Okay when firefox beat me to the plate on a fan-fiction I decided to just not do it at the risk of being labeled a copycat.

Now it seems theres a million other fan fictions here, and well, I'm bored, so here you are;


THE CARRIER
Chapter 1

2am, January 30th, Cadrinoe Island, Western USA.

Heratio stared at himself in the mirror, pale, sweating, his short blonde hair caked with black filth. He tried to steady his breathing, to feel cool air run through his lungs, but he coughed as the air around him seemed dirty, he coughed until he couldn't take anymore and threw up once again into his once plainly white hand-basin, it was now putrid and stained, and it's smell only caused him to feel sicker.

He reached for a hand-towel, grabbing one from the rack on the side of the nearby shower cubical, and started to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Shit." He sighed as he watched his own blood drip rapidly from the wound on his wrist into the hand-basin, having already turned half of the yellow towel a fearfully dark crimson, the animals bite marks clearly visible by the purple bruising surrounding them, even through the copious amounts of clotting blood.

Heratio was getting dizzy, his vision blurred for a second, he lowered his head for a moment to help the blood flow to his brain, then reached clumsily at the mirror, sliding it open to reveal his bathroom cabinet, but not without leaving a huge smear of blood on the glass.

After pushing through the objects in the cabinet for a few minutes looking for some gauze, he realised he was even making a real attempt at finding anything as his mind trailed off elsewhere. In the end he gave up, his eyesight was far too blurred to make anything out, he stumbled over to the towel rack, leaning against the cold tiles to rest his head on his right arm, the arm that wasn't bleeding, he grabbed a full length bath towel and wrapped it tightly around his wrist and hand, he tried to hold it tight by using his thumb, but he was to weak, everything seemed to fade.

Heratio rolled his poorly bandaged arm up inside the undershirt he was still wearing, and slumped as slowly as possible to the floor, resting his head on a pungent bath mat that was in dire need of a wash, he couldn't care less, Heratio was asleep before his eyes even had the chance to close.


Meanwhile, 28 miles off the coast of Cadrinoe.

No one knew the employers real name, everybody referred to him as "The Frank" just like that, "The Frank", it wasn't grammatically correct, it made no sense and he didn't like it, but it's what they called him.

"Alright listen up you filthy bunch of rifle monkeys!" The Frank stood up in the middle of the chopper, a juiced up surplus HUEY, it was just stupid, he wasn't impressing any of the Mercs, and they were all hoping the same thing - that he would fall down and make an ass of himself. "Standard drill, genu-INEEE freaker escapee! We have unconfirmed reports of attacks, but this doggy has no position as of yet, so we are faced with a island of around 12 square miles with no where to start looking!"

"Yo, The Frank, is this an infestation or just another fucking lone freaker hunt?" Dirty spoke up, his real name was Philip Sanchez, people called him Dirty, for obvious reasons.

The Frank got right up in Dirtys face YO, RIFLE-MONKEY, DID I TELL YOU YOU COULD OPEN YOUR WORTHLESS FUCKING MOUTH?!

Dirty didnt flinch, but he didnt have a comeback either.

There was a huge clunking sound as the HUEY struggled a little, hell The Frank nearly stumbled. Belen Jordan, or Can as she didnt like to be called, but accepted, or otherwise the other Mercs called her BJ, which was just flat out disgusting for anyone whos mind was always in the gutter (and with sweeper team, their minds were always on the most immature things possible), sat alone on the old gunners bench (now designed to cater for regular troop transportation).

The other two guys were Pete Hack Borland and Sydney Cheese Hope. Hack, as his name suggested, knew computers, and they never could figure out what Cheese was good for, supposedly he was a mechanic, but they hadnt used him yet, and that was after 14 drops.

None of them, except the Frank, were American Citizens, born and raised maybe, but none had permanent residency in the USA. They were Mercenaries, corporate Military, they were used to keep information about what was really going on away from the average Joe, and that included the American Military, they were pawns, but they were highly paid ones, so they didnt ask questions.

Dirty sat down next to Can. You know. He started. We could be about to drop in on about 12 square miles o hungry Freakers, and the only thing we have that could save us, is this piece o shit chopper, so what Im meaning to say is, in case we dont make it. Dirty could hardly contain his laughter. I love you Can! He threw his arms around Can laughing hysterically.

Can pushed him away half-heartedly. If we get down there and its crawling with Freakers, Im gonna blow your fucking head off and pass you off as one of them, you got that Dirty?

The Frank was watching them the whole time. If you two are done blowing each other off, we can suit up, that is, if its okay with you?

Can sighed disapprovingly at the situation, Dirty continued to chuckle.

This post has been edited by Soapurb on October 31, 2013 05:38 pm

THE CARRIER
Chapter 2

8:21 am, January 30th
DAY 1 OF THE INFECTION

Heratios eyes opened wide as he took in a breath, his lungs felt tender, like he had been holding his breath a long time, he still felt sick, but the pain was gone. Heratio stumbled to his feet and looked for his bathroom mirror for a while before he realised he was in his living room. He walked down the hall and took the door to his right, entering the bathroom and leaning over the sink, waiting to vomit again. He could taste in his mouth, but it was strange, it tasted different. He spat into the basin, a sticky trail of diluted blood seeped from his lips and came to rest in the bottom of the sink. He realised the taste in his mouth was blood.

How what the hell is happening.

Heratio caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, the shock of what he saw quickly brought his eyes back to the mirror. He looked horribly pale, his skin chapped, his lips thin, his hair was even a lighter colour than it was just a few hours before, but most shocking of all, the outside of his mouth, chin, and most of his upper body and neck were covered in blood, his eyes quickly darted over his body to check the rest of him, and sure enough, his hands were caked in dry blood.

Heratio threw up again, filling the sink with putrid, bloody vomit, so thick that it would not go down the drain. He started to cry as he turned on the faucet, trying to wash it down the sink like it was just some kind of bad dream. Suddenly he caught sight of something, he scooped his hand into the basin and brought what he had found closer to his face a single human eyeball sat in the palm of his hand.

There was a scream outside, it was barely audible and Heratio couldnt tell if it was a man or a woman. He made his way out onto his front porch to see what was going on, he needed answers.

Heratio dropped to his knees when he got outside, he watched in horror at what had happened to Cadrinoe, corpses lie in the street, cars and other vehicles totalled all over the place, people running around, some seemingly bezerk with anger, others in fear. Across the street a man and what looked like his daughter were standing on the roof of their house, shooting anyone who came too close, but most of the time, the shots didnt take anyone down.

Heratio! there was a cry from Heratios right Heratio!

He looked to the voice to see his neighbour, Mrs Belle, an old woman in her 60s hanging out of her 2nd story window.

Heratio get inside! Get inside! Everyone is going nuts, you have to stay inside or theyll get you too!

Heratio nodded quickly, unable to answer as his throat was dry with fear, then he quickly ran back inside, locking the door behind him. He slid to the ground with his back still against the door, the sounds of the horror outside muffled by the thick wooden door.

Heratio put his face in his hands with tears in his eyes. Wake up, wake the fuck up. He took a breath, then realised breathing wasnt something he needed to do much anymore, in fact, he had probably only done it a few times since he woke up.


Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the Cadrinoe nature reserve.

Alright Rifle-Monkey, step up and look alive! The Franks voice boomed through Cans tent as he leaned his head in. Can didnt give much of a response, just rolling over and letting out a groan. RISE AND SHINE MAGGOT! The Frank yelled. Can woke up completely and climbed out of the tent while The Frank woke everyone else up, they didnt need to get ready, they werent keeping the tents, and they had had to sleep in full gear, weapons at their sides.

Dirty stood up and copped a lecture for sleeping with his boots off, then rubbed his eyes and wondered if The Frank had even gone to sleep.

Crazy bastard. he yawned to Hack. Hack didnt respond, he was too busy trying to get his overly long black hair under his cap, they all know that military rules didnt apply to Mercs, but Hack always took it too far, his clothes didnt even resemble uniform, apart from the Kevlar he usually strapped on over his favourite AC/DC shirt.

Cheese stood up in his tent, knocking it right over and running the entire thing in one swift movement, he stepped out and lit a cigarette, then stretched.

Dirty smiled, his grin resembled a child whod just done something to be proud of. Freaker Hunt sir?

The Frank Sighed, giving no real answer, then smacked a clip into his .44 Avenger Magnum. Alright rifle-monkeys listen up, this is no hunt, we have complete infestation, after some recon work I have concluded this is no ordinary ho-down, this joint is CRAWWWL-ling, with freakers, what we need to do is this, we go in, find The Carrier for this strain, pull out, and nip this situation in the ass with a couple of warheads from the safety of our freaker-free homes.

Umm, The Frank, sir. Hack stepped forward a little. If everyones a freaker, that means the carrier is a huma- a freaker now sir, that dog is dead, theres someone out there whos a half-freaker.

Cheese stomped out his smoke Jesus Christ.

The Frank looked at Hack, then at the rest of the team Well lets hope whoever that person is, Gods with em, because someone oughta be.

No one said another word, they readied their gear within a few seconds, and started to move towards the city.

This post has been edited by Soapurb on October 31, 2013 05:38 pm

Well apparently everyone hates my story, but please, I'm not easily offended so if you do hate it just post and say so.

yes i hate your story {j/k} becasue herito he is a good zombie and Ms.Belle didn't even notice that he had blood all over him and an eyeball missing!

He didn't have an eyeball missing, he threw up the eyeball.

Maybe hes been eating things he shouldn't have been?

THE CARRIER
Chapter 3

10:14 am, January 30th
DAY 1 OF THE INFECTION

Heratio jolted up for the floor.

Shit, I must have passed out.

Heratio could feel pain again, he wasnt sure if that was good or bad, but his hands were quite sore, he pulled off his emergency bandage from his wrist.

Fierce little puppy wasnt he? He chuckled.

He twisted his wrist slowly as he inspected his hands, they were bruised, but how could that have happened? His eyes moved further down to inspect his bite wound, and to his surprise, it was nearly fully healed. Regardless of the circumstances, in which apparently people outside were going insane, he actually felt a lot physically better. Heratio decided to have a good breakfast, wash up, then figure out what was really going on outside.

Heratio could still hear the madness outside, yet as long as he didnt look, he could take his mind off it, at least for the most part. He quickly went to the bathroom and changed out of his blood-soaked clothes, still baffled as to where half the blood had come from, but caring less and less, he looked at himself in the mirror and smiled when he saw the colour back in his skin and eyes. He felt a lot better, and for some reason was feeling less and less afraid of what could be happening in the real world, because right now he was happy in his own little world.

He pushed down a couple of pieces of toast, but he was still hungry. Heratio went to his freezer in the back room, he couldnt get his mind off food, he opened the freezer but there was nothing there, then his eyes caught glimpse of some bacon rashes in tight plastic. I couldnt eat that, He thought. He was a vegetarian, besides, they must have been there a fair while.

Fuck it. He said smiling. They will only go to waste here anyways, no point in having that pig die for nothing.

Heratio pulled down his frying pan from on top of the shelf; he couldnt take his eyes off the bacon. He started to put oil in the pan but his eyes were still on the Bacon. Finally he couldnt take it anymore, he tore open the plastic and shovelled the bacon in raw, barely chewing.

What the hell am I doing? He asked himself, scared that he might indeed answer.

He started to get dizzy and fell slowly to the floor, the last thing he caught glimpse of before he dropped to the floor was his front door, it had been smashed at from the inside, the wood was splintering and damaged, but the impact marks looked familiar. He raised his bruised hands to his blurry field of vision, and then was struck with the realisation of what was happening when he went to sleep.

No He tried his best to stay awake and aware, but his best didnt cut it, within a few seconds he was unconscious.


Meanwhile, not all that far away.


Sweeper team had finally reached the city, and could see their first freakers stumbling around in the distance, they didnt expect the city to be two hours walk, the distance wasnt far, but the terrain was rough, they realised that if The Frank really did do the recon he said he did, then he really didnt get any sleep last night.

The city resembled a warzone, there were a few corpses lying in the once quaint little street, deserted vehicles were scattered around, some had been on fire but they were all out now, the only sounds were some distant moans. It was your typical suburban area, everyones lawn was bright green and freshly mowed, all the houses were the same creamy white colour, with terracotta tile roofs, the only difference between this and any other north-eastern American street was the mess in the streets and the freakers now moving rather quickly towards sweeper team.

Looks like the freakers think were a snack! Dirty laughed, raising his weapon to line up his targets, Dirty has a custom made shotgun, his own little creation which he cherished a lot, it fired 8 gauge buckshots, and could be fired fully automatic if the situation called for it, it had two barrels, and it had two clips of buckshots, running under the firing chamber, side-by-side, the firing pin variates from left to right, firing of a shell from each barrel in a systematic manner, the weapon was insane, and it fitted Dirtys personality, and his mental stability.

The Frank slowly pulled his .44 from his holster. The walking dead have finally decided to join us, I hope you rifle-monkeys are ready for a new guests?

Can pulled her modified mp5k from over her shoulder, where it has been sitting jammed between her back and her backpack.

LETS LIGHT IT UP! Cheese screamed, cocking his smart-gun to ready it to fire, his weapon was state of the art modern technology, it fired caseless rounds, he had about 10, 000 rounds in his weapon right now, and if and when he ran out, all he needed to do was slap another box about the size of a car battery into the left side and give the weapon another cock by pulling a small lever down the right side. His weapon did however slow him down a fair amount, it was rather big and had to be fired from the hip with a strap going over his left shoulder, but it still beat carrying around one of the older models with a belt of .30 cal ammo wrapped around him.

Hack didnt say a word, he always tried everything to keep his cool, so he just readied his colt commando and took the safety off.

They all knew their jobs, they had done it countless times before on every drop, and this was their 15th drop now, everything was just routine to them.

There was a short pause while they waited for the zombies to get a little closer, then it was time.

Die you fucking freaker! Dirty screamed, opening fire, and quickly taking three zombies down with his first three shots, he swore aloud when his forth shot missed the head and hit the fourth zombie in the right shoulder, throwing its arm back until the left side of its rib cage tore right back opening the zombie like a tin can while a few rotting organs spilled out onto the ground.

Cheese was ripping hordes of zombies apart with the smart-gun while he moved to the front of the group, he felt safer up the front because he had the best weapon and he knew it, if he was up the front, they killed more freakers, and if they killed more freakers, they were more likely to live, he always felt uneasy at the back, he was scared of hitting the other Mercs. He kicked the zombie which Dirty had messed up so badly to the ground, placed his foot on its badly broken chest, and unloaded a few rounds from the smart-gun into its head.

HEY! That was my kill asshole! Yelled Dirty, capping another two.

Someone has to finish off your half-assed attempts at killing freakers, you mess em up like this but leave em walking and they start to smell like a backed up septic tank! Cheese didnt give Dirty time for rebuttal, he just started firing again.

Can was moving in next to The Frank who was taking a freaker out every shot of his .44, his expression never changing, and one arm behind his back. Can aimed for the upper chest and let of three round bursts, letting the recoil make the headshots for her, that was freaker-killing 101, if you didnt hit them in the head, they werent dead. She took her left hand off the grip and fired off a few rounds using only her trigger hand, she waved her left hand in the air a little to cool it off, she had managed to fit a talon grenade launcher to her mp5k, something it wasnt designed for, and she paid for it by not having enough grip to hold without putting her hand too close to the muzzle and always ended up with a nice black burned streak down the index finger of her left glove.

Hack quickened his pace until he was just behind cheese, covering his back, a freaker made a leap from over the hood of a car and Hack put one almost dead in its forehead, Hack was a good shot, but he knew little about firearms, it was everybody elses opinion that the colt commando is a beautiful weapon, yet Hack had done nothing but buy the standard kit and that was the end of it, that was an unwritten Merc commandment, Thou shalt make my gun as badass as possible, yet hack had just bought an awesome car, minus the spoilers, fins, stylish hubcaps, and cool flames down the sides.

The freaker horde started to thin out, and by the time the group hit the other end of the street there was nothing but a few random corpses that twitched a little. The lawns were red, so were the outside walls of some on the houses, everything stank.

Why is it, places always seem to look WORSE when we are done with em? Dirty asked, not expecting an answer as he started forcing buckshots up into the obviously homemade yet well crafted twin clips on his weapon.

Freaker. Hack said blankly, nodding in the general direction of a rotting corpse which hobbled towards The Frank from behind a truck.

The Frank pinned the freacker by the neck against the side of the truck with his foot, keeping perfect balance like a gymnast on a training bar, the freaker tried to bite him but there was no way its teeth would make ti through the tough leather of his boot, The Frank slapped a clip coolly into his Avenger and put a round straight through the freakers head at point blank, then released his foot so its corpse could drop to the ground like a rag doll.

Can stared at the brain matter on the side of the truck, it was half-rotten and burned by the muzzle flash of the gun, shed always thought brain matter it looked uncannily like mashed potatoes.

The Frank spoke up Okay, we face a rather large predic-IIIMENT here people, seems we need to find the carrier for this wretched strain of The Freakerfier and bring his or her ass out of here so we can make an anti-serum for this strain, we have a rather large area here people, and it will not be easy to find this carrier, so keep a look out, they will be just as vicious as these bastards, only they wont look dead, and theyll be about 10 times as fast as any of these slow ass bastards, so watch yourselves. I cannot stress enough, DO NOT KILL THIS MOTHER FUCKER, we need them, whoever it is, this is one of the last known strains and we really need to nip it in the butt, knock em out, and keep em away from any edible meat products, if we can keep em like that long enough theyll come back to the real world and we can ship the half-freak off for treatment, any questions?

Dirty yawned.

This post has been edited by Soapurb on October 31, 2013 05:39 pm

its a nice story, i just hadnt had the time to read it untill now

keep going!

ooh nice story

i'm lovin' it more than mcdonalds

Sorry I haven't been poisting anoymore chapers, no time to finish off the 4th chaper at the moment because I'm working on a mod based on the story called "The Strain". It's not very good at the moment with only a few hours of development, the source SDK is really user friendly, making this mod is way easy compared to most games, anyways, back to testing it, atm I'm running around with a completely overpowered gun that shoot's out 10 perfectly accurate bullets at once which do 50 damage each and has 10000 rounds in the clip.

GG.

I will post the next chapter to the story ASAP.

The Strian is that a book?

WTF is a freaker?!
goods story!

PURE MOTHA' F*CKIN' PWNAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BARLGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOUR STORY KICK MY ASS WITH A Q-TIP!!!!!!!!!!

hey man I Bumped this for ya' becuase you said you couldn't find it.... plz countiune it it is one of meh fav stories