Turn Four
Thunderwoot
Brain sat up and scratched. He had had a nice nap. He was a little stiff though. He gave a big yawn and stretched. He accidentally bumped the sides of the scrap pile that he had been sleeping under. The metal groaned for a second. The entire pile shifted and collapsed around Brain. Bits of car hood, an old heater, a mattress frame, junk dryers, and assorted other pieces of scrap metal fell on him. Brain was trapped under all of it.
He simply shrugged it off. The metal made a fearful racket as it collapsed. Brain said to no one in particular, “Gess I gotta find some where else.”
It took Brain a couple of minutes to move the junk around and find his things. However, he did manage to gather all of his meager belongings together. Brain had liked his spot. He decided that he should find another one in the junkyard. The confused man wandered off.
It was not the best place for visibility. It was about noon, and there was plenty of light. However, stacks of wrecked cars made the place like a maze. Brain looked for good alternate shelter little bit, by little bit. It had never occurred to him to climb on top of a pile so that he could see more.
Brain thought that he had seen something interesting in his search. He couldn’t remember what it was, but he decided that he would pick through the junk and see what there was. He shoved an old couch out of the way, but was then interrupted by a moan. Brain hesitantly decided to see what it was.
The zombie stood less than three yards behind Brain. It promptly charged. Brain wasn’t sure what to do at first. The zombie was rotted in the extreme, but when Brain saw the froth covered jaws, he decided it wasn’t friendly.
The zombie was scary enough, but it wasn’t very strong. Brain’s right fist collided with its jaw. The zombie staggered back, stunned but unhurt. Brain charged forward, shouting (attracting more zombies, I’d suppose). Brain grabbed the zombie and threw it (BRAIN SMASH!). It flew back a couple of yards; conveniently landing through a horizontal pole.
The zombie was speared through the middle, but it still seemed to be alive. The thing couldn’t get off, despite its thrashing around. Brain found a short piece of pipe and hit it once in the head, hard. It shattered in to a billion (okay, maybe Brain was off by a couple thousand) pieces (skilled: improvised weapons, smashing people, Strength).
Unsurprisingly, the zombie was dead. Brain was going to smack it in the head again, but there wasn’t anything to really smack. He dimly remembered that there was a small house where the owner of the junkyard lived. He had only saw the owner once, a frail looking man who hired others to do all the work, but he had been nice to Brain that one time. He supposed that he should warn the man about the zombies.
Brain decided that he would keep the short pipe as a weapon (note: this pipe is WAY to short to be any better than a wrench). He walked in the direction that he thought the house was. Even trying to be cautious, Brain got distracted several times. Although it wasted a bit of time, he found a large left sock! Other than a couple of goodies, there was not further adventure on the way to the house.
It looked a bit out of place, really. A quaint little house in the middle of piles of junk. There were no zombies about. Brain walked up to the door and turned the handle. It wasn’t locked, and Brain opened it a crack. Wait, that wasn’t polite! Or legal! Brain quickly closed the door, saying, “OH, I’m sorry mista! There’s a monsters here! Can I come in?”
No one answered. Brain decided to knock. Still no answer. Brain tried knocking harder. The door promptly fell inwards. Weak hinges (Strong)? It was a one room residence, strangely cabin type for being in a major city. The first thing that he noticed was the kitchen area. There was a small fridge and a stove. On the stove was . . . PIE!!
Brain realized that he was quite hungry. He didn’t think about how rude pie theft was until the pie in question was half gone. He noticed that there was a note next to the pie. It seemed to be handwritten in small, untidy script. Brain could not read it, but assumed that the gist was, ‘Feel free to eat pie and take whatever you want,’
His hunger sated, Brain searched the rest of the house. His coolest acquisition was a long curved sword hanging on the wall (what were they called?) Brain didn’t notice that it was not suited for combat (counts as a half-improvised weapon). Most people would have had trouble yielding it with both hands, but Brain could probably use one or two comfortably. Also interestingly, Brain found a strange black box. It was about an inch-and-a-half thick about eight by six inches. There were two little side pieces as well. A long wire attached to a small button was attached to a side of the device. There was red lettering on the box, but Brain couldn’t read it . . .
Brain has found an Easter Egg! Katana plus unknown box. He wondered if it might be important.
A window showed five zombies nosing around in the area. Brain felt like he could take them with his new sword, but . . .
Two Challenges today!
There wasn’t much else in the house. Most of space was occupied by a chalkboard. Brain couldn’t read anything though. It was covered with letters, and worse, numbers! There was one symbol that kept repeating itself a lot. It looked liked a small table with wobbly legs.
If Brain could have read the writing, he would have found that, in big letters, at the top of chalkboard was written, “Irrational Number: Any number that may not be written as the quotient of two numbers. Manifest as a number with an infinite sequence of non-repeating decimals.”
The rest of the board is filled with equations that not even I (with my high school Algebra II education) could understand.
With this in mind, we have two challenges.
5 –1 (Don’t expect a lot for answering it) What is the symbol?
5 -2 (Don’t expect to get right easily) According to the written definition of IR numbers, what problem comes with any equation involving them?
Zako
Zak continued to toss and turn in the rigors of fever. He got better and worse by the minute. For a while, he regained consciousness. He was still delirious. He thought that he could see George and muttered, “What if I change, George? Tie me . . .”
Zak tried to sit up and get a better view, but he collapsed instead. If he had fallen off the balcony, he would probably be dead. Zak dimly remembered someone catching him. It seemed that the exertion of trying to talk made things considerably worse. Zak felt his fever skyrocket. In his more lucid moments (not that he had a chance of expressing them) he seriously wondered if he was going to die.
Zak hovered between life, death, and worse. Unbeknownst to him though, in his direst hour something happened. His fever went down. Zak regained consciousness for longer periods of time. Eventually, he sat up. George was sitting in a chair across from him. His new friend smiled broadly and said, “Doc said that you’d regain consciousness soon. I never had any doubt in you, Zak. Drink this, and welcome back.”
He handed Zak a bottle of PowerAde. Zak wondered if he would have the strength to open the cap, but quickly discovered that George had already unscrewed it for him. He realized how thirsty, and just drained, he was. He gulped down most of the drink in seconds. He had never liked the new grape flavor (how dare they stop making jagged ice), but this was the best drink that he had ever had. George quietly said, “Now that you have some electrolytes and fluids, go back to sleep. We’ll need your strength, Zak. Doc’s on patrol right now. He’ll be back soon. Sleep until then.”
“But . . .”
George gently pushed Zak down. Zak realized how tired he still was. He fell into a deeper sleep. His temperature seemed to have returned to normal. Whatever he had contracted, he had beaten it!
The long burst of gunfire woke Zak up instantly. At the second one, he tried to sit upright. However, he moved too quickly. He saw George leaning over a railing (how had he gotten here?) with the rifle loaded. Then black spots. Largely due to dehydration, Zak blacked out again. He thought that he could hear two more people coming up the stairs.
To make a long story short, you got shortchanged a bit this turn, Zako. Sorry, but you survived! This unconsciousness will be gone in a couple of minutes, although Zak might still be a bit weak.
The reason why you don’t get to see the new arrivals to your group is because I haven’ figured out exactly how I’m working their actions for this turn yet. It might be a good idea to have a dialogue with them (we’ll assume that you regain consciousness quickly).
Feel free to try any of the questions. Two of them aren’t too hard!
Frelock:
Dmitri was no expert on treating diseases (with the zombie outbreak, COULD it be treated?). He knew that fluids would be biggest problem. That and not getting the patient killed by outside sources while he was recuperating. There was also the problem of Zak becoming a zombie. Dmitri voiced his suspicions to George, “If he changes, we may have to kill him George.”
“He’ll make it through.”
“We’ll do our best to help him, but there is a chance that . . .”
“Zak’s tough. He’ll pull through this.”
Dmitri felt his temper rise a bit (okay, a fair bit), “GOD DAMNIT GEORGE! HE’S MY STUDENT! I WANT HIM TO LIVE JUST AS BLOODY MUCH AS YOU DO!” “I’m sorry Dmitri. This entire situation seems to have put me on edge. I was out of line. If need be, I’ll put him out of his misery. Don’t expect me to do this if there’s still any chance, Dmitri.”
“You can call me Doc. Everyone else does.”
Not having much else to say, the two watched Zak for a while longer. He was clearly in the midst of a very high fever. Doc wanted to ransack the nurses office for anything useful (especially fever reducing stuff) but was afraid to leave. If Zak’s condition worsened, Dmitri wouldn’t be there to assist, and George had even less medical experience.
In other news, the voice on the radio had tired of his poem (which Dmitri had realized as Fiddlers Green_ and moved on to classic rock. He tried to hum Iron Man, but only seemed to know the first line. Even a riff of that caliber got boring after being repeated (badly) twenty times. George and Dmitri decided that they wouldn’t get anything else out of the radio and turned it off.
Dmitri wanted to stay with Zak, but he needed to do something. He finally decided that he would barricade the general area. The benches on the ground floor were all on wheels. They were of an elegant design; the back rest could be flipped, turning them into half-tables. The wheels had a small locking mechanism, but even when engaged, they still moved relatively easily. Dmitri thought that they still might make a tough obstacle if they were placed right next to the door. He put two of them there. There were four more, which he hadn’t wanted to use, in the event that they needed to get the door open.
There was a pair of small offices underneath the balcony. Using George’s multi-tool (it was a nice one) he managed to take the hinges off of the doors. There wasn’t a lot of useful stuff in them, although they were big, strong doors. Dmitri hauled the desk chairs up to the balcony. They could always throw them down the stairs, right?
Doing all of the barricading that he could do inside of the room, Dmitri ended up looking at the stricken Zak some more. As he watched, he could see the kid fading away. The fever felt like it was getting even higher. Dmitri decided that he could wait no longer; he’d have to leave and search the nurse’s office. He told George to be on guard and left.
Although he was no expert with the machinegun, Dmitri carried it like a pro. The nurses office was right next to the police officer’s, on the other side of the school. Time was of the essence, and Dmitri moved fast, fortunately, nothing attacked him on the relatively long walk.
Inside the nurse’s office, Dmitri realized that he couldn’t carry very much back with him He made a resolution to wear cargo pockets from now on as he searched through the cabinets rapidly. There wasn’t much for high powered stuff, but Dmitri grabbed two bottles of aspirin, and one of generic anti-biotic. He was getting very worried now and nigh sprinted back. The school was still deserted.
Zak was looking very bad when Dmitri got back. He slipped three aspirin down the kid's throat; then another twenty minutes later. Zak’s fever went down. He was looking better. The pill bottles only had four aspirins each. An hour later, Zak was looking better but Dmitri wanted all the pills in the nurse’s office. It wouldn’t be good if they were stuck in here and needed medicine.
George and Dmitri carefully emptied Zak’s bag, and Dmitri took his gun and Zak’s bag. The walk was creepy as ever. He made it to the office and threw every bottle and all of the semi-useful things that he could find into the bag. They might need tongue depressors, right? Probably not, but Dmitri wasn’t going to waste time by digging them out. The science teacher left the office when he heard the shout.
Standing outside the North Doors was a terrified kid. He was banging franticly. A zombie was closing fast. The doors were still locked. Barely thinking, Dmitri rushed through the first set of doors and hit the handicap button. The door opened a crack and the kid got inside. At the same time, Dmitri went out an adjacent door (they couldn’t lock people inside, it seemed) and went on one knee. He aimed down the sight (he thought that it was right) and fired.
The blast seemed to go on forever. Dmitri’s first three shots had been on target, but the five that followed went skyward. Due more to luck than anything else, the third bullet had struck the zombie’s head. It swayed and fell. Dmitri rushed out and kicked it once in the head, hard. Damn, it had been close. In any case, Dmitri’s burst had killed the thing. The teacher told the kid, “Follow me, fast!”
Dmitri wanted to get away from the open as quickly as possible. Machine gun fire would certainly attract undue attention. They found Zak unconscious again, but unhurt. George was carefully covering the door. Dmitri led his survivor up to the balcony, where both plopped into chairs. George moved the benches back into place at the door.
Dmitri has found another player!!
Vaiolis
Vaiolis
Markov decided that, before he could make a move, he would have to learn more about the survivors that he was challenged with. He carefully crept closer, to a spot where he could see a bit, as well as hear. He settled himself into a pile of coats and listened.
Voice one said, “Well, we survived the first onslaught. I’m worried though.”
“Well, I sure ain’t. We got more than enough bullets here to kill every frigging zombie in the city! Don’t be a wimp,” Voice two was considerably louder.
“Please be softer. We don’t want to court more trouble than we already have, most of these guns are locked. If we ran out of ammo, we’d be screwed. I have my nice knife, but that is little comfort,” Voice one seemed to be the more level headed of the two.
There was a loud groan from somewhere. Markov jumped. A zombie must be right next to them. He crept close enough to see clearly. There were two standing people, Markov assumed that they were one and two. One was relatively nice looking, a pair of cargo pants with a sweatshirt, he had a largish knife sheathed at his side. Two looked a bit different. He was wearing ratty hunters gear, and had a shotgun in a sling. Two seemed jumpy and obnoxious. Markov worried that he might do something impulsive. Looking closer, Markov could see a third figure, slumped against a counter. Markov wasn’t sure, but it looked like he didn’t have a shirt on, and had most of his side covered with bandages.
One went and crouched by Three, saying softly, “Come on Dad. You can beat this crap.”
Three mumbled something that Markov didn’t have a chance of catching. Two seemed to get more ancy. He stated nervously, “We’ve got to shoot him before he comes alive and kills us. It’s us or him!”
“No.”
“I’ll do it myself then, you yellow coward,” Two seemed determined.
“Touch him, and I’ll kill you, fucker,” One didn’t seem to realize that his gun was out of reach, or if he did, he was going to bluff.
Two aimed his gun. One carefully undid the snap on his knife, leaving his hand on the hilt. Two fired point-blank into Three. One shouted and drew his knife, “DAMN YOU!”
Two pumped the shotgun and spun. One was right on top of him. Knife slash and gun blast occurred simultaneously. The back of One’s sweatshirt was gone, nothing but red. He fell, clutching his knife with him to the grave. Two still stood. The knife wound had been very deep, across most of his chest, but it had not been instantly fatal. Markov wondered if he’d die from blood loss. “No, he’d die from cessation of life,” Markov decided.
One and Three didn’t care anymore; Two was trying to staunch his massive bleeding. Markov easily approached. Two was unarmed, having dropped the shotgun after he had fired. He wasn’t very observant, was he? Markov was able to get within feet without being saw. Like a ghost, Markov appeared in front of Two. Fear flashed in Two’s eyes before a knife under the ribs ended all emotion.
Markov looked at the corpses with distaste. Just to make sure that they were all dead, he slit all of the throats. The late One’s knife was a nice Bowie, Markov carefully undid the sheath and put it on his belt. He had a new toy now.
The dead men had had three guns total. Two of them were some sort of machine-rifle that Markov didn’t recognize. He doubted that he could use them effectively, plus they would be damned noisy. There was one shotgun, but the same problems were there too. However, there was a pistol grip laying out from under a box. It was some sort of silenced pistol! There was only one clip, but it was fully loaded. Markov decided to keep it.
The thief proceeded into the gun section proper. There were all sorts of rifles hanging up on the walls. Without exception though, they all had trigger locks. It looks like the previous occupants had been trying to unlock a couple, but had been unsuccessful. Markov browsed with an eye to steal. He hit the jackpot, a big long, and scoped, sniper rifle. Markov sat down an tried to undo the locks.
It took him two hours (his lock picks were more suited to other things), but Markov was able to get the thing open. It was bolt operated, but Markov found three boxes of twenty count bullets that looked to be the right size.
Markov has found an Easter egg! Suppressed Sniper’s Supplies!
Slightly comforted but the additional armament, but not happy about the extra weight, Markov wondered what his next course of action should be.
Rickvoid
Shaking a bit from the encounter, Rick tried to calm down. A minute later, he decided what would be done. “Thanks, Clareice, you saved my life. We’ve got to get somewhere secure. I don’t want to be here very long. We are going to take a shopping cart and load it up with all of the canned foods and water that we can carry. Then, we’re going to move to that little restaurant across the street. We’ll be able to barricade ourselves in there, and we can plan more after that. I want to be out of here in half an hour, lets move.”
The quickly grabbed a shopping cart and grabbed a hefty amount of canned soup. Clareice insisted on grabbing a fair number of canned vegetables and fruit (Rick supposed that it was a good idea, scurvy would probably suck). Jon ran off and returned with a couple (three) cases of bottled water. They put those on the bottom of the cart. Rick darted around the store, grabbing miscellaneous supplies. Two can openers, a handful of lighters, and a kitchen scissors.
Forty minutes later, Jon, Clareice, and Rick left the grocery store. The cart wasn’t particularly well-rolling, but it worked well enough. The moved at a fast (but safe) speed across the street. The restaurant’s back door bore a sign that said ‘locked nightly at 6:00.’ It wasn’t locked. It was a two inch rise to the inside of the restaurant. Jon and Rick had a bit of trouble getting it in, and they dumped one of cases of water onto the ground. Fortunately, the bottles were unharmed. They then got the cart in without any more problems.
The back of the restaurant was pretty cramped. There was a locked office, Rick would try to get it open later. There was a back room that was covered with an inch of water. The washing machine drained seemed to be clogged. There was a load of wet napkins there. They smelled slightly. The big clunky looking furnace stood silent. The lights were still on though, Rick hoped that thing wouldn’t start making noise. Silence was golden.
There was a dry goods room that didn’t have much in it (lots of ketchup though). The cooler was filled with still fresh stuff although Rick wasn’t sure what most of it was. Jon wondered out loud if they could cook steaks. The freezer had some other assorted stuff in it. The kitchen was well stocked. Lots of plates and such. Rick wasn’t sure how to get the grill started. The water was also out. Most of the floor space was in the back. If they were to get some sleeping bags, they could probably sleep comfortably here.
The dining room showed great possibilities for defense. Only the right side or the building had windows, although they were all relatively big. There were two big, double doors in the front. Brass, but with lots of glass. There was also an emergency exit in the back. A full bar was also present. Rick saw Jon eyeing it hopefully. Clareice wondered, “Could we make Molotov’s?”
There were lots of heavy tables and chairs. Rick asked Jon and Clareice to start setting up in the kitchen and to barricade the emergency exit with some tables. Rick wanted to take a quick scout around. The last thing that he wanted was a zombie to be sitting right outside. Rick walked out the front door. Nothing to the left, nothing to the right.
There was a patio area with heavy stone tables, they were mounted in the ground. The restaurant was right on the major road, University. The intent had been to attract walk in customers. There weren’t very many cars on the road right now. The only thing on the once busy street was a small pack of zombies in the distance.
Rick decided that they weren’t close enough to warrant a sally at the current moment. Rick jumped when he heard the cannon fire. He saw the zombies be blown apart. Some sort of really big machine gun? Way far down the road, Rick could see the blocky shape. It moved up University at a decent speed. Once it got closer, Rick identified it. It was a Bradley Fighting Vehicle, mounted with a 25 mm Bushmaster chain gun. Rick wasn’t sure what he should do. It might be a chance to get rescued, but they might shoot first and ask later.
When the Bradley was right in front of the restaurant (Rick crouched behind a bush, watching) a zombie blundered out of somewhere, right in front of the vehicle. A hatch popped open, and the assumed commander shot it with a pistol. The zombie fell in the vehicle’s path. It didn’t stop. The commander didn’t button up again, preferring to look around instead. At that moment, something moved in the bushes by the side of the restaurant. Rick realized with a sinking feeling that he had never actually finished looking around. Sure enough, a zombie came charging at the prone Rick.
Not wanting to expose himself, but having little choice, Rick fired a short burst at the zombie. It fell. The Bradley commander heard the gunfire and ducked into his hatch again. The armored monster turned and entered the parking lot.
Not seeing any sense in fighting a suicidal battle, Rick stood up. Jon and Clareice, also attracted by the gunfire came out. The Bradley stopped and disgorged its men. The commander also climbed out of his hatch. Rick walked out into the parking lot, Jon and Clareice at his side. Rick slung his AR-15 and told Jon not to point the shotgun at them. The commander, with seven soldiers behind him, faced Rick and company.
Rick worried about them being hostile. Not that there was much that he could do. He was a good shot, but he couldn’t do take on seven soldiers with assault rifles plus the commander’s pistol. Rick also assumed that the gunner was still onboard, as the turret was in his general direction. It was a moot point though, as the soldiers (all wearing US patches) were friendly.
The leader of the group (his nametag said Wallace) seemed generally happy to see them, “I’m glad that there are other living people in Fargo. We’re a scouting unit for an armored company. Our orders are to make our way through the town, looking for survivors and trying to scope out enemy presence. Our target is the tank farm up north. Abrams are thirsty tanks. You seem to have a strong position here. I’m sure that the commander will want you in our perimeter, but I have a bit of a problem. The Bradley’s full as it is, you see. We can’t take three extra people. I need to keep moving, so you can’t walk behind us. The commander would have my ass if I left you undefended. I might need my men if we encounter opposition . . .”
Wallace paused for a moment, seeming to gauge Rick. “Well, the best that I can think of is to leave two men with you. Sergeant Wolve and Private Smith, you are to stay here and defend these three until the company gets here. They’ll have space to carry you all. Smith draw some of our supplies and move them inside,” the eager young private ran off to the Bradley while Wallace told Wolve, “Grab one of the SAWs, Wolve. We’ll do fine with only one.”
Rick wondered at the generosity he was being shown. A well-armed and well-trained group . . .
Little (just a bit late)
Stephan decided that he would have to move, his father was obviously not coming back. He had told Stephan that if he wasn’t back in twelve hours, assume the worst. Stephan had waited eight. It was time to go. He gathered the meager supplies that he could find (his dad had taken the rest) and went out the apartment door.
The apartment one door down was open. He let himself in. The place had clearly been looted already, but he found one thing of note. In a display case was a very strange looking pistol. Very small, and just strange. A placard read, ‘Liberator, Deer Gun – Circa WWII.’ There was a small, colorful bit of paper as well as a couple (three) bullets.
Stephan opened the display case and pulled out the ‘Liberator’. It was surprisingly heavy for such a little thing. The piece of paper seemed to be, a comic strip? There were no words, but it seemed to detail the gun’s operation. It was tough, but he was able to the figure it out (clever, good: reading). He had found a single shot pistol that could only be reloaded by removing the entire barrel. Plus, he had only three shots. Great.
The young student walked to the ground floor and left without seeing anybody. There was a bike that was about his size locked up there. It was a cheap rotary lock one of the ones that you could feel the tumblers clicking in. With some experience, Stephan got it undone. He noted the combination (4516) and put it into his bag. He now had some transportation.
Stephan started biking south. The high school would be a good spot to check. Although, which one should he visit? There was the 2nd campus (AKA Freshman Academy) where 9th graders (such as him) went. Then, there was the big main building. The sub-campus was on the way, he’d figure out where to go from there.
Although he was not particularly fit, adrenaline made Stephan pedal fast. He saw a couple of zombies down side streets (could one of them be Dad?) but they didn’t follow him. He quickly left the downtown area and entered residential.
Going through the old houses and big trees was pretty unnerving. The sun was high overhead, but shadows were everywhere. Stephan sped up even more. He saw the old brick building that was his school. It had been built way back in the (what was it? Somewhere between 80 and 40 . . .) 50’s. It might be a good spot to look for survivors.
When he got closer, Stephan decided to walk his bike (clever). Quiet was good. Quite good was quiet. It was a good thing that Stephan had approached cautiously. The place was crawling with zombies. There must have been at least forty of the things, spread about in small groups. Stephan looped around and headed for the High School proper.
He had barely started riding again, when all of the roads suddenly seemed under construction. The machinery sat there, unused. A deep, narrow hole, partially dug, sat lonely. Slowing down, Stephan wondered if the project would ever get done. He absent mindedly stopped and got off of his bike, seeing if there might be something useful. They said that the road construction was never done in Fargo, but . . .
Lost in his thoughts, Stephan didn’t notice the zombie coming until it was right on top of him. Only a freakishly fast reaction saved his life. The freshman fell directly on his back, quickly trying to pull his legs up. It would have been perfect if Stephan had been able to kick the zombie’s chest, but he wasn’t quite that fast.
Instead, he connected with the knees. The zombie, having its legs kicked out from underneath it, went sailing over the prone Stephan. It landed right in the whole that Stephan had been admiring. He picked himself off of the ground and dusted himself. Looking in the whole, the zombie wasn’t moving. A broken neck?
Looking back at the school, Stephan could see several zombies shambling over to investigate. He got on his bike and kept ridding. The zombies didn’t pursue him much farther. It was only a couple of more blocks south to the high school (named South, ironically). It had looked like all of the local zombies were clustered back there. It should be smooth sailing the rest of the way.
It never even occurred to Stephan that he might get surprised again (Arrogant). He stopped being cautious entirely when the big High School was in sight. The zombie that came charging from a driveway was a rude awakening. Stephan was moving this time, and the zombie ran into him at full speed. Stephan and his bike went skittering across the pavement. The bike’s frame was bent to the point of unslessness. Swearing, Stephan jumped to his feet.
The zombie was coming fast. He quickly pulled out his meager little gun (already loaded, clever, arrogant). The zombie was less than a foot away. Stephan fired once, into its chest. The zombie’s arms whipped around, smacking Stephan’s outstretched gun hand. He lost control of the gun. Stephan’s only weapon flew off into some bushes. Stephan did the only thing that made sense; he ran away (bravely).
The zombie was pretty slow in catching on, and Stephan ran as fast as he could. He got to the doors and pulled hard. It was locked. The zombie had caught on fast, and was quickly getting closer. Stephan tugged the door again, hard. Switching tactics, he banged on the glass with both of his hands, shouting for help.
Stephan’s prayers were answered there. As he was turning around to see how close the zombie was, he heard a mechanical noise. The handicap door was opening! Stephan rushed inside as someone carrying a gun rushed out. Stephan watched as his savior went to one knee and cut the zombie down with one burst. Damn lucky . . .
Stephan has met another player!!
Challenge 6 (I'm ona roll!)
Here is a short excert from Little's turn.
To what 'Holy' movie did I make a reference to?
It never even occurred to Stephan that he might get surprised again (Arrogant). He stopped being cautious entirely when the big High School was in sight. The zombie that came charging from a driveway was a rude awakening. Stephan was moving this time, and the zombie ran into him at full speed. Stephan and his bike went skittering across the pavement. The bike’s frame was bent to the point of unslessness. Swearing, Stephan jumped to his feet.
The zombie was coming fast. He quickly pulled out his meager little gun (already loaded, clever, arrogant). The zombie was less than a foot away. Stephan fired once, into its chest. The zombie’s arms whipped around, smacking Stephan’s outstretched gun hand. He lost control of the gun. Stephan’s only weapon flew off into some bushes. Stephan did the only thing that made sense; he ran away (bravely).
The zombie was pretty slow in catching on, and Stephan ran as fast as he could. He got to the doors and pulled hard.
Silu
Jacob gave the shopping mall one look as he rode away. He didn’t intend to visit there again any time soon. The student worried about his ammo supply. The Glock had big clips, but he would definitely need more bullets to survive. Jacob head towards downtown, the gun store would be his target. There might be lots of zombies, but he needed bullets. If he was lucky, there might even be survivors.
Jacob took it nice and slow, no reason to be in a hurry. He was still going more than fast enough to outpace anything else around. Jacob smiled grimly at the thought of zombies driving cars. He spent a couple of minutes wondering about the effectiveness of running them down. It would probably kill them quickly, but he might get thrown off his bike. He decided that he didn’t want to risk thing stuff purposely, or going fast.
The cramped industrial district quickly gave way to more cramped downtown. There was a lot of interesting stuff around here, actually: the historic old theater, the local government building, a fire station (backing up into the once busy streets must have been fun), a comic place, and assorted stores plus restaurants. Jacob didn’t care about any of these things. He made a beeline for the small gun store.
There were three zombies clustered outside the door. One of them was torn up pretty bad. Most of the pavement was drenched in blood. It looked like he wasn’t the only one to think about coming here. He’d be more successful though. Jacob got with in half a block and stopped. He got off of his bike and walked to the back of it. The more stuff between them and him, the better.
Jacob calmly drew his pistol and opened fire. Fast on the uptake, the zombies turned and charged. The first one went down quickly. Jacob missed a couple of times on the second (the zombies had more room to maneuver in the hotel. It was still an amazing headshot, Skilled: Handguns) but got it eventually. He fired once on the third before running out of bullets for his half-clip.
Jacob reloaded with speed that would have made the gunslinger proud. Despite it, the last zombie was damn close when he was ready. Time did its slow-down trick. This was the torn-up zombie. Whoever this man had been had been savaged before dieing. Jacob wondered if the dead man’s spirit really wanted to kill him. The first shot was dead on, right between the eyes.
Jacob made sure that all of the zombies were dead and searched the pockets. He didn’t find anything of use. Then he turned his attention to the door. It was locked. Jacob turned to his feet. On the third (noisy) kick, the door’s top hinge came out. The fourth opened the way for Jacob.
There was another zombie behind the store’s counter. He gunned it down before it could get close. Jacob checked this new corpse. It still moved a bit. Jacob blasted it once in the head. The owner seemed to have once been female. Jacob wondered if his conscious would care. Or had it already fled, never to be seen again?
There weren’t too many guns in the store. They were all locked as well. However, there were LOTS of bullets. Jacob greedily reloaded all of his guns (including Pierre’s 9mm). There were maybe a hundred 9mm rounds left in the store. It would be enough.
Checking behind the counter, Jacob found something just as good. A sub-machine gun. It was (if memory served) an Ingram Model 10. There were two clips with 20 (actually, I can’t remember, I’ll look it up and then change it) rounds each. There was also a suppressor laying next to it.
Jacob spent a couple of minutes trying to get the lock off of a shotgun, but bashing it with a rock didn’t seem to work. The store was not very good for barricading either, not a lot of furniture to move. However, Jacob felt considerably better about his gun situation.
This turn was a bit short too. I suppose that nothing untoward happened, so it’s all good. Depending on what you do next run, expect more material.
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Topic: Another Little Zombie Apocalypse . . . (Read 22927 times)