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Post by The Mammoth on Sept 17, 2009 13:07:02 GMT -5
Richard Wayne was sitting on his flat-top roof in eastern Texas. He lived in a small community, which was ideal for the start of this mess. He only had a few neighbors, but the town had a growing business district that was a sort of truck stop on the way to Dallas. Richard looked up over the edge of his roof, spotting a few of the walking dead moving from one of his neighbor's houses. Raising over the railing, he looked down his sight, lined it up on the skull of the first monstrosity and pulled the trigger. The loud bang of metal slamming powder and a bullet dropping one of the bastards from around 70 yards attracted the few who were in the area. These seemed to be the slow moving type, but the blood that covered his rooftop implied that a few of the quicker, more agile ones that Richard had named Jumpers. He was quick enough to beat the monster's head in with his baseball bat, but now he had to make his shots count before these ones got close.
Snapping the lever to load another round, he lined up his shot quickly. Years of hunting had made this easier for Richard. He fired again, dropping the second one. He loaded another round and stood up, taking aim at the two coming from his neighbor's burning house. He repeated the shots and then dropped to the rooftop, taking cover while he loaded more shells into the chamber (Keeping track of ammo this way: R(96)) DE(7/5)). He looked at his neighbor Sam's house. It had been burning for a few hours now. The zombies got inside and it seemed Sam had run out of options. Richard shook his head and wondered if his neighbor across the street fared better. The man, whom Richard only spoke to once or twice, seemed far more prepared for this, as all of his windows and doors had metal grating on them. His house was a veritable fortress.
Richard knew he could only last so long on this roof before he had to move further into town to arm up and gather supplies.
He reached into his pocket and grabbed his small CB radio. The technology was old, but anyone alive in this place, being a truck stop, might have the frequency, and might be using it. He spoke quietly into it.
"This is Richard Wayne. Anyone copy?" He said, pausing for a moment as he could hear the loud echo of abandoned truck down the road. The CB must have been on maximum volume, and Richard could see a couple zombies moving toward the loud vehicle. It was a great distraction...
He repeated once again, hoping to get a response, as working together would make this easier.
"I repeat, this is Richard Wayne, does anyone copy, this is my final contact if I get no response."
He was sweating, as he always was once he faced the walking dead. He got nervous, every time he decided to fire he was possibly invoking death by attracting more. He just hoped this time he made the right move...
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Post by reaper on Sept 18, 2009 9:59:52 GMT -5
"Jeez, quiet down will ya?", came a reply after noise of a little bit of scuffle. By the pronounciation you couldn't guess the man speaking was of an asian heritage. It might have been logical to assume that he was educated and brought up in America. Still there was obvious difference in the tone of his voice. There was a pause then as he spoke into the radio again, it sounded like he was finishing a yawn, "Where are you anyway?", he asked as he looked through the windscreen of the truck and saw the two formerly dead moving towards him.
He murmured, unknowingly into the radio, "So it wasn't a bad dream then... dammit..." He scratched the back of his neck and yawned again before stretching it then moving towards the door and unlocking it. He didn't open it though. He wait, crouched on the seat next to it as if he was going to kick it. And kick he did. The thing that was approaching the door got hit in the face and fell flat on the ground. The other one was still a few paces away. So checking that the path was clear, a man in an orange suit jumped out of the side and retrieved a metal pole out of door before closing it. He hung on it and looked around and soon saw someone watching from the roof. He smiled and waved, pretty sure he was sticking out of the background like a orange blob.
He turned his attention back to the slow moving deadies, that's what he decided to call them. There was a burst of speed and he literally knocked the head off the one that was heading towards him with a full swing of the pole. The other he had knocked to the ground had almost gotten up. 'Jack' let him, no it. But as soon as the deadie was on its feet his cuffed hands formed a short loop around the things head and before it could try to bit his hand jerked it to a side and then followed up with a quick blow to the side of the thing's face with his elbow. As the deadie fell, his head was hanging by just the the skin of the neck.
Jack bowed over the recently fallen body sltighly and looked at any sign of, activity. There was none. He looked up at the man on the roof and nodded as he headed back towards the door of the truck and spoke into the radio once he got it. "Nice wake up call..."
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Post by The Mammoth on Sept 18, 2009 13:40:30 GMT -5
"No kidding... Get yer ass over here, I'll cover you." Richard said into his CB before turning it off, popping up over the railing and keeping an eye out for anyone or anything that might be planning on jumping out and causing the obvious convict some issues. Richard didn't care that the man was a prisoner. In this situation, such things were of no value, as the only thing that mattered was survival, and even a convict would be smart enough to know that killing his allies would not be wise.
It seemed that the walking dead were running out of forces in this area. Richard didn't see anything...
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Post by reaper on Sept 19, 2009 11:21:27 GMT -5
Jack was about to reply but he heard the man turn off the radio. He just shrugged then started looking through the glove compartment, under the seat and other places where he might find something useful. Except for some papers there was nothing. He looked at the fuel gauge and noted there was about half a tank of gas in it. That was good news.
After a couple of minutes he finally got out of the side door and closed it behind him. His hands were cuffed in front of him so he held the pole in front of his body horizontally. He was walking quietly towards the house, looking down at the ground in front of him. It wasn't that he wasn't paying attention. He was concentrating on listening to the silence. Then he heard it, the sound of running feet. He stopped and looked around but couldn't place them in a direction at first. The bloody silence was helping with the echo through the road and the scant buidlings. He gripped the pole tighter and began running.
The direction of whatever was chasing him changed and that helped in pointing out the source of the noise. A fast thing came running and leaping from behind a building down the other side of the road. He definitely preferred the slower ones. There was no outrunning this thing but he hoped to get closer to the house of the man with the gun. He would have a better chance at a shot. So he ran though the awkward position of his hands made it tougher.
He heard the snarl then a shot that obviously missed the beast but knocked him to the side. sh**, it could jump really far. It had been a dozen feet behind him when Jack last saw it and it had reached him in one bound. Even though the man had missed the head, the shot had knocked it off its trajectory. Now, Jack stopped. He couldn't risk turning his back to the beast again.
As the beast lunged again, Jack barely managed to move out of the way, fall off balance then roll back up to his feet. He couldn't used the pole well enough to save himself from this thing at the moment but he had another idea that was highly dangerous. As the thing lunged again, Jack had changed the grip to hold the pole with both hands on one side. This way it was easier to align the pole edge with the thing's mouth. As the end dissapeared into the jumper's mouth, Jack fell back, resting the other end of the pole on the ground and letting his hands slide back and down the pole. When things came to a rest, Jack was on his back on the ground with one edge of the pole sticking into the thing's mouth.
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Post by The Mammoth on Sept 21, 2009 21:45:57 GMT -5
As Richard was covering the escaping convict, he saw as a jumper made its way across the open street. Looking down the scope quickly, he fired a shot, clipping the left shoulder of the thing. Cocking the gun to load another bullet into the chamber, Richard took aim again, only to watch down his scope as the convict impaled the creature on the a pole. The thing was dying, but still scrambling with the pole in its mouth. Richard fired another shot that splattered the jumpers head. He cocked his rifle again, and loaded two bullets back into the rotating chamber. (R:94, DE(7/5))
With a big sigh, he watched as the man got himself back to his feet and continued to run up to the house. Richard walked over and kicked the ladder to his roof that was the only access point to it now. The ladder dropped to the ground with a clang as Richard barked to the man on the ground.
"Get up here!"
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Post by Da Pwny on Sept 25, 2009 16:14:44 GMT -5
Gunshots woke Perry from the slumber she'd fallen into. These last few days had been the worst; she'd been going on her second straight day without sleep when something had knocked her out, and how she'd survived without getting eaten was beyond her. The local hospital had been the first to catch a glance at what was to come, and along with others, Perry had tried to get out of town as soon as possible. However, things hadn't gone quite as planned...
And now here she was, holed up in a car shop garage on the far side of town, clinging desperately to the beloved shotgun her father had always kept above the fireplace, wishing she had gone with them instead of staying in this hellhole of a town. There had been two men who had backed themselves into this garage, but they'd gotten themselves killed; one had gotten drunk and wandered outside to take a piss, and the other confused bravery with stupidity as he tried to fight off one of those frog-zombie-person things, not counting on Perry's adrenaline-fueled trigger fingers to help in this situation. He'd died fairly quickly, and thankfully the same shot had taken the freak with him.
However, she was alone now, and her food reserves had run dry. Along with that, since the electricity went out a few nights ago, fresh water and plumbing were inaccessible from the tap, and the water fountain was low as well. On top of everything, with the main grid offline, the security system was down, meaning she had been staying awake for the last couple of days just to make sure nothing wandered in; even though she'd blockaded the front entrance after the last battle, zombies had been beating at it infrequently for several days, almost as if they knew she'd come out eventually anyhow. There was a backup gas-powered generator, but that was outside around the back, so getting to it was out of the question for the moment.
There was one hope; one of the cars left in the garage was still in running order, but the clunker was loud and unreliable. Still, it was better than nothing, and since she didn't know jack about car repair beyond changing the oil, it was the best card she had to play. Now, it seemed there wasn't much of a choice left. Last she checked on it, the car had about a gallon and a half left; enough to get into town and back, but not much beyond that. Still, it was either starve and dehydrate, or get eaten, and Perry didn't feel like taking the easy path. Checking the shotgun to make sure it was loaded, she grabbed several keys off the key rack, trying the ignition until one got the radio started. Now, she just had to figure out how to get out without letting too many zombies inside...
*yeah, i know, pushing the limit of believability, but I'm kinda low on time, and these stupid library computers are on timers >.<!! d**n you, school library, d**n you D< !*
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