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Old 10-19-2010, 10:09 AM   #1
Byrd Man
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Default Shoot 'Em in the Head: The Zombie Survival Horror RPG IC Thread

Outbreak!

A strange virus has attacked the United States of America and the world. Panic and chaos reign across the globe. The virus turns the recently dead into husks of their former selves who crave the flesh of their fellow men. The outbreak leads to panic, rioting, and proclamations that the end is nigh and judgement day is upon us.

Weeks go by and the chaos gives way to eerie silence. The panicked hordes have now succumbed to the virus and very few are left unaffected by the previous weeks.

Those left have to fight with everything they have just to survive and avoid being eaten on a daily basis.
Will what's left of humanity be able to come together and rebuild, or will the undead menace be the end of all human life on Earth? Only you can decide here in the Shoot 'Em in the Head: The Zombie/Survival-Horror RPG!




Da Rules
  • You can play two characters. Either create your own characters or you can play characters from another form of zombie/survival horror medium.
  • Created characters as well as adapted ones should true to the personality and abilities of the character, such as no somersaulting off buildings and flying.
  • Your character should make sense, no Amish people with chainsaws etc.
  • Do not kill other Player Characters WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION. NPCs are fine to kill, with permission from anyone else using that NPC.
  • This is a game, let it be fun.
  • You are allowed one character.
  • This is a working environment, so your characters can start out anywhere in the USA and travel across the country, fighting the undead and meeting survivors.
  • Don't do anything RANDOM like chopping off board user's heads or what not, unless given permission.
  • There can be a number of stories going on at once, using different people
  • Act like your characters; ASSUME their traits and personalities...
  • There should be MINIMAL cussing and swearing in posts.There will be NO By-passing the censors. This is a Hype rule, and NO exceptions will be made for the RPG.
  • Remember: It's just a game, have fun!
Notes About the RPG Universe

Whatever has caused the outbreak of the undead, everyone is infected with it. A virus that is dormant in everyone and is activated once the body becomes deceased. A death that doesn't destory the brain means that the dead body will be reanimated into an undead. This virus turns the dead into mindless flesh eaters. A bite from the undead will accelerate the disease and turn a living human into one of them.

Zombie fiction does not exist and the word "zombie" is not applied to the undead who now walk the Earth. So, survivors don't know at first how to kill these new and deadly creatures that once were their fellow man.

Two weeks have passed since the intial outbreak and those who haven't fallen victim to the virus are slowly learning what to do to stop them and are forming small groups.

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Old 10-19-2010, 10:42 AM   #2
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Default Re: Shoot 'Em in the Head: The Zombie Survival Horror RPG IC Thread

Am I dead?

No, I’m in too much pain to be dead. I open my eyes, and I have no idea where I am. This is not my home, this is not my bed. What happened, where am I?

And then it comes back to me. Lying in the field, Shane kneeling over me. Pain in my side. Oh God, I was shot! I’m in hospital! How bad is it? Am I paralysed, what if I can’t walk? I move my legs around under the sheets just to make sure I can. Thank God. But how bad is the wound? With a trembling hand, I reach under my hospital gown and touch my side. No dressing? I wince as I touch the scar, but it’s a scar. No stitches, no gaping hole. I... I’ve healed. Wait, how long have I been out? Where’s Lori? Where’s Carl?

Don’t panic, Rick, try to stay calm. You... you’ve been in a coma, or something. You’re in... a private room, by the looks of it, and you’ve woken up at some point outside visiting hours. Any second now some nurse is going to walk in and get the shock of her life seeing you awake. That’s right, a nurse, you better...

I look around, and find the help button. I push it, then lie back. I feel my eyes closing again, I feel exhausted. No, sit up! I need to stay awake, I’ve slept enough. I... I need to get up.

I don’t know how long it takes to summon up the strength to sit up in bed, but it feels like an eternity before I finally do it. My bones crack painfully as I push myself upright. After lying in this bed so long it’s like it doesn’t want to let me go. Okay, I’m sitting up. Now, I need to get out of this bed. Where the hell is the nurse? I press the help button again. No answer. What kind of operation are they running here? I need to call home, tell Lori and Carl that I’m awake, that I’m alright. God, I must have worried them so much...

I unplug myself from all the machines they have me hooked up to. I look down at my hand, and the needle that’s stuck into it. Taking a deep breath, I pull it out, ignoring the drop of blood that starts to form in the hole left behind on the back of my hand. I’m not waiting for a nurse anymore. I need to stand up. Take a breath, get ready. One foot on the floor. The tile against my bare skin is cold, the sensation of putting any weight on it feels unnatural all of a sudden. Come on now. The other foot on the floor. There, easy. Now, just push up off the bed, and stand up...

“AAAH!”

My legs give out from under me, and I fall on my face. My healing wound screams out in protest. I roll on the floor like a helpless, humiliated lump. I’m supposed to be a hard-ass cop. Some tough guy now.

“Nurse, help!”

Of course, no one comes. Well, I can’t just lie here on the floor all day. I writhe around for a while. Then, I get onto my hands and knees, and crawl. Finally, when I’m ready, I push up, until I’m standing. Leaning against the wall for support, I take a step. After the first few painful steps, I feel like my legs are working again. Now to go back to my life.

I approach the door of my room, and rest my hand on the doorknob. And then for some reason, I hesitate. I have a feeling in the bottom of my gut that tells me to stay in this room, to go back to bed and lie down. It’s safe here. I smile to myself, dismiss the silly feeling, and open the door.

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Old 10-19-2010, 12:18 PM   #3
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Three weeks ago
Raccoon City, Wisconsin
Outbreak Day

Redfield! Valentine!” Barry Burton yells from his office. Burton is the leader of our special division of the Raccoon City police, known as the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, or S.T.A.R.S. for short. We’re tasked with responding to biological and terrorist threats in the city, although since our formation we’ve done a lot of nothing.

I look over at Jill and give her a smile, which she returns. I stand up from my desk and slip my leather jacket over my sidearm, “Wonder where he’s sending us today. Hopefully it’ll be more interesting then that ‘robbery’ last week.

Yea, hopefully no one is mistaking a banana for a handgun today,” she chuckles as we head towards Barry’s office. The two of us have been playing cat and mouse for the past few months, flirting and playing games. Until I gathered enough courage to ask her out last week. Our first date’s tomorrow night, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Listen to me. Chris Redfield. The tough guy. The Air Force marksman. Saying how excited I am over a woman.

What’s going on, Barry?” I ask, taking a seat in front of his desk.

Dunno,” he responds, shrugging. “Got a weird call from the mayor. Told me to send someone to Raccoon General Hospital to assess a threat. We might actually have something on our hands here. You two check it out and get back to me. I’ll be waiting.

The two of us hurry down the stairs of the precinct towards our squad car. We’re like kids in a candy store, eve though we know we shouldn’t be excited about a potential treat to the people of the city. But hell, after four months of paper work and street level jobs it’s exciting to get your hands on something real.

It takes us a few minutes to get to the hospital, and find it walled off with normal squad cars lined out front. I look over at Jill, “Looks like we’re going in with combat gear.

The two of us head to the trunk and put on vests with extra ammunitions, and put on gas masks that filter out all air impurities. We approach the police barricade and Jill addresses the commanding officer, “So what’s the deal? Has the building been evacuated?

“Yes ma’am. At least all that we could get out. We think there’s more people in there. But we’re not sure,” he replies, fear lacing his words.

What are we dealing with?” she repeats her first question.

“We’re not sure…but the people from inside said…”

Said what?” I urge the officer on.

“Said that the dead were coming back to life and trying…trying to eat the people that were still alive,” he manages to get out, the color draining from his face.

Jill and I exchange worried glances before placing the gas masks over our mouths and heading into the building. Once inside the overwhelming smell of decaying flesh fills our nostrils. It’s only been twenty minutes, and it already smells like a third world country inside the hospital. Blood is smeared on the wall, and the place is destroyed. Whatever came through here was reckless, powerful, and brutal.

The two of us proceed in standard two person cover formation, both of us obviously shaken by what we’ve seen so far. We come to a closed door, and a scratching, sloshing sound coming from the other side. I nod at my partner and kick the door, and the sight that greets us on the other side is the most horrific thing imaginable.

A stream of blood leads up to a corpse, or what’s left of it. Skin, entrails, and organs lie scattered in a pile being picked at by people. Or what used to be people. The five beings devouring the pour soul on the ground seem to possess little of what classifies us as human. Decaying skin hangs from their muscle, eyes are lifeless and dead, and they shuffle more than walk. But the feasting on the flesh almost brings my lunch into my gas mask. I had seen disgusting things in the war, but this stands above everything else.

The sound of the door opening causes them to turn our way, and I don’t waste any time. I unload my weapon into the closest one, yet it doesn’t even deter it. The creature continues to shuffle towards me, groaning all the way.

As it slowly makes its way towards me, I feel myself frozen in fear. The movements are so alien, so surreal, they mesmerize me. This is something the human race has never seen. Something talked about only in biblical times and terms. This truly is the dead rising from the grave. And I’m witnessing it here.

Chris!” Jill yells, grabbing my shoulder. “We have to get out of here!

Her pleading snaps me out of my stupor and we head back outside, where the scenes of chaos have spilled out into the streets. The officers outside dump rounds into an approaching horde of the undead, and citizens scramble, run, and drive panicked from them. We don’t bother trying to help, we jump into the car and speed back towards the precinct.

I flip on the radio and try to hail Barry, “Major! What the hell is going on here!?

Hell on Earth, Redfield! Calls from across the city that sick people are attacking, biting, and eating others. We don’t have enough damn officers to deal with this, and the ones we do have are dropping like flies!

All across the city. The words hit me like a ton of bricks. This was a coordinated attack. I’m sure of it. This was China, or Al Qaeda, or North Korea. For all I know this could be just one attack across the United States. Or something even worse. But we weren’t ready for this. It was our job to protect Raccoon from this, and we’ve failed.

It’s an attack. It has to be,” I whisper.

We don’t know that, it could be some sort of disease,” she responds, obviously not believing her own words.

Jill, we need to get to my sister,” I blurt out. “Claire’s not ready to defend herself from this.

We peel down the road, and I pray Claire is still alive.

From the Journal of Chris Redfield:

Normally Barry would have ripped my head off for something like that. That is if he wasn’t headed to save his family as well. I found Claire huddled in a closet in her room, the infected clawing at our front door. A few shotgun shells took care of them, and I grabbed my sister, and my Smith and Wesson, and headed back towards the precinct. The rest of the surviving squad had barricaded the building, creating a fortress where we could ride this out. Their families had joined them. At least, the ones that survived the trip there.

The chain of command within the city disintegrated in the madness almost immediately as the outbreak happened. The mayor was killed, and half the police force was wiped our in the first half an hour. The undead spread like a plague of locust, and we were powerless to stop it. All we could do was hold up and try to survive the best we could.

After the first two hours, the president addressed the terrified nation. He spoke of an unknown ailment sweeping across the nation and the world, reanimating the recently deceased, causing them to become mindless, flesh craving monsters. He also informed us that a bite would bring about a quick, painful death, followed by reanimation. They could not be reasoned or negotiated with. The only course of action was termination. The infected, as he called them, were highly resilient, some taking entire clips to bring down, some more. He informed us the military would do all it could to stem the tide of their advance, but that at this time the infected were spreading at an alarming and unstoppable rate, and that he and the leaders of the country were headed to a bunker of an unknown location in order to wait the crisis out.

And that was it. We were on our own. We were all on our own with no help on the way soon, if ever.

We waited in the precinct for as long as we could, but it was obvious that we would need to go somewhere else. Once one of the infected, or undead as we began calling them, knew you were there, it drew others. And being inside the city proper meant we had over one hundred thousand corpses walking around us, too dangerous a situation for the children among us.

So Barry and I formulated a plan. We decided to take the two STARS helicopters to the new Raccoon City Prison, still under construction. Two of the cell blocks had been completed, with security measures in place. It would be a secure local, allowing for fortification and future expansion. It was a stretch, but we had little choice. Once there our insertion team would exterminate all infected within the area, and secure one of the cell blocks, which would become our safe house, the helicopters would ferry the civilians there.

The plan went well, but we lost two of our men in the process. One was flat out mauled, the other was bitten. Our medic did her best to save him, but rather put him through the torture, a bullet to the brain was the only viable prescription.

And now here we sit, a special forces police squad held up in a half finished prison, huddled in fear of the army of the dead walking the city we were sworn to protect. In merely three weeks we’ve lost contact with almost every town in our broadcasting radius, and those messages we do receive consist of horrified pleading and sickening screams of pain.

The remaining survivors of the team include me, Chris Redfield. Formerly of the US Air Force. I was a marksman, basically the only thing I’ve ever been good at was shooting a gun. Not bad at hand-to-hand either, but I feel more comfortable with something that goes bang. I’ve always been seen as the muscle or the man of action, and I guess I can’t complain about that. My life has been dedicated to protecting people, little did I know it’d be from the dead ones.



My sister, Claire is with us as well. She’s not a bad shot, something I taught her to do, but she’s still not a fighter. The past weeks have been traumatizing on her, but she’s a tough kid, she’ll pull through.



Next is Barry Burton, the commanding officer and weapons expert. He brought all the ammunition and armaments he could from the precinct, and the armory inside the cell block we took over was stock to the brim as well. He’s been a friend of the family since I can remember, and now is my oldest friend. He could be my only friend left from before Raccoon City left, for all I know. His wife and daughters are with us as well.



Jill Valentine is another fighter, like me. But she’s got the brains to back it up. She’s an expert in demolitions and tactics, formerly trained by US Special Forces before having to leave for some reason she hasn’t told me.




Rebecca Chambers is our rookie medical, biological, and chemistry expert. She was a child prodigy, graduating from medical school at the age of 18, and somehow we were lucky enough to pick her up. How a city like Raccoon ended up with her I can’t figure out, but at a time like this she’s invaluable. She’s been hovering over a microscope since we got here.



Albert Wesker is the final officer of the STARS team. He’s a genius on so many levels, though I’ve never had a good feeling about him. He was government Black Ops before joining STARS, and I can never tell what’s going on in his head.



The rest of the team is comprised by out two pilots, Brad Vickers and Edward Dewey, as well as rear guardsmen Enrico Marini, Forest Speyer, Richard Aiken, and Ken Sullivan, along with some of their families and friends, with the civilians living in the cell block below.

As I sit and write this I wonder how long we can last here. How long will we be able to survive? How long will it be until the infected find us and tear us apart like they did that body in the hospital on that first day. The memory still haunts me every time I close my eyes, every time I try to sleep. The dead looks in their eyes. The decaying skin and bodies. They sat there and peered into my soul. And for the first time in my life I was terrified to my core.

This is Chris Redfield. I’m writing this for the future. Whether it’s for me or some other surviving member of the human race. I’m writing this for everyone to remember. And to make sure the memory of my team and I live on no matter what happens.

Now
Raccoon City Prison
Cell Block 1

I climb the stairs up towards our makeshift barracks in one of the guard towers inside of Raccoon City prison, whipping blood and dead skin off my arm. The stench alone makes me want to puke, but I don’t need the rest of Alpha Squad ragging me on it. It’s been three weeks and I’m still not used to this.

Reaching the top of the tower, I smile as I pass by my sister Claire, as she sleeps on one of the cots we dragged up here after we secured this sector of the prison. Just knowing she’s safe makes me almost not give a crap about the rest of the stuff going on out there. But that’s not my job. My job is to protect the people. If there’s any people left, that is.

In one of the corners, Jill Valentine scrubs blood off one of the windows of the observation tower. We were supposed to go on a date the night after the outbreak. I’ve had a thing for her ever since moving back to Raccoon, and now it looks like that’s gone on hold.

Damn undead.

We’ve been working hard to make the prison into a place where survivors can come and have a safe living environment. So far we’ve managed to clean out a quarter of the prison, and have shut it off to the rest of the facility until we need more room. But as of now it’s just us held up here, with no indication there’s even anyone else out there.

Well?” Barry asks as I plop down a few bags in front of him. “What did you manage to pick up?

Some bread that looked fine, Power Bars, granola bars, stuff like that. A couple bottles of Gatorade. There wasn’t much left. What wasn’t destroyed during the outbreak had been pretty picked over by other survivors,” I respond, spreading the take over the table.

Did you see any?” he asks, not looking up from the rations.

Of course. I killed five of them in the store and three of them on the way back here. Bastards snuck up on me as I got close to the prison. Hopefully they don’t figure out we’re up here,” I answer his question as I unbuckle my equipment and begin placing it in my trunk.

I meant survivors, Redfield,” Barry says, obviously pissed off.

Oh…no. Not a sign anywhere, other than the scavenged store,” I shake my head. “I don’t think there are many left, Barry. Any word from the radio?

Sporadic,” he says, rubbing his chin. “I agree. I don’t think there’s many left. Anywhere.

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Old 10-19-2010, 12:25 PM   #4
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Beverly Hills, CA

It's the day after Columbus and I saved Wichita and Little Rock at Pacific Playland. After a night of killing undead husks that used to be your fellow man, I need a place to crash.

That's why I'm driving through Beverly Hills with the three people I've come to grudgingly accept and even like. I glance over at the map in Columbus' lap, the map to the stars. We're right where we should be.

"Here we are," I announce to everyone as I wheel into the driveway of a sprawling mansion.

"Whose house is this?" Wichita asks.

"You'll see," I chuckle as I drive through the gates with BM stamped on the front.

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Old 10-19-2010, 12:35 PM   #5
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"BM? Batman? Oh my gosh it's Val Kilmer's place," I say to Tallahassee, who shoots me an acid-filled look. Sure, I could have just paid attention to the map, but it's much more fun to poke at him. After all, he's one of the few people I've considered a true friend in my life, even though I've only known him for a few weeks.

I guess that's what happens when you're one of the few live people in a world full of the undead.

Wichita chuckles as we exit the car, and I shoot her a smile back. The two of us shared our first kiss the other night. Another odd thing to happen during the apocalypse, but hey I'm not complaining.

Little Rock just rolls her eyes.

As we head towards the front door, I look back to the man in the cowboy hat who looks like he's a kid about to enter a candy store, "Seriously, who's house is it?"

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Old 10-19-2010, 12:43 PM   #6
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Outbreak Day

Just friggin' great!

Another hobo stumbling into the damn store and trying to bite customers. Jeez, that's the fourth time today! Is this some new version of Bum Fights that I've never heard of? Is some asshat giving these bums money and telling them to come in here and start s**t up, while they're sitting outside and laughing their ass off as I try to keep people from freaking out?

Maybe it's something in the water.

This a**hole has fallen down twice already as customers dodge around and evade him. Christ, he stinks too. I think he s**t himself, and I can smell it from here. I know that I'm sure as hell not gonna be cleaning up his droppings.

"Sam, cleanup on aisle 4," I say into the intercom as the hobo starts to get back to his feet. With a heavy sigh, I look to where I last saw that Sam kid, over at the front of the store. Aw, crap! Has he been drinking on the job? Maybe Sam had of few slurps of the same stuff that Mr. S**ts-a-lot over in aisle 4 was drinking. He sure is stumbling around the same way as the hobo, if that's any indication. "Sam, get yer lazy butt over here, pal. S**t rolls downhill and it's your turn to clean it up."

"Guuuhhh..."

He has been drinking!

"Goddammit," I growl. Looks like I'll have to take care of the bum myself. Walking over and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, I start guiding the hobo towards the exit. Man, he's a real uggo. His skin's practically falling off. "All right, Stinky, take a hike."

Then the guy who can't control his own bowels spins out of my grip and lunges at me, as if I'm the one with the problem.

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Old 10-19-2010, 12:45 PM   #7
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"BM? Batman? Oh my gosh it's Val Kilmer's place," I say to Tallahassee, who shoots me an acid-filled look. Sure, I could have just paid attention to the map, but it's much more fun to poke at him. After all, he's one of the few people I've considered a true friend in my life, even though I've only known him for a few weeks.

I guess that's what happens when you're one of the few live people in a world full of the undead.

Wichita chuckles as we exit the car, and I shoot her a smile back. The two of us shared our first kiss the other night. Another odd thing to happen during the apocalypse, but hey I'm not complaining.

Little Rock just rolls her eyes.

As we head towards the front door, I look back to the man in the cowboy hat who looks like he's a kid about to enter a candy store, "Seriously, who's house is it?"
"You'll see," I chuckle as we walk into the house. I pull my gun out the holster and hold it out as I walk through the foyer. I can't help but smile when my eye catches the painting of the man himself dressed up in old-time clothing with a powdered wig on.

"Bill Murray? This is Bill Murray's house?"

"Who?"

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Old 10-19-2010, 12:59 PM   #8
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"You'll see," I chuckle as we walk into the house. I pull my gun out the holster and hold it out as I walk through the foyer. I can't help but smile when my eye catches the painting of the man himself dressed up in old-time clothing with a powdered wig on.

"Bill Murray? This is Bill Murray's house?"

"Who?"
"You don't know who Bill Murray is?" I ask deadpan. I look back at Wichita, "Did you deprive her all these years? Geeze."

Rule #10: Gotta respect the classics


I take off, and she responds, "Where the hell are you going?"

"To look for a proton pack. Duh. Imagine roasting an infected with one of them!"

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Old 10-19-2010, 03:13 PM   #9
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Mojave Desert, Three Weeks after the Outbreak

"So we're heading for a boat?" David asked, adjusting his glasses, cleaning them with his sweat stained shirt.

"Essentially? Yes," Shaun said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

"Oh well that's great, that's fantastic," he said, throwing his arms up in the air in a vaguely spastic manner.

"What?!" Shaun asked "What is it now?!"

"What is it now? Do you even know the direction of a boat? It took you three weeks to get out of Las Vegas and you couldn't find us a car!" David shouted.

"The roads were all blocked up," Ed said, shrugging.

"Ugh," Pete said from the makeshift sling constructed of three jackets that lay in between them.

"AND Pete got bitten!" David added.

"That one's hardly my fault!" Shaun said "It's Pete's own stupid fault - sorry Pete,"

"Ugh,"

"If he hadn't tried to punch one of those...things...then he wouldn't have gotten bitten. And then he wouldn't be feeling so ill," Shaun said.

"Ugh,"

"Thankyou Pete," Shaun said "And it's not like you've been any better! You've just moped around like a wet...sponge...sponging off of us lot. Who was it that broke into that supermarket?"

"Me," Ed said with a grin.

"Ugh," Pete added.

"Yeah, it was Ed. And I was the one that got us out of the hotel, and then Pete was the one that managed to get a call in to Liz and Sophie," Shaun said.

"Ugh,"

"Yes, thankyou Pete,"

"Uhm Shaun,"

"No David, let me finish. I think we'd all get along fine if you'd just stop *****ing and actually lend a hand,"

"Ugh,"

"Shaun," David said, his hands on his hips.

"Yes David," Shaun said, gesturing for the other man to speak.

"I think there's something wrong with Pete,"

Shaun turned and looked at his prone flatmate. He let out a yelp and jumped backwards.

"Jesus!"

Pete was sat up in the makeshift stretcher that they'd created, his jaw slack and his eyes clouded over with a grey mist. His skin was pale and lifeless and he lifted an arm towards them.

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Old 10-19-2010, 03:23 PM   #10
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"You don't know who Bill Murray is?" I ask deadpan. I look back at Wichita, "Did you deprive her all these years? Geeze."

Rule #10: Gotta respect the classics

I take off, and she responds, "Where the hell are you going?"

"To look for a proton pack. Duh. Imagine roasting an infected with one of them!"
I holster my gun and start looking around the mansion's big rooms.

"This guy has always had a direct line to my funny bone."

"He is...or was."

I start climbing the stairs, looking for the bedroom. If I'm gonna sleep in Bill Murray's house, goddammit I'm gonna be comfortable.

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Old 10-20-2010, 01:28 AM   #11
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Athens, GA
70 Miles to Atlanta


"Hey," the man sitting in the bleachers says. I look up from the forty yard line and see the rifle aimed at me. "You're not one of them," he says as he lowers his gun. This is the last time I'll probably ever be here, so I took the chance to stop by and see Sanford Stadium, where UGA plays.

"I know you, don't I?"

He nods as I climb walk up the steps into the stands. "I'm Curtis Green."

"That's right. Wide receiver. All-American, All-SEC."

"I was," he says with a sigh. "Before all this **** happened."

I sit down on a bleacher across the aisle from him and sling off my backpack.

"You from Athens?"

"South Carolina. I'm on my way to Atlanta."

"Yeah. Lot of folks been coming through Athens on their way to Atlanta."

I open up my pack and pull out a can of roast beef and a manual can opener. "Want some?"

He shakes his head and I pop open the can full of brown meat. "You should come to Atlanta, too," I say between bites. "The CDC has their main hub in Atlanta."

"CDC?"

"Center for Disease Control. If anyone has a handle on what the hell is going on, it's them."

"I don't know, man. Long way to walk."

"We could always take a car. Hit the interstate and just swap cars when we get to pile up. That's how I've been going through SC and Georgia."

"But what if we get to Atlanta and there ain't no refuge. It's just more of....them."

I pause for a long second, chewing the last of my roast beef. "If that's the case....then we're truly ****ed."

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Old 10-20-2010, 09:10 AM   #12
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I make my way through the darkened cell block, and I find it almost funny that for the first time in 12 years, I think I'd rather be stuck in my cell. When I woke up on my cot, and found the door to my cell open, I couldn't believe my luck. It seemed that all my prayers had been answered, I finally had an opportunity to get out of this hell...and with any luck, I just might see the outside world after all.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I was stepping out into salvation...but into my own personal hell.

Something just isn't right. Not only did someone open my cell door...but the entire prison is quiet. Too quiet. Even in the middle of the night, there are noises in a prison...hushed whispers, angry screams...grown men weeping because they have lost the will to live...or possibly their "jailhouse virginity." The silence is deafening.

I continue my trek from the cell block out to the corridor that leads into the main complex itself. I find myself looking for someone...another prisoner, a guard...anyone who can tell me what the hell is going on. But there is no one here. I'm all alone in this place, and for the first time in years, I'm scared to death. I long for the safety of my 10x10 cell...for the sanctuary of those same iron bars that I've cursed every single day for the last 12 years....but somehow I know that going back now would lead to certain death. So I continue on, into fear and uncertainty.

A strange scent reaches my nostrils as I make my way to the guard station, something that I can't quite place. As I make my way past the station, I put my hand down on the counter, and it touches something wet...and warm. I don't have to look to know what it is, but I venture a glance at the counter anyhow, and my suspicions are confirmed.

Blood...and it's relatively fresh.

Did Omar finally do it? He's been talking about busting out of here for weeks, said he had a plan...Could he...?

I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I turn to face whoever it is and find out just what the hell is going on. I see the familiar form of one of the guards making his way toward me. His name is Woody, he's one of the few decent guys in this place, on either side of the bars. For the most part I like him, he's respectful and is always quick with a joke. But as he gets closer, I see that there is something wrong with him. He's hurt, the blood on his uniform and the way he staggers toward me is a dead giveaway.

"Woody? You alright pal?" I ask.

Then he lifts his head to look at me, and nothing in the world could have prepared me for what I see. His lower jaw is missing, as if something had torn it clean off....and his eyes...dead eyes, clouded over and white like a dead frog's eyes. I jump back with a start, and that's when Woody, the only friends I've had in 12 years in this hell hole reaches out for me, trying to get his cold hands around my neck.

Hands suddenly grab my shoulder, and I jump up, hitting my head against the driver's side window of my black Dodge Charger. I look around the inside of my car, seeing the two kids I picked up outside of Denver, Blake and Kirsten, staring back at me.

"The dream again?" Kirsten asks, worry showing on her pretty face.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here. Don't want to stay in one place for too long." I say as I turn the key in the ignition and drive off, not knowing where I'm going...just me, acouple of college kids, and a trunk full of guns.

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Old 10-20-2010, 01:42 PM   #13
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Charlotte, North Carolina

The truck rolled through the dead city at a moderate pace. Jack sat comfortably in the driver's seat, hand gripped on his shotgun, looking around wearily. The less noise you made, the more aware you were, the less chance you had of attracting them in large numbers, the more chance you had of surviving. It was easy to kill one or two on their own, but the hordes were what got you killed. That and getting trapped in corners. He'd seen some survivors go down like that in the three weeks since the outbreak.

But then, as Savannah had said, you had to want to survive. Some people just couldn't take the brave new world. Savannah had been heading down from Canada of all places, hoping to get to see his family in Georgia. And, as he had told Jack, the rumour was amongst survivors that there was some kind of rescue effort going on in Atlanta, under the direction of the CDC. Savannah had pretty much taught Jack all he knew, saved his ass a few times, and generally got him where he was now. And when the old man had gotten bitten...well, Jack'd inherited his shotgun.

The church had been burnt down. Jack had found that in every town he'd been through on his long trip down from Maine. The same message had been sprayed on the burnt out ruins of every one - "GOD IS DEAD". Someone had a serious issue with the almighty, and he was right ahead of Jack. The thought that this psycho had been just ahead of him all the way was...unsettling to say the least. Still, the city was dead, and not just in the walking way. It was best to move on.

However, as he sped up, he noticed a solitary figure walking down the road. The woman was wearing a coat that seemed a size too big for her, carrying a sports bag over her shoulder. She was about average height, was dyed black hair cut short in something approaching a bob. He smiled at her pale, pretty face as he pulled the car over. Finally, some company. He rolled down the window.

"Need a lift?" he asked. She eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm not gonna try anything," Jack said, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.

"If you were gonna try something, you'd lie," the woman said, a wry smile on her face.

"I suppose you're right," Jack said, grinning innocuously "Why don't you try me?"

The woman rolled her eyes and opened the unlocked door into the truck.

"Where you headed?" he asked her, as he started to speed up.

"I've always felt like going to Miami," Miami said.

"I can take you some of the way," Jack said.

"What do I call you?" Miama asked, smirking.

"Call me Savannah,"

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**** went down.

It may or may not have also 'got real'.
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Old 10-20-2010, 03:36 PM   #14
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“Hello?”

As soon as I step out into the corridor, I know something’s not right. The hospital is empty. And I don’t mean “it’s past visiting hours” empty, either. It looks like people left in a hurry, with the mess that’s lying around. Then I notice something on the ground. Is that... blood? I can feel my stomach tightening and the cold fingers of dread crawling up my spine as I realise that yes, there are streaks of blood all over the floor, and the walls. What the hell happened here?

I walk out of the ward, trying to find signs of anyone. As I turn the corner, things get even more unnerving. The lights are flickering, casting me into total blackness for seconds at a time. So what – I’m not afraid of the dark, right? That feeling in my gut says otherwise. Hesitantly, I keep pressing forward down the hallway.

“Hello!? Anybody?”

It looks like the walls have been hit with sprays of rifle fire, like the army had torn through here. Was there a terrorist attack on this place while I was out? But that makes no sense. Why would al-Qaeda want to attack some old hospital in Georgia? And if there was an evacuation, surely they’d have taken me along too. They didn’t forget about me, did they? Am I all alone, in an empty hospital?

The flickering lights go out completely, and I’m in the dark. Crap. I fumble around in the dark until my hand presses against the wall. I just have to feel my way through the darkened corridor. I shuffle down through the blackness, my breath echoing all around me. And all the time my heart keeps beating like a hammer against my chest, and I get that feeling again like it’s telling me, GO-BACK, GO-BACK, GO-BACK. Screw that. No way I’m going back into that room now, I need to find out what’s...

The lights flicker back on, and I see I’m pressing against a glass window. I look through it, and wish I hadn’t. I only get a glimpse of it as the lights go off, and I tell myself I just imagined it, but then the lights come back on long enough for me to get a good look. It’s a corpse lying on the floor, and whatever killed her, it sure as hell wasn’t a terrorist. Her entrails are splattered out across the floor, as if she’d been mauled by some wild animal... eaten. And then I see a cavernous hole in her head, like something a bullet would make. I feel the sick rising up from my gut and I have to swallow it down. Without even processing what I’m doing, my legs carry me forward, taking me away from that awful dead woman. But even as I turn another corner, I can’t get her face out of my mind. It was like she was looking up at me, asking for help...

“What happened here?”

At the end of this hallway is a large double door, with a message roughly scrawled onto it. At first I think I must be reading it wrong, but I’m not. It says:

DON’T OPEN – DEAD INSIDE



What kind of disaster hit this building that was so bad, that they had to pile all the corpses into one room? Was that lady lying on the floor one they left behind in their rush to get out and go wherever they went? And why didn’t they want anyone to get in to the dead?

The only way to move is forward, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to go any nearer that door. It’s like death is hanging in a cloud over it, like something tangible. Every fibre of my being is trying to make me stop, turn back, but there is nothing back there. Nothing but that dead girl, looking at me. No, I go forward. As I get closer, I see the measures whoever wrote the message took to make sure this door wasn’t opened: a wooden plank through the door handles and a chain wrapped around them. Funny, that wouldn’t be too difficult to handle for someone trying to get into the room. It would only really be effective in... stopping anyone getting out.

The door shakes. Just once, a single, slow back and forth movement. I stop dead on the spot. I tell myself that maybe I just imagined it, but I didn’t imagine it. I know I saw that door move. And to confirm what I already knew, the door shakes again, harder this time. Someone is shaking it from the other side. But... but the sign says there is “dead inside”. And last time I checked, dead people don’t get up to try and open doors. I spot a small door adjacent to the large, sealed double doors, a small door marked “EXIT”. That’s how I get out of here. Steeling myself, barely daring to breathe, I start slowly walking forward, trying my best to ignore the now continuous rattling of the door. But then a hand stretches out from the slight, shadowy gap between the doors that the chain allows. A pale, skinny arm reaching and grasping. There is someone in there! The logical response of any moral human being would be to let the poor soul out. But for some reason, I don’t. Something tells me no, don’t let them out. Leave that chain locked, and keep walking. Keep walking and for the love of God don’t look back. And that’s what I do.

I walk through the exit door, and find myself in a dim stairwell. I need to get out of this hospital, I need to find someone out on the street that can tell me what went on here. What if the whole building is... under quarantine or something? What if I can’t get out? I make my way down the stairway, until finally I find myself standing at a heavy door, also marked “EXIT”. This is the real deal, though, the one that will take me out of the building. I get the image of armed men in hazmat suits waiting to shoot me the second I try and step outside. But at this stage, that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Taking a deep breath, I push open the door.

The light is blinding. I actually let out a cry of pain and cover my eyes. How long has it been since I last saw daylight? I stumble blindly down the exit stairs, and out onto the street. When finally, my eyes adjust to the light, my heart just about stops in my chest.

Rows of corpses, all neatly laid out in lines, all of them with bullets in their heads. I have to walk through them, hyperventilating as panic starts to flood my senses. At first I’m walking, and without even realising it I’ve started running – a clumsy, gangly run, but the best I can muster as I get used to walking on my legs again. I scramble up the hill, my fingers and toes digging into the dirt as I try and haul myself up, and once I get to the top, things just keep getting more and more hellish. More corpses strewn on the street. Upturned vehicles. A crashed helicopter. It’s not just the hospital. It’s everywhere.

I scramble away from the hospital grounds, moaning and yelling inarticulately. What could I say that would begin to cover all this. It’s like I fell asleep and missed Armageddon. And why is there no living soul around to talk about it?

I need to get far away. I... I need to go home. Home! Carl! Lori! Are they okay? Oh please God, let them be okay. I need a car, some kind of transport... there! I spot a bike, lying in the fields, and run towards it. I grab it by the handles, lift it up, and...

“Gluk! Gakk!”



It’s a decayed corpse, missing its lower torso. It stinks something awful, as if it’s been lying out here baking in the Georgia sun for some time. Only... it’s not a corpse. It’s gurgling, it’s alive. It sees me, and... it starts to snarl... rolls around on its torn-open belly, and starts pulling itself forward. No legs, just flesh-stripped arms that it’s using to crawl in some sick mockery of life. Crawling towards me. But I can’t move. I just stand there, my hand held to my mouth. I can feel tears running down my cheek, but I don’t care. This is not an injured person. A human could not survive those wounds. Whatever this thing is, it’s not a human being.

I snap out of it, starting to back away. I imagine that it’s started moving faster, that it’s still chasing me. That... thing! I keep walking, fast, towing the bike along with me. I don’t want to look back, I can’t look back, I...

“Oh God!”

I collapse onto my knees in the middle of the street, bury my head in my hands, and start to cry. This can’t be real. I’m not awake, I must still be dreaming. This is a nightmare, and I’m still lying in that hospital bed, in a coma. That has to be it. But I know it’s not. I know that this nightmare is real. I let out a scream. Then I let myself look over my shoulder. No sign of the thing. It’s still lying in the grass, helpless, like it was for however long it’s been there before I found it. Wiping my eyes, I stand up, and get on the bike. I start riding, headed for home. I need to find my wife and son.

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Old 10-20-2010, 05:22 PM   #15
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In a hidden facility, twenty miles north of Miami, Florida....



"Doctor Logan,"
Captain Rhodes barks as he barges into my laboratory, "We need to talk, now."

"In a moment, yes, of course," I say, trying to shoo him away as I work. "I'm almost finished here; this is an absolutely astonishing discovery."

I put down my scalpel and step away from the operating table, gesturing to the specimen on the slab. It's one of the dead people--male caucasian, probably in his late twenties pre-mortem. His right arm was mangled, wounds indicating it was gnawed heavily before the man bled to death.

He used to have blonde hair and a slight beard, before I cut away his face. All morning and most of the afternoon I have been removing tissue and bone, getting directly to the core of where the infection thrives: the brain. Now all that is left above the neck is the brain stem and cerebellum jutting up from a bloody stump, the frontal lobes and cerebral cortex meticulously removed.....and still the body writhes against its constraints.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" I say, with a little bit of awe. "The pathogen that sustains the body after death can survive and control the host organism even after such incredible trauma. Even with the vast majority of the brain removed, as long as the cerebellum and stem survive, it can continue use of its basic motor functions."

"So in other words, you've found where to aim,"
Captain Rhodes says with entirely the wrong kind of interest.

"I'm afraid that after such extensive amputations, this specimen will no longer be useful for further study, however," I say, disappointed as I look down on it. "Have your men acquired any new specimens today?"

"That's specifically what I wanted to talk to you about,"
Rhodes answers grimly. "We went out into the field hoping to pick up a few stragglers, wandering around on their own like they usually do. Instead, we ran into a goddamn herd of them. Hundreds of them. I lost three of my men trying to get away."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I console him. "But....did you...?"

"Yes, I was able to bring in four of them before having to fall back behind the perimeter. Five now....Richards was bitten while climbing over the fence. We corralled him with the others, like our orders say."

"He won't have died in vain, Captain,"
I say to try and make up for it. "The work we're doing here may very well be the key to saving our species. Everyone who's given their lives to continue the research is a hero."

Rhodes gives me a cold look, but says nothing.

"Now then, I believe it's time to make my rounds of the behavioral study chambers. Would you like to see how Bub is doing today?"

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Old 10-20-2010, 06:23 PM   #16
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Athens, GA
70 Miles to Atlanta

"Hey," the man sitting in the bleachers says. I look up from the forty yard line and see the rifle aimed at me. "You're not one of them," he says as he lowers his gun. This is the last time I'll probably ever be here, so I took the chance to stop by and see Sanford Stadium, where UGA plays.

"I know you, don't I?"

He nods as I climb walk up the steps into the stands. "I'm Curtis Green."

"That's right. Wide receiver. All-American, All-SEC."

"I was," he says with a sigh. "Before all this **** happened."

I sit down on a bleacher across the aisle from him and sling off my backpack.

"You from Athens?"

"South Carolina. I'm on my way to Atlanta."

"Yeah. Lot of folks been coming through Athens on their way to Atlanta."

I open up my pack and pull out a can of roast beef and a manual can opener. "Want some?"

He shakes his head and I pop open the can full of brown meat. "You should come to Atlanta, too," I say between bites. "The CDC has their main hub in Atlanta."

"CDC?"

"Center for Disease Control. If anyone has a handle on what the hell is going on, it's them."

"I don't know, man. Long way to walk."

"We could always take a car. Hit the interstate and just swap cars when we get to pile up. That's how I've been going through SC and Georgia."

"But what if we get to Atlanta and there ain't no refuge. It's just more of....them."

I pause for a long second, chewing the last of my roast beef. "If that's the case....then we're truly ****ed."
Curtis and I spend the next few days going across the state. We encounter some of the infected on the highways, we both decide to run away each time instead of doining something either of us don't want to do.

With the canned food running short, I pull the beat-up van off the highway and into a nearby town. "Gas is starting to get down low. Maybe we can find a car to siphon off of."

Curtis lets out a low-whistle as the car goes through the town. It's bad, very bad considering how small the town is. A pack of the infected roam on the square, so I cut through a back street and start riding through a neighborhood mostly untouched by the chaos. It's deserted and I pull to a house with a car sitting in the road.

"We'll kill two birds with one stone, get some gas from that car and some supplies from the house."

I nod in agreement and open the driver side door. Curtis picks up my shotgun and gets out. "Hey," he calls to me. I turn around just in time to catch a shovel. "Just in case. You never know."

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Old 10-20-2010, 06:33 PM   #17
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I've been carried by pure adrenaline, but even that's starting to run dry now. I've been cycling so hard I can barely feel my legs, but I'm here now. Home. Letting the bike drop on the pavement, I run up to my house, slowing when I reach the front door. It's open.

"Son of a b***h."

I stagger through and into my house, running from room to room like a wild man.

"Lori!? CARL!"

The house is empty. They're not here! I run through every room, shouting their names, but I know they're not here. I kneel down on the carpet, trying to figure out what to do next. And as much as I don't want it to, a horrible thought runs through my mind.

It could have been worse. You could have found their bodies here.

I stand up, exhausted. The closest thing I had to a plan was to find my wife and son, and they're not here. I stagger out onto the front porch. I need to think, need to clear my head.

WHAM!

I fall to the ground, clutching my head. Before everything goes black, I see a shovel held over my head, ready to come crashing down again.

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Old 10-20-2010, 06:37 PM   #18
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I've been carried by pure adrenaline, but even that's starting to run dry now. I've been cycling so hard I can barely feel my legs, but I'm here now. Home. Letting the bike drop on the pavement, I run up to my house, slowing when I reach the front door. It's open.

"Son of a b***h."

I stagger through and into my house, running from room to room like a wild man.

"Lori!? CARL!"

The house is empty. They're not here! I run through every room, shouting their names, but I know they're not here. I kneel down on the carpet, trying to figure out what to do next. And as much as I don't want it to, a horrible thought runs through my mind.

It could have been worse. You could have found their bodies here.

I stand up, exhausted. The closest thing I had to a plan was to find my wife and son, and they're not here. I stagger out onto the front porch. I need to think, need to clear my head.

WHAM!

I fall to the ground, clutching my head. Before everything goes black, I see a shovel held over my head, ready to come crashing down again.
"Stop, stop, stop!"

I freeze, the shovel stopped just inches away from the man's face. "He's alive."

"Jesus, you're right."

I let the shovel fall to the ground. He is alive, but he doesn't look like it. Pale and clammy skin, dressed in a hospital gown, and staggering. He's the spitting image of one of them.

"Can you hear me?" I bend down to look the man in the face. "Let me help you up. Christ, I'm sorry about that."

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Old 10-20-2010, 06:45 PM   #19
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"Stop, stop, stop!"

I freeze, the shovel stopped just inches away from the man's face. "He's alive."

"Jesus, you're right."

I let the shovel fall to the ground. He is alive, but he doesn't look like it. Pale and clammy skin, dressed in a hospital gown, and staggering. He's the spitting image of one of them.

"Can you hear me?" I bend down to look the man in the face. "Let me help you up. Christ, I'm sorry about that."
I come to, and find some fat guy crouching over me. He has a friend too, standing behind him. Just as I'm regaining my senses, the friend points his shotgun at me.

"Wait... did you get bitten?"

"What?"

"Answer the question. Did you get bitten?"

"No, I got shot... I'm a cop, this is my house. I just woke up in the hospital and came here and my family is gone and... what day is it? What's the date?"

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Old 10-20-2010, 06:54 PM   #20
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I come to, and find some fat guy crouching over me. He has a friend too, standing behind him. Just as I'm regaining my senses, the friend points his shotgun at me.

"Wait... did you get bitten?"

"What?"

"Answer the question. Did you get bitten?"

"No, I got shot... I'm a cop, this is my house. I just woke up in the hospital and came here and my family is gone and... what day is it? What's the date?"
"It's October 20th. A wednesday."

I look at Curtis and then back at the guy. "Lift up your gown. We wanna see if you're telling the truth."

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Old 10-20-2010, 07:01 PM   #21
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"It's October 20th. A wednesday."

I look at Curtis and then back at the guy. "Lift up your gown. We wanna see if you're telling the truth."
Confused by the request, but not wanting to fight with the man holding the gun, I pull down the side of my robe and show them the scar from my gunshot wound, and for good measure turn to show them the exit wound at the back.

"Oh God... October? I've been in a coma for a month!"

And then it hits me that the world's gone to hell, and finally I've found other people.

"What the hell did I wake up to?"

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Old 10-20-2010, 07:02 PM   #22
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Default Re: Shoot 'Em in the Head: The Zombie Survival Horror RPG IC Thread

From the journal of Chris Redfield:

Some of the squad's families have started to get antsy. We haven't seen an infected for a few days, and some of them want to leave, to head out and see what's going on. But I don't think that's a great idea. I think the infected aren't paying attention to us because they've got more of a food supply in the city, not out here on the outskirts.

Damn it. I almost made myself sick with that last sentence. Food supply. That's people I'm talking about. Like their cattle. Damn it.

Some of the squad even thinks the infected may have just died from the disease, but Rebecca and Wesker have assured them that the infected would live as long as a person, if not longer. Thank god for them.

Every new discovery they makes from analyzing the skin, saliva, and blood samples they have with them brings very little way towards a cure, but more horrors. The two of them theorize that the body of an infected will survive heavy trauma, as they feel no pain
, and Wesker thinks that the virus takes over the brain, keeping it alive no matter what happens to the body.

What ever this virus is it sounds like some science fiction bull crap some Star Trek nerd would come up with. Yet here we are with the dead walking the Earth.


Now

I walk along the roof of cell block one, night vision goggles strapped across my eyes, scanning the grounds around our little sanctuary for any sign of the infected. And so far I haven't seen jack ****. I sigh and take a seat on the side of the roof, listening to the sounds of silence that have fallen over Raccoon City, and what I can only guess the rest of the world.

I hate silence. Always have. I could never sleep as a kid without the radio or TV going in my room, and that hasn't changed to this day. Hell, over in Iraq they used to joke I slept better during an attack than during leave. But ever since the outbreak, everything is quiet. I can't sleep, hell I can't even think half the time it's so quiet.

A noise from behind startles me, I turn with my gun drawn to find Claire standing behind me, "Whoa, cowboy! Want some company?"

I smile and holster my revolver, patting the concrete next to me, "Sure."

My sister takes a seat and toss a white object at me. I look down to find her iPod sitting in my hands. She sighs, "It's dead. My last remaining refuge is dead. No all I have to listen to is Becca and that creep Wesker talk about...them."

"Becca?" I ask with raised eyebrows.

"We've become close. She's like the little sister I never had...but a genius," Claire chuckles. "Listen, Chris," she continues, "I never thanked you for coming for me that day..."

"Claire, come on. You know you don't have to thank me. I'm your big brother. It's my job," I smile, putting my arm around her.

"But you didn't have to, Chris. You could have ran here and been safe before coming for me. But instead you risked sacrificing yourself for me. You've always been the one to come to my rescue. Whether it was some ass hole guy or whatever," she says, staring out into the darkness. "I guess what I'm saying is that it's nice to know there's still a hero out there after the apocalypse."

"I'm no hero. Just doing my job," I say, hugging her before my radio springs to life.

"Redfiled, get back here! We've made contact with survivors!"

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Old 10-20-2010, 07:07 PM   #23
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Default Re: Shoot 'Em in the Head: The Zombie Survival Horror RPG IC Thread

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Originally Posted by Keyser Soze View Post
Confused by the request, but not wanting to fight with the man holding the gun, I pull down the side of my robe and show them the scar from my gunshot wound, and for good measure turn to show them the exit wound at the back.

"Oh God... October? I've been in a coma for a month!"

And then it hits me that the world's gone to hell, and finally I've found other people.

"What the hell did I wake up to?"
"You were in a coma for the past month?"

"****, you slept throught it all then. You have no idea."

Curtis and I share a look before turning back to the man. "It'll be dark soon. Let's try to find some shelter then we'll catch you up on what happened."

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Old 10-20-2010, 07:10 PM   #24
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Default Re: Shoot 'Em in the Head: The Zombie Survival Horror RPG IC Thread

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"You were in a coma for the past month?"

"****, you slept throught it all then. You have no idea."

Curtis and I share a look before turning back to the man. "It'll be dark soon. Let's try to find some shelter then we'll catch you up on what happened."
"Come on inside. I invite you into my home.... what's left of it."

With a rueful smile I gesture for the pair to head inside. I follow them in, and close the door behind me. Then I extend my hand.

"Name's Rick. Rick Grimes."

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Old 10-20-2010, 07:16 PM   #25
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Default Re: Shoot 'Em in the Head: The Zombie Survival Horror RPG IC Thread

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"Come on inside. I invite you into my home.... what's left of it."

With a rueful smile I gesture for the pair to head inside. I follow them in, and close the door behind me. Then I extend my hand.

"Name's Rick. Rick Grimes."
"Curtis Green."

"I'm Matt," I say as I shake Rick's hand. "We'll just leave it at that for now. My last name is so common, you'd probably think I was feeding you a fake name."

I look out the window, watching for any movement. "We might want to block the doors and windows before the sun goes down."

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