нow тo ѕυrvιve α zoмвιe αpocαlypѕe

[city;]

ιт нαppeɴed ...



Dear People of the World,  

 
Out in the state of Utah, not far from Toole County is an organization. This organization is called Humanity Against Cancer, or HAC [pronoinced hack]. Except, all that is is a cover story. Sure, they release a medicine against the deadly disease monthly, but there's more to it that meets the eye. HAC is known for buying prisoners like slaves. Ones on Death Row, or Life in Prison. They'll pay the state two thousand dollars per man or woman, and force the state to keep quiet about it. In exchange, the state gets its prisons cleaned out , and makes HAC happy. 

Except for the gruesome experiments HAC preforms. They take the prisoners, and inject them with a serum that allows HAC to control their thoughts and emotions. It's a dirty, filthy process, but it gets worse. HAC's CEO, Tianna Hernandez likes to torture them in the process. I won't go into the classified details, but I will say it isn't pretty. 

Now, I am going to be in a ton of trouble for releasing this to the public, but I think you should know. The infected prisoners escaped. They're running rampant through the streets of Salt Lake, and are soon going to be coming to your town. The disease is so contagious, you wouldn't believe how hard it is not to get sick. These monsters, they're called ... Zombies. They're blood thirsty, flesh-hungry monsters. All it takes is a single bite for you to become one of them. It's hard to escape from them, to hide. To stay alive now. I am going to help you, for when it reaches your town, you're in trouble. We're all going to die if they don't believe this. I just pray you will. 

With safe and happy thoughts for the time being,

Falyn, inside intel. 

ᶤᶰᵗʳᵒ ˑ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ ˑ ˢᵉᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˑ ᵗᶤᵖˢ ˑ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉᶰᵗᵃʳʸ ˑ ᶤᶰˢᵖᶤʳᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰ ˑ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃ

[city;]

cнαrαcтerѕ, ѕнorт вιoѕ, αɴd мιѕc. ιɴғorмαтιoɴ  

WARNING : Spoilers ahead!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________


We shall begin!



» - Alive
« Deceased

name - age - rank - skill level [1-10] - number killed [zombie [!] or living [¡] ] - relationships





» Falyn - Seventeen [17] - leader - 7.5 - !; 14 ¡; 0 - single, no kin left

» Avery - Seventeen [17] - Second - 8 - !; 4 ¡; 1 - single, youngest sister, Rain, older brother, Mirror

» Elias - Eighteen [18 ]- Head Scout/Fighter - 9.5 - !; 47 ¡; 0 - single, no kin left

» Naomi - Six [6] - Food-Sorter - 2 - !; 0 ¡; 0 - boys are icky, older sister, Red, older brother, Mirror

» Wyatt - Eighteen [18] - Scout - 9 - !; 22 ¡; 0 - single, younger sisters, Rain and Red

» Evan - Seventeen [17] - Scout - 8.5 - !; 19 ¡; 0 - single, no kin left

_____________________________________________________________________________________________


Deaths

Zombies only

 _____________________________________________________________________________________________


» “Fally” 

» Falyn is the leader figure to the small group of survivors. 
» Falyn can come off as bossy, annoying, and controlling 
» Her favorite weapon is a shower rod, and kitchen knives.  

» “Ave” 

» Avery is the Second in Command of their small group. 
» Avery and Falyn were best friends before this all began. They still are, but they have arguments more often now. 
» Avery's favorite weapon is a lovely spear she made with kitchen knives and a long stick from Central Park. 
» Ave is in some sort of predicament, due to the first chapter.

» “E”  

» Elias is the head fighter for a reason. He currently holds the group's record of zombie deaths. 
» Elias can come off as extremely reckless, because he'll vanish during the day for supplies without telling anyone. 
» Elias enjoys using a spear similar to Red's and a hammer for close contact.

» “Nomi”  

» Naomi is the designated food sorter. 
» Nomi is the youngest in the group, and quite a prissy girl. 
» Naomi doesn't like weapons, but since Middle and Red make her, she carries a flash light and a small kitchen knife.

» “Why” 

» Wyatt is a scout and a scavenger. He goes with Elias a lot. 
» Wyatt is the typical controlling brother; he gets dibs on everything.
» Why is a fan of guns, but doesn't use them. Instead, he carries a long bladed knife they found in a Chinese Man's apartment when they raided China-Town.

» “Ev”  

» Evan is the group's beat friend. He's the peace keeper, and a scout all at once. 
» Evan often runs off as overly cheery, and rather annoying. 
» He hates weapons, yet carries a rusty pipe he broke from a toilet.

ᶤᶰᵗʳᵒ ˑ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ ˑ ˢᵉᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˑ ᵗᶤᵖˢ ˑ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉᶰᵗᵃʳʸ ˑ ᶤᶰˢᵖᶤʳᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰ ˑ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃ

[city;]

тнe ѕeттιɴɢ


WARNING : Spoilers up ahead!

Updated to : Chapter One

Let's start with the year, shall we? I prefer it to be cliché, just this once, because I can. The initial outbreak was on December 21, 2012. Cold morning, prisoners escaped ... All h--l broke loose. Moving on. Slowly, the prisoners escaped, and moved along to all of the states, all of the world, and killed most of the population. Now. Here's where we get down to details. The day the story begins is exactly a year after, so ... December 21, 2013. Still following? Good. I like you already. Next up is the state. Yes, I am placing it in the U.S. Yes, I am placing it in my favorite city. Take a guess ... New York. Downtown to be exact. Just because I love that city. c: I am feeding my addiction yet again. Anyways, the safe-house for all six of the survivors featured is in a small -- I am so lying -- building called The New York Stock Exchange. 

ᶤᶰᵗʳᵒ ˑ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ ˑ ˢᵉᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˑ ᵗᶤᵖˢ ˑ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉᶰᵗᵃʳʸ ˑ ᶤᶰˢᵖᶤʳᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰ ˑ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃ

[city;]

тιpѕ ғroм ғαlyɴ  

For the people of the world; here's my tips on surviving the zombie apocalypse. 



1. Never corner yourself in a situation. Always make sure there’s more than one way out.
2. Sleep with at least two guards. They can keep each other awake in case something happens.
3. Never sleep in something you aren’t willing to jump out of.
4. Be merciless. You can’t risk you and your other group member’s safety for the cost of keeping one alive
5. Don’t use loud things. Weapon noises will draw the zombies to you.
6. The only way to kill a zombie is to damage its brain. Same way with humans. Be careful whom you attack.
7. Use manpower instead of machine power. If something breaks down on you, there’s no way to fix it.
8. Never slack off. If you forget to do something, the Zombies will come and take advantage of that.
9. You don’t need to be a fast runner. You just need to be faster than the slowest person.
10. Never eat a zombie. Cannibalism is disgusting, and it will kill you.
11. Keep a wide variety of weapons available. You never know what one you like the best.
12. Don’t ever be stingy. You don’t want to end up the last person on the planet, do you? Share food and weapons to help keep everyone alive.
13. If you have to sleep somewhere, a car isn’t the place. If you can get a hold of the President’s car, that’s great. Never sleep in a car with broken un-bulletproof glass.
14. Wood dwellings are stupid in the Zombie Apocalypse. The Zombies will just bend the wood until it snaps. Then, where are you?
15. Singing is not the brightest thing you can do. Zombies are attracted to voices, especially loud high-pitched ones. They can hear those best.
16. Come up with some hidden language that only you and your groupies understand. If you talk too much, the nearest Zombie will pick up your breath, and you will become dinner.
17. Don’t think too much about who the Zombie used to be. It just messes with your mojo.
18. It’s a dog eat dog world out there. Be supportive to the more emotional members.
19. Clothing doesn’t matter. If you’re fashionable, and die, not my problem. If you’re ugly, and survive, great! We have someone else to help us.
20. The zombies are like severe near-sighted people. The zombies can see color, but it tends to all blur together the further away you get. They rely mainly on smell and loud sounds.
21. Relate the zombies to vicious dogs, not psychotic people. It helps if you have to shoot them.
22. Using a spear is the best way to survive. An axe—no matter what the movies say—will get lodged in the spine, and you can’t risk getting close to the mouth and teeth.
23. Spill your secrets. Those things only create barriers that eventually end up hurting you and the ones around you. Emotional distress is awful.
24. Don’t get carried away in your thoughts and dreams. You need to be paying attention. A lot can happen in three seconds.

I hope this helps you survive for a little bit longer. With happy thoughts for the time being,

Falyn - Fally.

ᶤᶰᵗʳᵒ ˑ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ ˑ ˢᵉᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˑ ᵗᶤᵖˢ ˑ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉᶰᵗᵃʳʸ ˑ ᶤᶰˢᵖᶤʳᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰ ˑ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃ

[city;]

coммeɴтαry, cнαpтer lιɴĸѕ, αɴd тнe plαy-lιѕт



WARNING : Spoilers up ahead!

Just a few things from me  

Don't take this rudely, but I will not tolerate Plagiarism. I will involve a mod, if I need to. It has happened to a fair few Smoothiens, and I won't let it happen to me. 

Well, now that that's out of the way, I'd like to say I'm sorry this took so long for me to put up. I've always wanted to do something like this, but I'm rather lame, and got lazy. Life is overwhelming, at times. c: Anyways, back to this. I would love your replies. You an vote on the poll, private message me, or, if you're a member of { INKLINGS }, I'd be good with it there too. So, thanks for reading, and watch out for my spoiler signs!



Prologue : word count : 2880
OH MAI GOD. I SUCK SO BADLY! I know I've been procrastinating, and I can't believe it's taken me three weeks to write a simple Prolouge. Well, anyways, I decided I can't write poetry. Or songs. Or anything that rhymes or has to have a beat to it. So. I stuck with a simple story on how the disease was born, and passed around; this little thingy is written as a third person description about what happened to Anderson/It, and how the disease began. Though, it is Audrey herself explaining it as a collection of various documents and things that she pulled together. If you aren't ok with a little blood and some description, skip the ending of the Prolouge. I also never thought it would be so hard to write someone as an "It", instead of he or she. Supremely hard ... But I eventually got the hang of it. and, finally, no music. I do better without it sometimes. So ... Adding on .. I-am-CC, you are amazing. Thanks for the fantastic Crit that helped me write it so much better. Let's see ... As for music ... Off an on, really, so I only remember two songs; Leave out all the rest, by Linkin Park, and Lights, by Ellie Goulding. So ... Yeah. c: enjoy!

Chapter One : word count : 6798

This, dear readers is a total work in progress. 
Changed my charrie's name to Falyn. I need to go through and edit all the posts, because all of my character's names are different. The only reason this is actually done [sadly] is because of nanowrimo. It sucks, but whatever. It still got done. :} I hope you guys enjoy.

ᶤᶰᵗʳᵒ ˑ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ ˑ ˢᵉᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˑ ᵗᶤᵖˢ ˑ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉᶰᵗᵃʳʸ ˑ ᶤᶰˢᵖᶤʳᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰ ˑ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃ

[city;]

ιɴѕpιrαтιoɴ

Ok. Let's start with the entire idea. I've always had this ... Almost obsessive fascination with zombies, and how they could come to be a reality. This is my way of showing the world how they would work in my mind. I've collected lots of logic, urban myths and legends, and a few military issued packs about outbreaks and other stuff [whether it be true or false, I don't know]. So, I've pulled it all together into something for my lovely fellow Smoothiens to read. 

Then, the city. Cliché. I know. But I'm in love with it. I spent five days in New York in the beginning of June, and fell deeply in love. [if you knew my old profile, lol] So, what better than to base this entire story on it? Also, the subways were so freaking cool! How could you not imagine walking through them?

Next, I'd love to just say that the three four SIX of you who voted on the poll without my story even being up; you made my day. Thanks, you six inspired me to actually finish this. 

I-am-CC, you are amazing. I rewrote most of my prologue because of that beautiful Crit you gave me.

ᶤᶰᵗʳᵒ ˑ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ ˑ ˢᵉᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˑ ᵗᶤᵖˢ ˑ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉᶰᵗᵃʳʸ ˑ ᶤᶰˢᵖᶤʳᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰ ˑ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃ

[city;]

exтrαs

because you never know. c:

 

ᶤᶰᵗʳᵒ ˑ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ ˑ ˢᵉᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˑ ᵗᶤᵖˢ ˑ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉᶰᵗᵃʳʸ ˑ ᶤᶰˢᵖᶤʳᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰ ˑ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃ

[city;]

This is a secondhand account of what happened to begin the disease, caught on various security tapes, information from journals, and notes saved by Tianna Hernandez on the internet, found by myself, Acelin, in my recoveries before the crash.  

↘.________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

That b---h! Anderson thought. Oh, so now, after being her star patient, he was going to die? She was executing him? What is wrong with Tianna? This ... Shell of a human had no feelings. No way to connect with reality. So, instead, she tortured others to feel their pain, instead of it hurting herself. That total ... Anderson didn't even know what insult to throw at the Doctor. His forehead dug into the bars of his cramped cell he shared with a man named Bruiser. Good name for the guy too; three hundred pounds of raw muscle, and six foot nine. Anderson was intimidated every time he looked at him. 
"Done yet?" Bruiser asked flatly. Anderson nearly shot a glare at the giant -- old habits always die hard -- but contented himself with a crabby grunt. 
"Nope," Anderson replied as he watched the guard that patrolled the halls at night step up to the cell at the end of the drawn-out hallway containing all of the testing subjects, and check the lock. "I'm gonna get out. I'm not gonna die. Especially not after that shot she gave me. She said it would make me superhuman. I'm so not gonna settle for death when I can have the world." A scornful look crossed the ugly features of Anderson. He was obviously a very selfish man, and Bruiser could obviously tell who this she was. 
Bruiser gave Anderson a quick questioning look before he went back to writing in a little red leather bound journal. Bruiser's Diary, Anderson guessed. Bruiser had always threatened to snap his neck if he ever thought of reading it. Sadly, that only confirmed the "diary" thought Anderson had. 
"You have at it then. How do you plan on getting out, Leprechaun?" Bruiser rumbled, his low voice reaching all the way to Anderson, but not much further. Didn't want to start a fight that he couldn't win, after all. 
Anderson resisted pulling an annoyed look at the mention of Leprechaun. Maybe Anderson was four foot, six inches, and had red hair, but that didn't give Bruiser the right to call him Leprechaun. He wasn't even Irish! But Anderson was smart enough to ignore it for now. 
"I need help."
"Oh?" Bruiser asked, arching his right eyebrow. It was a trick he often tried to teach Anderson, but it never worked. "What am I going to do if this fails? Be shot like you, Leprechaun?" That pacified Anderson for two reasons. One: when was this man going to stop referring back to the short comments, and two: what would he do if he got him and Bruiser killed? He was more worried about his death, and not Bruiser's, but there was always that possibility he would die too.
"Well..." Anderson began slowly. "We ... die?"
His thoughts were drowned out by a belittling laugh. "And now why would I want to die? I'm not on death row like you, my red-headed friend."
Anderson's face turned red at the hair comment. "I. Am. Not. Irish," he snapped, enunciating each word individually. Bruiser sneered, knowing he had won for the moment. "Now," Anderson began. "Help me get out. All I ask is you fall of the bed and pretend to twist your ankle." Bruiser's grin faded. What an idiot, Anderson thought to himself. 
"It's that easy? I don't even have to hurt myself?" 
It was Anderson's turn to grin. "Nope," he lied smoothly. "You won't have to do a thing to yourself." Now, Anderson was only somewhat lying. He was going to break the Giant's leg [he needed a realistic alibi after all, and a broken leg seemed like a good one].
Bruiser shrugged, agreeing with Anderson in that silent way, and slid his diary firmly under the flimsy institute issued pillow. As Bruiser looked at the ground, his attention caught for the moment, Anderson launched himself forward, following his quickly but carefully calculated plan, aiming for Bruiser's leg. Hastily, he snatched the Giant, and pulled as hard as he could; Bruiser yelped loudly, feeling the pull out of seemingly nowhere. The Giant fell from the white cotton sheets encasing the rock-hard mattress. 
As they fell, a fuzzy feeling washed over the mind of Anderson, calming his average self instantly. It was like when you first woke up after having only a few hours of sleep at night, and then knowing you had to get moving soon, because your boss may just fire you. It was that cloudy, groggy, and useless feeling, like earth's movement could stop so long as you could rest another few hours. But the difference about Anderson's sleepy feeling was that Anderson wouldn't come out. Something else took over, like a person being possessed by a spirit. Except the fake spirit that took over Anderson wasn't aiming to come back from the dead. It wanted blood. A split second before Bruiser landed on top of him, he rolled away, still somewhat alive and awake. But as Anderson pounced onto Bruiser, he lost his last bit of intelligible consciousness. No longer did Anderson exist. Only It did. 
It grinned viciously through Anderson's mouth as the bloodlust pushed through its veins, making the body that monster the institute was aiming for -- the "Superior" Anderson himself had wanted to be before he realized the consequences. Bruiser could see the hungry look in It's eyes, because he screamed as loud as he could. For a good reason too. The demonic side of It took over over, snapping Bruiser's leg cleanly in two, with no more difficulty than a toddler snapping a stick. Bruised cried out, giving a right handed jab powerful enough to knock out an elephant. With an almighty howl, It felt the jaw splinter, and pop out of it's socket. The jaw hung loosely from the thing's right joint, tattered and painful to any being besides It. 
It was angry with Bruiser. It didn't know the Giant's name, but the four foot six mass of red hair with a hostile desire to tear something open and guzzle their internal fluids wanted to hurt the giant man that had made mincemeat of his jaw. On a whim, It placed its hands on the left cheek and right ear, snarling psychotically. It looked straight into Bruiser's eyes, enjoying that he could see Bruiser look fear-stricken. A look of pleasure crossed off on It's eyes, because he couldn't even attempt to smile with a jaw hanging on by a joint. Bruiser opened his mouth to scream, but was cut off by the deafening crack of bones breaking. Bruiser was killed instantly. 
By the time that It had scuttled off of the body on its hands and knees, the guard had checked all of the other locks, except for four cells; It's, it's neighbor to the left, the one across from It's, and the one next to that one. The guard approached It's cage, keys in hand, and a policeman's baton gripped tightly in the other. It could practically smell the fear radiating off of the man. The man's logic was probably Somebody got hurt, and it could be a prison riot ... Don't wanna get caught in that, but if I don't break it up, my family will starve because I won't have a job. As if It cared. It rushed to the bars of the cell, it's gait crooked and jerky, like an abnormally large insect. It cut off the noise from its vocal cords, and looked at the guard as he approached the cell containing It and Bruiser. 
"Oh my God!" he yelled, seeing the dead body and the dangling jaw from It's face. A lightened look crossed it's face as the guard stepped closer to survey the damage. It could almost start thinking [because thoughts didn't exist in the minds of zombies] that he wanted the guard to come closer ... just a little closer ... one more step ... and the man came too close. It slipped it's hands through the bars that were just wide enough to pass a four hundred page book through to reach for the man. The man stepped within it's grasp, looking at the dangling bone in disgust. "Really got into a fight, didn't ya?" he said, fighting the urge to turn away. It was a truly gruesome sight. 
It nodded, knowing that's what the man would want to see, and smelled the fear ebbing away from the guard. Just what it needed. It pushed its face through the bars and moaned, expressing some sort of pain. The guard fell into It's carefully assembled trap by stepping forward to examine the wound out of curiosity. It gripped the man's neck and hissed, accidentally spitting blood out into his mouth. The man gagged, and tried to squirm away. It released the heaving and spitting man, delighted it infected somebody. 
It pulled its arms back from between the bars, and wrapped them around the high tech lock that had imprisoned the him -- Anderson, if you will -- so many years. Just waiting for the chance to let It run free. It's hands gripped the metal and plastic lock, squeezing as hard as it could. The lock groaned and complained against its grip, but didn't budge. It yowled it's anger into the silent hallway. The guard sat up against a small section of brick wall, wheezing with a hand pressed against his chest. The panic stricken guard scrambled to his feet, and began to stumble towards the gate just a cell away. But It wouldn't let him get that far if he was infected. It wanted the guard to help it make more of them. To control everything. It was like a king; furious at a betrayal, and ready for revenge. It yowled once again, and threw itself at the lock. The latch cracked, and gave way a little. It gurgled its pleasure, backing up, and trampling Bruiser's somewhat cold fingers with bare feet. Then, it charged again, with enough force to split the lock in two. Cleanly wouldn't be the best word to describe it, but the lock did break. It lifted its arms to push open the door only to find that one of them wouldn't obey. The arm looked like a limp, red and flesh-colored rope, bound to It's body. Frustrated, It snarled at it's arm, and used the shoulder of that side to ram into the door, and try to break it open. The door flew open, slamming against the small brick divider between cells. 
It would've grinned just then, by with a broken jaw, its rather impossible. So, to compensate, It burst into the hallway, and began to charge the infected guard. It knew by instinct that the only way the man would turn is if he smelled blood, but only that of a non-infected. It had a small, and rather risky plan to change the guard. It began bellowing in a deep and guttural way, knowing it had attracted the attention of more like the man it had infected. It waited a full three seconds before more of the men poured into the cell-room, armed with things that looked like metal arms, almost. It knew instantly these men were here to destroy what it had worked for. It's accomplishments may not have been much, but they were something. And very important to it. It wouldn't let that happen. It snarled at the men, threatening them to come closer. It was daring them to destroy what it was trying to do. 
In response, the men used their long metal arms to shoot at it. It shied away at the noise and the flash of fire before it could control itself. The loud and the heat made it scared. What if the big, bad men destroyed it? That would be horrible for it, and for the power-woman that had made it that way. It blinked a few times stupidly, before baring its bloody top teeth, and running after the men with metal arms. The men scattered as it plowed through their wall of humans. Before anybody knew what was going on, It jumped on the nearest man, and wrenched open his mouth with its good hand, an allowed some blood to dribble down his throat. An easy infection. But the other men had different plans. One of them yanked It off of the man and threw it to the floor while yet another man up a metal arm level of it's head, and fired. A miss, however. It had pushed off of a wall he had landed near, and the bullet ripped through its thigh instead. It howled in anger; the sound didn't hurt, but still ... It was curious. What looked like the mere trickle of blood to it was a gushing, fleshy wound by any other standard. Yet It managed to stand, snarling and swinging its jaw back and forth because he was shaking it so fast. The upper lip on it's face curled up menacingly. Two of the men darted away, nerves overtaking their rational side. It saw that as an opportunity. With two of the originally infected men ready to turn at the second they smelled blood that wasn't it's or their own, it knew what it had to do. 
It charged the shorter of the two men, knowing his pudgy legs would be holding a lot of blood and fat; a feast for a zombie. It tore after the little one, gaining on him three cells down. The stupid man had tried to run to the farthest gate, when he could've made it to the closer one before It had a chance to react. The pudgy man fell to his knees, crying out as he felt his knees snap, and It wrap it's powerful arm around him. It growled in the Man's ear, before punching him so hard that his nose broke, and blood began leaking slowly down his face. The two infected men perked up, and crawled over to It and the pudgy man. The uninfected could practically see the conscious, kind, caring, and fatherly side leave the mens' eyes, only to be replaced with a snarling, vicious animal. Before the two men could begin eating, It stomped its foot like an impatient bystander. The two men both stopped mid-crawl, and flattened themselves like dogs would to an alpha. It looked at the one it had spit at, and the man automatically knew what It wanted; something to "call" him by. The first man emitted a small gurgle from it's throat, asking to be called Gurgle. The second man created a moaning noise. Moaner, to It. 
The uninfected watched in perplexity. What new breed of creature was this? Something that follows the eldest? One of the men snapped to attention as Gurgle silenced the moaning pudgy man, picking up the issued walkie-talkie. It crackled to life in his hand. "TIANNA!" he screamed into it. "WE'RE LITERALLY BEING EATEN ALIVE! SEND REINFO-" The man was then cut off with Moaner barreling into him, blood spilling from his mouth and onto his double-chins. Moaned took the guard in its hands and spit some blood into his mouth, choking the guard automatically. It watched with joy as its little minions began to spit into mouths, and infect. It was torn away from its thoughts as another bullet lodged itself in its arm, causing a wretched howl from it's mouth. Before it could do so much as charge the bullet-giver, a grenade landed at it's feet. It picked up the grenade, curious about its contents. That was when It was blown sky-high, taking a few prison cells with it. The remaining guards [infected and not turned or still safe] ran through the rubble, shoving Gurgle and Moaner out of their way, and watching as both cracked their heads on a large chunk of rock. Of course, a few guards with their guns still intact shot at the two's feet and knees. Both ex-guards fell, and began a slow crawl after the rest. Within moments, the facility was evacuated, and the remaining guards checked for infection. Since the facility didn't know the extent of the disease, and the men lied about having blood spat down their throats, they were released to go home to their families. After all of the living doctors, and experiment-engineers were placed far enough away, the building was blown sky-high. 
Later, though, one of the infected mens' children fell and scraped her knee. That alone was enough to turn him, slaughtering his family, and running rampant through the streets, on that fateful December day. 

↘.________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

But there is some hope, however hard it may be to find, it's still there. 
We just have to try and find it. 

With happy thoughts for the time being,
Acelin Anika Johnson - "Ace"

 

[TᴀɪntᴇD CrᴇᴀtɪvɪtY]

Amazing! I really did like it. :3
In depth description, good plot-line, interesting characters... I really want to read more.

[city;]

YAY! SOMEBODY LIKED IT! c:
Thanks, a ton. I'll give everybody who reads this a hint ... My love triangle isn't normal ... c: