Still shining and pleases the eyes. Thank you for taking the time to write this, and again for posting it. I look forward to more.

This is one of the best ones i've seen. But: Our hero cant really be a "hero", who survives anything. If someone dies in a situation, sense tells it would've been him. So please dont make him a Gordon Freeman.....
Very few misspellings and anything, good descriptions, love it!

If he survives stuff, its probably going to be by running away, being extremely careful or just blind luck. He may be a bit of a Gordon freeman as in he survives alot of catastrophes but he's not going to outfight the marines or anything like that.

Where have I mispelt? I havent included apostrophes on many of the words that require it (I type them out the full sentence then cant be bothered changing them). I cant see any other mispellings (apart from labyrinthE) - I guess if you're American you have a few different spelling than I do. If you see any, please point them out - it bugs me when I spell things wrong.

Thanks again for the glowing comments

Excellent, this just keeps getting better and better!
Well you've more than proven your worth against the other writers on these forums
so congratulations on being the most advanced writer here.
I would also like to thank you for your originality,as the storys were starting to become zombies themselves

heh, thanks.

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Jones threw a sloppy salute to his sergeant, who tilted his head to one side; underneath the mask I guessed his face was screwed up in the stereotypical disgust of a sergeant faced with the slack-disciplined soldier.
"Jones, what the hell do you call that?" the gruff voice barked.
I saw Jones' mouth twitch into the ghost of a smile.
"Call what, sarge?"
"Just get your smartass back in there" Jones threw another half-assed salute and stepped into the vehicle, nodding to me as he climbed in. The sergeant's gaze followed him, then snapped back to me.
I looked at him, waiting for him to speak. He did what Jones had done, looked me up and down, taking in my dishevelled state. Then he spoke.
"Where did you get that rifle?" his deep voice was cold, despite the muffle of the mask. I glanced at the weapon I carried. I looked back at him.
"This?" I said slowly, trying to find some way of guaging his reaction through the mask. "I took it off a dead man. A soldier."
The sergeant stiffened slightly as I said it.
"I see" his voice was still level. "And how exactly did he die?"
I stopped myself from laughing in his face.
"Well, judging from the state of his face I guess one of those things got him. But I didn't stop and ask him." I felt an unwanted smile on my face. Shit, what was I smiling about? This wasn't exactly funny. "Though if I'd stuck around I reckon he might have got up and told me."
I could almost feel the sergeant's eyes narrowing beneath the opaque lenses.
"I see. Hand it over." the voice was still flat, but had the ring of command behind it. I looked back at the weapon, and thought of how useful it had been - and how useful it still might be. The sergeant must have noticed my hesitance, because I noticed his hand was slipping closer to the pistol at his side. I mentally shrugged my shoulders in defeat; I didn't want to fight the living, not when there were enough dead people to go around.
"Fine." I made no attempt at hiding the reluctance in my voice as I handed it over. The sergeant snatched it from me, then threw it into the back of the APC. Inside, one of the soldiers caught it by the barrel, then pulled the clip out. He tossed it back to the sergeant, who studied it carefully.
"I see you've been using that gun. Care to explain the circumstances?"
"What do you think I used it on? I wasn't hunting deer back there you know." My voice was tinged with exasperation. I couldn't believe this guy.
"I asked you a question."
I shook my head in disbelief then calmed myself down and forced myself to answer in a steady voice. "I used it on dead people sergeant. I used it on men and women who died, then came back - and they came back hungry, make no mistake. I used it to save my life. You have a problem with that?" I felt a little tension bleed into the last sentence.
There was a moment of strained silence. Then the sarge replied.
"No, I guess not. What's your name?"
"Rick Drapper"
"Did you see anyone escape Heavensgate apart from yourself?"
"I saw a chopper lift off from the mall about 6 hours ago. They didn't hang around long enough to pick me up." I said bitterly.
"How many of those things were there in the city?"
"Alot."
"How many?"
"Alot. Listen, I got out of the centre as soon as those things hit us. There were alot of them then, and I'm guessing they only increased in numbers since."
"And what direction were they heading in when you last saw them?"
"I have no idea. I saw a big crowd heading out of town this way, back that direction" I pointed over my shoulder "I think there was enough of them to cover al the bases though."
"Right." There was another moment of silence. I decided to try and get my own questions in.
"So what's the plan? What are you - I mean, what are the army doing to help us?"
"Thats on a need to know basis."
"I think I need to know." In answer the sergeant simply shook his head slowly, almost mockingly.
"Get in the vehicle." the sergeant said curtly, then turned round and started to climb in.
"Hey, what?" I asked. He carried on moving into the apc, effectively ignoring me. He barely deigned to reply;
"Get in. We're heading back to the camp. I thought you'd like to be rescued?"
I felt anger rise up in me at the sergeants rude manner, but I climbed in behind him. "Fine then."
The helpfulness of the army wasn't exactly inspiring hope in me.

The sergeant pointed to an empty seat in the crowded confines. I took a seat next to it. He stepped into the drivers cabin without a further word, and the soldier sat nearest the entrance hatch pulled it to. The engine sputtered to life and the transport moved off. I looked around at the soldiers in thier masks. I tried to work out which one was Jones, but they were uniform in their, well, uniform. I guessed that's what it was for. I felt their stares on me. I saw one of them nod slightly in my direction - I guess that was Jones. The silence continued for a few more moments, and then the questions started.
"Is it true?" a nasal voice with a new york accent asked.
"Are the dead coming back?" this voice was high-pitched, scared.
"What was it like?" a deep, broad southern drawl.
"What the hell happened back there?" sounded like a californian.

I answered them all, one at a time. When I was done the silence returned. The silence was only broken by the muttered prayers of a soldier in the back, and the whispered disbelieving ramblings of another.
"No way man...it cant be true. It cant be..." he rocked slightly in place as he said it. The man next to him put his hand on his shoulder, and the panicked man stopped. The journey passed in bleak silence after that. I rested my head against the back of the transport and tried to get some sleep in the rattling, noisy environment.

In my dreams, I was running from the city. I saw all the horrors that happened when I was really there, but this time they were worse. I could feel what happened to the people who died. I ran and ran and ran and then I was back at my house. I went in, and I saw my girlfriend again. I saw her die, just like she had in real life, but this time I stayed in the room with her. And she came back, and then she killed me. I felt her eat me alive.
And then I dreamt I came back.

A hand shook my shoulder, pulling me back from my nightmares and back to reality. I dont suppose it was much of improvement. The guy next to me withdrew his hand.
"Bad dream?" it was the californian.
I collected my scattered thoughts, pulled myself away from the memories my dreams had awakened. I wouldn't let myself think about it anymore. I don't know whether I'd be able to stop. I looked up shakily.
"Yeah...yeah..." I nodded my head stupidly.
"Well buddy, we're here. Refugee central"

I guess I need to put some zombies in here sooner or later, lol. I'm making this up pretty much on the fly - I don't know what I want to happen in the story, I'm just taking it where it leads. I can't decide what type of zombies to have either; every body who dies comes back, or just the people who are bitten?

Argh I had typed out a whole damn introduction to the camp, describing all of it and placing rick in there. Just got to the part where Rick was about to get a change of clothes and some medical attention when my internet explorer just crashed - and I lost all the post . Damm. I might do it tommorow then...

happened once to me too... Written three A4 pages and suddenly the screen flickers off..... Made me quit writing...
A tip: write it in word first. Then copy and paste it.

It's still a good read. On the zombie issue, the first thing is to decide whether it is a virus, or a bacteria. Also is it man-made or naturally occurring. Just some things to think about. I wait for more.

I'm not going into too much detail on how they get around/come back, just the basics. Theres not going to be any scientist on hand to explain the exact nature of the process, so the characters will only have the dimmest clue whats going on. The bite-turn or the death-turn thing is pretty integral to the plot though.

Any (ANY) things I could improve on? Anything I'm not including and should? Anything that I could add?
Zombies may crave flesh, but I crave only feedback. Though perhaps I should add another part of the story rather than typing this...

There aren't any problems I can see, and the whole zombification thing was just for the author's use, not to be included in the actual story itself.

The APC slowed to a halt, and the soldier next to the door swung the hatch open. They filed out, and after taking a moment to gather my frayed nerves together, I followed them. As I stepped out, I was greeted with my first sight of the base, and more importantly the Refugee camp.

I'd visited the base several times before, back when I'd joined my gun-crazy brother in some NRA bullshit survival training thing. We'd go up to the base, and they'd take us through the training course, and if we were good they'd let us fire off a few rounds with the guns that we'd never get to use at home. It was never really my kind of thing, though I guess it's come in useful over the last couple of days.

But Fort Oppen had changed alot since the last time I was here. Before, it had been pretty dead; the bare minimum of soldiers were posted here, and most of the buildings on site went unused. Even back when I'd been doing the whole weekend warrior thing here, there'd been talk of closing the base down. Now though, the base was a veritable hive of activity: soldiers, more than I'd ever seen in one place before, were bustling around in squads. A constant flow of traffic was passing through the gates of the base; not just the military jeeps and armoured transports, but state emergency vehicles as well. Ambulances and Police cars were parked around the base, and more seemed to be arriving every second. I guessed the base had been reinforced - probably by the group of army trucks in a neat line near the entrance, all of which had fresher paintwork than anything Oppen owned - because it looked like all of the buildings that had been left derelict before had now been reopened, and put to a variety of uses - I could see one building with an extremely heavily armed guard around it, and when a man in bloodstained surgical scrubs staggered out through the door, I decided that it was an emergency infirmary. I wondered why they needed such extreme force around the infirmary building.

The refugee camp was not actually part of the base; it appeared to be a loose collection of tents and parked vehicles behind a hastily-erected fence, in the empty field just adjacent to the base. The camp was about half the size of a football pitch, and I noticed that there were impromptu guard towers spaced unevenly around the edge. Inside, I could see soldiers wandering the anarchic spread of tents and vehicles in pairs, as well as several people in civilan clothing who must have been refugees - just like I was, I suppose.

The sergeant allowed me a few seconds to take this in, as he checked his squad's equipment. Then he began snapping orders off.
"Dylan, take Mr. Drapper to the camp authorities." His gruff voice demanded, "The rest of you, I want you to restock your supplies and then report to the rally point at..." he slid his sleeve up and revealed a watch, strapped tight against pale skin. "1710 exactly, while I go find the captain and debrief. Got that?" The gasmask's nodded in unision, then broke ranks and started walking towards a small squat building which seemed to be a nexus of activity for the soldiers. I assumed it was an armory, from the orderly queue that was forming outside of it.
One soldier remained behind, and threw a salute to the sergeant before nodding at me. I glanced at the retreating figures of the squad, then looked towards the sergeant.
"So, what now?" I asked.
"Now Dylan takes you to see the camp bigwigs, and you get out of my hair." The fact that I couldnt see his face did nothing to help his cold tone.
I felt my face twist into a bitter, mocking smile, but I managed to restrain my impulse to smash the smug expressionless plastic mask to pieces. I simply turned away from the Sergeant and towards the mute Dylan, who gestured me forwards with the point of his rifle. We started walking towards a large tent near the camp. As we walked, Dylan finally started talking.
"Hey Rick, something I wanted to ask you." the voice was a broad southern baritone.
"Ask away."
"Do you - hang on" He stopped, reached up to his neck and fiddled with a clasp there, then pulled the mask off his head revealing an obsidian face that was as bald as an egg. "Damn I hate those things." he muttered before continuing, his voice much clearer without the muffle of the mask. "Do you think that what happened back there is a sign of the apocalypse?"
The question almost stopped me in my tracks; I thought that it could be the end of the world, yeah, but I hadn't thought about it in religous terms. I guessed that the dead returning to some sort of monstrous half life had all the trademarks of God's fabled temper tantrums.
"The apocalypse?" I slowly considered my words "To be honest Dylan, I think it's bad. Its insane, it's fucked up and it's the worst thing I've ever even heard of. But a sign of the apocalypse?"
"Well?"
"No. I think it's just fucked beyond belief. I don't believe any of that crap."
Dylan nodded solemnly. "I hear that."
The answer puzzled me; "Why even ask me then?"
"Well..."Dylan looked kind of awkward at the question. "Look, theres this preacher guy in the camp. He's been here since yesterday, and he's been shouting some sermons and stuff as loud as he can ever since. I heard a bit of what he was saying, and it was all like that."
"Like what?"
"This is the end of times, all that kind of thing."
"Oh. Well, why'd you have to ask me man? I don't know shit about whats going on."
"Yeah, well, you say that" He said disbelievingly "But you know you're probably the last person to make it out of Heavensgate, right?"
The thought had occured to me. I nodded.
"Well, most of the people we got here got out yesterday morning."
"After the army came to town" I recalled, remembering the sudden cataclysmic events that had swept through the town just afterwards.
"Yeah. Nothing like seeing us boys to make a body want to move real quick. Anyway, these guys got out before you. Some of them never even saw one of those things. I figure out of all the people I've talked to since this shit went down, you're the one with the most experience."
I was flattered, but I felt he was wrong.
"Listen man, I saw alot of things yesterday and this morning that made me think like this preacher guy. But I survived, right? I hid in my house, I ran, and I made it out that hell hole. I wouldnt say that made me an expert on them - I don't even know how those things move around when they're so fucked up."
Dylan nodded in understanding "Yeah, I guess. But I aint even seen one up close yet."
"You don't want to. Believe me" I assured him, thinking of the twisted mockeries of human flesh that were the undead, a horrible sight and a more disgusting smell. "Look, I don't think this is judgement day or any of that crap. I can't explain how the dead are coming back as those things, but I'm pretty sure that its not through any sort of divine intervention."

He nodded briefly, a troubled look still on his broad features, and then we were at the tent and the conversation was most definitely ended. Dylan saluted the guard, told him my name and circumstance -"another refugee from the hell-hole. He's a little better off than those other guys though." The guard nodded, then dismissed Dylan, who nodded curtly towards me, then marched back towards the APC.

The guard took me into the tent and sat me down on a rather uncomfortable chair. Then he began his interrogation. Thankfully though, I could see the guys face, though it might as well have been a mask for all the emotion that showed on it. Still, the insectile stare of plastic lenses had been starting to creep me out.
"Name?"
"Rick Drapper, lo-"
"Age?" his flat voice interrupted me.
"21" I stated. I saw faint suprise on his face, which quickly vanished. I looked old for my age, a fact which used to come in handy at the less responsible bars and supermarts.
"Have you had any contact with the hostile individuals in Heavensgate?"
"Well, I've had to fight the undead to get out alive, yeah." Should call them what they are, not by their offical sounding code names. They're the undead, zombies, no matter how ridiculous it sounds.
"Give me a brief description of them."
I thought about it for a second, then answered simply.
"Fucked up."
I saw the facial muscles twitch slightly - was that a smile or a grimace trying to form?
"Elaborate please." he said in the same flat voice as before.
"Ok..." I contemplated my response "Well, I saw alot of them. Some of them appeared pretty normal until you got close to them and saw the dried blood and shit on them, or that weird thing with the eyes."
"Weird thing?" he interjected.
"Yeah, all of those thing's have the same eye colour. Kinda grey, hard to make out the pupil in it."
The guard made a note on the paper in front of him. I wondered what the hell eye-colour had to do with anything.
"You said 'some' of them appeared normal. What about the others?"
"The others...they were truly fucked up." I saw he was about to ask me to 'elaborate' again, do I continued. "I saw people who should never, ever have been able to even twitch a finger move around. I saw ones with huge holes in them, their guts hanging out on the floor. I saw a couple of them on fire and it barely slowed them down."
"I see. How capable would you say these assailants were?"
"Capable? Sorry, I don't understand."
"How did they move, what could they do, you get the idea?"
"Yeah, yeah. They were pretty slow for the most part. They're all real fucked up. Most of 'em sort of shamble around, lurching in this kind of sickening way. A few seemed capable of a pretty brisk walk though, especially when you got close. And they're all pretty stupid, I can tell you that."

The guard nodded, then noted more things down.
"Now, this is an important question. Have you suffered any injuries?"
I felt the multitudes of scratches, bruises and aches I'd gathered on my way out. But I guess they didnt count for much really.
"No, just some scratches and shit from running around town whilst all that was happening."
"You're sure? No bites?"
"No. The squad that brought me in already asked me that."
"Ah."
"Yeah, I guess I wouldnt be here talking to you if I'd said yes, huh?"
The guard frowned.
"What do you mean?"
I was suddenly puzzled. "I mean they would have killed me if I'd been bitten, yeah?"
"Standing orders are to transport all civilians, even those who have been bitten by the hostiles, to the base and give them according medical treatment. Why would they kill you?"
"But...even the army guy I heard on the radio back when I was in the city knew what the bites did to you."
The guard smiled patronisingly. "Ah, well communication within the city became very chaotic towards the end. There has been no official order concerning people who have been injured by the hostiles."
A cold chill of fear ran down my spine. The squad had seemed to know what I was talking about, but obviously this wasn't a universal thing throughout the base. If the authorities didn't know about the infections, I didn't think things would be safe for long.
"Listen to me, you have to locate any one who has been bitten and -" I pleaded, but he interrupted me.
"And what? shoot them? We don't know anything about this yet. There may be a cure for this disease. These bites may not have anything to do with the phenomenon. We will not operate without scientific evidence." he extolled at me "Rest assured, all casualties will be treated at the infirmary building, located in the centre of the camp. Now, I think we've taken enough of your time. Please, follow the guard outside the tent. He will take you into the camp proper."
"No, listen to me please - " I started to practically shout.
"Come along Mr Drapper." A strong hand placed itself on my shoulder, and I turned to face the guard who had been standing outside the tent. He'd obviously heard my raised voice, and come in to intercede.
"You have t- "
"Come along sir." the voice repeated again, and I recognised the futility of the situation. I got out of the chair and followed the guard out. As I left I saw the guard who'd interrogate me roll his eyes, and I figured they'd written me off as another shell-shocked loon, like this priest character Dylan had told me about. I was pretty sure I could hear the mad ramblings of a fervent believer from within the camp, but it was hard to tell over the noise of the base.

The guard got me through the soldiers at the camp's gate, then escorted me to a tent towards the front of the camp; I guessed they'd started by filling up the back and moving outwards. As we walked through the tangle of tent wires and personal belongings that scattered the floor, I saw the refugees from Heavensgate. They came in all colours, shapes, sizes and genders. There wasn't a common trait between most of them, other than they were now homeless and had seen hell descend upon their city. A lot of them appeared to be in some sort of daze, staggering around the camp in an ironic imitation of the monsters they had escaped. I could see dozens of people crying, broken by the nightmare they'd suffered, by the loss of people they'd left behind. Only a few of the crowd seemed to be in any sort of capable state - shaken, shocked, no doubt, but still carrying on.
The screams and wailings around the camp were almost the most horrible thing that day.

We stopped just outside the tent, and he passed me a small plastic wallet filled with small papers, attached to a slender string necklace.
"Wear this at all times. It's got your name in, your state of fitness and your ration book."
"Ration book?"
The guard smiled wanly. "We got over a thousand mouths to feed. Don't worry, the portions are pretty good. It's more of a precaution, make sure no one gets left without food."
I nodded, that made sense. Then what he'd said clicked, and I felt the horror within grow again.
"Only over a thousand?" I asked, afraid of the answer. Heavensgate had had a population of over one million.
The guard nodded solemnly "We don't think this is all the refugees though. Alot of them may have fled before we had the patrols in place." then he gestured towards the one-man tent, and informed me about what was inside;
"Theres a couple of blankets in there for when it gets dark. They should be warm enough." He looked at my bloodstained, dirty and torn garments. "I'd recommend changing into some new clothes after you've cleaned yourself up at the water pumps" - he gestured towards an area to the left, obscured by some blocky trailers - "Go to those trailers just there, and you'll see them; they also hand out the fresh clothing there as well. Just dont expect anything fancy."
I took in the drab almost uniform clothing a few of the refugees around me were wearing, and noticed it came in two colours; tan or grey. Wonderful. I noticed most of the people had their own clothing on still, and I guessed that most of them hadn't gotten into the sort of state I was in.
"You can get your food from those stalls over there" - he gestured in a different direction, towards the centre of the camp. "Well, I think thats everything...enjoy your stay." He began to walk back towards the gate
Something suddenly occured to me. "Hey, wait up!" he stopped and turned to face me. "One thing; can I leave this place?"
The guard suddenly looked uneasy. "Not for another week I'm afraid."
"A week?" I felt annoyance creep up in me. Sure, I was safe from the monsters here - or at least I hoped - but for how long? I thought they'd make their way to this neck of the woods before long.
"All refugees are to be held for at least a week, then are to be released on a case-by-case basis. Don't try to leave." he glanced towards one of the machine gun nests dotted around the edge of the camp. I followed his gaze, and wondered what the significance was....until I realised that most of the guns were pointing towards the camp. So much for being safe.
I nodded stiffly, then opened my tent door and climbed in. I'd get clothes and clean up later, for the moment I just wanted to catch my breath and gather myself.

After about half-an-hour of lying there my body started to ache from all the bruising I'd sustained jumping from car to car earlier. I tried to go to sleep, but everytime I came close I'd see one of those things in my head, and I'd start back up again. I was wondering whether I should try and get some sort of sleeping medication from the infirmary when I suddenly realised something that had been troubling me almost sub-concsiously.

The heavily guarded building I'd noticed earlier, with the blood-stained doctor staggering out of it, had been definitely on the outskirts of the base.
If the infirmary was in the centre of the base, what was in that building that required such a heavy guard...and which bled?

This post has been edited by TheBlazeUK on February 13, 2005 12:42 pm

dang this is a good story!! i can hardly wait to see what happens next! whats gonna happen? i think you start writing around some more charecters, like mike meets the preacher and he forms a freindship with him or he could meet a survivor whos a psychiatrist to give him therapy, i know i would need it, my mind would be all fucked up if i was a zombie outbreak survivor, also maybe bring in the cybercon corp or the umbrella corp, i know those two may have been done to death but would make a more intresting story, also, write more about the infirmary, ive been dying (sorry bad joke) to find out whats going on inside there!! very good story! could i make a request though? could you bring in my char? his name is Ted Brinks from the Brinks Security Corp and he worked at the heavens gates mall as a security guard and he escaped, thats what my char is, ill write a story with him meeting mike if you write about him.

. . . Okay . . . It may seem a bit aggressive, but the above post . . . Uh. How shall I say this. First... what the hell? Second... You seem to be trying to morph the story to your own style. Third... Umbrella...? Cybercon...? Interesting...? This is a unique plotline and story... not a flick off of one already existing. If you like that, I suggest writing your own about that. Lastly... I believe it is soley up to the writer whether or not his characters become friends with anyone, let alone the preacher. It's nice that you want to be active... but, perhaps try to be a little less controlling. Now... my thoughts on the story. It's great, and I noticed one thing... the grunt dialogue seems a bit more realistic than before. Keep it up, it's still as good, if not better, than when you started it. I like the chunks you write in, as well. With smaller posts, they may come sooner, but the suspense kills me. Thanks for writing this, and again, for sharing it with us. I can't wait to read more.