We now have the beginings of turn five (attempt two).
Frelock
Doc looked back at the kid that he had saved. Shifty looking, arrogant, untrustworthy, no weapon . . . freshman. “Well”, Dmitri thought, “someone is better than no one.”
In any case, Zak should be sitting up about now. “Good to see that you’re alive. Follow me; you should probably meet our other survivors.”
Dmitri shouldered his bag of pills and strode to the drama department. The other guy followed, if hesitantly. The school seemed even creepier with someone else there. Their footsteps echoed throughout the once crowded halls. The kid swore under his breath. Despite the feeling of unease that permeated the area, they reached the drama room without any undead-related incident.
Soon enough, Dmitri and co. were all seated in the balcony area. Zak was sitting up, weakly. Zak was the first to talk, “I see that you’ve found someone else. What’s his name Dmitri?”
Dmitri was about to respond when the kid interrupted, “My name is Stephan. Don’t forget it. Is this everything that you got?”
George bristled, “You had better be damn grateful for what we have, Stephan. We could easily be all be dead by now. I suppose that the gunfire was Dmitri saving your ass?”
Dmitri responded, “It was. One zombie. I cut it down, but the burst was a little long for my tastes.”
“That means that anything in the area knows that we’re here. We are going to have to be careful in the next couple of hours. Hmmph. I’m still feeling weak,” Zak was a bit worried.
Stephan piped up, “Okay then, I’ll go quietly scout around for a bit. Don’t worry about me.”
The kid promptly left. Dmitri was quickly fostering a dislike for him. Zak fell back asleep. The doctor talked with George for a while, discussing their plans. George worried about the logistics involved in barricading the entire high school. “I mean, there might be enough wood for the construction classes, but we have serious labor problems. You and I are at least sort of capable of hauling wood and pounding nails, but I doubt that that Stephan would be very much help. He could stand guard I suppose though. At the same time, we don’t know what his plans are.
“There’s also Zak to consider. He was getting somewhat skilled at wood working, but I’m not sure what he wants to do. I’ll have to warn you, if he decides to leave, my loyalty is with him. He saved my life. Personally, I think that staying here is a better option. If Zak decides to stay and fortify, I worry about him straining himself. He’s a tough sonna gun, so he might not tell us if he’s hurting. We’d have to watch him carefully.
“All in all though, I think that it’s a good idea. For now at least, we can’t really get started. I agree that after that burst you fired, being quiet might be a good idea. That means that we can’t exactly break out the drills yet. It might be a good idea to scout around the shop classes to make sure that there are enough boards for our uses. Well, that’s more than I’ve talked in a while.”
Dmitri decided to take George’s advice. In any case, the good doctor worried about Stephan. Wandering around without a gun? It was his life though, so Dmitri just kept his eyes open as he walked over to the shop classes. It was relatively close at least. The door to the workshop was locked, but Dmitri had a fun tool called a ‘key.’ It was a long, dimly lit room (the school seemed to be on the night time lighting plan). There were lot of different saws and all kinds of assorted tools. Stacked neatly outside (although those doors were glass and easily broken) were stacks of nice strong wood.
There was just the problem of moving the stuff. Dmitri though about the trailer he had discovered. It should fit in the hallways (barely) but they’d have to take down a door to get it inside. Thinking about the problem, Dmitri shoved a hammer, a couple of screwdrivers, and a box of nails into his bag and left. He didn’t see Stephan or anyone else on his way back.
Zak was sitting up now. Very good. He had gone through a couple of bottle (8 oz shot really) of sports drink. He was looking a lot better now. He also had some weird set of fabric armor. Dmitri supposed that they must have been bored. It might be useful.
George was fiddling with the radio. Dmitri wondered what song he’d get a bad rendition of this time. The voice (Dmitri sort of wondered what the guy’s name was) seemed to actually be speaking this time, “This is Captain Sangeo of the United States Army. I am commanding a reinforced company of tanks. We will be entering the city in approximately three hours. We are coming in from the southern edge and will follow the main street north until we reach the major tank farm in town. From there, we will be setting up a perimeter. Additionally, we have a scouting unit of one Bradley in town. If there are any survivors, make a sign on the main North-South Street. This is Syria Tango 6, First Armored. I will retransmit this message on this frequency in approximately thirty minutes. Out.”
Frelock has found an Easter egg: Message you wouldn’t otherwise get!
There were a couple of shouted commands before the transmission ended. Zak was the first to pipe up, “Well, that complicates things somewhat, doesn’t it? I haven’t seen Stephan since our meeting. I’m starting to get worried.”
Little
Well, at least he was still alive. He wasn’t completely sure about his savior (did he look familiar or something?). Stephan hadn’t really gained anything useful, but hopefully the school would be safe. It didn’t look like the huge mass of survivors that he had hoped for would be here though. Too bad. The other guy said simply, “Good to see that you’re alive. Follow me; you should probably meet our other survivors.”
Stephan hoped that he hadn’t been saved from the zombie by a psycho. That happened during zombie apocalypses, didn’t it? He’d be able to handle it though (Arrogant). He followed the vaguely creepy guy through the semi-darkened hallways of south. The steps echoed chillingly down the corridors. Being a freshman (no, you don’t get a choice in the matter Little. You are a Freshie here), Stephan was not particularly familiar with the High School. This guy seemed to know what where he was going at least.
The two walked down the hallways to just about the other end of the school (figures, you always have to be on the other side than where you entered). There, they took a right. This was the art department wasn’t it? Or was that over there, by the shop classes? Oh yeah! That was the music department! Near the end of the hallway (a fragile looking small glass door led outside) they turned into a classroom.
It was very big for a classroom. About two stories tall, one wall was dominated by a huge garage door. Stephan assumed that it led to the stage. The ground floor was pretty much open, with two darkened rooms across from him. A couple of bench thingies occupied some of the floor space. There was a sizable balcony where the other person was. The person (Stephan decided to catalogue him as ‘A’) who had led him there carefully shoved one of the benches across the door and stomped down on the brake mechanism.
There were actually two people on the balcony, which was actually furnished. There was a high school kid (older than him though) who said that his name was Zak. He was really pale though, something was clearly funny though. Seeming to stand guard over Zak was an old man who identified himself as George. He was carrying a rifle, and was quite jumpy. Then there was his savior, who said that his name was Dmitri. He had been a science teacher at the school.
Little has found Frelock and Zako! Plus George!
Soon enough, Stephan and co. were all seated in the balcony area. Zak was sitting up, weakly. He was the first to talk, “I see that you’ve found someone else. What’s his name Dmitri?”
Dmitri was about to respond when Stephan decide to interrupt (arrogant), “My name is Stephan. Don’t forget it. Is this everything that you got?”
George bristled, “You had better be damn grateful for what we have, Stephan. We could easily be all be dead by now. I suppose that the gunfire was Dmitri saving your ass?”
Dmitri responded, “It was. One zombie. I cut it down, but the burst was a little long for my tastes.”
“That means that anything in the area knows that we’re here. We are going to have to be careful in the next couple of hours. Hmmph. I’m still feeling weak,” Zak was a bit worried.
Stephan piped up, “Okay then, I’ll go quietly scout around for a bit. Don’t worry about me.”
Something was clearly up with this bunch. Stephan needed to get away and think about this. He excused himself (in his mind) politely and left. Bathrooms were always good places to think. Now, if he could only find one. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a bathroom right across from the (drama?) room. It was luckily unlock. He entered the washroom (such a weird room). The lights were much brighter in here. That was good. Stephan promptly sat himself in a stall. Now, to serious thinking.
Something was definitely strange about Zak, Dmitri, and George. But, what was it? He’d need something to help him think. Stephan dug through his bag and lit up. Now, back to thinking . . .
Rickvoid
Rick’s little group watched the rest of the soldiers load themselves into the armored vehicle. The Bradley pulled out and continued north. Alone again. At least they both had field kits, including, Rick noted happily, bed rolls. The junior one, Private Smith was relatively tall and lanky. He carried his M-16 with confidence though. Sergeant Wolve looked pretty tough. Relatively heavy built, Wolve was carrying his M-16 slung while he cradled the large SAW (squad automatic weapon, super skilled: guns) at his chest. They both looked pretty capable to Rick.
Jon seemed to be in awe of the professionals. Clareice seemed relieved, but nervous. Rick led the way to the restaurant’s front door, mind racing. How does this change things? He spared a moment to look at the zombie that had forced him to betray his position. Would he have revealed himself otherwise? He could almost thank this corpse. The corpse moaned.
Smith leveled his rifle at the zombie, “Son of a schiza muffin! It’s still alive God, damn it!”
Wolve growled quickly, “Don’t waste ammo Private. Allow me.”
Was that a German accent? The Sergeant carefully lifted his boot covered foot and smashed the zombie’s head in. Neither of the soldiers was particularity clean. Wolve got some blood on his scrubbed looking boots. He then pulled out a pocket knife and cut a small notch on the boot’s heel. There were at least a couple more there. Clareice’s eyes widened in surprise. He said, probably for effect, “One less.”
Rick decided that he liked this soldier. Jon was polite enough to hold the door open for the group. Table for five, Rick supposed. Rick wondered if sitting at a table would be a good idea. The table for six was right there. Clareice ended up leading them back to the kitchen anyway. Smith was the first one to talk, “Well, we are all here and it will probably be five or six hours until the company shows up. What should we do?”
Wolve looked at Rick and said, “You were put in charge, what do you want to do?”
Rick already had his plan, “Okay, I think that we are going to have to reinforce this restaurant to some defensible state. At the same time, it is important that we know what is in the area. I think that myself and either Private Smith or yourself Sergeant should scout the area while the others fortify. What does everyone think?”
Wolve responded, “It seems to be a sound idea. You an take Smith with you. This machine gun of mine is better in one place. Don’t bother with the front door when you get back. We’ll have it sealed tight. Good luck Smith. Keep this man safe.”
Smith left most of his stuff behind (as did Rick) and followed Rick out the back door. The private then said, “Where would you like to go sir? Don’t worry about them; the Sarge is more than capable of taking out fifty zombies single-handedly.”
“I’m glad for your confidence Smith. Let’s move into those residential streets over there. You take point. Remember, you are the expert on this, not me,” Rick reminded.
The two searched the neighborhood. There was nothing on the first street. They didn’t find anything remotely useful, although there was a dead body lieing in the middle of the street. Smith said something under his breath which Rick declined to ask about. The two wandered about the area, looking for enemy presence and finding none. Slightly annoyed at the lack of anything, Rick gave the order to go back.
Smith and Rick started to retrace their steps. Smith stopped suddenly and said, “Movement, 9:30.”
Sure enough, a zombie stumbled out of an alleyway to Rick’s front left. Simultaneously, another seemed to appear from the shadows on the right. They were both fairly far away. Rick heard something behind him and slowly moved his head. Another approaching from the rear. Rick quietly told Smith, “Handle the two in the front, I’ve got the one behind us, you fire first.”
Rick slowly turned around, not wanting to trigger the zombie’s charge mechanism. The three shot burst of the M-16 rocked the silent evening. Rick fired at his target. It went down. Sith fired another burst. Rick turned to about where the last zombie had been standing (Rick thought that smith had gone for the left one first). Rick and Smith fired at the same time. The charging zombie was quite close. The impact of six assault rifle rounds stopped it in a second. Smith said, “Sorry about that, it took two bursts o bring the first one down. I’d recommend that we move back to the restaurant quickly and carefully.”
The two followed that advice and were back in the restaurant with in minutes. The sun was starting to set. It would be dark soon. Everyone was inside and seemed to be safe; it looked like they had been doing some good barricading work. Wolve had decided to set up the supplies in the kitchen. They had torn apart a couple of booths and had used some table cloths to make passable bedding. Rick realized how tired he was (Rick, having been up for twenty hours is pretty sleepy, rest might be a good idea). He wanted to see how the fortifying had gone, but he was sure that Wolve, Jon, and Clareice had done a good job.
Zako
Zak was getting really tired of falling unconscious. When he came to, George was carefully aiming the rifle at the door. The old man noticed that Zak was awake and aid, “I’m worried that Dmitri might be down, Zak. I hope that he’s okay, but it’s possible that something got him. I should have blockaded the door after he had left.”
A few tense minutes passed. Then the door opened and Dmitri entered, accompanied by a new person. Hr looked relatively small, but anyone else alive was good, right? The pair walked up to the balcony (although Zak noticed that Dmitri was smart enough to block the door with one of the benches). Before long, they were all seated. Zak was the first to talk, “I see that you’ve found someone else. What’s his name Dmitri?”
Dmitri was about to respond when the kid interrupted, “My name is Stephan. Don’t forget it. Is this everything that you got?”
George bristled, “You had better be damn grateful for what we have, Stephan. We could easily be all be dead by now. I suppose that the gunfire was Dmitri saving your ass?”
Dmitri responded, “It was. One zombie. I cut it down, but the burst was a little long for my tastes.”
“That means that anything in the area knows that we’re here. We are going to have to be careful in the next couple of hours. Hmmph. I’m still feeling weak,” Zak was a bit worried.
Stephan piped up, “Okay then, I’ll go quietly scout around for a bit. Don’t worry about me.”
The kid promptly left while Zak started to feel drowsy again. Damn infection that might have turned him into a living corpse. If it wasn’t going to kill him, it could at least let him stay awake too! Seriously. George and Dmitri were discussing something, but Zak fell asleep while cursing the pathogen.
Zak woke up about an hour later, filled with nervous energy. George was sitting back in a chair, looking drowsy. Zak realized that the elderly man probably needed a nap, “George, I’ve slept more than enough lately. Why don’t you take a quick nap?”
The old man didn’t really like to hear that, “You still aren’t completely well Zak. Although, I am pretty tired. I’ll just close my eyes for a bit, okay? Don’t go wandering off and call me if you need me. And take the gun.”
“Great George. I was just planning on searching those offices down there. Can I borrow the multi-tool to take the hinges off?”
“Catch.”
With the rifle slung at his soldier and the multitool in his pocket, Zak carefully descended the stairs. There were two doors, each with small windows that led to darkened rooms. If he would have had one, Zak would’ve flipped a coin. Instead, he went with the left one first.
The door was locked. Zak started to look at the hinges. It was a simple enough thing to remove. Anyone with a flat tip screw driver could have done it. The bottom was a bit more difficult, Zak was forced to adjust the screw head so that it was only 90 degrees from the base. A ratchet feature would have been nice, but Zak made due. He carefully removed the screws (thy might want to put thee doors back later) and took the door off.
The light switch was easy to find. It was a small office. There wasn’t a lot in it, just a basic desk (although there was a lot of writing utensils). A paper on the desk caught Zak’s attention:
The proper power plant for the city should:
Clean- Once the plant is operational, there should be minimal Greenhouse gas production. We have a responsibility to the planet.
Effective- The plant should be able to provide enough power for the greater city area, additionally, it would be a great benefit if the there would be enough surplus energy to export to other areas of North Dakota that re unable to produce Green energy for themselves.
Efficient- The power should be cost effective to produce, however, due to North Dakota’s large budget surplus; high start up costs can be tolerated.
Technological- It would be a benefit if the plant would attract skilled workers to the area.
“Interesting, but not particularly useful,” Zak thought, “Hopefully, the other room will have something else in it.”
Zak was getting better at taking apart hinges, and the other door only took a couple of minutes. George leaned over the hinge and watched bemusedly for a while. After the satisfaction of taking the second door down a though popped into Zak’s head, “Wouldn’t Doc have had keys? Oops.”
It was a costume storeroom. There was a lot of random stuff in here (banana suit?). Zak decided that he’d search around. The first thing that he found was a sturdy, if dented, metal baseball bat. Weapons were always good. Most of the stage weapons were cheap plastic. Zak had been hoping to find the claymores from the production of Macbeth last year (Zak had gone and wondered why everyone used them exclusively, not a spear or bow in sight), but the heavy metal things were no where to be found. Oh well.
Most of the clothing was pretty thin, but it might make good bedding. Zak was sorting through a pile of shop aprons (for the stage crew’s painting) Zak hit the jackpot. It was a set of armor!? Hot Damn!
It seemed to be made of inch thing hardened leather, painted to look like plate mail. It was a good deal lighter than the real thing, but it would probably be pretty hard to bite through. It covered most of the body, with a couple of exceptions. Zak couldn’t find a helmet, gauntlets, or boots for the ensemble. Still, armor and a bat, Yay!
Zak has found an Easter egg: the Well-Protected Baseball Player
Satisfied with his finds, Zak turned the lights off and went back up to George, setting (but not securing) the doors on their frames. George looked like he had drowsed off for a while, but was awakened at Zak’s footfalls. Zak sat down on the couch and fell asleep (again).
When Zak woke up to the radio. Dmitri was sitting there with George, adjusting the antenna. “This is Captain Sangeo of the United States Army. I am commanding a reinforced company of tanks. We will be entering the city in approximately three hours. We are coming in from the southern edge and will follow the main street north until we reach the major tank farm in town. From there, we will be setting up a perimeter. Additionally, we have a scouting unit of one Bradley in town. If there are any survivors, make a sign on the main North-South Street. This is Syria Tango 6, First Armored. I will retransmit this message on this frequency in approximately thirty minutes. Out.”
Zak has found an Easter egg: Message you wouldn’t otherwise get!
There were a couple of shouted commands before the transmission ended. Zak was the first to pipe up, “Well, that complicates things somewhat, doesn’t it? I haven’t seen Stephan since our meeting. I’m starting to get worried.”
Silu (not finished!)
Jacob looked at the body that lay sprawled at his feet. Better her than him. He supposed that he would have to make an attempt at fortifying this place, now that he had ammo. First order of business, get rid o f the body. What was the best way to carry an undead corpse?
He eventually decided to drag her by the feet. No reason to get blood on himself to respect her body; she was dead. He dumped her body in the gutter outside and moved the other zombie corpses on top of her. There was no reason to accidentally trip on them. Jacob, in retrospect, wondered if they might have made good building material. Didn’t that happen in The Birds? Then again, they would probably start to stink. Although, hadn’t he read that zombie virus kept microbes away? In any case, Jacob wasn’t going go through the trouble of hauling them any where else. That was the end of that.
Jacob hadn’t seen anything particularly movable on the store floor. For now, propping the bike against the door frame would have to do (too bad that he had kicked it down, really). The windows, fortunately, were small and barred. No worries there. The bike couldn’t stop anything, but hopefully, it would make a racket when it fell. Remove silence from your enemy.
There was only one door that led from the room. It was the only way, so with pistol drawn (machinegun slung), Jacob opened it. It led to a quaint little kitchen. There was nothing but a small little table with one chair. Neither looked very sturdy. The fridge and stove were both secured to the ground. The cupboards were bare. Damn.
From the kitchen, there were two paths. There was another door and a staircase to the upper levels. He decided that he would finish the ground floor first. The door led to the biggest (relatively anyway, still quite small) room yet. It looked like this was where all the extra merchandise was stored. It was empty right now, except for a desk in the corner. There was another door, which seemed to be part-way open. In front of it was a body.
Jacob approached cautiously. It seemed that most of his (its) upper body had been blown away. It growled at him. Jacob shot it once in the head. It quieted down. The door was a heavy metal deal. It looked like it had been battered open by a blunt object. A bat sat abandoned where it had rolled. The door was bent to the point where it would not close again. Inspection of the frame showed something worrying. There was a shotgun slug carefully taped on it. A string was connected to a small firing pin. Jacob put the situation together. The would-be looter had come back here, hoping to find some guns. He had bashed the door down and walked inside. There must have been a tripwire somewhere. One blast later, undead city. Idiot. Jacob would have to be careful so he wouldn’t make its mistake.
He strode over to the desk. On top was a handwritten letter:
I’m sorry Mrs. Olson, but I can’t let you buy anymore supplies on credit. You’re going to have to find another supplier. I’ll see if I can find a way to lower the price, but I’m not too hopeful.
Good Luck,
Rodney
Jacob let the paper drop to the floor and got around to moving the metal desk to the door. It was annoyingly light. Damn cheap shit . . .
THIS TURN IS STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION! IT IS NOT FINISHED YET! 600 words so far. It might be really long when it is done.
Author
Topic: Another Little Zombie Apocalypse . . . (Read 22912 times)