Too close... too close... Walking to class today I heard someone running up behind me, I thought someone was just late for class. The security guard at the door pushed me aside and fired his taser over my shoulder. It hit one of my old friends square in the chest and he went down in spasms. His arm had a chuck of freshly torn off flesh and he looked like death. No... he looked like a zombie. The guards quickly threw on masks and captured the zombie. Had I had the twins on me I would have shot him. They took him inside and through a door I'd never seen anyone go through before. The door slammed behind the guards. They're here. But why didn't the guard just shoot him?
Guess I'm gonna have to start carrying now. I heard the infection back home is spreading quickly, I just pray all my old friends and family are safe. I've been hearing news that The Saints are alive and well, but I haven't heard anything from anyone else. Trevor's apparently gone off the deep end, John's journals have stopped, and Lilly... well, Lilly didn't make it. I wish I could get through to them and tell them our side, but campus when into lock down today, I doubt even our hackers will get this out, and they're the best in the biz. The guards have upgraded from pistols to rifles, and they eye everyone that walks by, like they're waiting for an excuse to fire. It's unnerving, but nice to see the faculty support the war, they even bought some of the students guns.
The sirens are going off, there's a perimeter breach. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti, God help us all.
Tyler
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Lilly Bange: Epilogue
“Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.”
Lady Lazarus, Sylvia Plath
Its morning. The students begin to wake to birds singing, school grounds being mowed, and a big, bright sun that just begs you to skip class and take a nap on the Terraces. The hiss and moan of the undead is only a nagging mosquito on a day like this, annoying but easily ignored. There are those who are preparing for the storm, furiously working to protect their loved ones, arm themselves to the teeth, and make the student body aware of the disease creeping and slouching their way. But there are those who still do not know what is on the horizon. O the horizon! Look children! Something from our collective nightmares! Bogeymen, goblins, monsters are marching!
A girl is left in her room. What's left of a girl is left in her room. The disease is quick and unforgiving, when one suffers a bite. But the airborne! It is slow, and meticulous, shutting down one faculty at a time. Senses. Hunger. Thirst. Heat. Feelings. Emotion. Memory. The girl was ripped apart at the seams. She lost a sense of well being. Safety. Self. In her earlier final hours she tries to write a note to her friends, the last remaining people on god's green earth that might actually find her. She writes illegibly and franticly, the sticky heat tugging at her mind and threatening to take that last bit of what she is. The note is never finished. She lays on the floor with her notebook under her. She curls in to keep out the cold, but the cold is not outside, not tonight.
She slowly wakes to the morning. The shivering is gone. The cold is gone. She feels nothing on her skin. It is a blessing. Slowly her eyes open, blinking stupidly as light floods the room from the picture windows. A small growl is issued as she attempts to roll and block the light. The floor doesn't feel right.
She can't feel the floor. She can barely comprehend what is happening. Thoughts come in clips and phrases. Light. No. Floor. Feel. Hungry.
Hunger.
She pushes herself up on shaky limbs. First on all fours. Hands and knees.
Steady. Up. Walk
She climbs to her feel and stands completely still. She is trembling. Thoughts come slowly through the miasma in her head. There is a constant drone of but one thought.
Feed. Feed. Feed.
Her head pulls to her right, to the door. She sniffs. Opens her mouth and takes a gulp of air. Tasting it. Tasting the smell of something...something good. Something smells so good.
Eat. Eat. Eat.
Her head shakes slowly and unsteadily. She tries to clear the thoughts, arrange them, bring some order to the primitive brain.
EAT EAT EAT
The call is more frantic as her insides twist. Find food. Find food. What food? She panics. A quick few steps to the door and she hits it heavily with her unfeeling body. A snarl. Rage builds suddenly, and in a flurry of hands and arms the door is opened. The girl runs. Runs towards the good smell. She runs towards the door, outside. Breaking though her cinder block prison she is met with the sun, warm air, and a multitude of students. She is outnumbered. Heavily. So hungry.
Almost without thinking she darts for the fence, the blockade around the school. Quick as a bunny she sprints and leaps at the fence, climbing it clumsily and falling to the dirt on the other side. She is out. She runs into a long abandoned park and under a tree. Her chest heaves as her eyes dart around from under her sanctuary. She sees many people, but they move without purpose and they smell different. The scent from the school is gone, but the message is loud and clear in her head.
GO BACK. GO BACK. FEED. FEED. FEED.
She is loose.
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.”
Lady Lazarus, Sylvia Plath
Its morning. The students begin to wake to birds singing, school grounds being mowed, and a big, bright sun that just begs you to skip class and take a nap on the Terraces. The hiss and moan of the undead is only a nagging mosquito on a day like this, annoying but easily ignored. There are those who are preparing for the storm, furiously working to protect their loved ones, arm themselves to the teeth, and make the student body aware of the disease creeping and slouching their way. But there are those who still do not know what is on the horizon. O the horizon! Look children! Something from our collective nightmares! Bogeymen, goblins, monsters are marching!
A girl is left in her room. What's left of a girl is left in her room. The disease is quick and unforgiving, when one suffers a bite. But the airborne! It is slow, and meticulous, shutting down one faculty at a time. Senses. Hunger. Thirst. Heat. Feelings. Emotion. Memory. The girl was ripped apart at the seams. She lost a sense of well being. Safety. Self. In her earlier final hours she tries to write a note to her friends, the last remaining people on god's green earth that might actually find her. She writes illegibly and franticly, the sticky heat tugging at her mind and threatening to take that last bit of what she is. The note is never finished. She lays on the floor with her notebook under her. She curls in to keep out the cold, but the cold is not outside, not tonight.
She slowly wakes to the morning. The shivering is gone. The cold is gone. She feels nothing on her skin. It is a blessing. Slowly her eyes open, blinking stupidly as light floods the room from the picture windows. A small growl is issued as she attempts to roll and block the light. The floor doesn't feel right.
She can't feel the floor. She can barely comprehend what is happening. Thoughts come in clips and phrases. Light. No. Floor. Feel. Hungry.
Hunger.
She pushes herself up on shaky limbs. First on all fours. Hands and knees.
Steady. Up. Walk
She climbs to her feel and stands completely still. She is trembling. Thoughts come slowly through the miasma in her head. There is a constant drone of but one thought.
Feed. Feed. Feed.
Her head pulls to her right, to the door. She sniffs. Opens her mouth and takes a gulp of air. Tasting it. Tasting the smell of something...something good. Something smells so good.
Eat. Eat. Eat.
Her head shakes slowly and unsteadily. She tries to clear the thoughts, arrange them, bring some order to the primitive brain.
EAT EAT EAT
The call is more frantic as her insides twist. Find food. Find food. What food? She panics. A quick few steps to the door and she hits it heavily with her unfeeling body. A snarl. Rage builds suddenly, and in a flurry of hands and arms the door is opened. The girl runs. Runs towards the good smell. She runs towards the door, outside. Breaking though her cinder block prison she is met with the sun, warm air, and a multitude of students. She is outnumbered. Heavily. So hungry.
Almost without thinking she darts for the fence, the blockade around the school. Quick as a bunny she sprints and leaps at the fence, climbing it clumsily and falling to the dirt on the other side. She is out. She runs into a long abandoned park and under a tree. Her chest heaves as her eyes dart around from under her sanctuary. She sees many people, but they move without purpose and they smell different. The scent from the school is gone, but the message is loud and clear in her head.
GO BACK. GO BACK. FEED. FEED. FEED.
She is loose.
Trevor Camp: Z Log 4/13
It's interesting being out away from Cape for a while. Driving through this desolate wasteland makes me miss the meek existence we carved out in Cape. It's not much but it's home.
Home.
It's odd to hear myself say it but it's true. It's my home. In the midst of this all out war raging around me it's the only thing keeping me going.
I was up north today checking on some leads when I rolled into a gas station outside of Bloomsdale to fill up the car and I heard gunshots. This was a double edged sword. On one hand it meant a survivor, and on the other the potential for the survivor to be hostile and try and rob me of my supplies.
I killed the engine and equipped my pistols as I exited the car. The shots continued, then silence. No sound of clips dropping to the floor, no screams of agony, no ominous zombie moan. Just silence. I slowly eased open the door with my pistols raised and walked in.
It was a massacre. Thirty or more zombies lay strewn about and crumpled on the floor. Blood and brain matter painted the walls...
It was beautiful.
A true work of art worthy of Pollock himself. A Masterpiece.
I heard rummaging behind the counter so I aimed my pistols and prepared for anything, but nothing could prepare me for what was behind that counter.
I man in black petticoat, two pistols strapped to his waist, a carton of cigarettes in his left hand, and a familiar grin arouse from behind the lottery tickets.
It was John.
John Haas, my lost friend assumed to be dead (most like anyone gone unseen for more than a day). John had gone to Rolla to spend the break with his family.
We hopped in my car and he explained his current situation to me. They had taken his family, his town, his best friend, and his home, something that resonated in me all too well. He said he was on his way to Cape when his car died a few miles up the road so he had walked to the gas station and was ambushed. He went on to explain that he giong to make his new home in Cape, one of the last safe places around here.
He hated the zombies, he was good at killing them, and he had a grudge.
He was perfect.
I had found my first team member.
We drove back to Cape. My home. Our home. The only thing we had left.
It was ours and it was worth defending.
Gotta go, Chris just sent me a text.
They're coming from the south.
:END LOG
Home.
It's odd to hear myself say it but it's true. It's my home. In the midst of this all out war raging around me it's the only thing keeping me going.
I was up north today checking on some leads when I rolled into a gas station outside of Bloomsdale to fill up the car and I heard gunshots. This was a double edged sword. On one hand it meant a survivor, and on the other the potential for the survivor to be hostile and try and rob me of my supplies.
I killed the engine and equipped my pistols as I exited the car. The shots continued, then silence. No sound of clips dropping to the floor, no screams of agony, no ominous zombie moan. Just silence. I slowly eased open the door with my pistols raised and walked in.
It was a massacre. Thirty or more zombies lay strewn about and crumpled on the floor. Blood and brain matter painted the walls...
It was beautiful.
A true work of art worthy of Pollock himself. A Masterpiece.
I heard rummaging behind the counter so I aimed my pistols and prepared for anything, but nothing could prepare me for what was behind that counter.
I man in black petticoat, two pistols strapped to his waist, a carton of cigarettes in his left hand, and a familiar grin arouse from behind the lottery tickets.
It was John.
John Haas, my lost friend assumed to be dead (most like anyone gone unseen for more than a day). John had gone to Rolla to spend the break with his family.
We hopped in my car and he explained his current situation to me. They had taken his family, his town, his best friend, and his home, something that resonated in me all too well. He said he was on his way to Cape when his car died a few miles up the road so he had walked to the gas station and was ambushed. He went on to explain that he giong to make his new home in Cape, one of the last safe places around here.
He hated the zombies, he was good at killing them, and he had a grudge.
He was perfect.
I had found my first team member.
We drove back to Cape. My home. Our home. The only thing we had left.
It was ours and it was worth defending.
Gotta go, Chris just sent me a text.
They're coming from the south.
:END LOG
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Sonya Allen: Z Log 4/13: Communication Breakdown
Okay, I finally got in the house to grab my laptop. I plugged it up a while back when I first got to Essex...but I had to barricade myself in the cellar for protection from the zombies. The house wasn't safe. Too many entry ways. The cellar was the next-best choice. It has worked quite well so far. The rifle Kevin gave me has also worked wonderfully. Luckily, he gave me an extra loaded clip. It didn't last too long after I got here, of course, but I'm also from a town full of rednecks and hunters. I found .22 ammo easily.
It's been about three weeks since I started hiding out down here. It's apparent to me that no human knows I'm down here. Trevor has not found me. Kevin hasn't. Chris. Jesse. None of them. They have no idea. I miss them. I last saw Trevor before he left for California. I have no idea how he's doing. He's strong, and so are the rest of the guys...so I'm pretty sure they're surviving. It may not be that bad in Cape. I don't know...telecommunications are completely out of service here. No phone...no Internet. Can't mail a letter...I shot the undead mail clerk not long after I got into town. However, the zombie visits are becoming fewer as time drags on. I'm thinking I'll try to make a run for it in a couple of days.
See, Trevor left Kevin in charge of protecting and entertaining me when he left. It was a good choice. We went to the shooting range for my birthday (I'm quite good with a rifle, we discovered), and Kevin decided I should take his rifle for protection when I had to be alone. We didn't know how soon the undead would start popping up around town, you know. I decided to head south to Essex and see the fam for my birthday. And Essex was not the way I left it at all. It smelled so...bad. And it always looked dead when you drove in, but it looked...dead in a new way. It was creepy. It made my stomach churn. I knew what had happened. I was completely numb. Then I was instantly snapped out of my dazed pondering by a loud thud and the jarring sight of a body crashing into my windshield and proceeding to roll over my car. I stopped. The body got up. I threw it into reverse and floored it. My first zombie kill. Now my car was dirtier than it already was. Zombie fluids on top of dust and bird poop. Lovely. And it hasn't gotten prettier since.
I need to be with my friends. My family is not here...I'm not sure what happened to them. I have two theories: My step-dad was so paranoid about the threat of H1Z1 that he and my mom hooked up the boat and went down to Mississippi (zombies don't fare so well with swimming, I hear); or, he just waited for the storm to blow in like he always does and they were taken by the undead (seriously, he won't evacuate the house until he sees the threat practically right outside the door). In such a case, my mom would've probably fled at the threat and is somewhere else. She's the nervous, cautious type.
Uncertainty sucks. It's been draining. I've felt extra "blah" this week. I think it's my allergies or something. Anyway, I really hope Cape isn't in shambles. I want to see everyone again. Gotta charge my laptop, now.
It's been about three weeks since I started hiding out down here. It's apparent to me that no human knows I'm down here. Trevor has not found me. Kevin hasn't. Chris. Jesse. None of them. They have no idea. I miss them. I last saw Trevor before he left for California. I have no idea how he's doing. He's strong, and so are the rest of the guys...so I'm pretty sure they're surviving. It may not be that bad in Cape. I don't know...telecommunications are completely out of service here. No phone...no Internet. Can't mail a letter...I shot the undead mail clerk not long after I got into town. However, the zombie visits are becoming fewer as time drags on. I'm thinking I'll try to make a run for it in a couple of days.
See, Trevor left Kevin in charge of protecting and entertaining me when he left. It was a good choice. We went to the shooting range for my birthday (I'm quite good with a rifle, we discovered), and Kevin decided I should take his rifle for protection when I had to be alone. We didn't know how soon the undead would start popping up around town, you know. I decided to head south to Essex and see the fam for my birthday. And Essex was not the way I left it at all. It smelled so...bad. And it always looked dead when you drove in, but it looked...dead in a new way. It was creepy. It made my stomach churn. I knew what had happened. I was completely numb. Then I was instantly snapped out of my dazed pondering by a loud thud and the jarring sight of a body crashing into my windshield and proceeding to roll over my car. I stopped. The body got up. I threw it into reverse and floored it. My first zombie kill. Now my car was dirtier than it already was. Zombie fluids on top of dust and bird poop. Lovely. And it hasn't gotten prettier since.
I need to be with my friends. My family is not here...I'm not sure what happened to them. I have two theories: My step-dad was so paranoid about the threat of H1Z1 that he and my mom hooked up the boat and went down to Mississippi (zombies don't fare so well with swimming, I hear); or, he just waited for the storm to blow in like he always does and they were taken by the undead (seriously, he won't evacuate the house until he sees the threat practically right outside the door). In such a case, my mom would've probably fled at the threat and is somewhere else. She's the nervous, cautious type.
Uncertainty sucks. It's been draining. I've felt extra "blah" this week. I think it's my allergies or something. Anyway, I really hope Cape isn't in shambles. I want to see everyone again. Gotta charge my laptop, now.
Chris Eddleman: Zombie Log 4/13
Not feeling so hot today. I don't mean sick, no, I'm just antsy. I know the horde will get here but, I just want it to happen now. This waiting doesn't feel healthy. So here, I sit in my room on the computer, waiting.
Waiting for the Saints to get back.
Waiting for the Flock to gather.
Waiting for Christina to come home.
Screw it, I'm going to see if I can go release some of this waiting tension.
I borrowed some of Tom's toys and hopped in my old car. I headed for Hopper Rd, a place where no one in their right mind would live nowadays. It was still packed...but again, not in their right mind.
The streets were the same way they'd been for five months...bleak. I saw the occasional car driving on some of the main roads but, Cape had turned into a ghost town. Zombies were mainly confined to certain areas of the city but, as a general rule no one ventured out. Unless you were heavily armed...like a certain man whose log you're reading.
I killed the engine about a block West of the old donut shop. Contrary to popular belief, zombies do have some amount of downtime, and sometimes noises don't disturb them.
Well, they needed to be disturbed this time. I reached in my car and pulled out one of those wonderful old boomboxes from the 80s and clicked in a cassette tape. Soon enough, "Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys began to blare down the block.
Zombies began to literally pour out of nearby houses. About 50 in total, all falling out of windows or bursting through doors, running at me full tilt.
I cocked back my ridiculous machinegun and barely took aim, firing round after round from the hip. Shells ripped through dead flesh, bursting bits of stagnant blood and ichor as zombie after zombie hit the ground. The gun soon let out a burst of clicking noises, and I loaded in one of the extended belt clips Tom had made. A renewed assault began, as scrambling zeds fell to my bullets. The closest any got was about ten feet away, some tubby old zombie. I swept the machinegun toward him and five rounds shot through his skull, exploding out the back. Soon enough, the scrambling ceased and half a hundred zeds lay at my feet.
I started to turn to head back to my car...and then I heard it. The moaning.
I whipped back around to find something like two hundred zombies running toward me from the far end of the street.
Well, time to use some of Tom's toys. I pulled out a little detonator, and when the horde was about one hundred feet away, I hit the button.
The street was blasted with the charges I had set before even putting on the music....however, I had severely underestimated the amount I'd need....only about thirty zombies were felled in the blast.
Shit...shit...SHIT!
I scrambled for my machinegun, firing nervous rounds, many of which went high. Only about ten more were killed before my automatic ammo was depleted, this time with no reloads.
I had spent time with the Saints, though. I wasn't defenseless. Two pistols were suddenly in my hands, with two replacement clips each in my jacket. Soon enough, the first two clips were depleted, my hands shaking just slightly, throwing off my aim. The muzzles flashed and more running zeds went down, but my ammo was depleting and they worked their way closer every second.
I threw the last clips into the pistols and emptied them into the horde. I wasn't totally defenseless...I'd learned from the last time. I reached back and grabbed the machete strapped to my back, and I started getting a little more personal.
The blade chopped into rotting flesh, and soon was covered in a concoction of fluids while zombies hit the ground at my feet. However, I was getting very quickly mobbed and was tiring out. I was scared. I was angry.
I got careless.
A zombie, looking to be about 27 pre-death, just barely missed biting into my bicep. I responded by chopping the machete through his head, and he hit the ground. I saw red and I didn't stop. I reared the machete back and chopped again...and again.
"Die! Die!" I screamed, punctuating each word with a chop.
"Give!"
"Me!"
"Back!"
"MY!"
"LIFE!"
I ended my barrage, breathing heavily hot steamy air. Not looking...
A zombie grabbed my back, and I barely turned around to put the flatside of the machete against his throat. He snarled, spitting blood and decaying saliva into my face. We struggled against each other, and more zombies soon came forward.
I was going to die. Just from blowing off steam. They'd never even find me. Except...
Suddenly a bullet flew through my offender's skull, and he swamped on me. A figure leapt in front of me, clad in dark clothes and wearing a plain white mask. He somehow was wielding an AK and a flamethrower, and he dove into the fray, lighting up zombies with fire and bullets.
He turned to me as they were dispatched, leaving the horde to run about mindlessly burning.
"Get up, Chris Eddleman! Come on, boyo."
I pushed the zombie off of me, and the man helped me to my feet.
"I'm so proud of you I could shit. You're doing well."
My eyes lit up.
"Dave?!" "Dave Hearnes?!" Dave was supposed to be dead. BBRC burned to the ground during the last invasion while Dave defended most of our friends from a massive horde.
The figure turned, and walked into the smoke.
"You're doing fine!"
I stood stunned, and I swore I could hear the sound of bicycle spokes in the distance. I walked back to the car, losing my lunch on the way. This must have been the fourth or fifth time I'd cheated death. Pretty soon I'm going to run out of aces.
I drove home to find Christina there. She looked at me wide-eyed, as I was lightly spattered in blood.
"Hey, darlin'. I'm think I'm gonna hit the shower..." I said.
She looked a little stunned but stayed her distance. I had worn all long sleeves and a mask to prevent any blood borne...but she was in her normal clothes, and I didn't want her touching me anyway. I threw the clothes in an incinerator I kept downstairs, and then took a long shower, still trembling.
She met me afterwards for a long hug, and I tried my best to stop shaking.
Wait, gonna stop writing...
Getting a message from one of our Sikeston outposts.
Oh no...
A horde of hundreds is on its way...the big invasion wasn't supposed to happen till Thursday.
Oh God, we need a plan...
I need a team.
END LOG
Waiting for the Saints to get back.
Waiting for the Flock to gather.
Waiting for Christina to come home.
Screw it, I'm going to see if I can go release some of this waiting tension.
I borrowed some of Tom's toys and hopped in my old car. I headed for Hopper Rd, a place where no one in their right mind would live nowadays. It was still packed...but again, not in their right mind.
The streets were the same way they'd been for five months...bleak. I saw the occasional car driving on some of the main roads but, Cape had turned into a ghost town. Zombies were mainly confined to certain areas of the city but, as a general rule no one ventured out. Unless you were heavily armed...like a certain man whose log you're reading.
I killed the engine about a block West of the old donut shop. Contrary to popular belief, zombies do have some amount of downtime, and sometimes noises don't disturb them.
Well, they needed to be disturbed this time. I reached in my car and pulled out one of those wonderful old boomboxes from the 80s and clicked in a cassette tape. Soon enough, "Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys began to blare down the block.
Zombies began to literally pour out of nearby houses. About 50 in total, all falling out of windows or bursting through doors, running at me full tilt.
I cocked back my ridiculous machinegun and barely took aim, firing round after round from the hip. Shells ripped through dead flesh, bursting bits of stagnant blood and ichor as zombie after zombie hit the ground. The gun soon let out a burst of clicking noises, and I loaded in one of the extended belt clips Tom had made. A renewed assault began, as scrambling zeds fell to my bullets. The closest any got was about ten feet away, some tubby old zombie. I swept the machinegun toward him and five rounds shot through his skull, exploding out the back. Soon enough, the scrambling ceased and half a hundred zeds lay at my feet.
I started to turn to head back to my car...and then I heard it. The moaning.
I whipped back around to find something like two hundred zombies running toward me from the far end of the street.
Well, time to use some of Tom's toys. I pulled out a little detonator, and when the horde was about one hundred feet away, I hit the button.
The street was blasted with the charges I had set before even putting on the music....however, I had severely underestimated the amount I'd need....only about thirty zombies were felled in the blast.
Shit...shit...SHIT!
I scrambled for my machinegun, firing nervous rounds, many of which went high. Only about ten more were killed before my automatic ammo was depleted, this time with no reloads.
I had spent time with the Saints, though. I wasn't defenseless. Two pistols were suddenly in my hands, with two replacement clips each in my jacket. Soon enough, the first two clips were depleted, my hands shaking just slightly, throwing off my aim. The muzzles flashed and more running zeds went down, but my ammo was depleting and they worked their way closer every second.
I threw the last clips into the pistols and emptied them into the horde. I wasn't totally defenseless...I'd learned from the last time. I reached back and grabbed the machete strapped to my back, and I started getting a little more personal.
The blade chopped into rotting flesh, and soon was covered in a concoction of fluids while zombies hit the ground at my feet. However, I was getting very quickly mobbed and was tiring out. I was scared. I was angry.
I got careless.
A zombie, looking to be about 27 pre-death, just barely missed biting into my bicep. I responded by chopping the machete through his head, and he hit the ground. I saw red and I didn't stop. I reared the machete back and chopped again...and again.
"Die! Die!" I screamed, punctuating each word with a chop.
"Give!"
"Me!"
"Back!"
"MY!"
"LIFE!"
I ended my barrage, breathing heavily hot steamy air. Not looking...
A zombie grabbed my back, and I barely turned around to put the flatside of the machete against his throat. He snarled, spitting blood and decaying saliva into my face. We struggled against each other, and more zombies soon came forward.
I was going to die. Just from blowing off steam. They'd never even find me. Except...
Suddenly a bullet flew through my offender's skull, and he swamped on me. A figure leapt in front of me, clad in dark clothes and wearing a plain white mask. He somehow was wielding an AK and a flamethrower, and he dove into the fray, lighting up zombies with fire and bullets.
He turned to me as they were dispatched, leaving the horde to run about mindlessly burning.
"Get up, Chris Eddleman! Come on, boyo."
I pushed the zombie off of me, and the man helped me to my feet.
"I'm so proud of you I could shit. You're doing well."
My eyes lit up.
"Dave?!" "Dave Hearnes?!" Dave was supposed to be dead. BBRC burned to the ground during the last invasion while Dave defended most of our friends from a massive horde.
The figure turned, and walked into the smoke.
"You're doing fine!"
I stood stunned, and I swore I could hear the sound of bicycle spokes in the distance. I walked back to the car, losing my lunch on the way. This must have been the fourth or fifth time I'd cheated death. Pretty soon I'm going to run out of aces.
I drove home to find Christina there. She looked at me wide-eyed, as I was lightly spattered in blood.
"Hey, darlin'. I'm think I'm gonna hit the shower..." I said.
She looked a little stunned but stayed her distance. I had worn all long sleeves and a mask to prevent any blood borne...but she was in her normal clothes, and I didn't want her touching me anyway. I threw the clothes in an incinerator I kept downstairs, and then took a long shower, still trembling.
She met me afterwards for a long hug, and I tried my best to stop shaking.
Wait, gonna stop writing...
Getting a message from one of our Sikeston outposts.
Oh no...
A horde of hundreds is on its way...the big invasion wasn't supposed to happen till Thursday.
Oh God, we need a plan...
I need a team.
END LOG
Monday, April 12, 2010
Trevor Camp: Z Journal 4/11
Haven't been near a computer in a while, well haven't been near working electricity as a whole, period. I just got back from an expedition to rural Missouri. I'm running low on ammo. Everybody's running low. One would think that the boot heel dwellers would be more paranoid and stock up on this crap but it's becoming apparent to me that it's all been spent.
Town after town it's the same scene. Silent emptiness punctuated by the occasional moan of a lone zombie. Empty gun sheds and abandoned homes. Blood stained living rooms and broken windows. Final testimonies scrawled onto bedroom walls. It's a hard sight to take in. For me it's motivation.
The incident in Dexter brought a new problem to light. As comfortable and confident as I am with being alone on these excursions, I need some one to watch my 6. The problem is I don't really care for people these days. They're either in denial or afraid. Fear is something I can't have in a team. It makes you weak and in these dark times people need every bit of strength they can muster. It needs to be a small group. Fast, quick, and ruthless. No more than three. Nothing expansive like what Chris and Jesse are trying to accomplish. Larger numbers means more people to worry about. It means a higher chance of some one freaking out and breaking down. Yeah three.
My hopes aren't very high, most people think I'm crazy. Well crazy has kept me alive. So I guess I'm looking for some crazys. Or at least pissed off.
Chris just texted me.
It's airborne. Gotta go.
END LOG:
Christina Rose Vitale: Zombie Log 4.12.2010
I was at the school again today. I've been teaching there since last Tuesday. I haven't told Chris yet because I'm quite certain he wouldn't approve of my students. He's wrong however, these children can be taught, despite their differences.
They are recovering still from last Friday. The other teachers and I removed their teeth. We are a small group of teachers, and at least two of us are with the students at all times.
I'm currently teaching them group communication skills, how to agree on methods to confront and tackle problems. It's been difficult teaching them to communicate with out teeth, but they had to go.
We tried to save the children in the quarantine. When we arrived, however, the building was in ruins. I recognized one of my escaped students in the debris. She was very bright... she had more potential than the rest of them. It's funny how these tragic scenes can still move me to tears.
Everyone else seems to think that massacring these zombies, even the children, is our only course of action, but we are making progress in our school. I am confident that if a cure does not come, these children can still become contributing members of society.
My next shift is soon. The teachers and I get so tired. Long hours with our special students have been tiring us out.
------
End Log
They are recovering still from last Friday. The other teachers and I removed their teeth. We are a small group of teachers, and at least two of us are with the students at all times.
I'm currently teaching them group communication skills, how to agree on methods to confront and tackle problems. It's been difficult teaching them to communicate with out teeth, but they had to go.
We tried to save the children in the quarantine. When we arrived, however, the building was in ruins. I recognized one of my escaped students in the debris. She was very bright... she had more potential than the rest of them. It's funny how these tragic scenes can still move me to tears.
Everyone else seems to think that massacring these zombies, even the children, is our only course of action, but we are making progress in our school. I am confident that if a cure does not come, these children can still become contributing members of society.
My next shift is soon. The teachers and I get so tired. Long hours with our special students have been tiring us out.
------
End Log
Lilly Bange: Diary Entry 4/12
Itchy skin...comes off
[unintelligible text]
..ways love you take the computer
...smells so bad I'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry
[unintelligible]
..fish. don't rename him. Love you mom and dad
[Scribbles]
...dying alone haha right? You were right...
[unintelligible]
science experiment....
[unintelligible text]
..ways love you take the computer
...smells so bad I'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry
[unintelligible]
..fish. don't rename him. Love you mom and dad
[Scribbles]
...dying alone haha right? You were right...
[unintelligible]
science experiment....
Chris Eddleman: Zombie Log 4/12
What a great day...well, not crap.
The old tunnels that run under campus are still in use but, since terrorism is still a suspected cause of H1Z1, all of them are guarded by two National Guardsmen each. So, I had to borrow Trevor and Jesse, not to mention an incredibly long hose.
Dusk fell, and we hid close to the power plant, as the grate there was the one most known to us. Jesse was a tad grim, he probably wasn't too happy with the means to which we would accomplish this. Trevor had a big grin on his face, crazy man he is. The Guardsmen got complacent early into the evening...no one ever tried to invade the tunnels.
I nodded to Trevor, and he and I crept up behind the guards. Trevor pulled out one of his pistols and turned to me, counting one, two, three. Then we sprung into action.
Trevor cracked the one on the left hard on the head with his pistol, and the poor guy went out like a light.
Meanwhile I slipped my arm under his armpit and linked it with my other arm, putting him in a nasty quick choke. He quickly lost consciousness and slumped to the ground. I pulled out a syringe and injected the pair with some lovely chemical that make them forget all about this and just think they passed out on the job. So no one would ever know.
Jesse came shortly after dragging our hose. It was connected to a large tank we managed to smuggle into Parker.
Trevor took off the grate and leapt in, and Jesse handed the hose to him. I jumped in afterward, and we made our way to a hub in the water pipe. Trevor revealed a small power drill and we drilled a hole in the top of the pipe, quickly connecting the hose.
"Turn in on, Jesse!" I tried to quietly yell. Trevor cracked me in the ribs, presumably from being too loud. I flashed him a half grin as we heard the chemical being poured into the water supply.
About thirty minutes passed, and soon the tank ran dry. I hoped the chemical would be enough to vaccinate all the campus, but we would soon find out. We replaced the grate and rolled up the hose before bringing the tank back to my house, and sharing some beers in triumph.
Christina came in while we were sitting at the table, and I hugged her quite fiercely. She gave me one of her perfect smiles...but there was a hint of something behind it. Eh, probably just some worry. The next few days wouldn't be great.
She fell asleep pretty soon after, and the boys and I stayed up a bit late, talking about the good times.
She's been oddly tired lately. I guess it's just the allergies.
Best log entry all week, I hope the cure gets spread.
But a part of me is still hopeless.
Who knows what was breathed in before tonight?
Who knows?
END LOG
The old tunnels that run under campus are still in use but, since terrorism is still a suspected cause of H1Z1, all of them are guarded by two National Guardsmen each. So, I had to borrow Trevor and Jesse, not to mention an incredibly long hose.
Dusk fell, and we hid close to the power plant, as the grate there was the one most known to us. Jesse was a tad grim, he probably wasn't too happy with the means to which we would accomplish this. Trevor had a big grin on his face, crazy man he is. The Guardsmen got complacent early into the evening...no one ever tried to invade the tunnels.
I nodded to Trevor, and he and I crept up behind the guards. Trevor pulled out one of his pistols and turned to me, counting one, two, three. Then we sprung into action.
Trevor cracked the one on the left hard on the head with his pistol, and the poor guy went out like a light.
Meanwhile I slipped my arm under his armpit and linked it with my other arm, putting him in a nasty quick choke. He quickly lost consciousness and slumped to the ground. I pulled out a syringe and injected the pair with some lovely chemical that make them forget all about this and just think they passed out on the job. So no one would ever know.
Jesse came shortly after dragging our hose. It was connected to a large tank we managed to smuggle into Parker.
Trevor took off the grate and leapt in, and Jesse handed the hose to him. I jumped in afterward, and we made our way to a hub in the water pipe. Trevor revealed a small power drill and we drilled a hole in the top of the pipe, quickly connecting the hose.
"Turn in on, Jesse!" I tried to quietly yell. Trevor cracked me in the ribs, presumably from being too loud. I flashed him a half grin as we heard the chemical being poured into the water supply.
About thirty minutes passed, and soon the tank ran dry. I hoped the chemical would be enough to vaccinate all the campus, but we would soon find out. We replaced the grate and rolled up the hose before bringing the tank back to my house, and sharing some beers in triumph.
Christina came in while we were sitting at the table, and I hugged her quite fiercely. She gave me one of her perfect smiles...but there was a hint of something behind it. Eh, probably just some worry. The next few days wouldn't be great.
She fell asleep pretty soon after, and the boys and I stayed up a bit late, talking about the good times.
She's been oddly tired lately. I guess it's just the allergies.
Best log entry all week, I hope the cure gets spread.
But a part of me is still hopeless.
Who knows what was breathed in before tonight?
Who knows?
END LOG
Jesse Kimball: 4/11 Part 2
Osterberg and I loaded up the truck after he finished his latest mod, he said it might come in handy for finding Collin… he was right. When we got to the outskirts, Osterberg jumped into the gunner seat in the back, better safe than sorry kind of situation. For an hour and a half we wandered around trying to find hints of Collin’s activities, seeing nothing more than trash and abandoned vehicles. Then we saw it: a lone zombie sprinting full speed about 300 yards up from us out of some brush, crossing our current path. I decided to park the truck and have a little fun with this one. I left the truck and pulled out my Barrett .50 cal (yes, I know it’s unnecessary and sometimes worthless against zombies, but it makes me happy, so shut it) and took aim with the gun mounted on the hood of the truck. I looked through the scope and got a clearer picture of my target, which was not a zombie at all, but a man… a man running freakishly fast. I thought this had to be Collin, but why was he running? I looked back to the brush and saw thirty or so zombies erupting from the tree-line. All I could think was…oh! That. I fired a couple of rounds into the mob, taking out a chunk of them and trying to bring their attention to us, but to no avail, they wanted the easier meal. So I jumped back into the truck, Osterberg still at the turret looking through a pair of ridiculous looking binoculars.
“There’s another mob in the brush… probably around fifty more or so.”
“Then I suppose it’s time for an intervention of sorts”
I floored it and Osterberg’s voice came over the police scanner
“There’s something else… Looks like a man on a motorcycle… with a… machete?”
“What?!”
Sure enough, a motorcycle came into view from the opposite direction with a machete held high, racing towards Collin. The rider slid to a halt right in front of Collin and threw his machete at the approaching zombies, in what could have been an epic moment to end all epic moments. Sadly, the machete hit the zombie in the knee butt first, semi-stunning it. The rider started swearing and frantically fumbled to get his bike started… It wouldn’t start. I floored it as they both started to run away from the rapidly approaching zombies. Luckily for them, I’m crazy. I swerved tail facing the zombies and Osterberg let the rounds fly. I unlocked the door so that Collin and the rider could get in while Osterberg finished the last of them. We got back into town without further incident, Collin had passed out and the rider didn’t seem like the talkative type, he just kind of muttered to himself something about stupid bike and stupid machete, it was a little more colorful, but I’ll spare you. When we got back to HQ, we officially had the introductions.
“So I’m assuming by the way you were running out there that you are Collin Smith?”
“Actually, no, my name is Jason, Jason Boyd.”
The rider spoke next
“I’m Collin, actually, and I am fast, but I would never just run around the outskirts.”
“Neither would I, I was on my way back from checking on my family and my car completely died.”
I couldn’t ignore that kind of speed, I mean, that’s the reason I wanted Collin on my team; so I invited both of them to join, but not before making fun of Collin for throwing the machete. They both agreed, so now my team is almost complete. Tomorrow I have to track down a few women that I hear are all but pro at covert operations.
-JK
“There’s another mob in the brush… probably around fifty more or so.”
“Then I suppose it’s time for an intervention of sorts”
I floored it and Osterberg’s voice came over the police scanner
“There’s something else… Looks like a man on a motorcycle… with a… machete?”
“What?!”
Sure enough, a motorcycle came into view from the opposite direction with a machete held high, racing towards Collin. The rider slid to a halt right in front of Collin and threw his machete at the approaching zombies, in what could have been an epic moment to end all epic moments. Sadly, the machete hit the zombie in the knee butt first, semi-stunning it. The rider started swearing and frantically fumbled to get his bike started… It wouldn’t start. I floored it as they both started to run away from the rapidly approaching zombies. Luckily for them, I’m crazy. I swerved tail facing the zombies and Osterberg let the rounds fly. I unlocked the door so that Collin and the rider could get in while Osterberg finished the last of them. We got back into town without further incident, Collin had passed out and the rider didn’t seem like the talkative type, he just kind of muttered to himself something about stupid bike and stupid machete, it was a little more colorful, but I’ll spare you. When we got back to HQ, we officially had the introductions.
“So I’m assuming by the way you were running out there that you are Collin Smith?”
“Actually, no, my name is Jason, Jason Boyd.”
The rider spoke next
“I’m Collin, actually, and I am fast, but I would never just run around the outskirts.”
“Neither would I, I was on my way back from checking on my family and my car completely died.”
I couldn’t ignore that kind of speed, I mean, that’s the reason I wanted Collin on my team; so I invited both of them to join, but not before making fun of Collin for throwing the machete. They both agreed, so now my team is almost complete. Tomorrow I have to track down a few women that I hear are all but pro at covert operations.
-JK
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Lilly Bange: Diary Entry 4/11
Diary,
The ringing in my ears is loud. Can hear everyone in the hallway. All the doors slam and open and I know who does it. My floor smells sick. My room smells sick. I gag at the smells under my door. Frilly perfume. Citrus Perfume. Flowers. Food. Candy. People.
I threw up last night, but nothing to throw up. I gagged hard, blood in my sink. Sprayed bleach and threw up again from the smell. Blood drops all over my makeup...and toothbrushes. I fell down near the sink, cried. Don't know how long. Couldn't get back up. Muscles don't work. Joints are inflamed.
Blood on the floor. Can't stand to reach the sink. Food rotting in my fridge. If I eat I puke with no blood. Tried, opened the fridge but there was no food in it.
What's rotting?
The ringing in my ears is loud. Can hear everyone in the hallway. All the doors slam and open and I know who does it. My floor smells sick. My room smells sick. I gag at the smells under my door. Frilly perfume. Citrus Perfume. Flowers. Food. Candy. People.
I threw up last night, but nothing to throw up. I gagged hard, blood in my sink. Sprayed bleach and threw up again from the smell. Blood drops all over my makeup...and toothbrushes. I fell down near the sink, cried. Don't know how long. Couldn't get back up. Muscles don't work. Joints are inflamed.
Blood on the floor. Can't stand to reach the sink. Food rotting in my fridge. If I eat I puke with no blood. Tried, opened the fridge but there was no food in it.
What's rotting?
Chris Eddleman: Zombie Log 4/11
Bad day. Terrible bad shitty day. I'm one more curse word away from taking my loved ones and letting this university burn to the damn ground.
At the most optimistic, it's hopeless.
I was in the lab today, doing a nitrogen fixation experiment with Rhizobium...pretty standard Judd Lab stuff (Author's Note: Rhizobium is a soil dwelling bacteria that lives best in no oxygen). A lot of my samples looked good, showed the right kind of growth...however, I got an interesting, chilling result. One of my samples had been exposed to oxygen, so I was going to throw it out. However, instead of showing little growth, it showed a startling supergrowth. I took a sample and found no metabolic activity but, there was evidence that the "dead" colony was somehow ingesting the nearby live colonies, which would then show dead growth as well. I'd seen this before in Champine's micro lab. And Rhizobium was one of the many organisms that could be infected with a specific form of the virus if introduced into media...but this wasn't or the others would show signs.
Oh God.
It's airborne.
I ran to the bathroom, threw up my lunch. This is bad. Terrible...we should all be wearing face masks. Oh God, I've probably been exposed. I can't go near Christina, she'll get it. I need to wear a face mask.
So I donned one and then went downstairs to bring the terrible news to Dad. He remained oddly calm (he always does) and decided we should bring this up at the meeting.
Ah yes, the meeting. That was just damn wonderful.
We walked in, and explained both situations. First I get looks, then chuckles, then they told me...well let's see how well I can quote it.
"You haven't brought any form of conclusive evidence which makes all of this meeting heresay. The government's specialist would detect this far before any undergrad, regardless of your status in the last invasion."
My dad and the other Math and Science professors fought for me, but the administration simply had their mind made up.
But I know it's airborne...luckily the vaccine for the virus only needed a slight modification. (Thank you Biology Professors and Grad Students working through the day and night together.) We all managed to take one, and I already have enough for all my friends. Mass production through the night should take care of the whole campus...but the university would never let this happen. Not enough CYA (Cover Your Ass) for them.
Trevor'll get a kick out of this one. Hell, I'll call him for this little mission. Jesse too. A little mischief reunion oughta get my spirits up...oughta. There are a series of pipes leading under the university that transport water to all parts of campus...which gets put in the food and the drinks. It's not perfect but...well let's just see if this works first.
A lack of post tomorrow could mean I'm imprisoned...
Or worse.
END LOG.
At the most optimistic, it's hopeless.
I was in the lab today, doing a nitrogen fixation experiment with Rhizobium...pretty standard Judd Lab stuff (Author's Note: Rhizobium is a soil dwelling bacteria that lives best in no oxygen). A lot of my samples looked good, showed the right kind of growth...however, I got an interesting, chilling result. One of my samples had been exposed to oxygen, so I was going to throw it out. However, instead of showing little growth, it showed a startling supergrowth. I took a sample and found no metabolic activity but, there was evidence that the "dead" colony was somehow ingesting the nearby live colonies, which would then show dead growth as well. I'd seen this before in Champine's micro lab. And Rhizobium was one of the many organisms that could be infected with a specific form of the virus if introduced into media...but this wasn't or the others would show signs.
Oh God.
It's airborne.
I ran to the bathroom, threw up my lunch. This is bad. Terrible...we should all be wearing face masks. Oh God, I've probably been exposed. I can't go near Christina, she'll get it. I need to wear a face mask.
So I donned one and then went downstairs to bring the terrible news to Dad. He remained oddly calm (he always does) and decided we should bring this up at the meeting.
Ah yes, the meeting. That was just damn wonderful.
We walked in, and explained both situations. First I get looks, then chuckles, then they told me...well let's see how well I can quote it.
"You haven't brought any form of conclusive evidence which makes all of this meeting heresay. The government's specialist would detect this far before any undergrad, regardless of your status in the last invasion."
My dad and the other Math and Science professors fought for me, but the administration simply had their mind made up.
But I know it's airborne...luckily the vaccine for the virus only needed a slight modification. (Thank you Biology Professors and Grad Students working through the day and night together.) We all managed to take one, and I already have enough for all my friends. Mass production through the night should take care of the whole campus...but the university would never let this happen. Not enough CYA (Cover Your Ass) for them.
Trevor'll get a kick out of this one. Hell, I'll call him for this little mission. Jesse too. A little mischief reunion oughta get my spirits up...oughta. There are a series of pipes leading under the university that transport water to all parts of campus...which gets put in the food and the drinks. It's not perfect but...well let's just see if this works first.
A lack of post tomorrow could mean I'm imprisoned...
Or worse.
END LOG.
Jesse Kimball: Journal 4/11 Part 1
Today I went on a search for Collin and Osterberg; with Chris’s dossier it was not too terribly difficult to find them. Osterberg works in what was once a facility for clinically insane children and now it is a lock-up for children showing signs of H1Z1. Collin doesn’t work; he spends the majority of his time hunting down zombies in the outskirts of town, outside the camp. It’s such a blessing, yet such a curse that these two would be located in such hostile environments. I figured Osterberg would be the easiest to find, and with the zombie hoards getting closer and closer to Cape, I knew I would need all the help available to track down Collin in the outskirts.
I parked my truck in the clinic lot near the only other car. Last I checked this clinic kept a constant ten people on staff, something was wrong… either that or they all went green. I grabbed my trusty .22 pistol and walked inside. Somewhere I could hear soft crying and then the sound of metal being cut. Good, he’s alive, or zombies are learning to use tools… no, impossible. I walked towards the screeching sound and came to an open door to a room with a man working intently on what looked to be a .44 magnum with six cylinders. Right as I was about to introduce myself, a child came sprinting towards him from a door at his back. The look in the kid’s face was that of a starved animal running at a free meal. Without any hesitation I fired a round through his head, in one side and out the other. His momentum caused him to tumble forward and land in a lifeless heap on the floor.
“Nice shot. You saved me from using one of my special rounds.”
“Thanks, but what are you talking about?”
He responded by grabbing a pair of scissors and clipping a nearly invisible wire, which I followed to a system of small pulleys leading up to a rectangular box with six holes in it, all in a line leading towards his seat.
“Why six holes?
“Some of the kids are in better shape than the others and I figured it was only a matter of time before…”
Before he could finish a blood curdling scream erupted from the hall where the kids’ rooms were located. We looked at each other and without a word he scooped all the stuff on his desk into a box and we both booked it out of there. As soon as we got outside, Osterberg grabbed a remote with three buttons on it I didn’t have time to ask, we needed to get out of there. We got about halfway to the truck before we heard the crashing of the glass as the children ran through it. Osterberg hit the first switch and I heard a massive explosion behind us. I looked back to see small pieces of small bodies flying in every direction. As soon as we got to the truck, I heard another scream. I looked back to see a little girl, skin rotting, eyes void of any emotion. Behind her came another six zombies coming at us at full speed. I heard a click and realized that Osterberg had hit the second switch. Boom! All six of them went flying. This left only the little girl. With another scream, it charged at us. At this point I was right next to my truck, and behind the seat of this truck are a few of my favorite toys; one in particular being a SPAS-12 shotgun loaded and ready to go. The shot rang out and what was left of her already rotted corpse hit the ground.
Osterberg got a couple of things out of his car and we took off in my truck. Three minutes with no sound but the crackle of my police scanner past before I heard the click of the third switch, followed promptly by a large explosion behind us.
“I’ve always wanted to do that. So do you have a safe place I can finish this mod real quick?”
I couldn’t help but smile as I told him where my headquarters were located. I also told him we could stop for a little while, but I have a date in the outskirts. We arrived with no incident, and he should be coming upstairs any moment ready to go. Hopefully finding Collin won’t be as troublesome Osterberg. Is it sad that I laughed a little after typing that? Alright, I hear Osterberg coming up the stairs.
-JK
I parked my truck in the clinic lot near the only other car. Last I checked this clinic kept a constant ten people on staff, something was wrong… either that or they all went green. I grabbed my trusty .22 pistol and walked inside. Somewhere I could hear soft crying and then the sound of metal being cut. Good, he’s alive, or zombies are learning to use tools… no, impossible. I walked towards the screeching sound and came to an open door to a room with a man working intently on what looked to be a .44 magnum with six cylinders. Right as I was about to introduce myself, a child came sprinting towards him from a door at his back. The look in the kid’s face was that of a starved animal running at a free meal. Without any hesitation I fired a round through his head, in one side and out the other. His momentum caused him to tumble forward and land in a lifeless heap on the floor.
“Nice shot. You saved me from using one of my special rounds.”
“Thanks, but what are you talking about?”
He responded by grabbing a pair of scissors and clipping a nearly invisible wire, which I followed to a system of small pulleys leading up to a rectangular box with six holes in it, all in a line leading towards his seat.
“Why six holes?
“Some of the kids are in better shape than the others and I figured it was only a matter of time before…”
Before he could finish a blood curdling scream erupted from the hall where the kids’ rooms were located. We looked at each other and without a word he scooped all the stuff on his desk into a box and we both booked it out of there. As soon as we got outside, Osterberg grabbed a remote with three buttons on it I didn’t have time to ask, we needed to get out of there. We got about halfway to the truck before we heard the crashing of the glass as the children ran through it. Osterberg hit the first switch and I heard a massive explosion behind us. I looked back to see small pieces of small bodies flying in every direction. As soon as we got to the truck, I heard another scream. I looked back to see a little girl, skin rotting, eyes void of any emotion. Behind her came another six zombies coming at us at full speed. I heard a click and realized that Osterberg had hit the second switch. Boom! All six of them went flying. This left only the little girl. With another scream, it charged at us. At this point I was right next to my truck, and behind the seat of this truck are a few of my favorite toys; one in particular being a SPAS-12 shotgun loaded and ready to go. The shot rang out and what was left of her already rotted corpse hit the ground.
Osterberg got a couple of things out of his car and we took off in my truck. Three minutes with no sound but the crackle of my police scanner past before I heard the click of the third switch, followed promptly by a large explosion behind us.
“I’ve always wanted to do that. So do you have a safe place I can finish this mod real quick?”
I couldn’t help but smile as I told him where my headquarters were located. I also told him we could stop for a little while, but I have a date in the outskirts. We arrived with no incident, and he should be coming upstairs any moment ready to go. Hopefully finding Collin won’t be as troublesome Osterberg. Is it sad that I laughed a little after typing that? Alright, I hear Osterberg coming up the stairs.
-JK
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Chris Eddleman: Zombie Log 04/10
Finally got to charge the laptop, lots to catch up on...lots of hopeless shit.
Poplar Bluff is just the beginning. Trevor took a trip all the way to the coast...and it's all gone. Moans or silence reign in the valleys and mountains. And we're all that stands in their way from making it an undead sea to shining sea. There's not enough of us...just like last time.
More bad news from John Haas. The poor guy barely got out of Rolla, and he said the zeds are somehow leaving the St. Louis quarantine. Trevor's taking him as one of the Saints, seems John has a bit of a vendetta against the Zeds. The lack of Jr. says it all, I don't wanna salt new wounds. But from the North and West? A damn undead hammer and anvil, with poor little SEMO in between.
We split up when we hit campus, Jesse taking my dossiers on potential Flock team members. I highly recommended Tom Osterberg, man could turn anything explosive. Trevor went back to his HQ, probably devising some sort of mission we would never hear about. Meanwhile I went home to check on Christina, who was feeling so much better. I wished I hadn't have had such bad news for her. I told her what we had seen...and we could only really hold each other. In the face of such despair, what else can you do?
It's interesting. I really only met her because of the last invasion...she wasn't quite as heavily armed as the rest of us, and I happened to be there to save her from five or so zeds. Salsa dancing may have also had something to do with it...those were the happy times amidst all the terrible memories.
Well, at the very least, someone has to convince the administration that this time, we need to be prepared. Gates are one thing, but heavy artillery is another. The school is technically a government installation and the National Guard could come help us. But they barely did last time, and then they only left a couple of squads for mainly security. I've arranged a meeting for tomorrow afternoon. They should listen to one of the "Heroes" of the last invasion...but we're all still kids to them. Some hero anyway...I'm a joke.
Well, I'm beat. I'm going to spend some time with the lady before I hit the hay, big day tomorrow.
Could be one of our last.
END LOG
Poplar Bluff is just the beginning. Trevor took a trip all the way to the coast...and it's all gone. Moans or silence reign in the valleys and mountains. And we're all that stands in their way from making it an undead sea to shining sea. There's not enough of us...just like last time.
More bad news from John Haas. The poor guy barely got out of Rolla, and he said the zeds are somehow leaving the St. Louis quarantine. Trevor's taking him as one of the Saints, seems John has a bit of a vendetta against the Zeds. The lack of Jr. says it all, I don't wanna salt new wounds. But from the North and West? A damn undead hammer and anvil, with poor little SEMO in between.
We split up when we hit campus, Jesse taking my dossiers on potential Flock team members. I highly recommended Tom Osterberg, man could turn anything explosive. Trevor went back to his HQ, probably devising some sort of mission we would never hear about. Meanwhile I went home to check on Christina, who was feeling so much better. I wished I hadn't have had such bad news for her. I told her what we had seen...and we could only really hold each other. In the face of such despair, what else can you do?
It's interesting. I really only met her because of the last invasion...she wasn't quite as heavily armed as the rest of us, and I happened to be there to save her from five or so zeds. Salsa dancing may have also had something to do with it...those were the happy times amidst all the terrible memories.
Well, at the very least, someone has to convince the administration that this time, we need to be prepared. Gates are one thing, but heavy artillery is another. The school is technically a government installation and the National Guard could come help us. But they barely did last time, and then they only left a couple of squads for mainly security. I've arranged a meeting for tomorrow afternoon. They should listen to one of the "Heroes" of the last invasion...but we're all still kids to them. Some hero anyway...I'm a joke.
Well, I'm beat. I'm going to spend some time with the lady before I hit the hay, big day tomorrow.
Could be one of our last.
END LOG
John Kautzner: 4/09/2010
Even though she's been looking a little discolored lately, Lilly is still a hottie. I asked her out for some dinner tonight and she agreed. She was pretty quiet, but I could tell she was into me from the way she stared. She had that "I hunger you" look in her eyes that a lot of girls give me. We hadn't even gotten our food yet and she was practically salivating. Was I surprised? Not really. I mean, I AM John effing Kautzner.
Afterword we went back to her place to hang out for a while. We started making out and it wasn't long before Lilly unleashed her inner animal instincts. Not that I minded or anything; I always suspected that she was kind of a freak. But then she got a little rough. She gave me this huge hickey just under the neck of my shirt. This wasn't just a bruise either - she actually broke the skin.
I left pretty soon after that. I didn't want her to think I was a wimp or anything so I told her I had some homework I needed to get to. I'll have to recuperate before I hang out with her again. I mean, this thing really hurts! It's starting to itch a lot though, so I guess it's healing.
Afterword we went back to her place to hang out for a while. We started making out and it wasn't long before Lilly unleashed her inner animal instincts. Not that I minded or anything; I always suspected that she was kind of a freak. But then she got a little rough. She gave me this huge hickey just under the neck of my shirt. This wasn't just a bruise either - she actually broke the skin.
I left pretty soon after that. I didn't want her to think I was a wimp or anything so I told her I had some homework I needed to get to. I'll have to recuperate before I hang out with her again. I mean, this thing really hurts! It's starting to itch a lot though, so I guess it's healing.
Lilly Bange: Diary Entry 4/10
Diary,
My body aches. My head aches. My eyes hurt when they move in my sockets. I can hear my blood moving through my head and my ears. Pounding and pulsing and making my head a bass drum. I feel so bad. So hurt. I just need to stay in my room and out of everyone's way.
I'm so scared now. I know I'm sick. I'm so sick. But I can't leave. I can't go to the clinic they'll kill me. I want to see my family again. I want my mom and dad to take care of me and tell me I'll get better. But they're gone. St.Louis has been devastated by the monsters. They took my mom first. I got a letter from the government. She was found last November. My dad had turned. He came to pick up my brothers and...
I can't think like this, I just want my family back. I don't want to become like my dad. I don't want to be a monster! Okay. Okay. I have to think rationally. I didn't get bit right? So I am not a zombie. I'm just sick. sick sick sick sick sick sick sick. I have to stay positive, even though it hurts to move.
A two friends came to see me last night, Ryan and Michael. Even with the plague threatening to make a come back they're still in good spirits. They came to my door and wanted to come in and hang out, and they hadn't seen me in awhile. I feel so rotten. They tried to pushed past me into my room and I snapped at them. My two best friends on staff and I screamed at them. I want to cry, I didn't mean to kick them out, but the light from the hallway stung my eyes and they way they pushed into my room, my home, it just made me want to...
Oh shit...I wanted to bite them...
My body aches. My head aches. My eyes hurt when they move in my sockets. I can hear my blood moving through my head and my ears. Pounding and pulsing and making my head a bass drum. I feel so bad. So hurt. I just need to stay in my room and out of everyone's way.
I'm so scared now. I know I'm sick. I'm so sick. But I can't leave. I can't go to the clinic they'll kill me. I want to see my family again. I want my mom and dad to take care of me and tell me I'll get better. But they're gone. St.Louis has been devastated by the monsters. They took my mom first. I got a letter from the government. She was found last November. My dad had turned. He came to pick up my brothers and...
I can't think like this, I just want my family back. I don't want to become like my dad. I don't want to be a monster! Okay. Okay. I have to think rationally. I didn't get bit right? So I am not a zombie. I'm just sick. sick sick sick sick sick sick sick. I have to stay positive, even though it hurts to move.
A two friends came to see me last night, Ryan and Michael. Even with the plague threatening to make a come back they're still in good spirits. They came to my door and wanted to come in and hang out, and they hadn't seen me in awhile. I feel so rotten. They tried to pushed past me into my room and I snapped at them. My two best friends on staff and I screamed at them. I want to cry, I didn't mean to kick them out, but the light from the hallway stung my eyes and they way they pushed into my room, my home, it just made me want to...
Oh shit...I wanted to bite them...
Tyler Paneitz: Zed Journal 4/10
It's been six months since I left Cape Girardeau, I didn't feel comfortable with their policy on my guns and I needed a change. So I headed out East, I heard the infection couldn't handle the heat. So far it's been safe, haven't heard a peep out of anything until not long ago. My new school has frequent drills to combat the undead, we train in dissembling, reconstructing, and improving our weapons, but I don't know if it will be enough. They have the gear, but they haven't seen the things I've seen. Little girls jumping out of bushes ripping your friends neck out then chasing you, people that were once your friend now charging down the pavement thirsty for your blood, it still keeps me up at night.
Anyway like I was saying it's been quiet here, until today. I saw a couple of people having lunch and one started coughing. I figured he had choked on the military rations they feed us here, some guys can't handle them, but then he started the sneezing. Every alarm in my body told me to get the Twins ready, and start forming my new Saints, then I suppressed it. I don't know why, maybe I'm just being paranoid, I mean there aren't that many visitors to Phoenix this time of year, and certainly not to UAT, how could it have spread here?
Either way, I'm retooling the Twins, dusting off the peacoat, and preparing for an all out war, again.
Anyway like I was saying it's been quiet here, until today. I saw a couple of people having lunch and one started coughing. I figured he had choked on the military rations they feed us here, some guys can't handle them, but then he started the sneezing. Every alarm in my body told me to get the Twins ready, and start forming my new Saints, then I suppressed it. I don't know why, maybe I'm just being paranoid, I mean there aren't that many visitors to Phoenix this time of year, and certainly not to UAT, how could it have spread here?
Either way, I'm retooling the Twins, dusting off the peacoat, and preparing for an all out war, again.
John Haas: Z Journal 4/4
It was a strange sound for the coyotes to make. Their midnight howling could fill a cold night air and aided to the sound of the typewriter typing words away. It was a beautiful Spring night and I was spending it typing away at the farmhouse in country outside of Rolla. Betsy, my loyal hound who normally barked at coyotes was unusually silent. This set off an internal alarm.
I went outside and listened. The sounds of a lone coyote echoed amongst a foreign sound, the sound of moaning that seemed to echo though the valleys surrounding my home. I felt suddenly uncomfortable as the coyote that was howling its beautiful howl turned to yipes and suddenly quieted. Betsy, normally a territorial dog was wimping and her tail was tucked under her legs. We shared the sentiment that something wasn't right.
Walking back to the house, she rushed in front of me whining to get in to the garage. My parents weren't home which was unusual in its self, so I decided to let her in which she graciously accepted. The wind picked up and the smell of smoke and decay reached my nose. I took one glance outside before shutting the door and bid good night to Betsy whom laid down on the couch staring at the door as if anticipating an intruder. I went to bed.
…..
The man on the side of the road I was driving on seemed to be walking strangely. I recognized him as my neighbor, Mr. King, who had previously rescued my dog and returned her. Betsy had attempted to stay in the garage as I left but in wanting to avoid her peeing on the floor, I coaxed her out. She had then run into the woods as I assumed, hunting for rabbits.
Something was different about the way Mr. King walked though. I waved as I passed him but he didn't wave back. I also noticed something red around his mouth and wondered if he was hurt. I didn't stop to ask though as I new he loved to talk and I would probably be late for arriving back in Cape and meeting my friends at the bad.
I felt bad for not saying goodbye to my parents, but after all they were not home and I could not reach them on the cell and needed to be back in Cape by early evening to celebrate my 21st birthday with my friends. The air driving on highway O to the city of Rolla was tainted with heavy smoke and the closer I got to town the more things seemed to not make sense.
I heard the sound of a police siren and as I drew close I saw a police car with its lights on. Only, no one was in the car. I drove over the hill and then everything made sense. Hundreds of people walking, well, swaying towards me at a slow but continuous pace. I knew what had happened, I'd seen it in the films many times before. I called my best friend Trevor Jr. He didn't answer. I was frightened.
I reached Trevor Jr's house and saw that the front door was opened. I walked in. Inside was a smell I had only experienced on animals in the farm that needed buried or burned. It was the smell of death on a warm summer day as the maggots buried themselves into the victim. Only, this victim was my best friend, and he had no such maggots crawling in his skin. I shut the door and ran down to the car.
I knew I needed to be back in Cape. I knew that Rolla was devastated and that there was no hope for my hometown, not that there ever was anyways. I knew my new home was Cape and that I needed to find my way back and warn them of the impending doom had it not already reached them. Thusly, I texted Chris, a close friend. He responded. I knew hope was not lost and that I had a goal.
:END LOG
I went outside and listened. The sounds of a lone coyote echoed amongst a foreign sound, the sound of moaning that seemed to echo though the valleys surrounding my home. I felt suddenly uncomfortable as the coyote that was howling its beautiful howl turned to yipes and suddenly quieted. Betsy, normally a territorial dog was wimping and her tail was tucked under her legs. We shared the sentiment that something wasn't right.
Walking back to the house, she rushed in front of me whining to get in to the garage. My parents weren't home which was unusual in its self, so I decided to let her in which she graciously accepted. The wind picked up and the smell of smoke and decay reached my nose. I took one glance outside before shutting the door and bid good night to Betsy whom laid down on the couch staring at the door as if anticipating an intruder. I went to bed.
…..
The man on the side of the road I was driving on seemed to be walking strangely. I recognized him as my neighbor, Mr. King, who had previously rescued my dog and returned her. Betsy had attempted to stay in the garage as I left but in wanting to avoid her peeing on the floor, I coaxed her out. She had then run into the woods as I assumed, hunting for rabbits.
Something was different about the way Mr. King walked though. I waved as I passed him but he didn't wave back. I also noticed something red around his mouth and wondered if he was hurt. I didn't stop to ask though as I new he loved to talk and I would probably be late for arriving back in Cape and meeting my friends at the bad.
I felt bad for not saying goodbye to my parents, but after all they were not home and I could not reach them on the cell and needed to be back in Cape by early evening to celebrate my 21st birthday with my friends. The air driving on highway O to the city of Rolla was tainted with heavy smoke and the closer I got to town the more things seemed to not make sense.
I heard the sound of a police siren and as I drew close I saw a police car with its lights on. Only, no one was in the car. I drove over the hill and then everything made sense. Hundreds of people walking, well, swaying towards me at a slow but continuous pace. I knew what had happened, I'd seen it in the films many times before. I called my best friend Trevor Jr. He didn't answer. I was frightened.
I reached Trevor Jr's house and saw that the front door was opened. I walked in. Inside was a smell I had only experienced on animals in the farm that needed buried or burned. It was the smell of death on a warm summer day as the maggots buried themselves into the victim. Only, this victim was my best friend, and he had no such maggots crawling in his skin. I shut the door and ran down to the car.
I knew I needed to be back in Cape. I knew that Rolla was devastated and that there was no hope for my hometown, not that there ever was anyways. I knew my new home was Cape and that I needed to find my way back and warn them of the impending doom had it not already reached them. Thusly, I texted Chris, a close friend. He responded. I knew hope was not lost and that I had a goal.
:END LOG
Friday, April 9, 2010
Jesse Kimball: Journal 4/9
We got Trevor back with little incident, but we lost all the ammunition he collected, plus a great deal of our own. I’m not worried about it; we have bigger fish to fry at this point. Chris is going to talk to the administration today, hopefully this time they will actually listen to us. I’m sick and tired of carrying rocks as my only defense against zombies.
In the mean time I need to assemble my team. Chris’s dossier could not be more detailed; I certainly chose well when I picked my second in command. There are a few people I’m particularly interested in, namely a kid by the name of Collin Smith. During the first outbreak, he was really under the RADAR, it wasn’t until the small disturbances started that he made a name for himself. He has the speed and determination of a freshly risen zed, but the brain of a human; a combination that cannot be ignored. Another individual caught my attention, name is Osterberg. According to Chris’s dossier, this guy can make a .22 pistol into a rocket launcher with some extra scrap metal and a welding torch. There are a few more, some girls that show strong talent in covert ops, a couple of guys that are good with a gun. I’ll track them down, tell them what’s coming. We’re going to need all the help we can get, and there is most definitely strength in numbers.
-JK
In the mean time I need to assemble my team. Chris’s dossier could not be more detailed; I certainly chose well when I picked my second in command. There are a few people I’m particularly interested in, namely a kid by the name of Collin Smith. During the first outbreak, he was really under the RADAR, it wasn’t until the small disturbances started that he made a name for himself. He has the speed and determination of a freshly risen zed, but the brain of a human; a combination that cannot be ignored. Another individual caught my attention, name is Osterberg. According to Chris’s dossier, this guy can make a .22 pistol into a rocket launcher with some extra scrap metal and a welding torch. There are a few more, some girls that show strong talent in covert ops, a couple of guys that are good with a gun. I’ll track them down, tell them what’s coming. We’re going to need all the help we can get, and there is most definitely strength in numbers.
-JK
Trevor Camp: Z Journal 4/9
I received word yesterday on the location of the horde that took her. I don't normally go hunting at night, it's dangerous and stupid, but in this case I made an exception.
I loaded my SUV up with all the tools I could, not sure why I do this since I only ever use my pistols, and I threw my coat over my back and set out for Dexter.
I arrived around midnight. The air smelled foul. This town was dead, or rather undead. I expected a redneck town to be able to hold off the zeds longer than this but brute force only lasts as long as your ammo.
I found a straggler on the outskirts. He didn't see me so I left my car and tracked him to the nest. He led me to a dilapidated old church, of course everything now days his this same architecture style. I could hear their moans on the wind coming from inside so I set to work.
I barricaded all the exits I could find. There's never a shortage of debris anymore. Then I took a Molotov cocktail and launched it through the biggest stain glass window I could find. At first silence... then the moaning. That unmistakable sound that haunts you in your dreams and wakes you in a could sweat. It pieces the heart.
I should have been afraid, but fear like any emotion becomes dull if exasperated over a long period of time. The feeling is a luxury for me now. Something that rears it's head every so often to remind me of my humanity. But not tonight. The only feeling was satisfaction I saw in the illuminated buildings surrounding that blazing church.
All the sudden lost in my vengeful ecstasy I failed to notice them creeping all around me. I must have missed a door. No time to worry now it was time to move. I dropped ten and punched a hole in the horde. Then I ran.
I ran until I my lungs spewed car exhaust and my legs lost feeling, then I ran some more.
I made it to my car with the gnarling fiends on my heels. Hopped in. It wouldn't start. It wouldn't start. They closed in around me as the engine roared to life. I hit four then backed up and hit three more.
The SUV screamed as I tore toward the highway. The feeling of relief was soon eclipsed by the sound of the engine sputtering to a halt. Zombies flesh plugs up the intake.
I franticly sent a text to my two trusted allies, Jesse and Chris. I could only hope they would come, without them it was game over.
I dumped the car and started to jog toward the highway when the moans returned, but from a new direction. A flurry of zeds exploded from Lamberts. It seems the entire population being turned into the living dead didn't hurt business much.
I lifted my trusty tools of extermination and began "curing" as many zeds as I could. They were closing in around me then the sun came over the horizon and with it the familiar rumble of a vehicle. Jesse and Chris had come through and they brought Kautzner. My calvary had arrived.
They whipped into the thick of it and I dove into an open door as Chris and John mowed down zeds left and right.
Some times even vengeful fools need friends.
More to come...hopefully
:END LOG
I loaded my SUV up with all the tools I could, not sure why I do this since I only ever use my pistols, and I threw my coat over my back and set out for Dexter.
I arrived around midnight. The air smelled foul. This town was dead, or rather undead. I expected a redneck town to be able to hold off the zeds longer than this but brute force only lasts as long as your ammo.
I found a straggler on the outskirts. He didn't see me so I left my car and tracked him to the nest. He led me to a dilapidated old church, of course everything now days his this same architecture style. I could hear their moans on the wind coming from inside so I set to work.
I barricaded all the exits I could find. There's never a shortage of debris anymore. Then I took a Molotov cocktail and launched it through the biggest stain glass window I could find. At first silence... then the moaning. That unmistakable sound that haunts you in your dreams and wakes you in a could sweat. It pieces the heart.
I should have been afraid, but fear like any emotion becomes dull if exasperated over a long period of time. The feeling is a luxury for me now. Something that rears it's head every so often to remind me of my humanity. But not tonight. The only feeling was satisfaction I saw in the illuminated buildings surrounding that blazing church.
All the sudden lost in my vengeful ecstasy I failed to notice them creeping all around me. I must have missed a door. No time to worry now it was time to move. I dropped ten and punched a hole in the horde. Then I ran.
I ran until I my lungs spewed car exhaust and my legs lost feeling, then I ran some more.
I made it to my car with the gnarling fiends on my heels. Hopped in. It wouldn't start. It wouldn't start. They closed in around me as the engine roared to life. I hit four then backed up and hit three more.
The SUV screamed as I tore toward the highway. The feeling of relief was soon eclipsed by the sound of the engine sputtering to a halt. Zombies flesh plugs up the intake.
I franticly sent a text to my two trusted allies, Jesse and Chris. I could only hope they would come, without them it was game over.
I dumped the car and started to jog toward the highway when the moans returned, but from a new direction. A flurry of zeds exploded from Lamberts. It seems the entire population being turned into the living dead didn't hurt business much.
I lifted my trusty tools of extermination and began "curing" as many zeds as I could. They were closing in around me then the sun came over the horizon and with it the familiar rumble of a vehicle. Jesse and Chris had come through and they brought Kautzner. My calvary had arrived.
They whipped into the thick of it and I dove into an open door as Chris and John mowed down zeds left and right.
Some times even vengeful fools need friends.
More to come...hopefully
:END LOG
Chris Eddleman: Zombie Log 04/09
I called Jesse immediately. He drove over as soon as he heard the news, a look of determination and concern on his face. I knew why. He was often the strong guy, not letting his concern for his friends show. He didn't want to look weak. We'd been weak enough. So I said it for him...I'll acknowledge my fears.
"You think Trevor's okay? I only got that one text."
Jesse shrugged but, I knew what was up. We called up John Kautzner and loaded down one of our pilfered trucks (a law enforcement oversight during the last incident) with all the armaments we would need.
I didn't want to leave Christina. Especially now. She seems to be getting a bit worse but, who knows? She gets her sinus issues...and she didn't have a fever. So I left my sidearms next to the bed and gave her some OJ and a cool compress. Not to mention leaving some old friends out in front with the heavy weaponry. It wrenches my stomach that I can't be in two places at once but, that doesn't mean I would leave her unsafe.
We started off, racing down I-55...you don't see a whole lot of cars anymore, or really a whole lot of anything. Jesse maintained a hard visage the whole time, and I kept checking my phone and calling Trevor again and again.
We got to about Dexter when we saw it. In the distance, an SUV sputtered to a halt, and then a man leapt out the driver's door and took off running.
"Jesse..is that?" I asked.
"Let's find out, Chris." Jesse accelerated the truck, and I smacked on the back glass where John sat, cradling the gun turret we'd pilfered several months ago.
Gunshots started echoing in the distance as the man got closer and closer. He wore a dark peacoat and was wielding two wicked looking pistols.
Trevor.
Behind him was...absolute terror. About thirty zombies raced after him full tilt, moans and screams pouring forth from their undead mouths.
"Jesse! Go!" I shouted. He had already seen, and was flooring the truck. The zeds were gaining on Trevor, and while the man was a surgeon with pistols, he was having a hard time aiming behind him. We spun the truck at ten feet, and I jumped out of the passenger door to let Trevor run in.
"Hey buddy," Jesse said as optimistically as possible. Trevor almost fell into the seat, clutching his pistols and heaving heavy breaths.
I, on the other hand, was damn rested. I pulled back the hammer on my assault rifle and started opening up into the horde. They tell you machine guns are terrible against the undead...they just spray bullets and waste ammo. Well, there's a reason my gun ripped the last Alpha Zombies to pieces...and it sure ain't pure accuracy. About ten of the zombies went down from my barrage before my clip emptied, then I hopped back in the truck, which Jesse floored into a 180...leaving John Kautzner facing the remaining twenty with a heavy military issue Vulcan turret. He squeezed the trigger and a hail of bullets flew into the remaining horde as we drove back towards Cape.
"Glad you're not dead, buddy. Tell us everything." I said.
He breathed heavily a couple of times and then he did.
I'm running out of batteries in my laptop. More tomorrow. Suffice to say we made it home. And for now, we're all safe...but for later...
END LOG
"You think Trevor's okay? I only got that one text."
Jesse shrugged but, I knew what was up. We called up John Kautzner and loaded down one of our pilfered trucks (a law enforcement oversight during the last incident) with all the armaments we would need.
I didn't want to leave Christina. Especially now. She seems to be getting a bit worse but, who knows? She gets her sinus issues...and she didn't have a fever. So I left my sidearms next to the bed and gave her some OJ and a cool compress. Not to mention leaving some old friends out in front with the heavy weaponry. It wrenches my stomach that I can't be in two places at once but, that doesn't mean I would leave her unsafe.
We started off, racing down I-55...you don't see a whole lot of cars anymore, or really a whole lot of anything. Jesse maintained a hard visage the whole time, and I kept checking my phone and calling Trevor again and again.
We got to about Dexter when we saw it. In the distance, an SUV sputtered to a halt, and then a man leapt out the driver's door and took off running.
"Jesse..is that?" I asked.
"Let's find out, Chris." Jesse accelerated the truck, and I smacked on the back glass where John sat, cradling the gun turret we'd pilfered several months ago.
Gunshots started echoing in the distance as the man got closer and closer. He wore a dark peacoat and was wielding two wicked looking pistols.
Trevor.
Behind him was...absolute terror. About thirty zombies raced after him full tilt, moans and screams pouring forth from their undead mouths.
"Jesse! Go!" I shouted. He had already seen, and was flooring the truck. The zeds were gaining on Trevor, and while the man was a surgeon with pistols, he was having a hard time aiming behind him. We spun the truck at ten feet, and I jumped out of the passenger door to let Trevor run in.
"Hey buddy," Jesse said as optimistically as possible. Trevor almost fell into the seat, clutching his pistols and heaving heavy breaths.
I, on the other hand, was damn rested. I pulled back the hammer on my assault rifle and started opening up into the horde. They tell you machine guns are terrible against the undead...they just spray bullets and waste ammo. Well, there's a reason my gun ripped the last Alpha Zombies to pieces...and it sure ain't pure accuracy. About ten of the zombies went down from my barrage before my clip emptied, then I hopped back in the truck, which Jesse floored into a 180...leaving John Kautzner facing the remaining twenty with a heavy military issue Vulcan turret. He squeezed the trigger and a hail of bullets flew into the remaining horde as we drove back towards Cape.
"Glad you're not dead, buddy. Tell us everything." I said.
He breathed heavily a couple of times and then he did.
I'm running out of batteries in my laptop. More tomorrow. Suffice to say we made it home. And for now, we're all safe...but for later...
END LOG
Trevor Camp: Journal 4/9
It's amazing what we are capable of when we've lost everything.
We had a plan. We were prepared. Or at least we thought we were. So many have fallen. I recently returned from the west coast. Got a distress call from my brother. Two words,"They're here." I knew what it meant. It meant what it always means, too late. I arrived in at Twentynine Palms, CA to find the military base in ruins. How could they take a military base! It's already reached the coast! There are no more safe havens. No more comfort. All there is left to do is fight.
And the University still refuses to recognize the war that's upon us. They can't see past their own bureaucratic bull crap. Well, they deserve what the get and I wont lose any sleep over it.
Jesse and Chris seemed to have faired well in my absence, of course any amount of "alive" is well. Jesse is running a "flock" I hear. I just hope his compassion doesn't sink him. Chris has risen to the head of the resistance. Maybe he can be a light in these dark times, but I wont hold my breathe, of course I don't hold out for much these days.
That's the only good I've returned home to. They took her. They took her and I wasn't able to protect her! They've taken everyone I love from me! I will have my revenge. I will not rest until I have piled there bodies to the sky and lit a fire that can be seen for a hundred miles!
This is not over.
The Saints are going hunting.
:END LOG
We had a plan. We were prepared. Or at least we thought we were. So many have fallen. I recently returned from the west coast. Got a distress call from my brother. Two words,"They're here." I knew what it meant. It meant what it always means, too late. I arrived in at Twentynine Palms, CA to find the military base in ruins. How could they take a military base! It's already reached the coast! There are no more safe havens. No more comfort. All there is left to do is fight.
And the University still refuses to recognize the war that's upon us. They can't see past their own bureaucratic bull crap. Well, they deserve what the get and I wont lose any sleep over it.
Jesse and Chris seemed to have faired well in my absence, of course any amount of "alive" is well. Jesse is running a "flock" I hear. I just hope his compassion doesn't sink him. Chris has risen to the head of the resistance. Maybe he can be a light in these dark times, but I wont hold my breathe, of course I don't hold out for much these days.
That's the only good I've returned home to. They took her. They took her and I wasn't able to protect her! They've taken everyone I love from me! I will have my revenge. I will not rest until I have piled there bodies to the sky and lit a fire that can be seen for a hundred miles!
This is not over.
The Saints are going hunting.
:END LOG
Lilly Bange: Diary Entry 4/9
Dear Diary,
I just can't seem to kick this cold. I feel so gross. I'm cold and clammy all the time, so I just stay in bed most of the day. But it seems that even two blankets and flannel pajamas don't keep the cold out...
To be honest, I'm scared. I'm scared to death. I know people get sick and I know I probably have the flu or a cold but what if I'm getting this H1Z1 everyone is talking about? I heard some guys at the UC talking about zombies and the disease and I wanted to vomit. What if I'm becoming one of those deadheads? Last November was hard enough, I lost some of my staff very early to the plague. I miss them a lot. But what if I'm becoming one of them? I can't right? I didn't get bit! I know I didn't.
But those boys in the UC, I think maybe they were leaders of some group on campus, even though the university told us to help shut them down. I guess even in the midst of this plague an RA is still an RA. I don't even care about helping the university anymore. Do I feel safe that everyone probably has a gun stashed away? No. But am I a little relieved? I guess.
I decided I'm not going to the clinic on this one. Since November a lot of students who went there have "gone home" or just fell off the fucking face of the earth. They're not going to get me. Not for a flu bug. I'm staying here, wrapped in my blanket, and out of trouble.
Note to self: arrange a trip to Walmart. Can't seem to eat enough food to be full : /
<3>
I just can't seem to kick this cold. I feel so gross. I'm cold and clammy all the time, so I just stay in bed most of the day. But it seems that even two blankets and flannel pajamas don't keep the cold out...
To be honest, I'm scared. I'm scared to death. I know people get sick and I know I probably have the flu or a cold but what if I'm getting this H1Z1 everyone is talking about? I heard some guys at the UC talking about zombies and the disease and I wanted to vomit. What if I'm becoming one of those deadheads? Last November was hard enough, I lost some of my staff very early to the plague. I miss them a lot. But what if I'm becoming one of them? I can't right? I didn't get bit! I know I didn't.
But those boys in the UC, I think maybe they were leaders of some group on campus, even though the university told us to help shut them down. I guess even in the midst of this plague an RA is still an RA. I don't even care about helping the university anymore. Do I feel safe that everyone probably has a gun stashed away? No. But am I a little relieved? I guess.
I decided I'm not going to the clinic on this one. Since November a lot of students who went there have "gone home" or just fell off the fucking face of the earth. They're not going to get me. Not for a flu bug. I'm staying here, wrapped in my blanket, and out of trouble.
Note to self: arrange a trip to Walmart. Can't seem to eat enough food to be full : /
<3>
Jesse Kimball: Journal 4/8
My friends are gone. We formed this group to protect them, to teach them to survive! Yet with all of our preparations, all of our training, all of our “wisdom” they fell. All that remains of our survival coalition are the founders.
Trevor has taken over the Saints with the loss of their leader. He is still one of my most trusted friends and greatest allies, but I fear that soon his blood-lust for these zombies will get him into trouble without Chris and me to balance him out. He goes weeks at a time without communication and often goes on missions without any notification. Last I heard he was heading to a camp west of here looking for more ammunition. I keep telling him that double-tapping a zombie is enough, but after what happened to Sonya, I guess I can’t blame the guy.
I am assembling a new team, one not of friends to take under my wing, but of the elite! The kind of people that zombies would fear if they were capable of doing so. Chris has agreed to take on the role of my second in command, I call him Number 1; he seemed fairly excited at the prospect. The rest of my team has yet to be determined, but Chris has been compiling an extensive dossier on possible team members.
I just pray that we will be ready when the time comes. It has been half a year since the last outbreak and several weeks since the last disturbance. I don’t like this. Something big is coming and it is coming soon. Chris is calling, hopefully with good news
-JK
Trevor has taken over the Saints with the loss of their leader. He is still one of my most trusted friends and greatest allies, but I fear that soon his blood-lust for these zombies will get him into trouble without Chris and me to balance him out. He goes weeks at a time without communication and often goes on missions without any notification. Last I heard he was heading to a camp west of here looking for more ammunition. I keep telling him that double-tapping a zombie is enough, but after what happened to Sonya, I guess I can’t blame the guy.
I am assembling a new team, one not of friends to take under my wing, but of the elite! The kind of people that zombies would fear if they were capable of doing so. Chris has agreed to take on the role of my second in command, I call him Number 1; he seemed fairly excited at the prospect. The rest of my team has yet to be determined, but Chris has been compiling an extensive dossier on possible team members.
I just pray that we will be ready when the time comes. It has been half a year since the last outbreak and several weeks since the last disturbance. I don’t like this. Something big is coming and it is coming soon. Chris is calling, hopefully with good news
-JK
John Kautzner: 4/08/10
The rib I broke when I was seven has been hurting again. The pain has always come and gone with the storms, but lately it's just gotten worse every day. It hasn't hurt this bad since... Eh, I probably just pulled something at the gym.
I tried to go hunting the other day. There hasn't been any ammunition in Cape since it was used up last semester so my dad brought some down. I've heard rumors of secret ammo reserves hidden somewhere in the UC in case it ever happened again, but I've heard enough talk to know it's probably nonsense.
The hunting was uneventful. Everything I saw looked like it was in a hurry to get somewhere else. Not even a squirrel stopped to take a break. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I've begun to notice that every animal I see seems to be moving South. Is there more food down there this time of year? What need are they trying to fulfill? Food? Water? Mating? ...Safety? I'm not sure, but I don't have a good feeling about it.
At about 6 tonight when I was taking a walk, a rough looking older guy pulled over and asked me if there were any military surplus stores nearby. I didn't know. His car was filled with so much stuff, I couldn't imagine what he could be missing.
I talked with him for a while longer. All of a sudden, he got really serious and he said, "Listen, son. You seem like a really nice kid. This is going to sound crazy, but you should forget about work and school and everything, and just head for the coast."
I just stood there with my mouth wide open trying to think of something to say. I would have thought he was crazy if I didn't have this overwhelming feeling of doom lately, but instead I was really shaken by what he said. All I could spit out after a few seconds of silence was, "Why?"
After a pause he said, "There's a storm coming... A big one. I'm headed to the coast myself. You can even ride along with me if you want." His eyes pleaded for me to come with him, but in a moment he sensed that I wouldn't. "Here," he turned into his passenger seat and looked through a backpack, "you can have this." He handed me a very worn book. "Start reading that tonight," he said, and he drove off before I could thank him.
When I got back to my room, I looked through the book he gave me. It'll be hard to read because the cover is gone and some of the pages have been torn out. From what I can tell, it's some kind of survival guide for natural disasters. Discovering this chilled me even more. I'll read into it more tomorrow. For now, I need to take some painkillers for my rib and get some sleep. It has never hurt this bad!
There's a storm coming... A big one.
I tried to go hunting the other day. There hasn't been any ammunition in Cape since it was used up last semester so my dad brought some down. I've heard rumors of secret ammo reserves hidden somewhere in the UC in case it ever happened again, but I've heard enough talk to know it's probably nonsense.
The hunting was uneventful. Everything I saw looked like it was in a hurry to get somewhere else. Not even a squirrel stopped to take a break. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I've begun to notice that every animal I see seems to be moving South. Is there more food down there this time of year? What need are they trying to fulfill? Food? Water? Mating? ...Safety? I'm not sure, but I don't have a good feeling about it.
At about 6 tonight when I was taking a walk, a rough looking older guy pulled over and asked me if there were any military surplus stores nearby. I didn't know. His car was filled with so much stuff, I couldn't imagine what he could be missing.
I talked with him for a while longer. All of a sudden, he got really serious and he said, "Listen, son. You seem like a really nice kid. This is going to sound crazy, but you should forget about work and school and everything, and just head for the coast."
I just stood there with my mouth wide open trying to think of something to say. I would have thought he was crazy if I didn't have this overwhelming feeling of doom lately, but instead I was really shaken by what he said. All I could spit out after a few seconds of silence was, "Why?"
After a pause he said, "There's a storm coming... A big one. I'm headed to the coast myself. You can even ride along with me if you want." His eyes pleaded for me to come with him, but in a moment he sensed that I wouldn't. "Here," he turned into his passenger seat and looked through a backpack, "you can have this." He handed me a very worn book. "Start reading that tonight," he said, and he drove off before I could thank him.
When I got back to my room, I looked through the book he gave me. It'll be hard to read because the cover is gone and some of the pages have been torn out. From what I can tell, it's some kind of survival guide for natural disasters. Discovering this chilled me even more. I'll read into it more tomorrow. For now, I need to take some painkillers for my rib and get some sleep. It has never hurt this bad!
There's a storm coming... A big one.
Chris Eddleman Zombie Log 04/08
I wake up every day to this crap. Every day jerked out of a wretched sleep filled with my fellow students' screams. The air hasn't smelled the same since November, since before that poor bastard ate somethin' that made the stomach bug he had turn him into a freak. It was only two days but, that was all it needed to ruin my life. The gunfire, the smoke, the groans, the screams. Nothing like we thought it would be. Nothing the ZSC could train for.
The ZSC couldn't do its job...how could we prepare for our dead friends coming back and eating our living ones? Trevor, Jesse, and I thought we knew. But we didn't...and that's why we can't even offer a Survival Coalition...it failed.
I walked to class today and noticed some odd things. I know its allergy season but, there's been an awful lot of strange kinda sneezes. Who knows? I'm wary of course...paranoid, the rest of them say but, Christina's been having them too...and it makes me afraid. She's been my rock during these times, steady for me even though she's seen her own share of horrors. I'd hate for...no, just paranoid.
But how can it just be paranoia? There are barriers around campus and those damn zeds are still coming from the north and west. How can we still have class amidst the chaos? Well, we still do. Crazy how the human race works. Cancel school for snow but not for zombies.
I still keep the pistols and the machine gun under my bed. I know they aren't allowed on campus, but those of us just off aren't quite as safe...
I just can't take this...Trevor's in charge of the Saints now...we hardly see him except between missions. I thought this would be wearing on him but he just loves poppin' those zeds. But who could blame him after what happened...
Jesse's starting a new group. He's calling it the Flock, proclaiming himself the Shepherd. He's still optimistic about what we tried to do with the ZSC. I'm wary of hope now but, not enough so that I'm not his second in command. God knows he needs help.
I'd keep writing but, I'm getting a text from Trevor...
It says, "Poplar Bluff is dead. The whole city."
I have to go.
END LOG
The ZSC couldn't do its job...how could we prepare for our dead friends coming back and eating our living ones? Trevor, Jesse, and I thought we knew. But we didn't...and that's why we can't even offer a Survival Coalition...it failed.
I walked to class today and noticed some odd things. I know its allergy season but, there's been an awful lot of strange kinda sneezes. Who knows? I'm wary of course...paranoid, the rest of them say but, Christina's been having them too...and it makes me afraid. She's been my rock during these times, steady for me even though she's seen her own share of horrors. I'd hate for...no, just paranoid.
But how can it just be paranoia? There are barriers around campus and those damn zeds are still coming from the north and west. How can we still have class amidst the chaos? Well, we still do. Crazy how the human race works. Cancel school for snow but not for zombies.
I still keep the pistols and the machine gun under my bed. I know they aren't allowed on campus, but those of us just off aren't quite as safe...
I just can't take this...Trevor's in charge of the Saints now...we hardly see him except between missions. I thought this would be wearing on him but he just loves poppin' those zeds. But who could blame him after what happened...
Jesse's starting a new group. He's calling it the Flock, proclaiming himself the Shepherd. He's still optimistic about what we tried to do with the ZSC. I'm wary of hope now but, not enough so that I'm not his second in command. God knows he needs help.
I'd keep writing but, I'm getting a text from Trevor...
It says, "Poplar Bluff is dead. The whole city."
I have to go.
END LOG
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