or fanfics... lol

I feel the need to bump this, I love the story foxtrot, write a whole book! (sticky this please, it was the first and is currently the best fan fiction on here, better than most books i read)

wats bump mean?

nevermind bumping it.We just need it stickied on this section so we don't lose it.

hmmmm, no. we already have alot of pinned threads.

i would vouch for a writing section as ive finished chapter 1 of my own story, and will post it soon (moderator dutys first: reading every new post, moving some, posting in alot.)

alot of people seem to want to write, though roleplaying is a different story.

"God, I've seen this exact same thing happen in like.. a hundred movies, you know?" said Tom, rifling through Nick's closet, throwing useless items aside. He grabbed a backpack and threw it on the bed. "I cant believe this is real."

Nick rose up from underneath the bed with one more pack. He threw his binoculars into it and some gum too. "I guess ill put as much as I can into them..."

"Pack some warm clothes. Who knows where we'll end up, you know?"

Nick crammed two hooded sweaters, one green and one blue into a backpack along with a pair of sweats. Those alone nearly filled one pack. "What else?"

"As much crap as we can get outta your fridge. Water. Maybe some cereal? I don't know. Stuff we can eat easy."

The woman they had rescued appeared in the doorway of Nick's room. She was clutching the gash she had never shown them. "Guys, I appreciate what you tried to do for me," she started, they both stopped what they were doing and listened. "My husband bit me. I didn't say anything before, but... I think I'm turning into one of them."

"You're going with us," Nick insisted, grabbing both backpacks and walking past her. Tom followed. The fridge was near empty. A jar of pickles, jelly, some eggs. There were three bottled waters and Nick grabbed them and placed them in the near empty backpack. He closed the fridge and grabbed two boxes of cereal.

"Nick...?" shouted Tom from the front hall.

"Yeah?"

No answer was necessary. The sound of the front door giving way could be heard through out the house. Tom stared in horror as the door freed itself of its hinges and the infected poured in. A mass of writhing hands and grotesque faces moved into the house, brining with it the rancid smell of bad breath and rotting flesh. They moaned as if the infection tormented their bodies, slowly eating away at them from the inside.

"Oh my god..." Nick said, grabbing the Slugger from the counter-top.

Tom had gone shooting with his dad before he died a long time ago. He knew how to use the Ithaca, but it had been a long time. It wasn't necessary to aim because the wall of rotting flesh was nearly on top of him. Tom squeezed the trigger and the shotgun barked loudly, taking down three people at once. Their bodies flopped backwards and fell beneath he feet of the crowd. Tom racked the shotgun with a satisfying click-click. This time he aimed higher and took down four. Two heads completely dissapeared, splattering themselves against the white walls of Nick's apartment.

"Tom! RUN!" Nick screamed from across the room. Several people turned to look at him and he clamored up the stairway back to his room, frantically taking two steps at a time.

keeeep going

Im copy and paste all of the story in my wordpad....i really love your story foxtrot....keep going....

Im "glued to my seat"

That's an interesting shotgun you've got there But hey, it's Brainbread I suppose.

Keep it up foxtrot, I'm actually enjoying this... 95% of fan fiction for me is more like a game of 'spot the horrific grammar', but as I said, finally someone with talent.

Just a word of warning.

This story seemed to start out a lot better than the way that it's going (Not that it's still not good, I just think you were doing a lot better when you started).

Just thing's like "I didn't want to say anything before, but I think I'm turning into one of them" seems very unnatural, as with the reply "Your coming with us." I guess maybe it made sense in your head, but your conveying a lot less detail than you were before, like when his girlfriend was a zombie etc.

It's still pretty good though, I'm just saying.

I think he meant he found it weird that one shotgun blast could take out 4 zombies or something.

I'm not exactlly sure whether that is realistic or not though, I know a buckshot youldn't take down 4 living people, but I'm guessing rotting flesh would be different.

Tom had never shot anything besides clay pigeons before, but in the heat of the moment and the sight of so many hostile people coming towards him, he did not hesitate. He racked the shotgun again, ejecting the second expended shell and then fired into the left side of the crowd, three zombies buckled beneath the buckshot, shrieking in pain and Tom sprinted through the gap and up the stairs after Nick.

"We have to do something fast!" Tom screamed. It was necessary to scream. The infected were shouting in agony below them. "We have to get out of here." Tom stopped for a second when he saw the woman theyd saved lying on the floor. There was more blood on Nicks bat. Tom ran past Nick and to the window. It was only a six or seven foot drop if he hung from the window sill before letting go. "Nick, get over here, you go first!"

Nick was entranced by the sounds rising from his living room. Moans and shouts of agony. He could have sworn he heard a voice saying 'kill me', but he wasn't sure. A small boy suddenly appeared at the botttom of the stairs and looked up at Nick. Nick thought the boy was grinning, but as the child started bounding up the stairs, he realized he had no lips. They had been torn from him. His eyes were wild and red. Nick raised the slugger and then smacked the boy square in the face, smashing his nose and knocking several teeth into it's mouth. The boy's eyes fluttered and his arms flailed and then he went over backwards, tumbling wildly back down the steep stairway. Adults were beginning to ascend the steps. They trampled the boy without notice.

Nick ran over to the window and threw both of the backpacks out. "I've got the gun but ill throw it down to you before I come out," Tom said, watching the door.

Nick stuck his leg out of the window and then the rest of his body, then dropped the six feet down to the ground, rolling into the soft grass. He quickly regained his footing and looked up at the window, waiting for the shotgun and his friend to appear.

The infected managed to worm their way up the stairs just as Tom let the shotgun fall into Nick's hands. Tom looked back from the window, cursing loudly and sliding through the window. He hung for a second, long enough to feel a cold hand brush over his own, and then he let go. He landed on grass and fell backwards, almost wanting to vomit after feeling the ice cold hand that had touched his own.

"Let's get to your car," Nick said.

The crowd of the infected didn't notice Tom and Nick slipping behind them and into the car. Theyd been able to find them hiding in the apartment, but they had no idea how.

"Why didn't they notice us?" Tom asked, sliding the key into the ignition, but hesitating to turn it on, "we're ready to go right?"

"Yeah, I guess we should go. I don't know why they don't notice us. How'd they find us in the first place? Smell?"

Tom turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. Heads turned. "Crap, they know now," Tom said, looking over his shoulder to back up.

"Tom, GO!" shouted Nick suddenly. A teenager with blood covering his face and shirt sprinted out of the crowd and tore towards the car. Tom floored the vehicle and it lurched backwards, smashing into a parked sedan. The young man flung himself onto the hood with no regard for his well being, clawing at the windshield savagely. Tom put it in drive and the tires squealed, attracting the attention of the rest of the infected. The person on the hood slid off the side and hit the ground with a grunt.

Tom watched in his rear view mirror as they pulled away from the apartment. A crowd of hungry corpses tried in vain to make chase.

The main road was completely deserted. Occasionaly there would be a car pulled over on the side of the road, hazard lights blinking silently, but other than that, nothing. They had expected to see fires and people running around screaming, like in the movies, but there wasn't. No fires. No explosions.

Nick leaned forward and turned on the radio. A surprisingly light-hearted broadcast was going. "Yes the crowd outside has grown lately... I didn't realize we had so many listeners!" Tom and Nick both chuckled, despite the circumstances. "Anyways, if you're just tuning in, we're broadcasting to tell you, that yes, there's still people alive. Not everyone is a zombie. There's about twenty of us in this station. All hope is not lost! About five of these twenty are women so if it comes down to it, we could repopulate the earth no problem." The broadcast continued as Tom drove, carefully avoiding any debris that occasionally was found in the street: "Let's take some callers!" The guy on the radio said. "Hello?"

"Please somebody help us! We're at the Home Depot at Farren Street and Oak! Please! We're in an office or something..." cried an urgent voice over the phone. "Oh christ, they heard us... GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!" then it sounded like she dropped the reciever. Glass shattered in the background. Someone let out a scream that turned into a gurgle as she was apparently overcome by the infected. The receiver scraped around for a moment and then another voice came over the line, a desperate female voice. She managed two words before the familiar groaning of the diseased overcame her: Its everywhere

The DJ disconnected the call after about five minutes of random crashing and shouting. Tom continued driving. "Well dammit, I was just cheering up..." he said, his carefree mood a little offset by the drama so suddenly played out over the phone line, "Heres another caller You're on the radio."

"This is Doug out in Gurland, listen people, just board up your windows and doors and keep quiet! I bet this will all blow over."

"Tom?" Nick said, turning down the radio, "we need some sort of plan..."

No kidding, Tom sighed. Were just going to waste gas doing this.

They weaved through town for an hour, looking out the windows at dark storefronts. The streetlights were on as were the traffic lights, but there were few people to be seen. All of them appeared to be equally incoherent. An old woman stepped in front of the car, illuminated by the headlights at a cross walk and for a moment, Nick thought she was alive, but as she turned to look into the brightness, she revealed that the skin had been removed from half of her head.

Tom drove around her. One of their old haunts, a coffee shop, passed on the right. Both of them peered with interest only to find that a slaughter had taken place within. The doors were held open by bodies. The sidewalk glistened with blood. Whether or not these bodies would rise again was unknown to them.

Ive never seen anything started Nick, but he found it difficult to continue. Hed killed people that day and he hadnt even thought about it since. Their blood was on his bat.

He remember bounding up the steps and reentering his room. Nick had already decided on going out the window first and then helping her down, but before he could even say a word, she lunged at him. Her mouth had been open, her fingers spread wide, like some over dramatic actor in a haunted house. She made ridiculous sounds and gestures. Without a moments hesitation hed hit her. Like he hit the boy. Smacked her in the face and when she fell, he hit her again and again until she stopped biting and scraping in his direction. Her head broke like a pumpkin would have. He hated the memory.

Tom, whats happening?

Ive just been thinking about Rachael he admitted even though he wanted to lie. About our house, the people we knew

Their conversation was discontinued on account of a distant sound, the distinct thumpathumpathumpa of a helicopter. It came into view directly ahead of them and then slowed in the air. What the hell? asked Tom. He slowed the car down.

He rolled down the window as the helicopter lowered itself to almost level with a few of the buildings. Trash swirled in the draft caused by its blades and the engine roared loudly. Turn around! said a voice over the loudspeaker. Turn around and take Elk down to the highschool! This is a transport helicopter. Were making civilian evacuations.

With that, the helicopter rose up and then pitched forward, navigating towards the highschool. Tom turned the car around without question.