partially to Helen, partially to scare away the death all around us.

“Wait, what did you say?” she said, stopping for a moment. She looked puzzled at me.

“Guns. There’s a hunting gear store at the shopping mall. If we meet another of those…things… we better have something better than my judo to defend us with.”

“Your judo? Hah!” For a moment she forgot about everything around her, and was my sarcastic sister. “You haven’t been there since you were….28, that’s four years ago. And you never were a good fighter.” She smirked, then froze. It all came back to her.

“Do you know how to…use a rifle? I’ve never seen you handle one.”

“That’s something I’ll have to figure out on the way,” I said, before I once again picked up the pace.

We turned around the corner, and once again we saw the mall. It was meant to be open for at least one more hour, so getting in wouldn’t be a problem. But getting away…

“Let’s see, I think it’s located on the ground floor. We better hurry, they’re getting all over the place.”

Now we began seeing people. Dark silhouettes, hurrying towards the welcoming see-through entrance doors of the mall. Almost everyone were heading there. A bizarre thought struck me. Didn’t it resemble the mall in Dawn of the dead…? I shrugged it off. This wasn’t a damn movie, this was for real. My friends were probably out here somewhere, fighting, fleeing. Maybe even dying. Dammit, I needed a gun.

One of the silhouettes walked briefly through the illumination of a street lamp. It was Paul, a friend of mine at work. I waved at him, shouted, “Paul! Over here!”

He instantly whirled around in fear. Then I could see his whole body relaxing. “Harry! You have no idea how good it is to see you. Have you been to the main street? It’s hell over there, dead everywhere and I don’t know what… Yes, you have been there,” he said, looking at me gravely. I wasn’t sure what my body told him. Maybe it was my eyes, cold and staring..

“Come one, we’re going to the hunting shop,” I said, waving for him to follow. “I want some protection before heading home. You’d better tag along. After all you live on the other side of town.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he nodded. “It’s the wrong day to go wandering around.”

Actually there were two stores selling guns, Wildlife Gear and The Patriot. We were going to the more hunting-related of those. The shop was crowded with people. I couldn’t imagine how it was like for the guns-only store.

“I repeat one last time: What in the name of our Lord is going on? You can’t just barge in here and grab whatever you want! Hey!” The owner was a rugged guy, he looked exactly as you’d imagine a lumberjack or a hunter would. He wore a cap, faded jeans and an outdoors jacket. People were all over him, clutching axes, knives, freeze dried meals. But most of them were trying to get to the gun cabinet. They pointed at what they wanted, shouted at each other. No, they deserved it more than they did! Several people began climbing over the counter, looking ready to walk through Mr. Lumberjack if they had to.

“Shut up!” he yelled before reaching into a drawer. Out came a handgun. People suddenly stopped whatever they were doing.

“Now will someone please explain why it sounds like a war out there?” Several people opened their mouths at once, stopped immediately when he waved with the gun. “One at a time.”

One man spoke. “There was a huge military parade driving through town, they crashed, that’s what exploded some time ago. And suddenly they began shooting! They think we’re the ones who made them crash and-” The others immediately broke in, contradicting his opinion.

“That’s not true, they didn’t shoot at us, they were shooting at each other! There were traitors, terrorists that infiltrated them and sabotaged-”

“Marines were walking at us, they, they, they were drenched in blood! They looked as if they had eaten-”

A single loud bark stopped them all. A brass casing fell to the carpet, made a soft pling. Smoke curdled up from the gun, pointed upwards.

“The next time it won’t be a warning shot;” he warned. I saw the sincerity in his eyes. “you,” he said, pointing with his free hand at me. “You’re that doctor, right? You don’t seem crazy, even if you’ve got blood on you. So you’ve been over there. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve seen?”

I looked down at my shirt, and it was in fact smeared with blood stains, along with ash and mud. That was probably what Paul had seen, not my eyes, I thought. This was a poem as little as it was a movie. I raised my voice. “When I got there, they had already crashed. Don’t know why, but there they were. It was a convoy,” I said, nodding at the man who had first spoken, seeing the trembling nervousness all over him, “They were top trained marines. Not like the privates that sometimes drive through here. They were on some kind of mission. I saw an officer, talking about how it was going to hell fast. Something about the content of the armored trucks. And when they found out the cars had been breached, they began evacuating. But not fast enough. I don’t know what they are, but…”

“Some of the marines opened fire,” I continued. “They shot at… people, which for some reason had become insane. They didn’t even seem human. The madmen began attacking everyone. I saw a man, torn apart, by two of them.”

“That’s bullshit,” someone began. Immediately he was thrown to the ground by another.

“I saw it myself! The survivors of the crash were attacked out of nowhere by those freaks! Out of nowhere they shambled towards the evacuating marines. Just as a guy was telling us to get out of there the marines saw them and opened fire, riddling them with bullets. But they barely even slowed down…” A man whimpered. “They continued walking as their bodies were shot to pieces. The damage… It’s not possible to simply ignore holes through your chest!”

“I saw one die,” a woman said slowly. “One of those monsters took a shot to the head. It shattered like, a melon…He got blood all over his uniform. …a police uniform, it was all blue until it got red and dark…”

“There were less than ten marines alive when I left,” someone behind me said. “They were surrounded, those madmen coming towards them on all sides. Two of the hummers had driven away with marines hanging on for their very lives. I think they knew they…that they knew they were going to die. But they wanted to take as many of those with them.”

First now I noticed that Lumberjack had allowed the discussion. He stood there, confused.

“If what you say is true, it sounds like we’re going to war. We’ll all need whatever we can get. I guess I’ll have to give you a group discount.” His chuckle was empty of emotion. He spun his pistol a half turn, so that he held it at the barrel. Then he smashed the stock of the gun against the safety glass protecting the rifles. It began cracking. “I always forget where I put that key,” he mumbled.

Others, holding axes and spades, suddenly realized what they had in their hands and that they could help. Three men and two women began swinging their weapons against the glass, and after a few seconds it shattered.

Before everyone rushed towards the shelf Lumberjack shouted out “Okay, there’s not enough for to give everyone one each. I assume you’ll want to stick together, so one rifle per group. You’ll all get one box of cartridges, that’s 20 rounds each. The caliber is written on the side of the gun, so check that first. And knives and axes, there’s tons of those, so help yourselves.”

“Can we pay you after this is over?” Paul asked.

“Pay whenever you like,” Mr. Lumberjack answered as he pulled out a rifle in synthetic material and handed it over to the first in line.

Others grabbed their own rifles, but in some weird way we remained calm and kept a queue system. I was in the latter half of the queue, and found a sharp-bladed knife before the big guy handed me a hardwood rifle. By then several people had already grabbed both gun and ammunition, loaded the gun and prepared to leave. But they lingered, not wanting to leave

I gripped the stock of the rifle and studied it along the sides. It said by the trigger that it was a Savage 111F, taking -30-06 Springfield cartridges. Looking at the ammunitions shelf, I found the Springfield section and took two boxes, one for Helen and one for myself. Paul grabbed one as well.

“You know how to use this?” I asked Paul, waving the gun in my hand.

“I’ve fired a rifle before, but I’m no expert,” he said. He took it barrel first, reached down to his pocket for the shells. He took out a few. He pulled back a bolt and inserted the shells, each giving a muted click. He fit four into the magazine. Then he slid the bolt back.

We looked around. Still, no one had left. I looked around at the darting eyes of others while they clutched their knives and rifles in death grips. They all feared the death coming for them.

“What are you going to do?” someone asked the owner. He stood still, a rifle in his hands.

“I’ll stay here. There’s lot of gear in here, as you can see. Food, weapons…I’ll board it up with whatever I can find, but I’ll keep some way to hand it out to passer-bys. If you see anyone, tell them there’re supplies at Wildlife Gear. But my advice is for you to go home and barricade yourselves in. Only use the gun as a last resort. You’d better get going, I want that door impenetrable as fast as possible,” he said.

“Good luck to all of you. And don’t forget to pay.”

At those last words, something clicked into place for all of us. We all turned towards the exit and began walking out. Wishes of luck floated between us. Rifles were waved around, the bolts slid back and forth. The clicking sounds of cartridges entering chambers were comforting.

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Here's the new part. I promise the next one will contain some real action, not just cocking guns tongue.gif

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iliketoblowzombieheadsoff
Posted: January 15, 2008 03:06 am
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Ratatatatatatatatatatatattatatt
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I sure will read it Elite Viking, when I have the time. And that is probably... this weekend if it's ok. smile.gif

Does sound interesting, your grammar is ace. I've read like 1/4 of your 1st post.


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Current game(s): Uh uh not updatin' this no mo
Looking forward to: Some shit
Name Shortcut: Zombie, Isit, Bob(not recommended)
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-=Chris Redfield=-
Posted: January 16, 2008 02:34 am
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Baby Slayer
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I liked it, but the store owner didn't seem very believable. I mean, if a storm of people ccame in your gun store, started rambling about shit, would you just take it all in in hte matter of a minute? Probably not.

Other than that, it's going pretty well. One last piece of advice for you - which MANY people never do for zombie novels/stories: people have a breaking limit. Not everyone is a cold, robot; people actually would breakdown if the world went to shit, saw people get eaten alive, total carnage, ect. All I'm saying is keep peoples' emotions in check when you write. happy.gif


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(1) I like to beat women. (2) I like to beat babies (3) I like to beat women while beating babies (4). I like to watch women beat their babies...and then I beat the women.
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Elite viking
Posted: January 16, 2008 09:09 am
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Veteran Lord Carnage
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I'm getting way too impatient. Probably should have taken some time maken the store scene believable...

Maybe someone will snap in the next part, wait and see!
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Jest3r
Posted: January 27, 2008 03:02 am
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Experienced Killer
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Great job so far. Your set up smoothly shifts from narrative to flashback, and adequately handles the back story. The mood is set in a very good way- I can really feel the sense of dread closing in on your characters.

I look forward to reading more! Keep writing.


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-Jest3r
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