Dead!

[Phantasmagoria]

"I think I speak for all of us when I say I understand,
Why you folks might hesitate to submit to our demands.
But here's an FYI, you're all gonna die screaming.
All we wanna do is eat your brains!"


Zombies.. A classic in horror movies and video games where shotgun wielding and beer drinking rebels reclaim cities by themselves.

But that's not what it's really what it's like in a zombie infested world. Subconsciously, we all know that those people would be nothing more than a gun toting buffet with friendly fire just waiting to happen.

In the year 2011, isolated zombie outbreaks began occuring, media blackouts covered it all so we still slept like there was nothing in the world that could harm us. Now, in this same year, most lie in waiting while zombies horde outside their walls. The end of mankind seems imminent, and those who survived appear to just be the epilogue of humanity. Looks like the Mayans were over a year off, America.

Those that do remain uninfected with a heartbeat will be chased to the ends of the earth, hunted like deer by zombies.

It's not so fun on the other side of the gun.

"Have you heard the news that your dead?
No one ever had much nice to say,
I think they never liked you anyway.."

---

Contents

a. General Information
i. Zombies, Eat Flesh
ii. Guns & Other Weapons
iii. General Knowledge
b. Rules
c. Character Sheet
d. Current Characters


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a. General Information


In this world, there is such a thin margin for error that it is almost non-existant, to make sure you don't become a zombie's next lunch, let's make sure you have your facts straight.

i. Zombies, Eat Flesh

Those who have been infected by a bite or other wound exposed to zombie fluids (fluidic infection is rare given the congealed state of all liquid in the body) will become one of them. Symptoms of infection are fever, purple or brown discoloration of infection site, dementia, numbness, paralysis of lower body, coma, and finally, death. An hour or so after a person dies, they will reanimate.. and, well, try to eat you.

They are slow, awkward, and are easily outran.. or outjogged, or Hell, even speedwalking will keep you ahead. They feel no pain because of their dead nerve endings, and do not have any functioning vital organs besides the lungs, which do nothing but draw in and exhale air, allowing for their Hellish moan to work.

They decay at a less rapid rate than non-infected corpses because some bacteria that aids in decomposition ignore infected subjects. When an animal is bitten, they do not come back to life after death, the virus' catalyst in reanimation only works in human bodies.

Ingestion of infected flesh leads to death without reanimation, provided the person has no open mouth sores. This is the same with animals, though they will never come back to life, they simply die even if oral wounds are present.

The only way to cease their existance is to destroy the brain. Use your head, cut off theirs.

ii. Guns & Other Weapons

Choosing the correct weapon is vital, so don't just grab the shotgun from the gun cabinet and go shoot some zombies. The efficiency and accuracy of your weapon is important, along with muzzle velocity and other factors that contribute to skull penetration.

--Assault Rifles--

Squeezed into the gap between the rifle and the submachine gun is this lovely class of weapons. With the accuracy and range of a rifle and the rate of fire comparable to a little submachine gun, with a lot more power, this weapon appears to take first place for zombie killer.

Wrong.

The military issue M-16A1 is an overly-complicated piece of weaponry that is prone to jamming and hard to clean, which isn't exactly a priority when you have cannibalistic freaks on your tail. Along with a sight that needs adjusted every time a target changes range, and a delicate composite stock that completely takes away the use of melee combat. If given the choice, avoid this gun entirely.

On the other end of the spectrum is the ever popular AK-47, considered one of the best assault rifles made.. ever. It can be rather cumbersome with it's mule-kick of a recoil and it's over ten pound weight and MUCH louder fire, but it's wide firing mechanism prevents it from jamming all the time and it's (often) wooden stock can take a few blows against zombie skulls. It can also be equipped with a bayonet for a zombie-stabbing good time.

Another good choice for an assault rifle is the FN SCAR.

--Shotguns--

A classic, sure to be great for zombies, right?

Wrong again.

With low chances for skull penetration at moderate distances, this weapon is only good for it's intended use - as a scatter gun to hold back the enemy. A good 12 gauge can blow zombie's head off, sure, but you have to be close enough to see the whites of their eyes before it's of any use. Even if you use solid slugs, what's the point? You can get much better accuracy and rates of fire from a rifle.

If you do consider this weapon, go for an autoloading shottie. Remington 1100's or Benelli Super Nova's are fine choices. Remember, the longer the barrel, the better the buckshot pattern.

--Pistols--

Carried by every cop on every street corner, bank robbers, and appearing in basically every damn novel or movie made, these things are icon in American pop culture.

But they aren't the best.

Along with being basically useless for melee combat (pistol whipping isn't much help), they are hard to aim, even with a laser sight, which will eventually need new batteries, anyway. Though these are great in a tagteam with a shotgun, immobilize them with the scatter gun and put the sidearm to their temple. Against one or two zombies, a pistol is much better than opening up with an assault rifle or a shotgun.

Picking your caliber should depend on how close you are willing to get to a zombie and how much recoil you can handle.

.38's are great for women, .45's are managable and pack a punch on the zombies, .22's can do massive damage at close ranges and can be fired at arm's length due their lack of strength. Magnum .44's and .357's should be avoided because of their nasty kick that can send unprepared shooters reeling.

Semi-autos are MUCH better than a revolver, unless you can call yourself an expert in the art of 'fanning'.

--Bolt-Actions & Levers--

Along with having to pull back a bolt, then manually feed all the bullets into the chamber, these guns tend to be long and ungraceful. Though for those who are tempted to go full auto with an assault rifle can easily replace their M-16 with one of these. They're incomplex and made for hunters, who don't want an over-bearing b-tch of a gun in the middle of the woods. Ruger makes an excellent bolt action carbine.

Lever action guns are often discounted because of the .22 rounds they tend to fire. Although these can be a great weapon for those who can't handle a large gun, especially for children. They are often small and compact allowing for ease of movement. Though pulling the lever after every shot gets annoying.

--Semi-Automatic Rifles--

These take the blue ribbon for zombie slaying machine. They were made for trench warfare in WWII, making them excellent for close-quarters combat. It may have a shorter range of accuracy, but they're light and easy to carry. Suggestions are the M1 Carbine and the M1 Garand.

--Hand Weapons / Secondary Weapons--

Machetes -- they're common, cheap, and are available at your local army surplus store. Being small and a one handed weapon, these are excellent for close combat.

Crowbars have the ability to smash through zombie skulls, and have the added bonus of their intended use, to pry things~

Two-handed swords should only be used if you are SURE they are real. "Battle Ready" may mean it can take a few blows on a theatrical stage, not against human skulls.

Axes are slow and bulky and require a lot of force for decapitation. Plus, if you miss, you could find yourself toppling into the not-so-loving arms of a hungry zombie. Hatchets are a smaller version and a little easier to wield, though they lack much of their larger cousins' velocity and strength.

Kitchen Knives can be used in close combat. Just make sure it has a smooth, long blade. Imagine dispatching one zombie to have four more come at you while you can't retrieve your weapon.


iii. General Knowledge

Safety comes in numbers. A group of two to three is good. Up to ten is managable.

Travel by day. There's a reason horror movies happen at night. Zombies use all their senses equally, while we as humans are sight-dependent. Don't give them an advantage over our greatest weakness.

Blades don't need reloading.

No place is safe, only safer. Keep on your guard at all times. And don't take off your shoes at night, no matter how safe an area may be.

Conservation. It's one of the keystones to survival. Use all food, water, and medical supplies wisely. If you do manage to find a store, odds are it's been looted of all things of worth in this world.

Backroads. It's likely highways are jammed to the teeth with abandoned cars. Use these sidstreets to get where you're going without the hassle of weaving in between and walking over cars.


"It seems what's left of human side,
Is slowly changing, in me.
Get up, come on get down with the sickness..."


---


b. Rules

1. Keep this PG-13. I honestly expect you to know that by now, but it must be emphasised.

2. Keep it realistic. There's no running around with chainsaws and riding motorcycles and hitting zombies with pianos (Z-land reference. Ha.).

3. The character limit is three. Any more and I would be more confused then I am already.

4. Romance, infighting, etc. is welcomed in this role play. Just don't make it, like, the main part of your little piece of the plot. Remember, there are cannibalistic zombies stalking them~

5. Be polite. I expect you to respect your fellow members. Comprende? (I spelled that correctly, right..?)

6. I expect you to be at least semi-literate. One-liners are not appreciated. One FULL paragraph is fine if you have writer's block, but I want at least two or three on a regular basis.

7. No godmodding, Mary Sues... You should know this by heart by now.

8. Please wait for my acceptance to the RP before posting. Though you may put an introduction in your first post, I would prefer it if you don't interact with others until I see that you meet my standards.

9. I reserve my right to remove you from my roleplay. I will give you fair warning, such as telling you to edit your post, but if you decide to be a rebel, expect your character to be removed from the list and ignored. :)

10. Follow all forum rules. I don't expect myself to have to stress this, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. v.v


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c. Character Sheet


Fill it out. Do it. :3

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b] [ First, last, and any nicknames used frequently. ]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b] [ From 5 to about 30. ]
[b]Personality:[/b] [ Optional -- I know how characters evolve. ]
[b]Description:[/b] [ Picture is fine. Preferably a link, if you do use one. ]
[b]Strengths:[/b]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b] [ I expect at least two of these and the above. It's not that hard. ]
[b]WOC:[/b] [ Weapon of choice. ]
[b]SWOC:[/b] [ Secondary weapon of choice. ]
[b]Other:[/b] [ Anything I forgot? Just say so here.<3 ]

Please remove the stuff in [ brackets ].. It's one of my pet peeves. c:


NOW JOIN BEFORE THE ZOMBIES COME! D:


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d. Current Characters

-Username- | Picture (If Applicable) | Gender | Age | -Char. Name-

--

-Zeev- | N/A | Female | 15 | -Joelle McLean-
-Zeev- | Click. | Male | 27 | -Onix Lovatt-
-Zeev- | N/A | Male | 25 | -Alexander Eberhardt-
-Homicidal Maniac:)- | N/A | Male | 20 | -Micajah Willis-
-Homicidal Maniac:)- | Click. | Female | 10 | -Everdeen Thomas-
-TheUnderDog- | Click. | Female | 22 | -Morgan Hutch-
-Moondancer- | Click. | Male | 25 | -Gabriel Antoine Quint-
-.: Ѧαƨκ :.- Click. | Female | 11 | -Nikki Vao-
-Kitteh! - | Click. | Female | 28 | -Tracy Stephens-
-Geeky- | N/A | Female | 11 | -Abigail Sierron-

[Phantasmagoria]

Name: Joelle (pronounce 'Joe Elle') 'Joe' 'Elle' McLean

Gender: Female

Age: Fifteen

Personality: Mature beyond her age, Joelle prefers the moniker 'Joe' to the more feminine half of her name, Elle. Most would believe a girl her age on her own in a zombie infested world would be lonely and frightened, but she proves to be just the opposite. She never really got attached to people, so their loss was no great change in her life. While she actually does get afraid and does freeze up, she follows Tallahassee's line: "Nut up, or shut up." She tends to put people at a distance and be rather sarcastic and nonchalant, and it is rare she is outwardly kind to anyone she meets. She doesn't relate to people easily.. Unless you mention music, at which she seems to perk up.

Description: She has mouse brown hair which is most often parted to the left or down the middle. Her bangs are mostly off to the right side of her face and usually only distinctive from the rest of her hair when it is pulled back. She keeps her hair in a low ponytail and often wears a light green knit tuque (AKA - a toboggan) pulled down over most of her forehead. Her eyes are greenish blue and appear to slightly change depended on the color of her clothing. She seems to have a thing for black clothing and metal, considering her black 'Killswitch Engage' t-shirt and a black hoodie with the letters 'De' on the left side, and 'ad!' on the opposite side of the zipper. On her feet are charcoal colored (and slightly blood-stained) Converse low-tops, and above that is a pair of slightly chafing skinny jeans, navy blue in color. On her back is a black and white backpack (with one strap partly torn), with another change of clothes, extra socks, two bottles of water, and enough canned food for a few days. She stands only 5'6'', wears size 7 shoes in Women's, and is inbetween skinny and 'chunky'. While her legs and arms are lean and lithe, she has a bit of fat lying on her stomach. She is rather pale, looking sort of like an anemic vampire, to properly describe her skin tone.

Strengths: Running. Let's just say she's done a lot of it. Staying calm. Though the ice on the surface sometimes breaks and she falls through, the metaphorical ice is usually thick enough that she can tread without fear.

Weaknesses: She's deathly afraid of ladybugs.. Wow.. She's not afraid of zombies but little orange bugs frighten her. Epic. She also has problems with reloading, she's rather slow at it and she's afraid it will get her killed. Doritos and Mountain Dew. For her, they're like Twinkies are to Tallahassee. Once her confidence falters, she struggles to get it back, making her rather vulnerable after a close encounter.

WOC: M1 Carbine

SWOC: Some kind of medival looking sword she found at a gunstore in a mall. She's pretty sure it's real, but..

Other: To keep pressing forward, she keeps goals in mind, and those are..

1. Visit Disneyland. Just so she can say she's been.
2. Smash a guitar. She's just always wanted to.
3. Drive an expensive car. (Anything with over three zeroes on the sticker.)


---


Name: Onix Lovatt
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Personality: N/A
Description: Click.
Strengths: Hiding. He has a knack for finding safe places to stay for the night. Planning ahead. Going into to creepy abandoned convenience store for supplies? Onix can have three backup plans in his head within a minute.
Weaknesses: Aiming. He has to wait until almost point blank to get a clean shot because he shakes so much. Animals. He gets mad whenever he sees a zombie after one.. Mostly because he can't help. Unlike most, he's not at all calm when facing zombies. Even just two or three. He just gets freaked out..
WOC: AK-47 (set on single-fire)
SWOC: .45 Semi-Automatic pistol
Other: He's gay... You don't like it or are offended by his sexuality, I really don't care. c:



[ I know. I was lazy on Onix.. But it's past 2am where I live and I'm tired. x3 ]

[Homicidal Maniac:)]

Name: Micajah "Cage" Willis
Gender: Male.
Age: 20
Personality: Cage had always been one of those who can watch a horror flick and laugh. He was never keen on the whole empathy bit of society and enjoyed tormenting other children when he was younger. It wasn't that he was sadistic exactly, but he was cynical and had a quiet intelligence and prowess that surmounted his years. He distanced himself to keep his emotional ties at a minimum; he had trouble making them in the first place. He hated his father, the man was a drunk and there was no polite way to put it. So, he kept his friends closer than his enemies, which was entirely the wrong thing to do, seeing as his best friend was one of the first to fall victim to the beasts. Cage could have been a very open and kind individual, but life and hate have made him bitter and he closed himself into a sort of mental fortress to keep him from going mad. To say he doesn't care is an understatement, but there are certain people he'd rather see alive. He would do everything in his power, sort of getting himself killed, to keep them from harm. But of course, things seldom work out the way we plan, so it isn't likely he'll be getting an award for being a hero anytime soon.
Description: His hair, a shade just shy of black, is unusually long for a male. Although he keeps it tied at the nape of his neck, it seldom stays where it should. He is constantly brushing strands from his eyes but adamantly refusing to cut it. His eyes, when they aren't obscured by badgering tresses(XD, makes him sound like a girl), are an exotic almond shape, though he has no oriental blood and are a vivid blue. The hue is icy and reflects his personality perfectly, but whenever he is speaking to someone, it appears as though he is looking through them. He sports a leather jacket that is slightly worn on the elbows, but he really isn't too picky having stripped it from a body. Underneath, or rather what you can see through the opening in the jacket itself, is a maroon t-shirt that appears to be new. His pants are a faded denim, but had been nearly black when he'd bought them. His shoes are mismatched, one being a patent leather boot and the other some sort of sneaker. He doesn't really remember losing the left boot, only that when he woke up it seemed to have vanished. Not surprising, since the only drink he has on his person is alcoholic. He stands at about 6'3" and is of muscular build, but that can be attributed to the fact that he was training in Quantico to become an agent in the FBI. His skin is lightly bronzed, but it's pretty unusual since he does all of his sleeping during the daylight hours.
Strengths: His disinterest, it's almost surprising that such a thing could be a strength(your teachers would definitely frown upon that and argue against it), but he really doesn't care what happens to the others around him one tick. He has great aim, despite his blurred vision(well, when you drink...) and isn't afraid to exploit others for his own gain. He hardly ever gets lost, which comes in handy when you're running from the folk that wish to gut you, it's better than having no freaking clue and getting yourself caught up in an alley with no escape but up. Unless you can fly, of course. He's also merciless and cruel, so he feels nothing when he dispatches a monster that happens to have the face of his beloved granny.
Weaknesses: Cage is kind of paranoid...It's not like he thinks the zombies are some twisted sort of karma, but he thinks that they are out to get-well, they are out to get him. No, he's more paranoid about dying and will avoid it using any means necessary. He drinks heavily, causing him to occasionally pass out, not very handy when it's out in the open. He also has a nasty temper and raises his voice to smash his point into the ground. Basically, he has Zombies-come-Get-Me written all over him.
WOC: 10 gauge gas-loaded magnum shotgun
SWOC: Crowbar....Anyone up for Whack-A-Mole, Undead style?
Other: Nope, I think you were fairly thorough, it's going to be fun. I'll make a female character on the morrow.

[Phantasmagoria]

[ I'll add Cage to the list~ I meant to post my acceptance a while ago but I kept getting distracted. x3 ]

[Homicidal Maniac:)]

[Geez, because now I hate you? Jk, It's all good. Pretty late though, but coffee and redbull tend to keep you going when you should probably be dead...*sigh*]

[Phantasmagoria]

[ It's not pretty -late- here.. It's early in the morning.. Almost 4 am. x.x I can barely feel my fingers and my arms are numb.. I'm guessing that's a bad thing. -nod- ]

[Homicidal Maniac:)]

[[Well, it's only about 3:00 here, I consider it late only because if I'm not sleeping it's still daytime...But yes, I do not recommend going numb, though I suppose it's not something to recommend. I hate it.]]

[Homicidal Maniac:)]

Name: Everdeen "Never" Thomas
Gender: Female
Age: 10
Personality: Never is what you'd commonly refer to as Proli-Vitiatus , or spoiled brat. She has gone through her life getting exactly what she wants whenever she wants it. She believes that the zombies are evil simply because they don't do what she wishes. She received her nickname because she never shuts up and constantly complains and whines. Her two favorite expressions are: "That's not fair!" and "I want it now!". Her repulsive behavior can be blamed solely upon the parents, who have recently made a pleasant meal for the undead. She is upbeat and bubbly, changing her emotional state at the drop of a hat. She often throws tantrums and can become increasingly violent. She attaches herself to anything that breathes and preferably has a pulse. She enjoys arguing for the sake of arguing and will never admit she is wrong. She is stubborn and reckless, getting herself into tight situations that are hard to resolve. She can be a good asset at times because she thinks quickly and doesn't mind being the first into battle.
Description: http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3197/269 ... 93dc1d.jpg
Strengths: She is cunning, as most young children are, with an eye for detail. She can climb almost as quickly as a monkey and acts as a makeshift lookout to alert others of oncoming zombies. She is fearless, when it comes to getting what she wants and at the moment it appears to be life. She will do nearly any job to remain useful and she screams to rival a banshee, which comes in handy for those who need backup.
Weaknesses: She will often disappear which can be problematic if the group wants to move on. She can't aim or shoot, it wouldn't matter because the recoil is too great for her anyway. She won't do anything that doesn't strike her fancy and has been known to save herself before she thinks of others.
WOC: Her mouth, leave her with the zombies and they'll kill themselves. No, rocks actually. She grabs handfuls and throws them at the zombies. It does extremely little, but it can keep them at bay for a few precious seconds.
SWOC: A wicked knitting needle; no joke. She will wait for a zombie to get close enough that she could give it a hug (not that she'd want to) and she jabs it in the little bugger's eye. She has surprising upper arm strength for a ten-year-old, much less a girl.
Other: She's never been on a plane, she'd love to someday.

[Phantasmagoria]

[ Zeev feels a sudden need to post her introduction. cx ]


Splattered about in every crevice of the rocky ground was congealed, brown blood, and among the partially decomposed bodies littering the earth next to the Cadillac were members of both sides of the fight, some that were human still clutched guns in their hands. Those on the opposite team were peppered with automatic fire, and a few lucky shots were headwounds. But the only thing Joelle appeared to notice was a severed zombie head, jaws still snapping, though not able to moan for lack of vocal chords and lungs. She seemed to be more amused than anything at it's futile attempts to reach her, more than ten feet away. Though the look on her face was one of agitation, partly because of the blood on her clothes and her lack of getting a shower for over a week, and partly because she had Kenny Loggins music in her head.

The mid-fall day was comfortably mild, even as the sun bore down heavily on her black clothing. Hanging loosely from Joe's right hand was a sleek double-edged sword that appeared to be coated by blood and grey matter and other bodily fluids one would rather not define. She guessed the time to be around eight in the am, judging by her rudimentary skills in the art of telling time by the sun. She quietly pressed onward, leaving the decapitation victim to bite forever at the air until someone happened upon it and feel mercy for what was left of the zombie. With a slight twinge of remorse, she recalled back when her worst fear was the second Barthandelus fight, not being eaten by dead people.. who just so happened to also be living. At the same time. That part, she still didn't understand. Reliable knowledge was scarce, some believed the virus was transferred through air, others thought that it was a military experiment gone awry. But as for her, it was just another setback. Just another person she didn't know out of the misery of life. Something she had wished for on many occasions before then.

She swung the blade lightly back and forth as she walked, the light tap of her Converse one of the only sounds on the fourlane. There was no more gunfire, no cars weaving between the wreckage of others who had failed to find safety, and had only crashed and burned. Everyone was either dead, a zombie, or in hiding while the undead amassed outside their doors, the moans growing louder as more joined the fray. Some had killed themselves, some had been killed by other humans, she had even been in a church where it was apparent the adults were 'merciful' and killed the children first. The few humans she had seen were either demented, feral, or just gave her a wide berth (afraid of her, she believed), others were desperate perverts who she would gladly shoot in a heartbeat. She had seen quite a few of the last in her travels.

Joelle walked parallel to the road's right shoulder.. She wasn't sure of the highway's name, or it's number, but she knew she was southbound and almost in Tennessee. Also known as, the heart of hick country. She paused, glanced back over her shoulder and brought her melee weapon to a more defensive stance, obviously a little paranoid from the noise she'd heard. She could have sworn it was footsteps. Though she had thought she had heard footsteps often. "I'm losing my freakin' mind." she mumbled, though she used more eh.. choice words. Let's just say she could make a twenty-four year old sailor proud and leave it at that...


---


'This is going to end badly.'

'Of course it is. It always does.'

Onix twitched involuntarily, playing with the hem of his shirt and he stared into the city from it's outskirts. It was one thing to talk to yourself, but it was a whole other thing when you answered. He heard the slight clink of his extra magazines and he realized he was shaking slightly, though whether it was caused by fear or adrenaline, he was unsure. He felt awkwardly frightened, even though the town's population barely topped a thousand, according to the sign with bore the words "Welcome to Dearborn"... Which he thought was a stupid name. It made him think of The Misfits song "Die, Die, My Darling". He still felt disjointed and out of place. In a world where the Internet was almost nonexistent and zombies ate people, he was confused. He used to sleep all day and play paintball and lay on Facebook or Myspace, now he was fighting for his life. That was all Onix's life seemed to himself, a fight, always a struggle. But now, those bigots he had gotten so used to were gone, and were replaced by undead moaners who wanted to eat him.

He was still trying to decide which was worse.

And so his mind wandered, just as he did as he slowly started down Main Street. He became more sure of the fact he was in what could be considered 'the South' as he saw a few mudcovered trucks with jacked up suspension systems. Dearborn was silent, reminding Onix of a graveyard.. The cemetery to the last of the humanity to take shelter there. But, oddly enough, it also seemed devoid of zombies. Perhaps they had followed those migrating north, or there was a large safe zone near. Whatever the case, he was irritated at the lack of life.. or.. unlife...?

... Whatever.


[ Once again, I was lazy with Onix. Yay. ]

[Homicidal Maniac:)]

[[I shall also then, yours was very-not lovely...That word doesn't seem to fit. Sadistic? Sure, but I loved it.]]

Sweat beaded at the edges of Cage’s vision. The slightly distant feeling that was now the norm with him flooding every pore, every crevice of his being and leaving it with a tingling sort of sensation. His vision blackened as he struggled to his knees and vomited chunks of what had been a can of spoiled oysters along the broken pavement. He splayed his hands on the blackness, one of the few things made by man when he had been sane and lost in a dream.

The American dream my left foot. He blinked into the hazy light that filtered through the smog of a thousand factories that now rested in peace. More like the American nightmare. He reached into his pocket and revealed a small cellular phone. His expression was crazed as he flipped it open, hope replacing confusion and finally rage replacing everything. The cursed thing was on its last leg, barely clinging to life but it had zero bars. It truly was a horror flick. He struggled to a standing position and tossed the contraption into the pool of vomit, where it shattered.

It was some time in autumn, year forgotten and unimportant. The service road he was on had been in some backwoods hick town. In fact, he could faintly see the outline of some backwoods hicks. His head swam as he lifted his canteen to parched lips, greedily nursing the whiskey that sloshed in its depths. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, the studs in the leather leaving faint imprints on his grimy cheek.

He remembered killing the men now. They hadn’t been zombies, just some poor missionaries or other that tried to tell him the world was ending and that he should repent. He’d told them, in flowery language, where they could stick their Bible and such. They continued with the preaching, so he let his rifle do a little of its own. Two clean shots did the trick. Shut the idiots right up.

The truth was, he was afraid. It was something he didn’t care to grasp. It could not be the end. It was simply a little snag. The humans would get over it and everything would wok out.

He decided that his logic deserved another swig. Instead, he drank the whole canteen and staggered over to the faded red Ford pickup that was resting precariously in a ditch. It was shady, and if he was lucky, it might even have a little gas left that he could waste on air-conditioning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everdeen hated the fall. She hated school and kids. She hated the zombies. She hated the people that were left. And currently, she hated the crumbling building that housed a bunch of broken vending machines and useless bits of office supplies.

She had holed herself up in a tiny corner in what had been the business district of wherever she was. The building itself was in reasonable condition for a town that was too miserly to upgrade anything; they were simply lucky they’d had indoor plumbing. Its pipes were in working order, which is what had drawn her here. Plus the fact that there didn’t seem to be any resident zombies or straggling humans.

She drew her knees under her chin and rocked quietly back and forth. The air was stale but welcoming. It had the smells that one associates with workaday things; paper, heavy perfume, sweat, and fear. It was dark because she hadn’t bothered trying the lights and because she liked it that way. In the dark she could pretend that nothing was wrong and that it was all a cruel joke Stephanie and Michelle were playing on her.

But, they were dead and no matter how far she ran or how well she hid, they’d get her in the end.

With that morbid thought, she crawled along the office floor that was littered with fallen pencils and pens as well as broken pictures on her hands and knees, inching the door open slowly.

Something moved.

Her breathing quickened and her pulse jumped. This was not healthy for her to be shooting so much adrenaline. She could almost imagine herself hitting a home run in a big league game. Who needed steroids when they had a triple dose of fear with a drop of desperation?

She grasped the needle in her hand a little tighter and silently slipped from the room. She dove upon the perpetrator, who gave a surprised squeak before it was felled.

“Idiot rat.” She snarled, kicking the dead thing with disgust. “You scared the bejeebers out of me.”
She was shaking, but she was secretly thankful that I had been a rat and nothing more.