Setting
Setting
0.00 INK
As he continued onward he thought of standing up, but no he wouldn't. He was lucky they hadn't found him yet... they say they can smell fear. And he wasn't going to take a chance of standing up and being a tall, six foot three, beacon of fear. He was going to have to live with crouching. Eventually he found a door, bathed by the sunlight through one of the boarded up windows in the building he was in. Now that he looked through the window he wondered why he even walked into the building. It was a stupid idea in the first place. But he was smart, he knew how to hide in the building. After all the monsters weren't that smart, he had a couple close calls though. He wasn't dumb enough to use the revolver when a zombie noticed him, he would just smash the head in with a hammer. He moved over to the door, his eyes glinting in the sunlight that bathed the door.
As he opened the door, he felt his skin start to warm up he was covered by light now. He hoped nothing looked this way, yes, that would be horrible. He looked behind him and heard a faint shuffling in the hallway he was just previously in. I need to get away from these... things! They are everywhere, I mean I was just there a couple seconds again. They could of found me! He thought. He was going to have to take the chance of standing up and running. He pushed himself up with his leg muscles, it was hard work considering he had been crouching for a while. He took a second to decide which way to run, then he took off in the left direction. He always went left, it was just where he went, he had worked out for him so far.
He ran off into the sunset, the door creaking shut as he ran. This was going to be another long day in Jersey, yes a long day indeed. Already a close call with one of those monsters. As he ran his stomach growled, he didn't know if he could offer some food for it to shut up. Anything that made noise near him could get him killed. He took a second to stop and think about what to to at a building that used to be a school, but now it was just an abandoned area made of concrete and bricks with more undead lurking in the halls. He looked off into the distance, as he thought about the world as it was now, and he caught the sight of a convenience store. Those stores are small, and not many people would go there during an apocalypse, like this. I might have to go in, so I can eat and so my stomach doesn't give me away to those man-eating monsters.
Setting
0.00 INK
He took in his suroundings again, as he slowly crept forward, dropping to his belly as he crawled towards a car on it's side. He pushed himself off the ground, and peeked around the vehicle. Closer to the undead, he recounted them. Sure enough there were more. He kept his breathing through his nose, and his stance low. He knew that stealth wasn't his strong point, but these things couldn't figure out if a wall was in their way unless they hit it. He shook his head, the boonie hat upon it keeping his hair from shaking. There was nothing here, other than shamblers. He moved into a higher crouch, and began to move back to his little holdout.
He backtracked his steps, keeping low and quiet as he crossed street after street, untill he saw his little marker- a school building. He knew he was right on track. He looked to the left and his right: On the Left was just an empty street, one that bore the school, the right a convenience store. However, there were very few zombies on the open street. He checked his corners again, and kept low and his knees bent as he roadie ran across the street. The sun beat down on him as he used his energy, but the boonie hat and the ventilated jacket kept him remotely cool as he could be wearing the gear he was. His eyes continued to sweep the road, untill he hit the other side. He jumped up onto the sidewalk, before walking down it. He was almost there, not aware if anyone might've seen or followed him.
He continued down the street and turned the corner slowly, with his hand on his waist, where his revolver resode. Once he was sure he could make it, he stood straight up, and jogged to the building across from his current sidewalk- A library. He would jog to the door, and take a deep breath, and a very small break from his jog, before he reached to his side, and dug out his revolver. The nickle-plated weapon shimmered as he tugged it from his waistband. He then reached behind him, and slowly, as not to make the sound of it scratching from it's sheath, pulled his M1 Bayonet from it's sheath. He held it with one hand, and then pulled the hammer of his handgun back with another. Using his knuckle, he slowly pushed the door of the house of literature open, and stuck his revolver in, clearing the doorway with caution as he stepped inside. The heavy steel door clattered shut after it closed, and Joey looked around, keeping his revolver at the ready, and his bayonet tight in his hand. He slowly walked into the library, and looked around. He saw no putrid faces nor movement. He began walking normally, no longer making his footsteps slow. He had cleared this place out this morning, and it seemed it had no new invaders. He counted his blessings, as he resheathed the bayonet, and released the hammer of the revolver, before tucking it back into his pants.
Joey calmly walked to the front desk, and reached behind it, grabbing his backpack of supplies. He would've packed more, but he had to leave that store THEN if he wanted to get out alive. He didn't have the manpower or the weaponry to hold out in store like that for long. Luckly, the libraries of today were like the schools- built more like detainment centers rather than actual places of learning- heavy doors, reinforced windows, at least three emergency exits, and a way to get to the roof. This library in particular had three stories, but he hadn't bothered with the third. He'd chosen this place as his temporary fort. He dug out a pack of ramen noodles, and placed it on the counter. After that, he took out one of his two liter bottles that he had filled with water. The plumbing in the place was out, and so was the electricity. But it was about mid-day, and he honestly didn't need much lightly. Joey looked around for a minute, leaving his to-be meal sitting on the front desk, as he looked around the library, searching for something usable....
Finally he found what he needed. The library was a semi-nice one, and kept decorations around to spruce the place up, and on the floor was a bowl of fake fruit - what every establishment needs. He would take the rather large bowl, and run his hand through the dampen, clearning the dust from the wood. He smirked, and began to carry it back to the front desk. Once there, he would sit down in a swiveling chair, and pour some of his water into the bowl, not even filling haflway. He would open the pack of ramen noodles, and break the block in half, (since there were two servings per block) and dropped the other half in the bowl of water. He would fold the rest of the noodle block back up in it's wrapping, and stuff it back in his backpack. He would let the block sit for a minute, before flipping it over, making sure both sides were getting enough water to soften the noodles.
Finally, after about five minutes on each side, Joey was satisfied with the consistancy of his meal. He smirked, and dunked his fingers into his bowl, and shrugged. He would roll up his sleeve slightly, not wanting to get it messy, and took off his hat, resting it on the desk. He grimaced as he pulled out two fingerfuls of ramen, shoveling it into his mouth. Cold, flavorless ramen wasn't his meal of choice, but it kept him from starving. He continued to do so, untill most of his meal was finished. He sighed as he pushed the bowl away from him, but kept the remaining water in it - he'd use it for tonight's dinner too.
"Now!" He said to himself. "To burn some time." He would reach down behind his backpack, and pull out a book: "The Complete Encyclopedia of Firearms from Around the World". He cracked it open, to where he had the page dog-eared, and resumed his reading, his ears still perked for sound, only reading lightly.
Setting
0.00 INK
Not wanting to take a chance, he crouched and hurried over behind a car. He peered out from behind his cover, the person had just made it to the other side of the street. Now he could not tell where the person was. He stood up and continued to jog, but he moved to the sidewalk where the person had gone. He pressed his back up against a wall and peered around the corner, his trip to the store was going to have to wait. He saw the person continue behind the corner.
Keith crouched as he scurried to cover behind the building the person had gone behind. He could not tell if the human was walking or, it looked like when he had saw him or her, crouching, anymore. He looked behind him, due to the extreme sense someone is always watching you when you are in a dangerous area, and saw a couple zombies. Dammit!!! Dammit, dammit, dammit!!! There are some in the street... I'll need to be careful... god dammit.
He looked back behind the corner, and took a leap of faith, hoping the person wouldn't see him. He pressed his back to the other side of the building, swiveling on his feet. He was lucky, the person had gone inside a building. There was a sign at the top of the building, it read: N RS L BR Y. most of the letters have fallen enough. It was probably due to the missiles that had struck, or bad shots that had, somehow, knocked the letters off.Though, the letters weren't on the ground.
He wasn't going to bother thinking about it any longer, it's not like it matters. He could put two-and-two together and realize it used to be a library, though. He jogged over to the building, just as the door closed behind the person. He wasn't going to take the chance of opening the door and alerting the person, for all he knew the person could have gone crazy. He looked up and saw a few windows, perhaps he could climb up, crawl into the building from a window, and then study the person.
He looked around for some footholds, and found an indent in the building. He placed one foot inside the area and pushed himself up, pieces of cement crumbling from under his foot; like a gray rain shower. Instinctively he grabbed onto the area above him without looking, and luckily, grabbed hold of another area of crumbling away cement. His hand slipped slightly, but he regained his strength and held on. He hoisted himself up with the hand he held on with, the other arm hanging by his side, and swung his other arm up and away from his waist and onto another handhold and placed his foot on the area where his other hand was, letting the other hand fall by his side.
He was about a foot away from the nearest window, there was only two boards on the window. He could either rip them away, or use them to hold onto and then rip off. He was going to hold onto them and then rip them off, though, why barricade the windows on the second story? Zombies didn't seem like they could climb, maybe they could. How could he know? He pulled himself up, grabbing hold of the ledge he was holding onto with his other hand. He looked behind him and onto the ground, seeing how far he was from the ground. Oh, crap. That is a far way down, if I fall I die. Oh crap, oh crap. But if I fell it wouldn't be as bad as being eaten, He thought.
After that thought he decided not to think about his death any longer. He pushed himself up and put his other foot, which was dangling, next to his other foot. Then he pushed off and grabbed hold of a board with one hand, and the other above it with his other, moving his feet up to where his hands previously were. Time seemed to slow down as something, that seemed as if he might die, happened.
One plank of wood gave away and fell to the ground below, making dirt rise around it. A pack of zombies, about seven of them, came around the corner just as the plank hit the wood. The zombie that he had seen before he rounded the corner came around the other corner. He looked at the seven zombies, then back at the lone zombie. The glance he took at the seven showed they were just dragging their feet. The other zombie, which was closer to the building, dragged itself just below him.
The seven zombies dragged themselves around the other zombies and bent their limp heads back, to look at him. He didn't look at them for another second, and ripped off the last plank, throwing it down into the crowd, and grabbing onto the ledge. He pulled himself into the building and took out his revolver, which he had previously put back in his back pocket before climbing. He peered out the window and watched the zombies. They were just bumping into each other,and walking into the side of the building like they were going to get in, somehow.
Setting
0.00 INK
Weight 1.25 kg
Length 12" (305 mm)
Barrel length 2-1/2 in. (64 mm); 3 in. (76mm); 4 in.(102 mm); and 6 in. (153 mm)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cartridge .357 Magnum, .38 Special
Caliber .357
Action double action
Rate of fire single
Feed system 6 or 7 round cylinder
The Smith & Wesson (S & W) Model 686, is a six or seven shot double action revolver chambered for the .357 Magnum cartridge. It will also chamber and fire .38 Special cartridges, as the .357 Magnum was developed from the .38 Special. The magnum case is slightly longer to prevent magnum rounds from being chambered and fired in handguns chambered for the .38 Special. The 686 has been available with 2-1/2 in. (64 mm); 3 in.(76mm); 4 in. (102 mm); 5 in. (127 mm); 6 in. (153 mm); and 8-3/8" in. (214 mm) barrel lengths as standard models and other barrel lengths either by special order from S & W's Performance Center custom shop, or acquired from or built by after-market gunsmiths. The Performance Center also made a limited number of 686 in .38 Super for competitive shooters.
Smith & Wesson introduced the Model 686 in 1980. It is the stainless steel version of the 586, which was a blued steel finish. It was chambered for .357 Magnum and .38 S&W Special +P calibers. They are available ported and unported with a -
Joey's reading was interrupted, as he heard a snapping sound, a cracking sound. His eyes brought up from his book, and his hand reached to his revolver, setting the book down. He would slowly stand up from the chair, and look around him. Nothing he could see was different, and the doors remained shut, he figured that it was just a small rodent. Yeah, sure. Rodent. He threw that self assurance out the window, as he would sling his Nagant over his shoulder, and start to move, replacing his boonie hat. He didn't know what it was that generated the sound. He kept his eyes constantly scanning for movement in the ruined library.
He would slowly walk to the door, drawing the bayonet from it's sheath, reading it for a jab to the eyesocket... He would slowly advance to a side door,arm bent and ready to fire the revolver. His eyes didn't decieve him- there was no trace of any survivors on the base floor. But he did hear something. It sounded again, a bright crack...like...wood snapping. He frowned, and really had hoped that this wasn't some fucked up video game of Resident Evil...and zombies could fly. He would step over a few toppled bookshelves, and begin to the second story stairs slowly, his feet rolling to absorb sound as he sweeped the nickle-plated weapon through the standing shelves of literature. He would keep moving untill he found the source of the sound. A young man had pulled himself, being roughly adorned in baggy denim trousers, and a black jacket. Joey's hand shot to past the 'ready' phase, and straight to the 'aim' phase. He glared at the person, not sure if it was a zombie...or another survivor. He had a gun in his hand, but it would've been the first time that a zombie had been found with an empty weapon in their hands.
"If you are still smart enough to understand me, let go of your weapon. And tell me if you've any bites or scratchmarks from the living dead." He said clearly, but quietly, the hammer on his own revolver clicking back loudly.
Setting
0.00 INK
1st person - I took off my pack and looked at the library. Another person, climbing. "Maybe I should try and get in there. No, I climbed all the way up here, I'll go tomorrow" I thought as he sat down. My stomach rumbled as I reached into the backpack and took out a pack of beef jerky and had a few pieces. I decided to pop in my Zune, and fell asleep for a few minutes. A while later I awoke the the beautiful serenade of birds chirping and the undead moaning. Well, at least it was good to know that the animals still lived uninfected. I had a breakfast of more beef jerky and some water with Kool-aid powder in it for some flavor. I packed up my bag, and decided to get into the library somehow. I needed something that packed a bigger punch than this little 9mm.
I saw a door on the roof of a conjoining building. I pulled myself and my pack up to the building, drew my gun and opened the door. Quiet. I love the quiet these days. It looked to be an apartment building. Maybe I can get some more supplies. I walked down the hallways checking doors, all were locked. I walked up to the last one on the floor. 515. It creaked open. The lights were still on; there was blood all over the floor. I don't like this at all. I walked with my gun at the ready. I dropped my pack on the floor in entryway. I heard moaning. I kicked open the master bedroom door! Clear. Now the guest! Clear. Now the bathroom! Clear. I was beginning to think that there was nothing here when the door in front of me crashed down and an undead man lay on the door beginning to stand. I put a bullet in his head. I knew that only headshots kill. Yeah, I read the Zombie Survival Guide. What of it? I searched the rooms. Fuck, I'm lucky. I found a full bottle of Vicodin, a pump action shotgun with 2 boxes of ammo, and a few bottles of whiskey. I took all of those along with another first aid kit, and more medicine. "RAHHHH" I heard. Spinning around I saw another zombie. "Where did you come from?" I said to myself as I pulled the trigger. I went to grab my bag when I saw a horrible sight. At least 50 zombies in the hallway coming at me. "Fuck me!" I yelled at I closed and bolted the door shut. I grabbed whatever I could to barricade it. I opened the window, slung my newly acquired shotgun over my shoulder and took off my bag. I climbed from window sill to window sill with only one hand, as my other one had my bag in it. I couldn't get any farther down. I kicked open a window and went in. The door was locked, the lights were off, and there was no moaning, but I still wasn't safe. "Help!" I yelled out the window. Hoping beyond hope that someone in the library would hear me.
Setting
0.00 INK
"If you are still smart enough to understand me, let go of your weapon. And tell me if you've any bites or scratchmarks from the living dead." He heard the person say. The person was a man, with a boonie hat on, a revolver in one hand, and a rifle slung over the man's back, and a bayonet in the other hand. He wasn't good at gun names, he just knew his revolver was a point 44.
But from all those years of playing Call of Duty and wasting away in front of his t.v. he thought the rifle was a Mosin Nagant. He couldn't know for sure, after all, Call of Duty is just a video game. The graphics could be a bit off. He bent down, one arm still raised, the other arm, the one with the gun, down by the floor. He dropped the gun on the floor then straightened his back.
"I am not a zombie, or monster, or whatever you want to call it. Do not shoot me... please." He said quietly, but loud enough to be heard. "There are, like, eight zombies out there. And if you don't shoot me you can get rid of them easily. If you do shoot me the gunshot will attract other zombies. So don't shoot me... or we will both be screwed."
"So, can I put my hand down-" His sentence was intterupted by the screams coming from a building near the library. It sounded like someone was yelling, "Help!" He turned around, lowering his arms, and looking at the window. It sounded like it had came from that apartment building. He thought, his eyes traveling to a building. He turned back around, hoping the person wouldn't shoot from his sudden action.
Setting
0.00 INK
He would walk hurredly down stairs, checking his gear. The survivalist would rub his head as he debated his actions. Going out there with two people, armed primarily with handguns was near suicide. But if they survived, they'd have a teammate. And every bit of help counts. He would sit down on the front desk, and wait to see if the other fellow he had met would provide imput...
Setting
0.00 INK
He nodded as after the man said, "You hear that...?" Putting his revolver in his back pocket as the man went down to the first floor. He followed after him, checking to make sure everything he had was still with him. He still had the hammer, weapon box, and of course the revolver which he had in his hands a couple seconds ago. As he stepped down the last stair and onto the first floor he looked around, it looked like a regular library. But not a good place to defend if a lot of zombies got in, too many windows. Of course the upstairs was a place to defend also.
His stomach growled quietly as he sat down in a chair, behind a desk. "Maybe we could... no... What if we went out a back exit? We could go around the side of the building towards the apartment, and go behind the side of the building so the eight couldn't see us. Then we could climb the side of the building, if we could and if we can, and climb into a window that seems to be the source of the noise. If we can't climb we could just go up the stairs and fight our way through. Though, it would be dangerous." He said, drumming his fingers on the desk.
He looked out through the doors, he was surprised most of the building didn't fall apart when the bombs fell. Or that people didn't try to barricade it. Maybe they did, maybe the person he met moved the barricade. He couldn't know for sure if... what was his name? He turned his head to look at the man. "We never told each other our names. I'm Keith," He said. He smiled slightly, he was having a conversation with an real person, not himself, he was surprised by this fact.
Setting
0.00 INK
Setting
0.00 INK
Joey slowly opened the door, his revolver at the ready. He drew his bayonet, and walked out of the door slowly. He looked around, looking over to the apartment complex, scanning the doorway. The eight zombies that Kieth said he'd attracted were shuffling over there...and Joey saw why. A man shimmying down on a rope of linen- perhaps bedspreads. The zombies flocked under him like sharks. Joey would grin, as it was a little bit funny. But not honestly. He began to jog over to the apartments, putting his bayonet away. The handle on it was more than enough as the survivalist ran forth, and stopped behind the crowd. He was shaking just a bit, out of fear and adreniline pumping through him, but he was excited. This was the second time he'd done something like this. He would with a springing step forward, jar the bayonet into the back of the zombie's neck, evicerating the tough of his spine, causing the body to flop like a fish, it's mouth moving as it had been crippled. The other zombies had turned around at his grunt, and began to shuffle at him, their arms outreached trying to grip and bite him. Joey took a few back steps, before lashing his blade forward in a jab again, down one of the zombie's gaping maw. He smirked, as it just like the last one, droped down, the infected brain unable to control the disabled body.
Again, Joey repeated this process, the zombies not able to learn, and continuing to fall for his attacks. One lurched for him, and jarred it in the face with the ring knuckle on the bayonet, knocking it down. Shooting his arms from the horizontal line it was in to punch the zombie face, he swung his arm around, and speared a Zombie's temple. The weakest part of the skull was no match for the bayonet, and gave in. Joey booted yet another zombie, and continued to step back, drawing his unserrated blade from the Zombie's head. The reading of the Zombie Survival Guide had served Joey well, and he knew how to keep himself alive from his uncle Horner, whom was a Green Beret. Finally, he jabbed the bayonet up the last Undead's nose, spearing his brain like a shishkabab. He popped his blade out, the zombified blood dripping from his weapon and his wrist. He smirked, walking towards the man whom was dangling from the window. "Come on down, Capt'n." Joey said, calling the guy what he called just about everyone. "I don't bite near as hard as those bastards do."
Setting
0.00 INK
Setting
0.00 INK
Keith finished the pack of ramen, and put the bottle of water on the front desk. The noises of bodies hitting pavement had stopped as he placed the water on the front desk. He took his .44 out of his back pocket and walked towards the front door. He put his ear to it, and he heard talking. It was probably Joey and the person he went out to save.
Keith opened the door a crack, putting the barrel of the .44 into the crack. There were no zombies, that he could see. Opening the door his eyes swept the street, there were a few zombies in the distance, but nothing that posed a threat. He found Joey and the new person talking, by the apartment, there were some dead zombies around them.
He walked over to them, putting the revolver in his back pocket again. He extended a hand towards the new person, and said, "Hi, I'm Keith. Nice to meet you." He tried to smile, but the smell of dead flesh stopped him from doing so. He covered nose, and mouth, with his other hand, as he kept his arm extended.
Setting
0.00 INK
Setting
0.00 INK
He turned back to Keith. "So, boy." He said, though Keith was clearly not much younger than him. "What in the hell brings you out to these parts anyway? Much less alive and unbitten, mind you? You must have a good head on your shoulders. Or at least good legs to carry you." He said with a chuckle. "I come up from the Volunteer state - though I didn't volunteer for this - hopin' to make my way up to Canada. I hope those syrup suckers are still alive up there. I expect to make it there in perhaps a month. I hope my supplies last me that long." He said. He clearly hadn't talked to a sentient being in a long time, and was happy to have someone to talk to.
Setting
0.00 INK
Hearing some ripping he swiveled his chair to face the source of the noise; it was Joey, he was ripping pages out of a book. It looked like the book that he had heard about called Eclipse. He hated it. Making vampire's skin sparkle like diamonds, and a teen girl falling in love with a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old man. It was completely messed up. He swiveled his chair back around to its original position. Putting his elbow on the arm of the chair and putting his head in his hand he unzipped his jacket.
"So, boy." Keith heard Joey say. "What in the hell brings you out to these parts anyway? Much less alive and unbitten, mind you? You must have a good head on your shoulders. Or at least good legs to carry you." Keith swiveled his chair back around to face Joey. "I'm here because I heard there's a safe house to main. I doubt it, but there might be. And I have both, though, legs might be out of the question, a bit. I haven't ran in a while. I usually just sat at my house, on a computer, or something." "I come up from the Volunteer state - though I didn't volunteer for this - hopin' to make my way up to Canada. I hope those syrup suckers are still alive up there. I expect to make it there in perhaps a month. I hope my supplies last me that long." Joey said, just as he finished his reply. "Well, I guess we might have to split ways, eventually. But we might now have to, if you change your mind. Who knows, if we pass Maine along the way and it is safe, why not stay? It's nice having another living person around." He said, thinking about how he might go insane if he wouldn't get another chance to talk to a living being.
Setting
0.00 INK
"Ahhh, no! Kill it, Kill it!!" Ian heard running down the steps. Shane had gotten attacked by one of those "things" it latched onto his neck and was quite simply tearing it apart. "Fuke, fuke, fuke" Gerry said trying to get a shot with his little .32. Gerry pulled the trigger and shot the side of Shane's head, killing him instantly. "No!! Fuck!! Shane!!!!" Tony said running forward with his knife.Tony..that was his name. How could I forget it? We were all bestfriends. Tony stabbed at the zombie. "Head, head! Hit it's head!" Matt yelled at Tony. Tony finally brought it down, but got bit in the process. "I'm gunna save you guys from having to do it..." Tony said, grabbing Gerry's gun, pointing it to his head. He pulled the trigger. "Fuke me. I fukein' killed 'em both." Gerry moaned, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He held himself against the wall and slowly slid down. Ian turned around, looked at Alexa and George.. "Gerry. Come on. We gotta get outta here. There are more coming!" George yelled at him. "Dude, they're dead already. Get yourself up and let's get the hell outta here. We can grieve when we're safe." Ian yelled to him, pulling him up to his feet by his collar. "Now, pick up your fucking gun, and let's go" Ian said, taking the food and water from his dead friends packs.
Ian shot up. He had a terrible cold sweat. Panting, he looked around the library. Both men were still reading, but from windows, it looks like day changed to night not long ago. He looked again at the men, and stood up. "We need to get out of here soon. I have an extremely bad feeling."
Setting
0.00 INK
"Listen, if we REALLY have to move, we can, but unless there are zombie hordes just pouring in on us, then I think we should stay put. Those shamblers out there? They don't need their eyes. Haven't you seen the ones without 'em? They're called "Perfect Hunters" for a reason. They use all of their senses, not just one or two. About 80% of the informations we humans recieve comes from our eyes. The other senses take up perhaps 5% each, hearing might be a little above the others. Zombies? They got 20% in each area. That don't mean their sight ain't as good. That just means that if they lose their sight, they only lose 20% of their capacity to hunt. They still hear your breath from across the room, even in you're breathing through your nose. They hear your heart beating if they're five steps from ya. They smell your fire from a block away." He said, shaking his head. "Just be glad we're not dealing with fictional zombies."
Joey got up, and looked to the others. "Alright. We need to get some rest, huh? I'll take first watch. I'll probably take all watch. I slept good last night - 6 hours. I'll make sure to wake you up if theres any comotion.
Setting
0.00 INK
"Let's go." Ian said, running ahead of his friends. "We're going up." He had no time to weep for his friends. It was sad, but they were gone, he wasn't, and neither were George, Gerry or Alexa. He had to take the lead. He had to get them to safety. We ran back up the steps and made it to the roof. "Over there" Ian pointed to the ledge of the building. A few feet beneath it, was another building...a pizza place with apartments above. Ian hopped down, and helping his friends down. "This is what we're going to do," began Ian, "we're going to hop from building to building until we reach...what the fuck was that?" They all ran over to the rail. It looked like soldiers. Thank fucking God. "Hey, up here! We're not infected!" George yelled down. "The building's clear. Come down and we'll get you back to base." one of the soldiers replied. "Follow me, but please, be cautious. He said it was clear, but you never know...they might have missed one or two." Ian told his friends, all nodded. It seems they all had accepted his leadership, and he was proud of that.
They cautiously moved through the building. Each step louder than the next. No sound, no smells, no tastes, nothing. It was dead. They had made it to the ground and out the door. They were safe for now, and that was a wonderful feeling. Ian could hear gunshots from inside all of the surrounding buildings as he walked toward a soldier. "Hi, I'm Ian. This is Alexa, Gerry, and George. We can't thank you enough for the help sir." Ian told the man, shaking his hand and smiling. The solider smiled back. "Major Hill, and it's no problem. It's why we signed up." the solider said happily. "Maj, we got a problem!" said another solider dripping in sweat. The major looked at him. "Yes, what is it?" "We got at least 200 of those things coming straight here. We gotta go now!" the young solider said. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Call HQ, tell them we need choppers here ASAP," he looked at Ian, "know how to shoot friend?"
Ian awoke again. He was restless tonight. He stood up, and decided to go and talk to Joey. He was nowhere to be found however. Ian looked everywhere, then he saw a door open. "Shit, I hope nothing got in" he thought. He drew his pistol, and turned the safety off. He started walking up to what looked like the roof. He could hear footsteps. Fuck. He reached another open door. "Joey?" Ian whispered. "Is that you?" he hoped beyond hope that someone would answer. He didn't want to have to go through this tonight. He leaned around the corner and saw Joey. He walked toward him. "I got nervous, why didn't you answer? Oh well, can I sit down?" Ian asked, sitting down before Joey could answer. "So Joey, what's your story?"
- 18 posts here • Page 1 of 1