Robert Palooski reclined in his squad car, sleeping lightly. He would wake up at times to check his dispatcher, but it was all quiet. He finally obtained that sleep he was searching for. A sudden uproar woke him, as the dispatch barked orders:

"...ATTENTION, all officers, we have multiple 11-46's at the 7-11 Convenience store, address is 171 Kennard Road. I repeat multiple 11-46's at the 7-11 on Kennard Road. Send an ambulance, it sounds messy"

Robert sat up, the seat following shortly behind. He turned the car on, the head lights flickering on. He flipped a switch and the siren started to wail. The squad car pulled out of parking lot, and turned onto the main road.


45 Minutes Later


Arriving at the 7-11, Robert was greeted with a grisly scene. Blood covered the white walls of the 7-11, and cops were lying in their own blood, along with multiple bodies of other civilians. He reached for his receiver. "Dispatch, do you read? Dispatch, do you read?"

"10-4 Squad 7, whats your location?" the voice answered from the other side.

"I am currently at the-" Robert began to reply, but a bloody fist was slammed down on the windshield, creating a spider's web of cracks.

"JESUS!" screamed Robert, putting the car immediately into reverse, the tires squealing, attempting to gain traction. The car lurched backward, the body on the front tumbling off.

Officer under attack, I repeat, we have an officer under attack. Robert cried into the scanner. The line went dead, the static no longer audible. Hello? Hello! Dispatch, you there There was no response.

The body that attacked Robert twitched violently, drawing Robertss attention away. It sat up suddenly, and looked at Robert, with cold, lifeless eyes. The lips curled up into a snarl, its teeth bared. Robert watched in horror as the body got up, and started to stagger towards the car, its leg broken, its mouth bloody, and a chunk of its neck gone, leaving the head lop-sided.
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First story, I know there are bound to be problems with it. Add some help, and reviews are always nice, it will encourage me to go on.

This post has been edited by MedicFS on February 09, 2005 09:05 pm

uhh not much actually. You use "Robert" instead of his/he/etc a little bit more than you need to perhaps, and you switch from referring to the zombie as "it" to "his", which suggests you're talking about someone else, but other than that - no problems. Well, apart from I cant think why the radio would suddenly go dead in the space of few seconds. Maybe if thered been a last "the station is under attack!" broadcast before it, but it seems to just die out conveniently (it was working fine 10 secs ago). But it looks good so far.

o no why 7-11 WHY?!?!?!?!?

Thanks Blaze, I will work on that, I was concentrating more on the grammer, like puntuation and stuff.
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The body that attacked Robert twitched violently, drawing Robertss attention away. It sat up suddenly, and looked at Robert, with cold, lifeless eyes. The lips curled up into a snarl, its teeth bared. Robert watched in horror as the body got up, and started to stagger towards the car, its leg broken, its mouth bloody, and a chunk of his neck gone, leaving the head lop-sided.

Robert was fixated on the creature, its awkward walk causing the head to bob from side to side. No sound escaped Robertss lips, all brain functions stopped as the body edged closer to the cruiser.

The creature reached his window, its head slamming into the glass lightly, causing the car to shake a little. Robertss mind snapped out of the cold trance, his eyes focusing on the creature, its entrails easily seen through the window

On instinct, Robert reached for his pistol, as his other hand went for the stick shift. He quickly put it into first, and started to lurch towards the grizzly scene at the 7-11.

The creature out side clumsily tried to grab onto the window, its bloody fingers pressing against the glass, leaving fingerprints. As the car gained momentum, the fingers slid away, leaving a trail of blood. He turned the wheel, the car turning down the adjacent street, leaving what ever had become of those men and women behind.

Elsewhere

Jeremiah Waters looked out of his window, watching the manslaughter in a trance. A woman ran screaming across the road, a couple things following closely behind her. One had a half of its head missing, the brain clearly in view, pulsating every now and then. The other assailants were not in better shape, missing various limbs. One looked to have fought with a lawnmower, and lost, its face filled with crevasses.

A man further down the street fended off what looked to be his wife, now turned into a blood craving creature born straight from hell. He sliced at her with what looked to be a katana. His attempts were futile, as he rammed the katana deep into the womans breast. He took a step back as she started towards him again, the blade still stuck deep in her chest. The woman bit the neck of her husband, the scream muted by the countless others.

Jeremiah stood back from the window, and turned back to the TV, showing a ragged team of newscasters telling what little they know.

this epidemic of recent murder has reached a new level, the attacks now happening in broad daylight. The attackers are apparently biting the victims, inflicting what looks to be a viral infection. It soon kills the victims, but the bodies do not stay still for long, they rise and soon attack others. Ladies and Gentlemen, please, if you or anyone you know has been bitten, please, separate them from yourself. Efforts have been made to finding a cure, but none has been found-

Jeremiah turned the TV off, and went over to his desk, pulling a piece of clean paper out, and began to write, titling the page; Memoirs.

Jeremiah Waters, caring son.

I have been bitten. I know I will soon turn into one of them. I can feel my mind slipping slowly out of reach. I do not know how much longer I have.

I have not lived my life the way I wanted to. My father told me once, always to be honorable and a gentleman, above all. Love your family and friends. I have kept alone for most of my life, opening up to the seldom few. I live alone, and sadly, will die alone. The world has gone to hell, and theres not much more I can say.

Kailen, I never had the nerve to say this to you. I love you.

Signed, Jeremiah Waters, 1980-2005. Remember me as a poor soul who never found true happiness.

He dropped the pen, and picked up his pistol. He hadnt had to use it yet, and couldnt find a use to until now. He opened his window, and climbed onto the roof of his house. Smoke plumes could be seen from the city, fire farther off. People ran this way and that.
He drew his pistol, and flicked the safety off. Jeremiah pulled the gun to his temple and looked outward, forlornly at the city.

He pulled the trigger, a loud pop was heard across the street.

A limp body fell to the ground with a thud, the pistol still clenched in its right hand. A few creatures turned towards the corpse, but left it alone. The body of Jeremiah Waters was left to rot in the sun, no one turning a second glance at the body.
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Ok, this wasnt as good as I hoped to be, but I kinda wanted to show what was happening in other stories. Robert will be back next time I feel like writing. If anyone wants to proof read, please go ahead. If you want to be my proof reader, just say so.

This post has been edited by MedicFS on February 09, 2005 09:07 pm

That was actually pretty good.

Please continue..... and do it fast!

This is good, but in the spirit of criticism I'll scour the text for any minor errors;

The letter Jeremiah writes isnt in italics (though you wanted it to be) just delete the [/I] after "them".

And you refer to the zombie as "it" ("its leg broken, its mouth bloody") and then slip to "a chunk of his neck gone" - just a minor error.

I can't really find anything to be honest, which is very nice and refreshing.

The creature out side clumsily tried to grab onto the window, its bloody fingers pressing against the glass, leaving fingerprints. As the car gained momentum, the fingers slid away, leaving a trail of blood. He turned the wheel, the car turning down the adjacent street, leaving what ever had become of those men and women behind.

Robert Palooski drove down the now empty streets in a cold trance, his fingers digging into steering wheel. What he had just seen, the man getting up, missing chunks of its neck, its stomach ripped open sent shivers up his spine. He squinted through the cracks in the glass, the spider-web of cracks making it hard to see. It had become eerily quiet through the city, the uneasy silence of the calm before the storm.

Robert pulled into nearby convenience store, its lights on, the door ajar. He got out of the cruiser, avoiding the blood stain left by the creature. The silence continued. He entered the store, looking for anyone working there. The silence continued. He reached the back of the store, and picked up bottled water. The silence continued. He walked up to the counter, the clerk still missing.

He put the bottle on the table, and turned around, to begin looking for the clerk. He wandered to the back of the store, towards the employs only room. The silence continued. He knocked lightly, hoping to awaken anyone inside. A low growl sent Roberts hand to his gun, and his heart to his throat. He reached timidly for the door handle, knowing full well what lay on the other side. The door creaked upon, revealing the disturbing scene. A man lay propped against a chair, his arms suspending him, his stomach disemboweled. A female coworker huddled over the man, her teeth dripping with blood, her eyes blank.

As Robert stumbled against the far wall, the womans attention now turned to the new prey. Robert drew his pistol, aiming at the woman's heart. Its melancholy was painted on her face, its head lolling from side to side, giving it the appearance of being nothing more then a drunk.

Stay back! Robert yelled, to no avail, the woman continued stumbling towards him. His training kicked in, he brought the pistols sights down to the womans leg. The pistol cracked once, and the woman fell to her knees. Robert then roundhouse kicked the womans head, sending her spinning into a display rack.

He sat back against the far wall, the woman not making any movement among the rubble of a failed franchise.

The silence had ended. Gunshots began to become audible, the city coming alive once again. Robert looked up, at the once placid street was filled with people, both alive and dead. He scampered to his feet, coming to stand at the door. Fires began to erupt across the city, smoke plumes dotting the mid day sun. His jaw dropped, his hands began to shake. His mind began to spin, his vision blurred, and he fell to one knee. A few more loud cracks drew him to his senses.

He bolted for his cruiser, the once simple motor vehicle became salvation in car form.
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Ok, Chapter 3 is up in record time. All hell has broken loose. I may start to do Tie ins, like with Jeremiah. Like always, help is appreciated. I am new to writing, so I know I cant be making so few errors.

This post has been edited by MedicFS on February 14, 2005 04:33 am

Erm...

"The uneasy silence of the calm before the storm" not "an uneasy silence of the calm before the storm". If it was "an" it should be "an uneasy silence like the calm before a storm".

"its melancholy face was painted on her face" - repeated word there. Its melancholy was painted on its face perhaps.

should be "as Robert stumbled against the far wall, the womans attention now turned to the new prey"

"Heart of the woman" is a little clumsy, "the woman's heart".

You've used "spiders web of cracks" twice now to describe the shattered windscreen, maybe don't need to describe it again. (but because your posting it in sections this doesnt really matter - you have to go back and check to find fault with it)

But honestly there isnt much to criticise in your story as far as grammar, punctuation and writing goes.

One thing I could find a problem with is the cop's actions - he's attacked by zombies at the 7-11 then he drives the car towards the 7-11 where he already is (2nd post, says car "lurched forward to the grizzly scene at the 7-11), then after turning down a side street he drives to a convenience store? Doesnt report back or drive to the station?
You write very well, so the only real thing to improve on is the clarity, realism (if you're going for that) and explanation of your character's actions.

Thanks Blaze for all the help.


After seeing what he saw, and dispatch not relpying, I would stop too. Plus the fact that he cant see outside his windsheild, he would of stopped to see if someone could give him a ride. Its hard to see through a bloody windsheild.