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another post apocalyptic zombie story

Discussion in 'General Gun Discussions' started by supraneurotoxin, Aug 4, 2007.

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  1. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    I had this bouncing around in my head, half on paper, so I thought I'd finish it and post it here to see what you guys think. if you want, I'll post more chapters, if not, it's cool.
    these are the first two chapters, and they still need some tweaking. well, here you go. :eek:
     
  2. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    1.
    Jack Harper winced as the truck bounced over the gravel of the breakdown lane, swerving to avoid the sign lying across the road welcoming him to Monroe county. The RG&E truck that had knocked it over lay on it’s side. Jack could see movement through the windshield, But the dried bloodstains on the glass told him it’s occupants were beyond help.

    The driver, Keith Bauer, slide open the window separating the cab from the cargo area; “Almost there man, ‘bout fifteen more minutes”

    “thank God, ” Jack groaned, stiffly shifting his weight to his other buttock, “my ass is beginning to feel like raw hamburger.”

    “ah man, don’t mention hamburgers, all I have in my tank is another one of those damn MREs. They better have a stocked grocery store up here somewhere, that’s all I can say.”

    There was a collective moan from the dozen or so men and women in the back of the stake-body Chevy as they stretched and shifted, attempting to work five hours of bumpy road on a plank floor out of their muscles. Before the infection eight months ago they had been mailmen, secretaries, telemarketers, week day commuters; now they all bore the faces of hardened soldiers. Watching your loved ones die, then get up and try to eat you will do that to a person, in jack’s opinion. His thoughts went briefly to his daughter before he could shut them out. There was a time and place for grief and mourning. This wasn’t it.

    The truck drove under a large banner still hanging by it’s nylon cords from an overpass, advising Jack to change his smoke detector batteries when he set his clocks back. Even after eight months, he marveled at how fast things had gone downhill.

    When the attacks first started, they were passed off as random acts of violence. As the incidents grew in number, the CDC released a statement that so called “crazed attackers” may be victims a form of virus. Experiments were conducted, men in white lab coats scribbled on clipboards, moved things from one test tube to another, and finally surmised that it was indeed a virus, one that targets the frontal lobe of the brain. One with a one hundred percent fatality rate.

    By the time the nature of the virus was determined, that it brought it’s victims back from the dead as murderous cannibals, there were five walking corpses for every living human left on earth. The last thing jack remembered ever seeing on television was a haggard looking Anderson Cooper informing the nation that the only way to stop one of the infected was to sever the head or destroy the brain. That had been September fourteenth.

    Keith pulled the truck to the side of the road as the first signs of civilization began to appear, about a quarter mile up the road. Jack stood up, grunting as his bones protested the movement with loud pops and creaks. He checked over his weapon, a Romanian WASR 10 AK-47, chambered for a 7.62 x 39 cartridge. His before the infection, though now modified to fully automatic. He also carried a Glock 17 9mm on his right hip, and a Smith and Wesson model 19 Combat Magnum chambered for a .357 Magnum in a shoulder holster under his left arm. Though considering what may be awaiting them up ahead in town, he felt slightly under gunned.

    Keith hopped down from the cab of the truck and lit a cigarette; ”Should be just over this next hill. Whole stretch of stores, looked absolutely pristine from the chopper, like nobody had any time at all to loot it.”

    “Which probably means there’s a whole town’s population of rotties down there.”

    Keith clapped him on the shoulder; ”or, maybe they got evacuated. See why I’m around? Someone needs to offset your negativity.”

    Jack ignored this; “and you’re sure you saw a hospital?”

    “completely sure. Small one, but it had a Mercy Flight heli pad on the roof. Big red cross and everything. They may even have something to get that pesky stick out of your ass.”

    Jack smiled in spite of himself. He’d feel better once they had the supplies they came for, and were on their way back home to the Green Zone. A young man whose name Jack couldn’t remember sat on the back bumper of the stake-body, nervously fiddling with the M4 he was holding. He looked to Jack to be all of nineteen or twenty.

    “That kid going to be alright?”

    Keith glanced over to him; ”oh, Mike Hughes. sure he will. I wouldn’t have brought him otherwise. Little ****’s a crack shot with that thing. Watched him pop a rottie in the head at 300 yards when he was on sentry duty back in the Green Zone.”

    “I can do better.” a slim brunette, Amy Lockett, stated as she ambled over, handing a 12 gauge Mossberg 590 to Keith.

    “What do you have there?” Jack asked, indicating the rifle slung across her back.

    “My baby,” she replied primly, “Sako TRG-42 338 Lapua Magnum. Was my dad’s before the infection. Built it himself.”

    “that’s a lot of gun for you, isn’t it?” Keith asked, looking over the Mossberg.

    “aww, jealous? I Bet no woman’s ever said that to YOU, huh?”

    Before Jack could intervene, Amy had reached over and yanked the muzzle of Mike Hughes’ gun down;
    “what the hell do you think your doing?”

    “Rottie! Over there!” the boy stammered, pointing north.

    “he’s not bothering us” Keith said, not unkindly ,“but if you start cracking of rounds, a whole lot more of ‘em will be. Gunfire’s like a dinner bell to these things, remember?”

    “enough.” Jack said, “lets get moving. And no one shoots at anything unless absolutely necessary, understand?”


    2.
    Two hours later finds our crew loading the last few boxes of canned goods from a grocery chain store into the back of an abandoned semi that Keith had gotten running. As they had gotten into town, Amy spotted a large bell tower on top of The United Church of Christ, and decided it was time for a climb. Keith had muttered “snipers”, shook his head and wandered off to find the semi.

    Now Jack and Keith were sitting on a couple of crates by the loading dock drinking warm Coke and discussing their next move.

    Jack said, “doesn’t it bother you that we’ve only come across one rottie since we got into this town?”

    Keith shook his head, “no, that only bothers you. I for one, am happy to not see another damn zombie today. Lets hit the hospital and get the hell home, I‘d like a beer.”

    “I guess so.” Jack pulling a radio out of his pocket, “Amy? We’re heading over to the hospital now, how’s the road look?”

    The radio crackled, and they heard Amy’s voice, “clear as day my friend, not a rottie in sight.”

    Jack raised his eyebrows, and Keith puts his hands out palms up in a “I don’t know” gesture.

    “ok Amy, keep us posted.” Jack said.

    As he was stuffing the radio back into his pocket, the air was suddenly filled with automatic rifle fire.

    “what the hell is that?!” Keith shouted as they both jumped up. They ran around the corner of the store in time to see a shambling figure in a plaid shirt with a button that said “ask me about our box wine specials!!” pinned to the front of it tearing a good sized piece of meat out of Mike Hughes’ arm. Mike was firing wildly into the air with the M4. The bloody strip of meat dripped red starbursts on the broken glass from the liquor store window Mike had smashed in with a planter, which lay spilling dirt onto the side walk at the pair’s feet.

    Jack went for his Glock, but Keith was faster. The 145 grain bullet from Keith’s 1911 entered the man’s head just below the temple, blowing fetid chucks of greenish grey brain and skull against the brick wall. Mike’s wild shooting and screaming was cut off abruptly as Keith’s second shot put a smoking black hole in his forehead, and added a splash of red to the already gory wall.

    Jack stared at Keith, disbelievingly.

    “What did you want me to do?!” Keith bellowed, ”the kid would’ve been dead in an hour anyway, and we don’t need every rottie in the tri-county area thinking there’s a buffet from the racket going on here!”

    “shut up!” Jack said quickly, “you hear that?”

    A low guttural moaning could be heard, barely, across the night air. They looked at each other, wide-eyed “rotties!”

    They heard a muffled blast, like thunder, which couldn’t be anything other than Amy’s rifle. Jack patted his pocket, and cursed as he realized he must have dropped the radio in the grocery store loading dock. He broke into a run, hearing Keith huffing behind him, getting to the loading dock in time to hear;
    “-asement! Get the hell out of there, rotties, hundreds of them busted out of the hospital basement, must have been a refuge down there, crisis center or something, Jesus is anybody on this thing, get out of there!”

    The others had heard Amy on the radio and were tearing into the loading dock, dumping boxes of supplies and jumping into the truck. Keith jumped behind the wheel, and Jack climbed into the passenger seat as Keith threw the truck into gear and floored the gas.

    As they rounded the corner onto the street, they saw the whole group of them: mailmen, secretaries, telemarketers, weekday commuters, all shambling, reaching towards them with one basic need: food.

    “Jesus.” Jack murmured.

    “their between us and the church” Keith moaned.

    Just then something hit the roof of the truck, and jack’s hand was halfway to his holster when Amy’s head appeared upside down in the window;

    “hi there!” she said, demurely.

    Jack gasped, “how did you--?”

    “Hopped rooftops. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
     
  3. cpaspr

    cpaspr Member

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    I hope this is enough encouragement for you to keep going, and really I hope you have it all done, cause we all really hate waiting. :D
     
  4. Arkie

    Arkie Member

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    Yea! Keep up the good work.

    I like reading stories like this.
     
  5. Tommygunn

    Tommygunn Member

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    Edit.
     
    Last edited: Aug 4, 2007
  6. Rudy Kohn

    Rudy Kohn Member

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    I like it!

    But then, I am partial to zombie fiction... :D

    It's got a good pace--kind of quick without being slapdash. Good descriptions (short but effective), too.

    I look forward to more, if you decide to post them.
     
  7. trickyasafox

    trickyasafox Member

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    Nice! I see your from rochester. I'm from syracuse. Nice to see a story with places i recognize.
     
  8. Liberty1776

    Liberty1776 Member

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    Much better than the average!!! Please keep going...:D
     
  9. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    I'm glad you guys like it:)
    chapters three and four will be completed shortly, in the next hour or so.
     
  10. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    3.
    “More tea Daddy? “
    Jack Harper looked down into his plastic tea cup to check it’s level of grape kool-aid, then at the pretty little blond girl with blue eyes staring at him from across the small table in the humid playhouse.
    “why thank you, sweetheart!”


    “Thank you for what?”, Keith asked.

    “huh?” jack opened his eyes and peered drowsily at the man driving the semi.

    “you thanked me, then called me sweetheart. Were you sleeping?”

    “yeah. never mind. How close are we?” jack asked, sitting up.

    “Bout three miles out from the Green Zone.” Keith said, yawning.

    “why didn’t you wake me up to drive for a while?”

    Keith shrugged, “I figured it was the least I could do after having to blow that kid away”

    Jack sat forward, completely awake, “whoa. Hold up. That wasn’t your fault, not by any stretch of the imagination. He’s the one who was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, and not watching his ass. His fault, not yours.”

    “I brought him out here-”

    “doesn’t matter. Once you start blaming yourself, there’s no going back. He ****ed up, it’s just that simple.”

    Keith shrugged “whatever. We‘re here anyway.”

    The forbidding concrete wall of the Green Zone rose in the distance, and Jack could just barely make out the armed sentries walking the top of it. It should have been a relieving, homecoming feeling, but all jack saw when he looked at that wall was a prison. He couldn’t help but feel that the remains of humanity were locked away in a kennel of sorts, while the undead were allowed to roam the world at will.

    The green zone was a five acre settlement of trailers, tents and hastily built homes, surrounded by a twenty foot tall cinderblock wall. Jack and Keith had played a large role in the creation of the Green Zone, though it’s quite a bit less glamorous than it sounds. It came together much the way old mining towns did, starting with a group of shelters, originally surrounded by busses pilfered from nearby school. As more refugees arrived or were rescued, the settlement grew. There had always been a communal eating place, though now it was quite bigger, enclosed and had a stage. Someone eventually decided there should be a trading post of sorts, though it was mostly filled with arts and crafts fabricated by the children and the elderly. The supplies that teams like Jack and Keith’s brought back were for everyone’s use. The rules here were simple: Everyone works, everyone eats.

    The gate into the Green Zone was constructed from two of the original buses, the exterior surfaces completely covered in thick steel plates. The tires had been removed so that the shuttles would travel along railroad tracks laid in the ground. As their truck pulled up, jack recognized the bulbous form of Frank Wallace standing atop the wall. Frank motioned for the gate to be opened, then walked down to meet them.

    “hey boys! How’d we do?”

    Keith shook his head ”not so good Frank. We lost Mike Hughes.”

    “Oh, Jesus. How the hell did that happen?”

    Before Keith could speak, jack snapped, “he was infected, how the hell else do you think it happened?”

    Frank’s beady, piggish eyes darted at them around the cab of the truck, ”I see. Anybody else get bit?”

    Jack rolled his eyes. ”if we did, do you think we’d be here?”

    “you never know. Hey, you guys didn’t come across any whiskey did you?”

    “not even a drop” jack said as he waved Keith ahead. ”see you later, Frank.”

    4.
    Jack Harper walked slowly up the path to the fifty foot long blue and white trailer he called his home. As he opened the door, an elderly woman who had been sitting on the couch put down the book she was reading. By the look on her face, he could tell it hadn’t been a good day for anybody.

    “Hello jack.”

    “Hi Sylvia.” he paused before asking his daily question; ”did she get out of bed today?”

    “no honey, she didn’t. she wouldn’t eat anything either. It hasn’t been one of her best days, Jack.”

    After thanking Sylvia and showing her out, Jack stood at the master bedroom door, holding a tray with some canned soup, crackers and a small vase with a flower from the garden outside, preparing himself. Finally he went in, and sat on the edge of the bed.

    “hi, honey.”

    Beth Harper spoke without rolling over, “remember the time we went to Six Flags, out in Darien? She wore her little sundress, the one with the cornflower blue print. Wasn’t she pretty? All three of us went on the pirate ship ride, and she was so scared at first. Remember how she clung to me? Then we watched the laser light show and she fell asleep on the ride home. That was such a good day, wasn’t it?

    “Yes dear, we had lots of good days. I brought some soup, are you hungry?”

    She went on as if she didn’t hear him, “remember when she played the broccoli in the school play, ‘you are what you eat’? remember how well she recited her lines, how proud we were? Remember---”

    Jacks radio crackled; ”Jack. You there?”

    Jack sighed and worked the walkie out of his jeans pocket “who is this? Now’s not a good time.”

    “this is Pete Sampson Jack, you’d better get down to the dining hall. Keith is beating the crap out of Frank Wallace.”
     
  11. Glock22

    Glock22 Member

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    I like how this story deals with after the zombies take over rather than when they first start out. Good story.
     
  12. JHill

    JHill Member

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    I think it is good.

    One point of nitpick--145gr from a 1911? Is that a .40 1911 and an unusual round?
     
  13. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    oops. noted. that was supposed to be 185 grain. thanks:p

    that's why I posted! constructive criticism.

    BTW, can anyone suggest a title?
     
  14. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    I'm going to be busy tomorrow(sunday) so I won't be able to post till monday morning. I didn't want to leave you guys hanging though, so here's the first part of chapter 5.
     
  15. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    5.
    When Jack burst into the dining hall, Keith was poised with a wooden chair over a bleeding Frank Wallace, who looked convincingly like a fat, greasy rat cornered in the kitchen; Frightened, but not sorry for ruining the Sunday roast.

    “Keith, what the hell are you doing?!”

    Red and fuming, Keith forced himself to articulate, ”this fat son of a bitch was going around saying he’d HAVE some booze if that ‘stupid’ kid hadn’t screwed up and got himself killed!”
    Frank’s beady eyes darted back and forth, and again Jack was reminded of an unwanted rodent. He whined,
    “why is this suddenly MY fault! You shot him!”

    “You motherf--” Keith swung the chair, and had it not been for Jack catching it by a leg and wrapping Keith in a bear hug , Frank certainly would have had a new shape to his head for the rest of his life.

    “that’s right jack! He’s crazy! Stop him!” Frank squealed.

    Jack wheeled on him, “get the hell out of here, before I let him kill you!”

    Wide eyed, frank scurried out the side door, his plump backside working like two fleshy pistons under his pants.

    “What the **** is wrong with you?!” Keith slurred, and Jack grimaced at the stench of liquor rolling off his breath.

    “go home Keith. You’re cocked off your ass. Get some sleep, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

    Keith waved an unsteady finger in Jacks face, ”you’re damn right we will.”
     
  16. Caimlas

    Caimlas Member

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    Looking good! You've got some good character development going.

    Remember to proof read it out loud before you post! :p
     
  17. Hoppy590

    Hoppy590 Member

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    as a zombie afficianado. im digging it! i like the post event drama!
     
  18. darkknight

    darkknight Member

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    time to feed the addiction dont u think. its been to long. : )
     
  19. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    new chapter coming this afternoon, I promise.
     
  20. jimmylove

    jimmylove Member

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    Good story, keep it coming!
     
  21. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    6.
    Beth Harper floored the gas and spun the wheel, as the librarian-looking woman with the steel grey hair lost her grip on the window and fell to the ground, the gristly strip of flesh with her ear attached to it tore and came off as she rolled down the street.

    “damnit! Would you take it easy down there!”

    Jack Harper clutched the edge of the sunroof as he fired off a burst from his AK-47 at a group of McDonald’s employees that rushed the side of the Explorer. Beth ignored him as she whipped the SUV around another corner, clipping the rear bumper of an aged Chevy Lumina that was stalled in the middle of the street.

    “which way is the school from here? Left or right?”

    “left!” Jack said, loading another mag into the AK, “then a quick right into the school driveway!”

    As the Explorer screamed around the next corner, they both saw the smoke pouring out of what was left of Scottsville Primary School, and the tail of the small airplane that had crashed through the roof. Beth screeched the truck to a halt in the middle of the street, jumped out and begin running towards the flaming ruins, her hair and eyebrows searing from the waves of heat rolling off the pyre. Jack caught her around the waist as they fell to the ground, Beth still fighting to get to the school.

    “Sara! Oh Jesus-”


    “-no!“ Beth Harper sat up and opened her eyes to the utter lightlessness of the bedroom. In the first few minutes of consciousness, she tried to figure out why she felt so grimy. She could smell her unwashed hair and body, and the sheets she slept on were caked with filth. Then her life came flooding back to her like an inky tidal wave, and suddenly nothing mattered anymore. She moaned forlornly, and pulled her knees to her chest. The door opened, sending a bright column of light through the dust in the air. The plump, friendly looking form of Sylvia Reynolds appeared in the glare.

    “Beth, Honey? Are you awake? I thought I heard you cry out.”

    “I’m fine, go away.” Beth turned away from the brilliance, pulling the soiled covers over her face.

    “I can warm up some soup or-”

    “no. leave me alone.”

    Beth listened as Sylvia closed the door and padded back down the hall, then she rolled over and sat at the edge of the bed. Her head swam for a moment from lack of sustenance, then she reached for the table drawer. She pushed aside a Smith and Wesson model 10 .38 revolver, a box of Kleenex, a bag of cough drops, until she came across a small orange bottle, several more of which were hidden under some blankets in the bedroom’s only closet. In the day’s following the infection, she had discovered the Quaaludes while hunting through a pharmacy for antibiotics. She popped two in her mouth, dry swallowed them and lay back into the foul bed and waited for sleep.
     
  22. guy sajer

    guy sajer Member

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    Thanks for entertaining us .

    :)

    "Life after Death" ?
     
  23. supraneurotoxin

    supraneurotoxin Member

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    NICE title! I was tossing around "kingdom of the dead", but that's much better.
     
  24. Little Loudmouth

    Little Loudmouth Member

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    One thing, as a writer as well...you used the exact same description twice, within about two pages worth of writing. "Mailmen, secretaries...etc"

    as a general rule it's good to stay away from that kind of thing, at least to me. It might just be a personal opinion on my part though.

    Other than that it's a good story. Well written and well paced.
     
  25. larry_minn

    larry_minn Member

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    i LIKE.. Why would he modify a rifle to full auto for zombies? Head shots are needed and ammo is heavy. (As it seems zombies don't use tools/cars/etc) Why not pick up weapons from armory (thinking claymores,gernades, belt fed. As well as say a Bradley. Should be able to go thru any number of zombies without (great) danger to those inside.
    I may have misunderstood. Were the zombies trapped in a basement and someone in forage team let them out? OR had they (lived) there when (live) food ran out?

    Maybe add some silent weapons. To take out single/couple zombies without bringing down hord.
     
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