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01/19/2005 3:00 AM
Frank awoke that morning with the biggest damn headache he ever experience. Payment for the previous day's festivities at the local Shakespearian Festival. A stale burp erupted form his lips, mixed with the sour gurgle of acid reflux. He once again remembered the cold cruel fact that he was no longer 21 years of age. The dwarven berserkers slam dancing in his skull only further reminded him of this.
He looked at the clock on his nightstand.
"Shit... I'm going to be late for work.
Frank hastily but on a pair of faded blue Levi's and his prized Red Wing steel toed-boots. Those boots were his pride and joy. He wore them to every Slayer concert in the 80's... the 90's... all the way up to last May, this 2004. He made haste to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath at the sink. After washing his armpits, he opened the medicine cabinet and applied and generous amount of Right Guard. Holding his arms up he turned his head and took a quick whiff...
"Oh well", he thought. "It’ll have to do".
He reached onto the medicine cabinet once again and grabbed a bottle of aspirin. He popped four into his mouth and chewed them up. The bitter taste made him grimace a bit, but it soon passed as he took a gulp of generic mint mouthwash, gurgled and swallowed down the whole vile brew. He let out a big burp once again, but at least it didn’t taste sour, and the minty mouthwash seemed to have a cooling effect on his heartburn. At least for the moment…
He went to his dresser and put on a fresh "wife beater" undershirt, then walked over to the fridge for a quick breakfast. He reached in and grabbed his last bottle of Lucky Lager, silently making a mental note to stop by 7-11 on the way home to pick up another 12 pack. He cracked it open and snapped the bottle cap towards the sink, missing by a mile. He grabbed his AAA Towing shirt and headed out the front door.
It was unusually silent that morning. The freeway over pass to his left was seemingly void of traffic; to his right, his neighbor’s house was quiet. Now that was really strange, for she had this bastard kid that was always about, causing trouble. If ever there was a poster child for birth control, this little shit was it. Far in this distance somewhere, Frank heard a huge explosion. He looked to it’s general direction and seen a large black mushroom cloud bellowing up to the heavens. Not only that, but he begin to notice similar plumes all about the city. Frank had no time to contemplate this further as he heard a noise coming from around the side of his house. He walked around to his driveway to the side, to investigate the disturbance, and he saw a bum limping his way towards him. Dude must have been sleeping in near the creek far behind the house.
“Hey shit-heel”…”what the fuck you doing in my back yard?”
The bum let out a slight moan and kept walking towards Frank, this time raising is head and looking. Frank let out a sharp gasp when he saw the guy’s face. His left eye was hanging from his socket, and it looked like rats had a bit of a snack on his face.
“Holy shit dude… sit down and I’ll call an ambulance”.
But the bum kept coming. Frank started to step back as his instincts started to shout that something was up. The bum kept shambling forward, and Frank keep back steeping until he hit a gopher hole and fell back onto his ass. The bum lunged forward and Frank lifted up his boot ready to kick him… when all of the sudden:
That little bastard neighbor kid jumped from the bushes fully deck in some dime store ninja suit and began to whip-ass on the bum. Frank got up to help, but before he could lend a hand, the kid whipped out a ninja sword and began hacking the crap out of the bum. Against all reason, the bum would go not go down, even as the kid disemboweled him. With a deft roll, the kid moved around and sliced across with the sword, taking out both the bum’s legs at the knees. The bum dropped like a sack of shit to the bloody grass below. Frank stood there a second, totally shocked at what he witness. Even more shocking was the fact the bum was still alive after all of that. Frank looked to the kid, and then to the bum, and then to the kid again when he was struck by a sudden epiphany.
He pointed down to the bum and exclaimed, “Holy shit kid… that’s a fuckin’ zombie”.
“No crap smart guy… where the hell you been all morning”
Frank walked over the kid and shoved him back.
“Shows what you know kid… you gotta hit’em in the head”.
Crunch. A dull popping sound as Frank stomped down on the zombies head, crushing its skull and sending juicy bits of brain spattering all over the place.
“Kid, we got to get the hell out of here”. “Where’s you mom?”
“She’s dead Frank”
“Sorry”. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you”. “Wait here”
Frank went to his garage and opened the door. Inside, he walked directly to his large floor safe and went through the motions of the combination. He reached in the open safe and removed a 12 gauge semi-auto short-barreled shotgun. He grabbed three holsters; two contain .22 semi auto pistols, and one .357 magnum revolver. Inside was a large, rolled up duffle bag. Frank unrolled it, zipped it open and filled it up with the various types of ammunition. Behind the shelf holding his weapons, he grabs another case. Inside is another treasured item… Frank’s highly illegal Uzi sub-machine gun.
After placing the meager arsenal into the front cab of the truck, he walked over and grabbed his toolbox filled with crowbars, monkey wrenches, and other such tools and placed in the back. Next to it he threw in a baseball bat and a machete. He past a large double bladed battle-axe he bought the day before at the festival. He threw that in as well, you never know what might come in handy in these desperate situations. Frank jumped in the cab and fired up the engine. He came to a start as the stereo blasted the song that was playing in the CD player the night before, Live Undead by Slayer. He silently laughed at the irony as he drove down the driveway. Just in time to catch that little shit guzzling what was left of his breakfast.
“Get in shit-heel”
The kid jumped in the truck and excitedly took note of the firearms. The kid opened up his backpack and pulled out a box roughly the size of a holder for a dozen doughnuts.
“Well these help?”
“I don’t know… what are they”
The kid smiled with a reply, “M-1000s”.
Frank started to laugh as he realized this kid wasn’t too bad after all.
“Hey, do me a favor and open up the glove-box and hand me that bottle of anti-acid”.
“Great… the shit hits the fan and I’m out’a TUMS”
“Do one more thing”
“Load them guns”
The little bastard begins to gleefully load the firearms as Frank pops a clip into the Uzi and draws back the action.
“So what’s you name kid”. “And what do you know about what’s happening so far?”
01/19/2005 5:36 PM
The girl looked up.
"I'm Sharon. Sharon Emerson. You're Frank, right?"
She began to load the guns as fast as she could, pausing to brush a bit a bit of....something, off of her blood-stained sweater. The girl stared. Some of these guns she hardly even recognized!
"Holy shit! Are you a member of Gun Lovers Anonymous or something? Some of these aren't even legal!"
She tossed the last into the back of the pickup, shifting the makeshift sling for her sword on her back.
"So, where are we goin'?"
01/19/2005 8:32 PM
"Well nice to meet you Sharon, sorry it wasn't under better circumstances"
"As for my gun, i'll keep your M-1000s secret if you keep my uzi secret"
"i don't know where were going yet... i gotta think"
"Alright listen". Frank slaps her hand away from the radio dials.
"Stop playing with the radio and look at me".
Sharon looks up with that bug-eyed stare kids tend to give adults when they state for them to look at them.
Crawl through the sliding window behind us and reach into the toolbox in the back of the truck". "You'll find some electrical tape and a box of Ten-penny nails. Sharon climbs in the back of the truck and begins to root through Frank's toolbox.
"Oh shit... hurry up kid, we got company" Sharon looks back up the street to the end of the court, and sees three more zombies shuffling towards them. She quickly grabs the items and climbs back into the cab".
"Now take those nails and stick about ten on a piece of electrical tape. Lined up to next to each other, flat top touching the bottem point of the next and vise versa". "When you finished that, place it around a M1000, then do another followed by one last TIGHT piece of tape... in fact, make sure it's all taped up with just the fuse sticking out". "Do as many as you can, they will be useful if we have to get out and hoof it".
"But remember one important fact... that is a redneck claymore mine". "when that m1000 explodes, it will throw those nails about as hard and fast as if they were fired from a gun"." "they will rip through everything in its path for about a 30 foot radius... i shit you not"."So be careful"!
The zombies were about 30 feet from the car as Frank popped the tranny into drive... foot still on the brake. Keeping his eye on the zombies he spoked to Sharon...
"Is your seat belt latched?"
01/19/2005 8:45 PM
Sharon bit her lip, frantically following his directions.
"Ok, I got it, now what do I do??"
"Is your seat belt latched?"
She resisted the urge to spout a comeback, and just clicked the seatbelt in. She stared out the window, noticing the three zombies. The girl held tightly onto the m1000-electric tape-nail-thing, and her eyes widened as she realized what he was going to do.
"Ohshitohshitohshit" Sharon began to mutter under her breath.
The car speeded forward, and there was a sickening crunch human flesh and popping bones. Blood splattered on the windshield, along with other far more disgusting things. She covered her face with her hands, closing her eyes a moment too late, breathing in short desperate gasps.
01/19/2005 10:48 PM
Frank hit the hammer-down on his '65 primered Ford, turning it into a 2-ton missle heading straight for the walking dead. A wicked smile splayed across his face as he excellerated... and the CD played on"
"Night grows cold, twilights near,
On the edge of madness the wounds are sheared,
Forms of hanging flesh, shredded carcass
No spared breath
Imprisoned in a shell, ready to explode
Out into the night"
The impact is solid, yet giving as a stream of gore covers the windshield in a solid mass of crimson. Frank sees young Sharon covering her face and grasping for breath and it starts to becomes too much. The song, the irony, the situation, the wipe and wash cleaning the remains of walking dead humans off his windshield. He looked over to Sharon, his daughter would be Sharons age now, if she would have lived. Was she out there now, was she out there with her mother seeking the warmth of human blood?
He was about to snap. God has finally turned his back on humanity and let the Devil himself throw open the Gates of Hell. Was this it, was this the day of Judgement Frank often scoffed? That last though pushed him over the edge, he looked at the gun on his lap, and he looked at the innocent girl who had to kill her parents to save her own life only an hour ago. He thought it best to just end it all now, for him and for her. Spare them both the horror they would soon be facing...
Frank locks the brakes and the truck comes to a screeching halt. He begins to punch the dashboard looking up to the sky as if he could see through the roof.
"FUCK YOU GOD"
Repeatedly screaming it as he punches the dashboard with each statement. Sharon comes to a start, gripping the pommel of her sword in fear that Frank has lost it.
He sits there quitely, a few tears mar his face and he looks to Sharon and clears his throat.
"Sorry if i scarred you Sharon" ." Don't be afraid... i kinda needed that".
The truck starts moving down towards the end of street again, were the entrance to their court meets Main Street. Frank turns right and begins to continue on. Behind him he hears a siren and see a police car coming up like a bat out of Hell, moving into the left lane to pass. Frank slows down, trying to make a gesture for the police stop, but the fly on pass him.
As the cops go through the intersection, they are t-boned by a economy car on the driver side of the police car. The sound is terrifying as the screech and slam reach Frank and Sharons ears. The slowly approach and look at the wreck. The econmy car is completey smashed, all the two of them can see is a red splatter on the shattered windshield. Of the cop car, the driver is in two pieces, but the airbag of the driver seemed to cushion the passager from the brunt of the force. If he wasn't dead, he was unconsious.
Frank stopped the truck to investigate, he took a quick look around to see if any zombies were about. He didn't see anything so looked to Sharon as he got out of the car.
"Wait here and keep your eyes open"...
"i'm going to see if this policeman is alright".
01/20/2005 12:36 AM
Sgt. Grady swerved the vehicle hard left nearly missing another one of those brain dead walking corpse. Jon was thrown against the door of the car and the shell he was trying to load into the 12 gauge fell to the floor.
"Bloody fuck!" he screamed, "Can't you bloody Americans drive?"
"There was another one of those zombies!" he replied back trying to keep the vehicle on the road.
"Run them over! You idiot!"
Grady looked over to his british counterpart and blinked in surprise. His eyes quickly went back to the road. "Are you fucking crazy! They are citizens!"
"Look, your bloodly citizens are walking around the city like they don't have a bloody fucking mind and eating other people. They aren't having a fucking party drinking tea and eating fucking crumpets! Run the fuckers over!"
Grady stepped on his gas and with a loud thump a shambles of a body goes flying over the hood of the car. Grady flinched.
"There you go ol' chap!" he said as he loaded another shell into the 12 gauge.
The police car flew down the street.
"Look! There are people in the truck we just passed!" Jon yelled.
Grady turned around to look over his shoulder when Jon screamed again. Grady turned back just as they crossed the intersection.
"Bloody hell! This is going to hurt." Jon mumbled as the car coming across t-boned into the police car.
"He man, you ok?" a voice said to Jon as the darkness starting to clear out in his mind. He looked to Grady who seemed to be in two places at once. He groaned.
"Oh bloody hell." he moaned holding his head. He looked up and saw a man standing there. The door was opened and from the looks of it, the crash blew it open. He was holding an uzi in his hands. Jon was about to answer when a pain echoed through his head. He leaned back on the head rest and groaned again.
He looked to the man again. The man was looking around cautiously then looked back at him.
"Here," he said holding out his hand, "Can you stand?"
"Yeh... I think so." Jon said as he took his hand. Surpisingly as he got up he noticed he still had the 12 gauge in his hand.
Frank was worried at first but saw that the guy was standing up just fine. "I'm Frank. It's good to know..."
That was all Frank could say before he heard a click and the policeman shoved him out of the way. Frank fell to the ground and when he looked up, the cop was right up to the truck.
"Shit, the fucker is fast!" he said to himself.
Jon lunged forward and saw the girls eyes grow wide. However, his attention was at the limping body next to the girls open window. He jumped kicked and his foot landed squarely in the zombies chest. It stumbled backwards.
Jon looked at the kid, "Cover your ears kid."
She did as he ask when a sudden boom blast the chest of the zombie. Jon frowned as it stood there like a swaying boat. Jon cocked the 12 gauge again and shoved the barrel into the zombies mouth.
"Say ah, you flesh eating prick." He pulled the trigger and the head of the zombie exploded. He cocked his 12 gauge as he turned around and winked at the kid as the zombies head fell in pieces to the floor around him in bloodly splats.
He smiled at Frank on the floor and walk over and helped him up.
"Sorry about that." he said taking out his pack of smokes. He took one and stuck it in his mouth and offered the pack to Frank. "Smoke? We call them fags but you americans get your pants in a bunch when say that."
He grinned comically.
01/20/2005 11:06 AM
Sharon stared at the police officer, still shocked from Frank's outburst.
I'm surrounding by fucking madmen!
She thought to herself, staring at the newcomers.
The girl climbed out of the truck.
"Uh....is everybody alright?"
"Yeah, I think so." The officer replied.
She was still stunned, and stared at the crumpled wreck of the car.
"Well, shit. Looks like your car's totalled."
01/20/2005 2:41 PM
Two zombies, attracted by the sound, start moving for the three people, when suddenly one of them collapses and stays on the ground. The other, barely interested in what happened to his compagnion kept walking towards them. When the undead is still a number of yards away from them, a short whistling sound is heard, then the other goes to the ground as well. Lodged within his head is an arrow.
A few seconds later a native american is sliding down the rainpipe, approximately 20 feet from the totalled cars and even less to the three whiteys. Gracious as a cat and with a powerful stride, the man walks towards the other three. "I think we should be moving right about now, whitebread, unless you would like to be surrounded within a few minutes? The road to the left is where my van is parked and that street is so far clean of these walking corpses." The bow he used to take the two zombies out hangs on his back, but it is far from the only weapon he seems to carry.
He pointed towards the street to the left of them and began walking in that direction. "Dunno what you aim to do, but if you want to get out of here alive, I urge you to start walking. You can smoke that peace-pipe later." The comment was cut rather dryly. "Grab your stuff and let's go, shall we?"
01/20/2005 4:38 PM
Frank takes a fag from the limey, and lights it up... drawing in the bluish smoke in deeply.
"What do we have here, some calm cool collective James Bond mother-fucker"...
Sharon screams as another zombie shambles towards the motley band of survivors. There is a high pitch whistling sound as a streak comes whizzing past and thuds into the zombie’s head like ripe summer melon. The alloy shaft of an arrow sticks out from the zombie’s forehead like some twisted mockery of a unicorn. The zombie makes a gurgling sound just as falls to the ground and ceases to twitch.
Frank looks and sees an Indian man sliding down a drainage pipe and engages the party...
"Grab your stuff and let's go, shall we?"
As the injun begins to walk away, Frank addresses the man, "hold up their chief!"
"I don't think I like the idea of enclosing myself inside a van with James Bond and his itchy trigger-finger".
"My truck has a re-enforced bumper to protect the radiator and engine block. Who knows what we'll have to bust through". "Its also dual tank ford so I have plenty of gas". "Look at the ground clearance". Frank points to the truck. "We might have to take this expedition off conventual roads"... "And I don't want to get stuck in some creek". "I can drive, and you and the officer here can sit in the back, and clear the road of any resistance we find".
The group looks up the street from where the economy-car came from and sees a teenaged boy on top of the hill, zombies in tow and catching up. The boy is carrying a skateboard in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. As he starts his way down the incline he jumps into the air and places the skateboard under his feet, landing in a squat position and begins to accelerate towards the group… turning back to impishly laugh and gives the zombies the middle finger.
The group looks in horror as the see zombies closing in on each side, lower down the hill in a maneuver to intercept the poor lad. Jon places his hand on the side of his chin and pops his neck, withdrawing his Dessert Eagle as he does so…
A thunderous echo fills the city as one zombie loses it head in a spray of chunky tomato soup.
A second zombie has some fletching sticking out of its gaping maw a split second before it’s head turns into a imploding bowl of Christmas cranberry sauce.
The young boy makes it to the bottom of the hill with only one zombie standing between him and the group. He stands back up on his skateboard and holds the bat as if he’s standing next to home plate.
"Goodbye Mr. Spalding"… as he fully connects the bat across the bridge of the nose of the last remaining zombie. Coming to the group he turns his board sideways, skidding to a stop. They look at the boy, blood sprinkled across his face, wearing a black Korn shirt. Frank gets an annoyed look on his face…
“Great… another fuckin’ kid”…
(static white noise erupts from the demolished police car)
Attention all cars… the parameter has been breeched. Pull back to the outer parameter with extreme haste. Warn civilians to leave the city over the loud speaker but do not attempt a rescue. An Executive order has been charged and the occurrence must be contained before it spreads. You have three hours to make it out before a squadron of B-52s carpet the area and light the place up like Baghdad.
(Static white noise)
“Oh…. That’s just fuckin’ swell"!
01/21/2005 8:05 AM
John took a closer look at the 'James Bond motherfucker' and grinned. "Now then, mac, I guess you and I both know what that means, right? In three hours they expect the situation to be out of control and them B52's will either carpetbomb the entire city, or drop a daisy-cutter in the middle of it, just as long as it gives them the hope of containing this odd outbreak. So in less then three hours, we need to be either out of this hellhole, or in a reasonably safe spot underground."
John smirked at Frank and pointed at his truck. "Fine by me. I'm sure you can pull up to my van then and give me a minute or two to get my stuff out? While we likely will be travelling together, what are your names?" The questions wee asked in a blunt though non-aggressive way.
01/21/2005 7:06 PM
the kid steped off of his skatebourd "names Billy my freinds call me Billy the kid" he said as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket "Any body have a cigurete
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