|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 5:32 pm
((Thunder-King01, please check your posts for spelling and grammar before submitting them. Just sayin'.
Also, the streets aren't or shouldn't be as clear as people seem to think.
That is all for now.))
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 5:49 pm
((I'm to visualize what you're saying, but I thought that if someone said Running through the streets., you'd assume they meant that they would have to cross over ditches, rumble, toppled vehicles, etc. My apologies.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 6:00 pm
(( Venom, you sound like my mother. And I would love to post, but no one has fixed my skills yet. >.>))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 6:05 pm
Zack worked on the truck in the empty auto body repair shop. He'd run here when his house had been overrun by Zombies. Luckily, they'd been so stupid that he'd been able to cover his tracks with mud and dirt. His small pistol with eight bullets sat in his right pocket. His jeans sagging slightly from the weight of that and his wrench. He pulled the wrench from his left pocket and began to tighten the loose bolts that had been undone in order to give it a new paint job. It now had a new paint job alright. It seemed to be splattered with dryed blood. Someone had been eaten here. A sad thing, but something too often to Zack by now. It had been a year. He'd lived there safely, closing the garages and locking the doors at most hours, only leaving every now and then with a new round of bullets in his gun to hunt with. He'd usually find a deer or rabbit after a long enough killing of zombies to find the living sucker. He'd then kill and eat the cleaned rabbit after cooking it lightly to clear it of disease. He wasn't a cook or chef, but he wasn't a moron.
So he finished the little hinges, sweat and dirt covering his body. He rolled out from under the truck. It looked good. AS far as he knew about cars, it was runnable. He then heard a large sound coming from the side of the shop. He knew it wasn't healthy for him to hear loud noises when most things even alive were....well, nothing but zombies. He threw his wrench into his left jean pocket and pulled out his pistol. His eight bullets rattling in the old thing. He'd had it for a long time. His grandfather gave it to him before he passed away. He aimed the little thing towards the door. It gave another loud knock, if you could call it that. He stepped slowly away from the door and looked for something, anything to carry stuff in. He needed some of the items he'd seen laying around the place. He found a red tool case and quickly opened and dumped the thing. His pistol still held tightly in his hand. The case was one of those rectangular, two leveled things. Quite decent. He grabbed a pocket knife he'd seen from the nearby desk, still hearing thumping from not only the door, but his speeding heart. His body raced against the zombies strength. He grabbed all his rounds for the pistols and the keys to the truck. He threw the ammunition in his right pocket and the keys in his back pocket. His jean jacket shook from his anxiousness. The adrenaline shot his body into over speed. He grabbed some of the leftover meat and tossed it in the red case. He then heard the sound he'd hoped never to hear.
The door shot open as a zombie and a few of its' friends began to trudge in. "********," he grumbled to himself as he took aim at the 6 or so zombies and fired three bullets. He was now down to five. One struck threw three zombies, none in the head. The second shot through two zombies eye sockets. The third just hit one's foot. Two fell to the floor dead, three stumbled back slightly, and the last just looked at his foot for a second. Zack hit the garage switch, hearing it's slow rise. It was becoming annoyed with slow machinery. He opened the truck door, threw the red case in, and hopped in. He'd never driven before, and never gotten his lisence, but it didn't really matter now, did it. He just needed to get out of there and now! He watched the garage door slide open as the zombies drug along to the car, beginning to get their grimey hands on it. One hopped in the truck bed. He threw the keys in the hole and turned to hear the engine purr.The door opened just high enough, so he bolted for it. The engine roaring to life. The two in the front flew over the top, one grabbing the back of the bed, pulling the flap on the end down. The one that'd been in the bed, fell out from that single incident. The one that flew out of the bed did however manage to grab and pull off a leg from the zombie gripping for dear life to the flap.
As Zack looked back while driving he saw the zombie pulling himself into the bed. He began to feel bumpiness and looked ahead, he was drifting to the side bad. He pulled it back, overcorrecting and flying into the ditch, which landed the zombie right in the bed of the truck with the flap closed to hold it in. "Just what I need," he complained to himself as he bounced in his seat, it still driving on. He turned back onto the road, barely missing a few driverless cars. He then knocked his left mirror off on a mailbox. "Can it get any worse?" he groaned before looking up to see the rearview mirror, in which he saw the zombie crawling closer to the back window. Possibly a foot from him. He shot behind him three times, the last one hitting the zombie, knocking it out of the bed. Unfortunately, a few seconds later after mentally congratulating himself for not dieing yet, he ran straight into the doors of the library.
"What a place to crash," Zack spoke to himself as he opened the door. He had sustained a slight bump to the forehead upon the impact on the library. He hadn't buckled his seat belt. He had two bullets left and a slightly bleeding injury on his dirty and roughed up skin. Even he knew it was not good for him. He knew no medical knowledge. How was he supposed to fix a head wound. The glass was slightly cracked on the front windshield. He walked into the building, having been happy he could still open his door after that. He walked out and looked around. Books had flown away from the area a little bit. "Oops, sorry," he told the invisible ghost librarian he knew was probably screaming at him right now. He held the wound with his left hand as he continued to hold the pistol with his right. Two bullets. He had only two bullets til' he needed to reload. Sadly he'd left the red case in the truck, and unknown to him, the smell of the meat would bring zombies their way.
((Colors made readable by Venom. Thank you for not choosing awful colors that are unreadable against Gaia's unchangeable white background.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 6:30 pm
((Sorry about the long post.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 8:25 pm
((Alex, thanks for helping.
Kara, I've changed Basic First Aid to Field Medicine, which is different. I'll still change it if you don't want that.
In answer to the question, the streets at this point are relatively clear. It has been months, after all, so the zombies have begun to move out of the small town. At least, you know, there aren't as many as would cause you all to die immediately.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 9:48 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 11:14 pm
Martin heard... something loud. "I'll check it out," he informed his new companion. He walked off a few feet and came back with a length of metal pipe he'd found in the back rooms; he began to creep silently towards the source of the noise.
((First, did you just crash into the doors of the library after rampaging around in a truck?
Second, did you crash INTO or THROUGH them?
Third, the front door or the back?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 12:41 am
Drusilla pushed open the smaller side door of the church, knowing the big doors would be wayy too heavy for her to open on her own. Hell, even the side door was heavy, but it was smaller, quieter, and located beside an old garden the nuns had grown. Dru didn't know a damn thing about gardening, so it was mostly dead, also, mother superior seemed to have fallen inside it and could be heard groaning nonstop.
"Good morning Mother Mary," Drusilla greeted. The zombie only groaned as it bumped against the wrought iron fence. She had her own pet zombie.
The former teacher stayed close to the buildings as she made her way to a little qwik-stop down the street. Hopefully theere was some canned milk or something in there, the stuff in the cartons had gone bad a week ago. She also needed water, that meant several trips...
"Holy mother of Mary...a pipe weilding zombie."
And he was walking away from her qwik-stop!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 2:54 am
((Yes, through, and front. mrgreen sorry for any confusion.))
Zack began to walk forward, looking for somebody to help or maybe a first aid kit on a wall. His head was still bleeding slightly. His left hand didn't seem to be stopping the bleeding though, so he brought it down to his right hand where the pistol still was. He then remembered the case and ran back to the truck. He opened the door he'd come out of, jumped in to grab the case, and hopped back out again. He then returned to looking around, his case in his left hand, his pistol in his right.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 7:12 am
((wow zackeus, I thought my post was long. lol ))
Alaric heard the pop of a gun from somewhere, he couldn't tell from where, or how far away, but it tolled him two things, first, he was not the last one alive, two, now he could be, if the person was surrounded or just a lousy shot. Not much I can do now, the gunfire stopped. He returned to sorting through his food, a homemade hardwood tonfa at his side.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 8:10 pm
I have a gun, a pipe, very few bullets, no food. The odds are against me at the moment. Orpheus had needed to find food, or at least bullets for his pistol. As he walked down the streets he made sure to avoid zombies, as they would cause him to waste the little resources he had. He had passed a few stores along the way, but they were either looted, or had zombies inside. After walking a few more blocks his stomach began to growl.
"Not good.", he silently said to himself, rubbing his gut. He hadn't recalled the last time he had eaten, and hunger had taken it's toll on him. Orpheus made the decision that he would check the next store he found, zombies or not. Ater a good five minutes of walking, and hiding from the few zombies he'd encountered Orpheus had made it to a Walmart. The parking lot had quite a few zombies in it, but if Orpheus made a dash he woulde be able to get by them easily. He had depleted his stamina running through the blood filled lot, but he was still able to take down a couple zombies that had came for him. Looking through the foods left on the shelves Orpheus found a couple cans a chili left from the months before the outbreak. Grabbing a bag from the nearby camping section and put one of the cans of chili in it. He grabbed an electric stove and shoved it into his bag as well. He had reached for a frying pan, opened up a can of chili, and turned on the electric stove. Growing up he had only been able to cook a few things, chili was one of them, though he wasn't used to doing it this way. After spending a few minutes watching for zombies and keeping an eye on his meal, Orpheus had began eating. It tasted terrible, but it was something.
"I guess my cooking could use quite a bit of work.", he sighed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 8:41 pm
((Monny, you're horrible for ditching me like that))
Dru watched the pipe weilding zombie, who wasn't actually a zombie she figured out, walk towards Walmart. Immidiately she turned around. There wasn't anyway in hell she was going there, rednecks were scary enough. She didn't want a beer gut zombie trying to mac down on her. Turning around back to the qwikstop, she walked in to start her hunt for food stuffs. There really wasn't much left, but there was a small bottle of vodka, good for cleaning wounds if nothing else, some flats of water, and a couple of canisters of concentrated juice.
She'd have to start going farther for supplies soon enough. Maybe Costco or something...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 9:07 pm
((Whoops, my bad >.<))
After finishing his horrid meal Orpheus left the store and went about finding another safehouse. Seeing another store within the clearing he decided to go there, since his stomach was no longer aching. As soon as he got to the door he point the gun inside. He could've swore he heard something moving. He'd seen a shadow, but it didn't look like it could've belonged to one of the undead. It was poised.
"Hello?", he said, hoping desperately to get an answer.
Lifting up the pipe he slowly advanced to get a closer look at what he was trying to talk to.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 10:29 pm
Drusilla, who'd been digging in the back of a cooler, snapped up at the voice, forgetting there was a shelf above her head.
"Sonnuva..." Backing out quickly, she got a look at the man who'd unintentionally injured her. "You're the pipe weilding zombie!"
Well, he didn't really look like a zombie, though he did look emmaciated. Giving him the once over, she stood up and pointed to the 24 pack of water. "You grab that and I'll let you stay at my place k?" She made sure she had what she wanted before walking over to the broken glass window and stepping through.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
