Ordo Aqua: Savant
Tuesday January 18, 2011 2:45 PM
RE: The Walking Dead
|"Do I remember the day the zombies came? First report on the news or locally? I can't exactly pinpoint when I started to get an inkling that it wasn't really the new super-flu but it had to've been about a week before I saw my first bona fide zombie. I DO remember arguing extensively with my father for a couple of days about the subject. The pig headed old goat just flat out refused to believe that zombies could possibly be real."|
A wry smirk twists the big man's lips as the memory briefly surfaces and he exhales loudly through his nose before he continues.
"Back on topic. I remember all too well the first time I laid eyes on one of those noxious bastards......."
"Fuckin' Mondays. Mondays are always shitty at the plant and it's even worse during the cold and flu season. You never know how many people are going to be out or if you're going to end up doing triple the work to cover for someone. The company's official policy on the flu says that you are NOT to come in and to phone the office to report illness, I mean, the policy is pretty emphatic on that point.... The unofficial policy, however, is 'If you aren't dead or in the hospital, you're well enough to work.'
Miserable fucktards! Oi. Who knew how many of us had been bitten over the weekend. By Monday, there were at least five people who were so far along that they couldn't tell you shit. God knows how they were able to make it into work. The first one to turn was the Production Manager. The little pygmy fuck just lurched over his desk and bit the fuck out a shift leader. Not just a little bite either, he took a bloody chunk out of the guys arm, the second bite penetrated the artery. I damn near puked right there. It wasn't the blood that did it for me. It was the sheer brutality of the act. He wasn't a man anymore..... It was like watching an animal attack it's prey.
Once I saw the blood start spurting against the glass, I KNEW it wasn't the flu. I just walked away. Suddenly it didn't matter what product I was supposed to be running that afternoon. My intention was to just leave. Head for home, hole up for a few days, then head for the cabin up in the hills. I made it as far as line three before my sense of responsibility kicked in. I knew the Safety Manager would be heading for the Production Manager's office soon, maybe the Warehouse Supervisor as well. I couldn't let them open that particular Pandora's box.
I grabbed an iron bar from my line and headed back across the plant. Of course I was too late, they'd already let the Great Northern Pygmy out of his office and they'd both gotten nasty bites for their troubles and were running hell bent for leather for the front office. Great. Now we can add the cops and paramedics to the list of infected. The demons were loosed upon the earth but I was going to eliminate this one source of infection before I bugged out.
It's not that easy to kill a person. This is the one crime against nature that most of us instinctively shy away from committing. Maybe I flinched, maybe I checked my swing, maybe I was hoping I was wrong, but my first swing was off the mark and caught him in the jaw. I felt the crunch of bone all the way into my shoulders and he fell to the floor just to rise almost immediately. Looking into the eyes of a walking dead man still makes me shudder.
My next swing didn't miss, and I sure as hell didn't check it. I put all four hundered pounds of my fat ass into that swing and caught him right square on the temple. A little crunch, but it sounded like busting open a watermelon on concrete. He didn't get up that time.
I remember looking towards the front office and seeing the Plant Manager standing there looking at me like I was some kind of dangerous bug getting ready to bite him...... I said 'I quit' and hopped on the nearest forklift and headed for the back. I saw one more zombie on my way out and I didn't even hesitate to run his fucking ass over. Just raised my forks about head high, spread them just enough to admit a body, and centered the backing plate on it's head. Damn near tipped my lift but I managed to keep the wheels on the floor and laid tracks for the back door.
It was time to go HOME.
[Edited by SisqAlpha on Wednesday, February 2, 2011 12:40 PM]
| || |
Tuesday February 8, 2011 7:58 PM
RE: The Walking Dead
|Home is supposed to be a place of safety, a sanctuary. Locked doors and windows are supposed to keep out the burglars and such, and the Military Police making their rounds around the neighborhood are supposed to be able to find anyone suspicious wondering the streets and keeping the base safe. So where did they go wrong? How could a disease enter an Army base? They can shut down the roads for snow, but not some disease that could quickly infect thousands. Nope, no such luck for a mother to be who's husband is at work. To top it all off, I don't even have a vehicle!|
Sasha sat at home, watching Charmed like she always did while her husband was at work and she couldn't get back to sleep. Her bulging belly looked out of place on her petite frame. As the show ended, Sasha rubbed her large belly. She slowly got to her feet and walked into the kitchen. The mother-to-be started running water, preparing to do the dishes that she should have done the night before. They had had pork chops the night before, and her husband had used a butcher knife to separate the partially frozen meet. Maybe it was just luck that those dishes were among the ones that she put in the sink to clean.
Although usually closed, the kitchen blinds were open, letting sunlight glinting off of the winter wonderland outside into the kitchen. Sasha glanced outside. The mounds of snow on either side of the driveway was almost as tall as she was and snowflakes were falling in a light flurry outside. As Sasha watched, a group of three people wearing black sweat pants and gray T-shirts with the word ARMY printed in large black letters across the chest were walking by. Her brow furrowed in confusion. PT, or Physical Training, wasn't until later that afternoon. That's when she noticed the dried blood on their chins, shirts, and hands.
Sasha held her breath as they passed. Just when she thought that they weren't going to notice her, the one trailing behind the other two stopped and looked into her kitchen windows. Sasha shut off the water flowing into the sink from the faucet, and reached into the soap-bubble-covered water and wrapped her hand around the first handle she felt.
The blood-covered man trudged across the lawn, slowly moving through the two feet of snow. When he reached the window, the guy turned sideways and slammed his shoulder into the glass. Sasha let out a sigh of relief when the glass held, only to gasp when he backed up a few paces and tried again. This time the glass shattered.
Flinging soapy water across the kitchen floor, Sasha pulled the skillet out of the sink. The guy who had just broken into her home looked like a deranged serial killer who had gone through severe head trauma or something. His eyes were dull as if he were dead.
The creep pushed the solid wood table away as if it were made out of cardboard. Sasha took a few steps back, the hand gripping the handle of the skillet had a death grip on her weapon. The guy crossed the floor over to her, and Sasha froze, her heart feeling as if it were about to jump right out of her chest.
In that moment, Sasha felt her unborn baby kick. As if drawing from the life within her, Sasha raised the skillet and swung hard, but the zombie raised an arm to block it. There was a loud crack of bone, and the frying pan dropped to the floor. Sasha quickly reached into the sink, this time her hand wrapped around the butcher knife's handle. In one quick strike, she pulled the knife from the sink and stabbed the thing in the temple, nearly covering the blade up to the hilt. When she pulled the knife from his body, he crumpled to the floor in a puddle of his own blood and brains.
Feeling slightly relieved and horrified and what she had just done. Sasha scrambled around her home for things she would need. Her home wasn't safe anymore. She grabbed her phone, packed her husband's backpack with supplies, and felt forced to leave.
| || |
Ordo Aer: Scholar
Wednesday February 16, 2011 2:31 AM
RE: The Walking Dead
|It was already a not-too-normal day. It started off fine, get the oldest two off to school, that was the only normal part. But then the walk to the store, a five minute one that seems to take forever in the cold, well, I hated that. Normally Rick goes, get us our daily caffeine, but today he was complaining of being tired, so he got a grudging pass. The walk up was quiet enough, and the initial entry to the store didn't seem that odd, though I suppose if I had gone in through the main entrance instead of the side entrance in the hardware store, I would have known otherwise. As it was, I had no real clue what I was in for.|
I was tired. Even though it was 8:20 in the morning, to me it felt like it was 10. I walked through the connection between the hardware store and grocery store, backpack still light because it was empty. I had to stick to my shopping plan, drinks, something for lunch, and that was it. Couldn't let myself get distracted, because then I always wind up going home with more than I should. As I trudged through the deli dining area, I ignored the guys behind the counter. I made my way to the soda aisle, which is also the same aisle that the frozen dinner side of the freezers is on. It's also a quick sprint from where the liquor is. Small towns, gotta love 'em.
I rounded the corner of the aisle I needed, barely noting the person at the other end, their back to me. I assumed it was just another tired morning shopper, and went about my business of trying to figure out what to get for myself and Rick. Lunch is always a big decision you know. I had just opened one of the doors to get Rick's meal, when I heard shuffling steps nearing me. I used the doors reflection to surreptitiously see who was coming near me. I was not prepared for what I saw.
It was the person who had been on the other end of the aisle. They were still a tiny bit away from me, but I could see that there was something not right about this person. The look in their eyes was emptier than the usual non-morning persons. And there was a stench emanating from them, like someone who hasn't washed in months....and blood. I quickly grabbed some TV dinners out of the freezers, and barely managed to throw them at the undead person, as they got closer. Bad idea, that only made it mad.
"Oh shit," I muttered, and turned, running as fast as I could for the liquor bottles. I hoped I could find one dense enough to at least use as a blunt weapon. It was right behind me. I grabbed the first bottle I could find, a tequila bottle, and turned, holding it up by it's neck. The zombie, from the looks of it, it used to be an elderly lady, snarled and lunged. I swung blindly, managing to smack it on the side of the face. The old dead lady stumbled, and I quickly closed in, beating her head in with the already bloodied bottle. I kept beating until someone pulled me off. It was the deli guy, and he was, thankfully, alive. I put the bottle down, and wiped my hands off on my jeans.
"Zombie," was all I said, and he nodded. Apparently he had an idea of what was going on. Across the store, we could hear the sounds of shouting, and I knew all hell must be breaking loose. I picked up my tequila bottle, looked at the guy, almost daring him to stop me. He held up his hands, silent agreement to keep quiet. I nodded, and left the store, using my free hand to get my cell phone out to call my husband. I needed to make sure he knew what had just happened, and tried to figure out what to do next.
| || |
Saturday August 20, 2011 1:50 AM
RE: The Walking Dead
|(Sorry I was bored)|
Sasha filled her husband's backpack with unopened Ramen noodles, 3 bottles of tap water, and the skillet. She also rinsed off the very knife that had saved her life and put it into a makeshift sheath at her side. Sasha moved to the bathroom after everything was packed and locked the door. She didn't know if the other two would notice that their third wheel was missing and back track to find him. She pressed the call button and selected her husband's number and tried to call, but it went straight to voice mail. So, Sasha left a panicked message that ended with "I love you. Stay safe." She wasn't entirely sure where she would go, or how she was going to get there, all she knew for sure was that she wasn't safe here with the dead body in her kitchen and her windows shattered.
Next, Sasha tried the taxi service. She called, but got a busy signal. Frustrated, she hung up and tried another. This one started to ring, but she hung up, afraid that the taxi driver would ask too many unwanted questions. So that was it then, she couldn't have someone pick her up, they might end up just taking her to the MPs (Military Police). It was in self defense, she thought, but how would she prove it? Maybe the man had rabies or some kind of criminal record? No, if the latter were the case he wouldn't have been able to join the Army in the first place. But the first one did seem kind of possible.
Sasha looked at the stuff scattered around the bathroom sink. There was a bottle of Listerine, her husband's razor, toothpaste, toothbrushes, none of it seemed more important than getting to safety. Every minute she stayed there, she was afraid that someone would notice the dead guy and call the MPs. Finally, she decided to call them herself.
Finally someone picked up and said, "Fort Drum Military Police office, what is your emergency?"
"Someone just broke into my apartment! I think he wanted to kill me, he had somebody else's blood on him..."
"Lady slow down," the person on the other line interrupted. "Why would someone try to break in during the day?"
"I don't know, but he didn't just try, he succeeded. He was wearing a PT uniform, and he broke in through my kitchen window. I need help fast because I'm EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT!" Sasha yelled the last three words, hoping that would make the MP hurry up and get their butts in gear. "Look, I really don't want to go into labor right now!"
"Calm down ma'am, we'll have someone over there right away. Where is the man now?"
"Dead on my kitchen floor," she replied quietly, her eyes closed. She could still see the attacker clearly in her mind, but she couldn't believe she had actually killed someone.
"Dead on your-?! What the hell happened?!"
"If you'd stop interrupting I would have told you by now! Look, just send someone over and I'll explain everything when they get here! You should bring two ambulances just in case this stress puts me into labor, or in case I go into shock!" With that, Sasha clicked the end call button, and breathed a heavy sigh. Now what?
[Edited by Anbu_Elf on Saturday, August 20, 2011 1:52 AM]
| || |
Tuesday October 18, 2011 2:54 AM
RE: The Walking Dead
|The skinny boy cleared his throat, and shifted slightly. "I've heard people say that having your home attacked is the worst feeling in the world. And I'll admit, it's bad, having your own personal place of sanctary violated...It's bad. But it's not the worst. I know you're gonna say Al, you're crazy, nothing could be worse than that. Well, I know of one thing." He paused for dramatic effect, then coughed so it wouldn't look like it. "It's leaving home, then coming back to find that all that happened when you were powerless to stop it. Your home is gone. The building is there, but your home has vanished without a trace, and you have no idea what happened...|
I was on what was supposed to be a weekend hiking trip to the Catskills when it hit. We had all heard the rumors, of course. The new ultra-virus. The Dutch Flu, they called it, after an early (completely fabricated) rumor that it had somehow started in Germany. The first time I saw one was on a Thursday morning, coming back from the trip.
I should probably explain a little more about my trip. It was proposed by a friend of mine, Alex, the firmest believer in spontaneity in existence. He called me up one day and told me he was going hiking with his girlfriend and that I was coming. I told him my boots and sleeping bag were too small, he told me I could borrow his. I said I had homework to do, he dismissed that as the ouright lie it was. Eventually, he wore me down by promising me that it would be for one weekend and one weekend only, no longer.
Well, it was Thursday when I stepped off the train onto the platform. It had snowed incessantly the night previous, and I was dead on my feet, if you'll pardon the expression. Even so, I immediately noticed how empty everything seemed. I mean, sure, Thursday at 11-ish or so isn't, or wasn't, exactly rush hour, but still...I expected to see somebody. But there were no cars, no pedestrians, no nothing. I didn't see anyone until I started walking home. And then, it was only for a given value of someone.
My house is at the top of a hill, and as I was walking up, I happened to notice a few people behind me. They were walking in a clump in the direct middle of the road, almost as if they were following me. I speeded up slightly, telling myself that they were probably just going the same direction I was. But, looking over my shoulder again, I could see they were still following at the same steady walking pace. I could hear them, too. They made harsh moaning sounds that grated on the ears and sent shivers down my spine. I turned to face them, and got my first look at the death-made-form that plagues me to this day.
One of them looked like a skinny guy who had become enormously fat far too quickly for his own good. His chest and arms were skinny as sticks, but his gut bulged grotesquely. He wore a white wifebeater, jeans which had been ripped into capris, and a large metal ice ax, the sort used for climbing, was embedded in his neck. The second was a small Asian-looking woman with long black braids and a bloody apron riddled with bullet holes. Her jaw hung slack from her face, as if it wasn't attached to the rest of her head properly. The third was very tall, and had on a white full-visor motorcycle helmet and a bite-covered police uniform. They all had skin that was a sickly grey-green, and veritably reeked of rotting meat. It didn't take a genius to figure out that these things weren't human. It also didn't take a genius to figure out they weren't friendly, especially when they began reaching out to grab me and snapping. Well, the fat one was snapping. The little one was just sort of waving her broken jaw back and forth, and I assume the tall one was snapping at me from beneath the helmet.
However, after all that brilliant insight, my response was completely idiotic. I reached into my pocket, pull out my Buck knife, and wave it at them like a complete spaz trying to fend off a mugger. They kept on coming. My slashing deprived the fat one, of his nose, but I don't think he noticed. He grabbed me by one shoulder, then the other, then leaned in towards my neck. Somehow, I managed to get the knife up fast enough to get him through the temple. His last look was one of suprise, as if he couldn't believe that he'd gotten killed by someone as incompetent as yours truly. I cherish that look to this day.
But it was no time to rest on my laurels; the other two came closer every second. I tugged at the knife embedded in the creature's skull, and felt a pang of vague annoyance when I recalled how I had insisted that my father pay the extra $10 for the serrated blade. Instead of wasting more time tugging at it, I pulled the ice ax out of its neck. I whirled with it and caught the smaller one in the face. Her jaw broke off completely, flying out into the street, but her head snapped back to focus on me immediately. My second swing was a direct hit, though, and her skull seemed almost to pop open, spilling pink and grey mush all over the street.
Suddenly, I felt clammy hands pin my arms to my sides. I remembered the third zombie, and knew at that moment I was done for. Then, I felt something slam into the back of my head. I fell forward, dropping the ax. What was that? Did it headbutt me? I rolled over, and saw that, as it bent over, it still had the helmet on. I almost laughed out of sheer relief as it wrapped its hands around my ankle and butted against my sneaker. Then it did the same thing to my knee, and the pain shooting up my leg brought me to my senses. I kicked it off, and snatched the ice ax from where it had fallen. I swung at its right hand, mangling it, and caught the left on a backhand swing, ripping the hand off completely. It struggled, flailing its now useless hands.
I flipped the ax in the air, and grabbed it near the pick head. I stepped forward, pushed its visor up with my left, and drove the pointed spike at the base of the handle into its eye. It staggered backwards and fell.
I took a step back to survey the damage. There was blood everywhere, scattered limbs, bodies on the sidewalk, in the street, draped over a neighbor's tacky-looking faux-wrought iron fence...My head spun as I began to come to terms with what I had done, and I sunk knees-first onto the sidewalk.
[Edited by Archemides390 on Friday, October 21, 2011 9:02 PM]
| || |