Prologue
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JFK was not killed by Lee Harvey Oswald. Clinton killed a hooker. Aliens landed at Area 51.

All this happened. It did.

Really.

Please believe me.

Because I have been right before, you know.

I said, one day, something was going to happen, and I was right. They came. But it wasn't the government, and it wasn't the Masons.

It was the zombies. The zombies! Damn it, I didn't think it was zombies. They were near the bottom of my list of things to end the world.

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Ch. 1 -- In which our hero predicts the end of the world, and is correct for once.
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Well, I guess I should really start at the beginning, shouldn't I? I've always had good vision, so to speak. I could see the things happening no one else could. The government, aliens, ghosts....I was on to all of them. So of course I was prepared when the dead rose from their graves. It was an option I had considered, although not as much as an invasion from Russia. I had made some deals, and I had a nice little safehouse in an apartment building I paid rent on. It had a window, a toilet, and 4 locks on the door. I stocked it with food and water for 12 months, and I could get there within 5 minutes of anywhere in metro Baltimore.

I also had my granddad's M1 Garand from World War II, and a .38 revolver I had purchased years ago. The M1 was at the safehouse; I always had the .38 close to my heart.

So, yeah, I was ready. I was. When I heard on the news that there were 'outbreaks', I beat it to the safehouse, loaded the guns, and watched the news. I got to watch as the world descended into chaos. The cable shut off on the fourth day, and the electricity the day after that.

The next day, I saw the first one. It was tall; about 6 feet, and was walking slowly and limping. I emptied a clip into it, to test my accuracy and to see if they could really survive as much as I had heard on the news. I missed the first 3 shots, and with the fourth, it let out a spurt of blood from its arm and kept walking. I finished the rest of the clip, putting probably 2 more holes into the zombie. It kept on marching around, like a soldier with nowhere to go.

But I have enough food for a while, and the water should be good too.

So I wait.

And I can't sleep anymore.

But I wait. More will come. Are there any people left, though?

No? Yes?

It doesn't matter.

I was right.


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more depending on feedback. How was it? I think it may have been a bit lengthy, but whatever. I wouldn't mind too bad if someone else wanted to add to the story, but please -- spell correctly and stay true to the character.

I told them this would happen, but they didnt believe me.

Sure, I told them other stuff would happen as well; the aliens would invade, the nazi conspiracy would start the third world war, communist spies would brainwash them. Those things were all true as well, I have the evidence. Of course that stuff can't happen now, after all the communists and nazis are dead now, and the aliens don't want a planet filled with dead people - they were after enslaving us, but the zombies are probably too much trouble for them.

I'm still not sure what caused all this, but I think I've narrowed it down.
Either this is a well-planned test of a new biological weapon devised by the CIA black ops department, or it's the ancient skeleton sorcerers of Tebek-Nu Sotha using foul magics to reanimate the dead.

I thought it might be the cult of the old ones, using the necronomicon to engineer an ingenious plot to force the dead to sacrifice the living to the elder gods, allowing the many-angled beasts from beyond the stars to return to the earth and rule once more. But the signs were all wrong for that; for one thing, the sun hasn't gone out, and there hasnt been a rain of frogs..yet. Mustn't dismiss things out of hand.

To be honest I hadn't given it much though in the past; the zombie scenarios always seemed less likely than the sentient machines subverting us, or the illuminati's control of tectonic movements bringing the earth to the edge of crisis. Maybe the Bush-bot (or hypno-clone, its hard to tell with the synthetics) malfunctioned and ordered something extra put in the drinking water. Must remember to change the filters and refresh the wards around my hide-away.

The power came back on for a couple of hours, so I turned on the television, to see what the hidden messages said about the outbreaks. I prepared myself for the subliminal brainwashing, and I kept an eye out for the tell-tale signs of a faked broadcast.
Unfortunately, this seemed on the up-and-up (they do that sometimes, to keep me guessing, mixing the truth with the lies) - there was a news reporter, obviously a vampire familiar from the subtle dress code, and she was interviewing some soldier in New York. They were inside a school building, and there were lots of people around them with guns and wounds and screaming. They were talking about the situation in NYC; it looked pretty bad. There were alot of fires, and the helicopter shots showed huge groups of people walking through the streets.

They said the Army were trying to hold the big cities against the zombies. All the evidence I've collated suggests that this most likely indicates that the whole thing is nothing more than a publicity stunt to increase weapons sales in the 1st world.

The power went off again a few hours later - I guess whoever got the generators working again attracted too many of those things. Oh well, we're probably better off without the brainwash boxes working.

Hmm...the property damage; this could be an insurance scam from the global corporations. No, too risky for them. This seems a little heavy handed even for them - unless maybe they've got Rasputin's brain implanted in a fresh body. He always did like the big massacres, and necromancy's always been a strong point of his. Still, he's stuck to subtley manipulating the government in the past, and he can't wipe the memories of everyone in the world again - you only get to do that once before they send the Black Hand against you. No one wants that - I've been careful to stay under their radar, or I'm sure the Hand would have silenced me by now.

Note; consider the notion that this crisis may be a smokescreen for an even more sinister plot.


I went out of the safehouse yesterday to see what it was like outside. The streets were empty, apart from the zombies of course. But there was only a few of them around, so I decided to go see what I could take from the abandonded city.
I hadn't kept any cola in the safehouse, so I broke into a convenience store. It looked like it had been pretty well looted though; there was barely anything left, but I found a six pack of it beneath an overturned shelf. Then I heard something move in the back of the shop.

I went around the counter slowly, drawing my pistol. I edged cautiously towards the door to the back. I heard a low moan from behind it, an inhuman sound that set the hair on the back of my neck standing. I slowly opened the door, revealing a stock room which was even more trashed than the outside.
There were three bodies on the floor, heads taken apart by some high-powered gun - probably the hunting rifle which lay on the floor. The walls and broken shelves of the room were liberally sprayed with blood, and I could smell the sickly sweet scent of death. A single bulb cast a harsh, grim light on the filthy room.
And on the dead man clawing piteously at it's reflection in the cracked mirror in front of it.

It turned to face me as I walked in, and it's lidless eyes lit up with a desperate hunger. A low, animal hiss escaped it's tattered lips, and it raised it's emancipated hands towards me. It took one faltering step forwards on it's withered legs.
Then I opened fire.
The first bullet smashed into it's neck, just above the gaping bite wound there, but this new hole didn't release the spray of blood the first injury had; it had been too long dead for it to bleed properly. It staggered backwards then came for me again, its head now lolling sickenly to the side.
The next shot blew it's brains over the broken mirror behind.

I gazed blankly at the tableau of horror in front of me, then stumbled out of the shop. I started walking back to the safehouse, then froze as I heard something move. I glanced behind me and saw the thing. Several of them.
About four of them were lurching up the street towards me, and more were appearing out of alleyways, shattered storefronts, broken doorways, and they were all around me.

I unslung my rifle and shot a few rounds at the closest ones, then turned and ran. I turned down an alley then jumped onto a fire escape. I climbed up it, onto the roof of the apartment building. I looked over the edge of the roof and saw just how many there were around me, and then saw more figures making their way through the ruined streets. I realised the gun shots had drawn them - I'd have to be more careful.

I ran across the roof of the building and climbed down the fire escape on the other side, then back towards the safehouse. I made sure there was nothing following me, then went into the building. I barricaded the door behind me, shaken by what I'd seen.

Being right isn't the comfort I'd thought.

Sorry to add so much to your story, but I really liked the idea of a paranoid conspiracy nut hiding out in his safe house, and once I got writing it I kept thinking of wild/wacky/insane stuff he'd be considering. Then I decided the post needed zombies in, so I went with that.
If theres anything that contradicts something you've written or want to write later on, I'll edit the post to fit. I'll delete it if you want as well. (I realise "being right isnt the comfort I'd thought" kind of goes in the face of what you wrote at the end, but I thought that faced with the horrifying reality he'd start to feel a little more depressed than vindicated)

I thought your post was good; it was written in a way that imitates spoken language (like the guy was talking to you), which I didn't really stick to once he left the safehouse. It wasn't too lengthy at all, if anything you could have expanded on stuff a little more (described the safehouse a little more - e.g. instead of "a window", 'a small window which was barely big enough to let the light shine through. Still, I'd fitted bars over it - better to be safe than sorry')

I enjoyed seeing decent spelling and grammar in your story, no complaints there.
The only thing I could find fault with was that you don't describe him leaving his safehouse to see the zombie, or where he is when that happens.

This post has been edited by TheBlazeUK on February 06, 2005 02:12 pm

Actually, I liked yours more than mine. I'll add more detail in the next one, but in the meantime I hand over the deeds to all creative control to Blaze.

eep, lol.

Thanks for the compliment.

i like it

Hows it coming Trekki?

Oh, God, I'm lazy. Chapter 2 at last:

Chapter 2: In Which our Hero makes Friends; falls.
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Well, I couldn't hole up in my apartment forever. A week and a half inside, and I could feel myself going stir crazy. The biggest problem: the toilet stopped working, along with the rest of the plumbing. The stench of the offal coming from the bathroom made me literally duct tape my nose shut at one point, and I couldn't tough through it any longer. So I had to get out of the house. Stretch my legs. Assess the situation. I had managed to pick up a rogue military signal on some high band radio frequencies, but nothing of much importance.

So, I had to get going. I knew a guy, Carl, about a hundred yards away across the street. Carl was about fifty five, with grey hair and a nasty scar on his face from his two tours of duty in Vietnam. If I wanted to talk to anybody, I wanted to talk to Carl. He was in good shape for his age, and would be armed. Carl also prepared for these situations, though not as in depth as I did. He would have survived. The zombies seemed to travel in clusters, and I could tell one was coming from my window anyway. In order to risk the hallways, I would use some rope and use it as a makeshift rapelling line and scale the 3 floors down to the ground to Carl's. The next Saturday, I put my plan in action. I was in between the second and third floors when my snub nose pistol fell out of my shoulder holster and clattered on the cement.

"Gruuuuugh."

Shit. I couldn't see the zombie, but I could guess he had heard the pistol. I was contemplating going back up and hiding, when the zombie burst out from the window next to me, sending glass everywhere. The zombie flailed about, grabbing for me as I hung there, like the victim of a particularly nasty looking spider. To make matters worse, I was unarmed! I panicked, and let go of the rope by mistake. I fell the 2 stories, and twisted my ankle pretty bad. The pain made my eyes water, but I got my pistol and emptied the chambers into the zombie, blowing open his skull and raining blood and gore down upon me.

I limped the small trip over to Carl's house. I rang the doorbell, and was met bay a shotgun barrel pointed at me through the mail slot.

"Carl? It's me."

"What happened to you? Are you bit?"

"No, Carl, I'm fine. I just took a bit of a nasty fall, and got a little wet in the process. I twisted my ankle. Please let me in, Carl." I said, with more than a little bit of suffering in my voice. My ankle was really hurting me.

The shotgun pulled in to the door, and it opened inside. It was dark in Carl's house, and a bit musty, but I should be fine here with Carl for a few more days.

God damn, I need a bath. Carl's got a first aid kit. I'm going to need a day or two to heal.

Hey, no more? I think this is one of the better stories on here.