"This is Sergeant Nate Bridges of the Situation Response Unit. I am broadcasting on all AM frequencies. If anyone is out there, anyone at all... we can provide food, shelter and security. There are survivors and you are not alone. Make you way The radio blared, untill a fist smashed into it. Joey rolled his eyes, as his radio in his truck sputtered out, into light static. The knob was broken, so there was no effective way of changing channels. "Alright, alright, Sarge." He groaned, putting his other hand back on the wheel. "Give me a break. Blah-blah, we're fucked, blah blah. Play us some jazz music, for Christ's sake!" He said sarcasticaly, pressing harder on his truck's gas pedal. The white 93 F-150 swerved through traffic of abandoned cars. For a damn ghost town, Arkansas sure was a BITCH to drive through.

Finally, he saw it:



"Home sweet home...." Joey muttered, looking around. The highway was still festering with vehicles that obstructed his path, causing him to swerve in and out of them.... and he was no fantastic driver either. He grinned madly as he thought of his home: nothing more than a crumby moble home on top of a hill. But home was home, and he had a great child hood... even though he was barely old enough to no longer be a child. He began to grow tense - like something bad was going to happen. He had that feeling - just that looming, ominus feeling that came over you when you knew something was about to happen...
Whakhah kah kahhaaaaa

His truck sputtered hard. "Oh crap. What's going on!?" He asked the air in the truck cab, looking around, as his truck began to slow to a rolling halt. A sharp, hissing inhale took over his mouth as he sat in the motionless truck. "I....Er... yeah. Something like that." He said, letting his head fall to the wheel, thudding against it. "Ooooh boy...." The young man pushed open the vehicle door, making sure his pistol was tucked into the back of his pants. He walked around to the hood of his truck, opening it up. Yes, everything was hot, but nothing was overheated.... "Reaaaaaalllly wished I'd had paid a little more attention to my father about cars..." He said, walking back to the cab, and sitting on the edge of the seat, looking out across the evening sky. He twisted the key in the ignition. It turned over, before sputtering back to death. It was at this time...he noticed the little E glowing like a torch on his dash...
"Wonderful! Might that E stand for 'eff you', Truck?!" He asked the sky again.

Pulling his knapsack and computer case from the truck, he looked around, before dipping into the back of his truck, and rescuing his Mosin Nagant. "Well, this is no problem, Joey!" He said sarcastically. "I'll just walk for two states! Gee, why didn't I think of that before?" He said, hopping out of his truck, and moving down the interstate. "You know what? I should try and hitchhike!" He said with a chuckle, walking upon a corpse lying face down in the road. He walked over, standing over the corpse with a rather disgruntled look on his face. "'Ey. Buddy. Spare me a ride?" He said, kicking the corpse in the side. "Come on. Be a pal." He said unenthusiastically. He rolled his eyes, and moved on, keeping low as he moved down the highway.

"Talk about a stroke of bad luck..."

The room stank of old sweat, decaying food and unwashed clothing, but despite it all Julian was sad to see the place go. He sat in a large comfortable leather computer chair in the manager's office of 'Elizabethan Biscuit World'. An unusual name for a confectionary shop but which happened to have been his favourite place in Huntington, Virginia to go for a snack before all the dead people started getting up and eating everyone. The shop had luckily been deserted when he had broken through the rear door a week ago and was filled with both stale biscuits and cakes left out from the previous month. Luckily this combined with the other stores of food and snacks in the rear as well as barrels of clean water it made for a good temporary home while he worked out what to do next. The food had run out surprisingly quickly as he wolfed down his favourite snacks in a day or so and the rest had gone much faster than he had anticipated, despite being stale. Previosuly living for three weeks on moldy bread and a few cans of beans and a pickle will do that to a person's appetite.

He took one last cursory glance around his temporary home and with a quiet sigh he shouldered his bag, picked up his axe and made his way to the front of the store. The dusk was settling quietly outside and only a few of the creatures could be seen milling about in the abandoned carpark opposite but otherwise it was clear. He had yet to work out whether it was science or luck, but as dawn and dusk came he had a lot less trouble from the dead people than any other time and so he planned all his excursions and movements accordingly. He didn't know if it was something to do with their eyesight adjusting to the changing light or whatever else, but even the ones that did follow him soon gave up and went back to their aimless wanderings once he got out of sight. Julian scratched absently at his stubble and under his unwashed armpits, only partly missing a good shower but long ago having put that down to times past. He was glad he had got to the point he couldn't smell his own foul odour anymore.

The bolt slid free easily and the door clicked open without anything outside paying any attention. In one move he slipped out and walked carefuly along his side of the street further into town. Glancing cautiousley over his shoulder he could swear the undead across the street had noticed him but in mere seconds went back to milling around and gently colliding with one another. A breath he did not know he was holding was released as he moved at an ever increasing pace down 5th Avenue. Another restaurant and a Dairy Queen lay just ahead, and with luck he could reach them before it got too dark. Being out in the dark with these things was more suicidal than a gun to the head.

"No I won't" he mumbled to himself, scratching his head and hoping nothing had heard him, yet feeling compelled to continue. "It's not that bad yet. They aint got them round here anyhow". He tried not to feel for the cold lump of the half empty revolver tucked in his belt but his fingers closed round it regardless. "No, I said no. It's not that bad yet" He said to himself, biting his lip to stop from uttering anything else. The wind was picking up, meaning sound carried and things could be just around the next corner without him noticing.

"I'm not that hungry yet" he added, convincing himself in vain the conversation was over.

Léa sat in her father's old truck outside her house in Rhode Island. The neighborhood, a pleasant suburban area, was quiet and a breeze drifted through the air. She checked her list and backpack again, to make sure she had what she needed. She was about to head out to... what? Kill the "zombies"? Avenge her father's death? Go on some sort of weird road trip? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that the kids from the local college were going to be arriving to pick her up any minute. She didn't even know them well.

Suddenly, a clunky van pulled up. The paint was so chipped that Léa found it hard to determine the color. A blonde girl with shag-cut hair stepped out. She pulled big white sunglasses down her nose and squinted at Léa.

"Leah?" she asked.

"Léa."

"So uh, you've heard the A.M. radio message, right?"

Léa nodded.

"Arright. So basically, we're heading for DC to see what they've got down there. So get your stuff and get in the van."

Léa shyly began to follow her.

"Oh, I'll introduce you to the gang in a sec, but I should probably tell you the ground rules:

"First off, I drive. No exceptions. Tay rides shotgun. Again, no exceptions.

"Next, we've got some food in the back. We have a lot. But you won't even think about eating any except when we decide it's mealtime. We have to conserve, and we've taken you in out of the goodness of our fuckin' hearts."

The blonde girl turned her head to face Léa again. "We clear?"

Léa was tempted to respond with a "sir yes sir!" but restrained herself.

"Yeah. Got it."

Léa climbed into the back of the van as blonde girl opened the door. Inside were two guys. One was lanky and tall, with long red-brown hair, freckles, and a prominent nose. The other was average height and weight with horn-rimmed glasses and a tee shirt from some video game that Léa had vaguely heard of. He turned to Léa.

"You the kid we're taking in?"

"Yeah. I'm Léa."

"Welcome home, Princess Leia. I'm Haruki."

The redhead turned. "No he's not. He's James. Haruki's like his favorite game designer or something."

"My favorite author," said James.

"Whatever," said the redhead. "I'm Klaus. Klaus Bergundy."

What an unusual name, thought Léa.

The blonde girl started the van, suddenly. "We all buckled up back there?" she hollered.

Léa then realized that there were no seats, really, never mind seatbelts.

James leaned towards her. "It's gonna be a bumpy ride," he whispered.

@LiarLiarLiar

The battered old van makes good headway to begin with, the streets littered with the odd abandoned vehicle but what Blonde Girl couldn't swerve around she simply shoved aside with the larger vehicle. The walking dead were scattered here and there. You surmise that they have moved from the suburban to places where food may be more abundant, the people in the neighbourhood having already fled or succumbed already.

On approaching the outskirts of the town, however, things begin to get complicated. The traffic clogging the roads increases dramatically as it appears people simply abandoned their cars and assorted transportation in lieu of simply going it on foot.

To you this makes no immediate sense, sure the roads were backed up badly but wouldn't they have had more of a chance in transportation?

As Blonde Girl reluctantly applies the breaks you notice through the front windscreen an almost carpet of the dead strewn across the road. They all appear to have been heading in one direction. Many of the car doors are wide open still. The gang gathers to decide their next course of action...

@Vio-Lance

The metallic ghosts of the empty cars cast eerie shadows and the silence is almost deafening as you continue down the interstate. As the evening cools one of the wrecks gives off a loud *PANG* as the metal contracts, sending your heart into your throat, not out of fear but simply for something having unexpectedly broken the silence.

Wiping the back of your arm over your brow you take another look at the early evening sky, and notice something for the first time. A large black mass in the sky, moving in irregularly before seeming to start in your direction. The shape is closer than first thought and begins to separate into individual black shapes.

This is when you hear the noise, faint at first, almost like that of a car alarm. Then as the sound grows louder it begins to sound different.

caw.. caw.. caw.. caw.. CAW.. CAW..

Carrion birds, not uncommon with so much dead meat around...but somehow these seem different.

@Jerred Alain

Like most establishments, not many people took the time to lock their doors as they fled the towns and cities to find safe haven from the hungering dead. The restaurant and Dairy Queen ahead is unfortunately no exception.

In a way this is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because it means you have your pick of the finest eateries and homes in town, curse because so do the dead.

As with Elizabethan Biscuit World, you know that before you can relax again you will need to establish that these buildings are indeed zombie free.

Knowing that you only have time to choose one and do a quick sweep before night sets in proper you find yourself in one of those situations you have quickly become accustomed to...making a fast decision based on what you know that could have ramifications that do no bear thinking about.

Almost lost in your own thoughts and the self destructive impulses you are snapped swiftly back to the present as you hear what you can identify as the advertisement board on the off-license around the corner crash over.

The mild breeze is not the culprit, this you know, so danger must be looming. Once again you are stripped of the luxury of time as you make your choice.