Infection / Destruction / Hope

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Zaren

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Reply with quote  #51 
lol hot damn!  Thanks uno!

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SUPERSNAKE

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Reply with quote  #52 
Quote:
Originally Posted by SUPERSNAKE
Quote:
Originally Posted by SUPERSNAKE

Smiling wickedly, I read the post on 'Morningstar: "Get to the R.V. - Fight or Die - see you all there!"

Ah, the end of things!

No more credit cards. No more putting up with asshats clogging the roadways in their ridiculous cars and SUV's. No more anything- except doing what I do best; kill things.

I powered my PC down, then contemptuously sent it crashing to the floor. Still grinning, I made my way down to the basement, where I grabbed some old friends, made sure they were loaded, then simply headed out the door. I knew the R.V. was a hell of a ways away, but I didn't care- just more opportunity for making dead things even deader.

"Bring it...", I growled to the ghouls scratching at my gate...

Z-DAY +2

 

"Please..God..no! Don't!", she screamed at me, as I hauled her out of a shiney new yellow Toyota FJ-Cruiser.

What had convinced her to surrender the keys to such a sweet ride was my pure animal magnetism - that, and the lever-action rifle chambered in .444 Marlin digging into her left temple.

 

At times, I can be pretty damn persuasive.

 

I had hauled her out from behind the wheel, the rilfe in my right hand, and a fistful of her blond locks in my left, and forced her onto her knees. Looking down into her eyes, I could see the transition from terror to rage. She sprung up, scratching and spitting like a wildcat.

I still had her by the nap of her hair, so I simply pushed down on her noggin with my left hand, and brought my right knee crunching up into her pretty little button-nose.

Blood sprayed over my old Levi's, and her screams turned into wails of despair.

 

I rammed the muzzle of the carbine back into her temple and pulled the trigger. The rifle roared, and her brains and blood splashed onto the side of the 'Cruiser- red and pink; it contrasted starkly with the banana-yellow of the SUV.

It looked like a sunset. I love sunsets.

"Pretty".

 

A few misguided fools stared out at me through the windows of their cookie-cutter houses. "The illusion of saftey", I thought, shaking my head at them.

I decided to be magnanimous, and gave them some advice.

 

"Never", I proclaimed, "touch my car."

 

With that, I hopped into my new ride, and put it into gear. The motor purred smoothly, as I swept out of town, heading south.

 

"Two hours to the border", I muttered...

 

 

 

 

 

Screw it! I'm going next

 

Z-DAY + 3

 

I-29 Southbound...

 

Illuminated in the halogen headlights of the 'Cruiser was a roadsign: "Warsaw, ND - pop. 1036". From the highway, I could see various small businesses: a gas station, a greasy spoon, a bank - deserted, forlorn.

I hit the gas, and sped out of town.

On the outskirts, I noticed rusty stacks of wrecked cars off to the right down a gravel drive. "Perfect", I whispered, turning off the pavement.

 

It wasn't difficult finding the gear I needed- the cutting torch popped to life, and I began to work. Four hours later, and the truck was sporting a custom-made "zombie-catcher" where it used to have a plastic bumper.

 

"There", I said matter-of-factly, "no more guts greasin' up my wheels, and no more fricken' teeth scratchin' my paint."

 

Smiling contentedly, I drove off, tires crunching on the gravel.

"Time to test 'er out."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Reply with quote  #53 

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Killing changes a man.  I know this because the simple act of getting across the highway required lots of it...for me.  My wife, my son, my neighbors...all of them.  At least all that came within reach.  The message was a ploy, too.  They were honest in saying there were three people on the roof, but they neglected to tell me about the five more inside.  At least they weren't able to take me by suprise.  I even piked the heads of four of them as a warning to others.  I still have the pilot and the chopper, though.  We'll see how that goes...I may be taking a crash course in helicopter flight here soon.  He's cooperating with me for the time being, and from what I've read on the web, Z is gonna make it...let's just hope he's not the only one.  I plan to head east at dawn.  I'm not sure what will happen but I'm ready for it nonetheless.

 

   Finally, some good news for a change.  In my somewhat guarded conversations with the chopper pilot, I've learned some things that put my mind at ease, at least in part.  His name is Spence Glover, and as it turns out, he was being held against his will by the people I killed at the hospital.  The way he tells it, he was making tracks to a remote area in Colorado when he spotted the heli-pad on the roof of St. Al's.  Upon closer inspection, Spence could also see signs of life there and on two of the smaller buildings nearby.  The most highly visible spots on the structures were festooned with sheets and table cloths smeared in what (at first glance) appeared to be some kind of paint.  These smears spelled out such things as SOS and ALIVE INSIDE.  Spence had been alone from the onset of this horrible dead uprising and wanted the human contact more than anything, so he landed.  At first things went rather well but in time, he would learn the truth about his new hosts.  Unfortunately the price for this knowledge was Spence's left ear.

   At any rate, I think I could trust this man.  I hope we both survive long enough to find out.  If our plan works, we just might.  We intend to head south to the SLC area so I can find out if any of my friends or family members were able to make it to safety, then we'll fly east in the hopes of finding alex's farm.

   The flight to Salt Lake was fairly quick and almost painless, but what I saw as we flew into the valley was disheartening at best.  The formerly busy and bustling city that had at one time been so clean and well cared for was now something more akin to Hiroshima right after the blast.  The cars that had once carried lawyers to court, mothers to the mall, and their pampered kids to soccer practice were now jumbles of twisted steel littering the once perfect streets.  The staggering corpses of the city's population dotted the streets, occasionally bumping into one another in their search for living, breathing flesh.  Then, as the whirlybird veered to the east over the part of town known as Murray, I saw something that made my heart skip a beat.  The self-storage location I used to live and work at was directly beneath us.  The eight foot high security fencing that surrounded the property was down in several places and the ghouls were flooding in, trying to get in front of all the rest who were clawing at the walls of the central building.  Nothing new.  What caught my eye was the tiny bit of movement on the roof.  Not much at first, but once we were spotted, the movement became much more frenzied.  I had to do a double take when I saw her.  She was alone, waving her arms (along with an SKS) at us from her perch.  She looked like she'd missed a few meals, but at least she was alive.  It was Dy.  I could only tell once we had gotten close enough for her to see me too.  I called to her and she called back.  It might have been my voice that tipped her off that it was me.  She instantly lowered the rifle as we swung over and dropped the rope ladder. 

  "Are there any more inside?" I asked, suprised at how loud my voice sounded even over the ear-splitting 'thut-thut-thut-thut' of the chopper blades.

  "What, you were expecting more of a welcoming party?" she asked as I took her arm and swung her into the open side of the helicopter.  "I tried to book you a clown that makes balloon animals or a chimpanzee or some shit, but it must be some kind of big money weekend 'cause they're all booked up." 

  "We're heading for alex's farm in Illinois," I said, returning to a more serious tone. "Care to join us?"

  "Well, I got nothin' better to do" she said with a grin.

  "First things first" I said. " We need to find a place with a working wireless system so I can get online and let Diva know you're okay."

 

***(Edited for spelling and grammar)***


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ZombieDiva

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Reply with quote  #54 

A few blips and then a hole burns straight throught the center of the film. It scrolls and flaps repeatedly until the lights come up, a figure walks out onto the stage commanding everyone's attention.

Lo and behold it's Diva, and she doesn't look too happy at the moment. She saunters over to center stage before she begins. Casting an annoyed glance at the audience,

"You know what? You guys suck!"

Diva examines her fingernails and then places her hands on her hips for emphasis.

"Yeah, I had to say it. You suck ass big time! Every time we get a community thing going, after a week or two it just disintegrates! Remember movie night??? Chat??? What the fuck?"

She stands there dumbfounded and half expecting an answer. None was forthcoming.

"Get your asses back in line boys, I'm waiting to post my bit, and I'll be damned if it's only going to be me and Sic working on THE COMMUNITY FICTION! Now Go!"

Shaking her finger in an annoyed matronly fashion, she takes the cookie jar with her, along with all the doritoes AND the last few bags of Andy Capp's hot fries.

"No more snacks for anyone until you finish your homework! DAMMIT!"

And with that Diva casually strolls off, a crunching sound is heard as she leaves...


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"spreadly thin" new term created and attributed to Armydillo978

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ZombieDiva

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Reply with quote  #55 

OK, here's the next part:

 

   I guided the boat out past Sandy Hook. We were finally far enough away from the city and the remaining vestiges of a metropolitan sea front. Our luck had held out that we made it this far. I was heading towards the Coast Guard station intending to fill up, check out the situation, and hopefully find some food and water.

   I looked at my children with a grim face. My son stood solemnly watching across the water. He looked like a different person. He seemed so much like an average 14 year old, but his eyes were like a man's eyes. Even his jawline was firmly set and I could see that he was transformed.

   Katie was below deck. She was shaken deeply by this experience. Knowing her father was now dead, she didn't want to know anything else. It was like she was closing herself off from the world and she didn't want to come out.

   We were perfectly safe out on the water. It seemed so peaceful from out here. I spotted the station and pulled the boat into the slip, watching for signs of any activity. The place was empty, completely devoid of sound. I scanned the windows and up and down the dock. Nothing. My son motioned that he wanted to check things out before we tied up and went any further.

   I let the engine idle while Matt quickly found his way over to the entrance, and one by one checked out each window. He moved quickly and silently, peeking into each window to verify that the rooms were safe for entry. He then signaled for us to join him.

   Inside I found a radio and a computer. There was a television in the corner and some vending machines. I don't know why the place was completely deserted, but it was. All of the Coast Guard boats had been missing, and the radio crackled with various messages. Apparently there was a lot of activity going on. I reached up and shut the radio off, not wanting to expose Katie to any more of the horror. I planned on checking things out later. I went over to the computer and checked my emails and PMs for any news.

   "I knew they'd head out to Alex's farm!" I said aloud. My son cast me a curious look. "Honey, it's going to take a lot, but we need to hook up with people I know we can trust. It's going to get worse, and if we are going to try and make it, we need to work in a group."

   At that moment, I got an instant message from Sic! Amazing, it was like a hand that reached all the way across the land to pat my shoulder and tell me things are going to be all right. I quickly explained what happened and gave our location. We devised a plan to meet up at the farm. Being out on the water was safe to be sure, but eventually I would have to return time and time again to land and resupply. I was to find a mode of transportation quickly, and high tail myself out of New Jersey and out into the country ASAP. No main roads, and avoid major highways, these would be jammed and impassible.

   A few more minutes of advice and I logged off. I looked into my kids faces and hoped I was making the right decision.

 


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Dy

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Reply with quote  #56 

You all have me throughly floored... I love the story. Thanks for not letting me die.


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when everything falls apart around you. You can't help but look back on you life to figure out where everything went wrong. you realize you could have done things different. You could have held his face in your hands and told him you loved him. But you cant change your past and with the grace of any god all you can hope for i that you don't fuck up the future. this is your life and it is slipping away. They are after you. So grab ahold of your trusty H&K and go for it.

You have people to save.


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Reply with quote  #57 
Quote:
Originally Posted by Dy

You all have me throughly floored... I love the story. Thanks for not letting me die.


Here is my short entry:

Dy ran outside and got freaking wasted by the National Guard convoy that was moving through the city.


Just kidding. Great work, guys and gals.
Sage

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Reply with quote  #58 
on the rtun can't think pistol in hand two maybe a few more of us left FUCKING DAN and HIS STUPID SNIPER BULLSHIT I won't die like a cornered animal over to my left my friend shifty racks the slid on the the FN my hands shake as i take aim at the reanimated corpse of a friend fuck him he deserved it theUSP coughs and his brains splatter over the forest floor . gotta keep moving blood for the blood god
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Z: Sage! Quick! Think fast! if you have ten books of matches, and i have nine gallons of gasoline, how many acres could we burn?
Sage: all of the
Z: Sage--and i'm not being facetious--that is exactly the answer i was hoping for
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Reply with quote  #59 

Okay, I know this is a bit longer than it probably should be.  But at this piont...what the hell, right?

 

 

 

   It was beginning to look like we had come up with a viable plan.....for now, at least. We had found sanctuary in an older house outside the quaint mountain town of Heber, and gotten word to some that we were heading east toward the rondezvous point.  I can't begin to say how nice it was of the sweet old Mormon couple who had lived and died in this house to stockpile so much food for us.  I almost felt bad bashing their skulls in when we got here. 

 

   It was almost midnight of our second day in this house when Joyce arrived.  I had taken my position on the roof for my turn at watch almost an hour before I saw her.  At first glance she looked like another one of them, but as she staggered closer I could hear her sobs.  Behind her I could see the hideous shapes of perhaps seven or eight of the walking dead.  I raised my rifle. 

 

   "Please....GOD....don't shoot me.....fucking...PLEEEEASE!" she sobbed between harsh ragged breaths.  "Can you...PLEASE.....help...me?"

 

   The hair on the back of my neck stood on end at the sound of her voice.  It was a destitute, beaten sound, as if all her life and passion had been sapped away.  The tears that ran down her face made tiny white rivers in the dried blood that covered it.  Part of me wanted to put her out of this misery, while the rest of me wanted to run out there myself and carry her in.  This led me to my only immediate question.

 

   "Have you been bitten?" I asked.  "Tell me now if you have!"

 

   "NO!" she shouted.  "Will you....please...help me?"

 

   I really had no way of knowing whether or not she was telling me the truth, but in the past weeks I've had plenty of time to learn that the only real thing (other than a pulse) that seperates us from them is our humanity.

 

   "Hit the deck!" I shouted.

 

   "Wha.....?" she gasped.

 

   "ON THE GROUND.....NOOOW!!!!" I growled.

 

   She did this, and quite rapidly I might add.  As she flopped into a prone position on the narrow, two-lane highway, I began to take carefully measured headshots at the ghouls that had followed her.  It went quickly, and the second the last one fell, I called down to Dy to open the front door.  I scrambled down the ladder and out into the living room to find Dy helping the woman into the house.  She was emaciated and covered from head to toe in gore.  Spence began heating water on the old potbellied stove and transfering it to the tub upstairs while Dy tended to her cuts and bruises (of which there were several).

 

   "Where did you come from?" I asked "And how did you make it this far out?"

 

   "Kamas" she said, "and I ran...most of the way."

 

   "Have you been alone this whole time?" I asked in sudden amazement at the possibility.

 

   "Not...well....no." she replied, casting an uncertain look at her new surroundings.

 

   "I'm sorry" I said, "You must think I'm a real dick.  We'll have plenty of time to chat later, after you've had a bath and some food."

 

   "Dy here will take you upstairs and get you cleaned up.  I'll whip up some hospitality.  Our menu is limited, but spagghetti-O's seem to be the house favorite."

 

   "Anything will be fine...and much appreciated" she said, her breathing slower and more regular now.  She was starting to not only catch her breath, but also regain some semblence of composure.  Nonetheless, the tears never stopped.

 

   As Dy prepared to take Joyce up the stairs I pulled her aside.

 

   "Look her over carefully" I said.  "Let me know if you see anything that looks like a bite."

 

   "Gotcha'" she said before resuming the task at hand.  "Why don't you fix something for all of us,...something with vodka, too."

 

   "Count me in!" Spence said as he made his way down the stairs.

 

   "Done deal" I said with a smirk as I reached into the cabinet, retrieved a half-gallon bottle of Absolut and took a long drink.

 

   Moments later Dy returned alone, her face a deadly pale white.

 

   "What is it?" I asked, my guts balling up in my core as I did so. "Was she bitten?"

 

   "No" Dy said flatly.  "Worse....much worse.  I'll bring her down so she can tell you what's going on.  I think you need to know what we may be up against."

 

 

*Next - Joyce's tale*

 

 

  

 

  

    


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dearanna

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Reply with quote  #60 
Apparently, the community horror story died.

Perhaps, a reanimation is in order?


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Reply with quote  #61 

Not dead.  I'm just waitin' on someone else to post a bit before my next one.........


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Reply with quote  #62 

Much calmer now as i sit in the back of a pick up truck. so far half my friends are dead. It was dan he drew them to us...most have beeen thirty of them and well they jumped us as we where gearing up so fucked up...my mind runs with the thoughts of blood...i actually liked it .....it was so distrubing....maybe i'm going insane maybe just maybe....Shifty looks at me like i am stupid as i begn racking the slide on the USP.......you know i don't think i am going to survive this........i wonder if .......


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Z: Sage! Quick! Think fast! if you have ten books of matches, and i have nine gallons of gasoline, how many acres could we burn?
Sage: all of the
Z: Sage--and i'm not being facetious--that is exactly the answer i was hoping for
SICBELLY13

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Reply with quote  #63 

Sorry I'm late.  Ya' know.......other than the money, this whole career thing is highly overrated!  I'm not sure exactly where the ideas for this part came from, but I really hope I don't offend anyone with it....... 

 

 

*DISTURBING CONTENT WARNING* 

 

 

 

 

   As soon as Joyce had finished with her bath, she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen.  Once everyone was finally through eating and had gotten themselves seated at the rustic wooden table (drink in hand), I made a bad attempt at tactfully asking her what her story was.

 

   "So," I said. "What brings you out here?"

 

   At the sound of it Dy shot me a "WTF?" look and Spence drew a in a quick gasp of air that was probably a lot louder than he would've liked.

 

   "I'm sorry" I said. "I just....."

 

   "It's okay" Joyce offered. "I know you're trying.  You want me to tell you what happened out there."

 

   "Yes" Dy blurted out before I could do any more damage.  "Just tell them what you told me, and start at the beginning."

 

   The things she went on to say will forever change the way I look at the living.

 

   "When the world went to shit.....I had a family." she started. "Trent was my husband's name.  We have....had two sons.  Billy was four and Adam was six.  They were good boys."  She started to weep.

 

   "We started in Kamas." she continued. "We stayed barricaded in our house for the first week of it.  Then it got to be too much for us.  People we knew in life were coming back in death as if we owed them something.  The kids couldn't take it.  Billy, in particular.  So anyway, we waited in silence until some poor soul's foraging diverted the attention of the those things, and then we made a break for it in our old van.  We thought we had hit the proverbial  'jackpot' when we saw the line of men standing atop an 18-wheeler which was parked sideways, effectively blocking the highway.  They were waving at us, jumping up and down, and smiling.  We thought we had found salvation........we couldn't have been more wrong.  As soon as we were out of the van they had guns on us.  Billy and Adam were taken and put into one vehicle and Trent was placed in another.  I don't know what happened to the three of them in the almost endless hours afterward, but the next and final time I saw them I knew it had to have been bad.  The men blindfolded me and took me somewhere that reeked of garbage before having their way with me.  They were very rough as they took turns raping and beating me.  I couldn't tell you which they enjoyed more.  At first I screamed and screamed, but that only excited them more." 

 

   She was full-on sobbing now, yet still somehow composed.  It was as if these men had taken her everything but not been able to break her.  Not even in these fucked up times have I ever seen such a look as the one that twisted her once pretty face as she spoke of this.  But from there, it just got worse.

 

     "Can I have another slug of that vodka?" Joyce asked, catching me completely off guard. 

 

   "Be my guest" I said, handing her the bottle. "I think we could all use one."

 

   After all four glasses were once again full, Joyce resumed her account of what had transpired.

 

   "When I did get to see them" she said. "it was awful.  Trent was blindfolded and tied to a huge wooden beam which stood in the middle of a big empty room.  Two of the men were in there with him, making small cuts across his chest with boxcutters.  I began to scream but this time all it did was make them laugh.  Then they brought my two little boys into the room that Trent was in.  They were blindfolded and had their hands tied behind their backs." Only then did her voice begin to truly reflect the pain inside.  "Once both boys were in the room with Trent, the men removed my husband's blindfold and stepped through a set of sturdy looking doors to join the men that were holding me."  Now she spoke and spat with a frenzied rage like I had never seen before.  "Trent began screaming to our boys and they started running clumsily toward the sound of his voice.  Judging by the way the two of them moved, they had been severely beaten....maybe more.  That was when the door opened.  There had been about seven of those things behind it.  They spilled into the room and went for all three living people in the room.  Trent screamed even louder in an attempt to get the boys to go out the door the things had come in, but they just wanted their daddy.  They tried to get to him...I think they were trying to save him.  Their cries brought the corpses to them.  The men......those fuckers.  They forced us to watch as our sons were torn apart, then they made me watch as my husband was torn from his restraints and consumed, piece by....fucking......piece."

 

   At once, I saw the image of my wife's eyes in Joyce's.  In my heart I heard my son's tiny voice screaming out in pain as he was taken down before my helpless gaze.  The pain I had been sitting on seemed to erupt from somewhere deep within.  I started to weep.  I thought of my wife and child and all the 'what-ifs' came through in a rush of cold, desperate pain.  I imagined my own lost family....my whole world......being violated and fed to the dead.  And just then, something in my mind snapped.  My words cannot adequately describe what happened or what it was that had suddenly stripped me of all reason.  Some might call it "seeing red", others still might refer to it as a complete "meltdown", fuck....I don't know.  I didn't really care.  All I knew for sure was that someone or something was going to pay dearly.  And they were going to pay in flesh.  I wanted to watch as their entrails hit the dusty, bloody pavement.  I wanted them to see it, too.  I wanted all the pain, all the loss, and all the hate I had kept so deeply buried to at last be freed from the confines of my soul.  Yes......someone would pay.

 

    All at once, I was torn from my thoughts of immediate vengance.

 

   "Did you guys hear that?" Dy asked in a hushed voice.  "Listen....do you hear it?"

 

   "No", I said, unable to hear much of anything over the roaring, thrumming sound of my own heartbeat.  "What is it?"

 

   As I wiped the tears and snot from my now sweaty face Dy gave me my answer...the perfect answer.

 

   "It sounds like a semi", she said.

 

   "Good" I replied in a half-growl. "Very good."


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Reply with quote  #64 

Revenge is a dish best served cold...

For several years he had waited, plotting; planning, waiting for all the pieces of the puzzle to come together - and all the pieces that seemed to add to the picture as the years raged on. Those first years were the worst.

After killing the men at the camp and rescuing the women and children he had been ambushed and taken hostage by another, larger and well-armed, group of bikers. These guys didn't fuck around. They had beaten me senseless for days at a time, giving me fucking medical treatment to keep me alive, only to beat the shit out of me some more. That went on for months. No questions. No talking. Just them group stomping me unconscious every time I woke up.

One day they threw me down into an empty swimming pool. Well, not exactly empty. It didn't have water; it had lots of posers. The bikers figured the zombies would finish me off and placed bets on how many I'd take down before they got me. Joke was on them, the fucks. I rekilled every zombie in that pool. Over a dozen. Then it was their turn to laugh.

You ever hear a big ass dumptruck back up? Beep! Beep! Beep! Fuck! The truck dumped dozens of zombies into the pool. Maybe dumps not the word, more like they all slid out in a big ol zombie gumbo. The dumptruck had packed them in pretty tight. They were still mobile, just all smashed together, ripping off from the main...glob, to get at me, leaving bits and parts behind.

I won't lie, O was fucking tired. Months of abuse had left me on the edge of death and it had only been pure rage that allowed me to kill the dozen zombies before. I looked at the writhing mass and thought about jumping in, ending it. I looked up at the fucks watching me. They wanted me to do that too. They were waiting for me to do it. Fuck that and fuck them.

Something inside me snapped. No. I take that back. Something inside me tried to snap, tried to break, but then something else happened. I felt an overwhelming release. The tension, like a tightened faucet, burst open and took with it all the weight of the world. I felt reborn.

I waded easily into the horde, careful strikes, instinctual strikes, eliminating the horde even quicker than the first batch. What did I get for my efforts? A steady batch of "fuck you"'s "youre an asshole" and "get more fucking zombies to chew this guys cock off!!!"

I killed over a hundred zombies. I shit you not, they counted. That's when they ran out. By that time the actual fucking leader had come to see the commotion. A big greasy looking bastard that everyone called Thor. Because yes he did look like fucking Thor. I had never seen him until now and I had found myself thinking that if he had done the beatings, maybe I would have died by now. So when the leader got there and saw they were out and heard what had happened he did the only thiong a leader would do in his position.

"Go get some boys in them cattle cars we was gonna use to grab those girls from the college in town. We can get to them later. Right now we need lots and lots of zombies. Our friend here is gonna make us some money. Aint that right, friend?" the way he said that last word reassured me that I was not his friend at all.

The next two years were spent with me either out catching zombies, or killing them. I worked with the crews that went out hunting the 'game', as they called them. The zombies, runners too - if they were lucky enough to find one (they often 'made' some...), we stuffed into cattle cars, dumptrucks, loading vans, you name it, by crews of guys just like me. Prisoners, gladiators, slaves, the ones Not in the gang.

We did have armed supervison though, buit as far as handling the zombies ,we wer expected to improvise. most of us were allowed to fasion weapons to use for fighting and so took them on our excursions. The more zombies we brought back, the better we were fed, because we would have to fight. And they wanted us to fight well, so as to earn well. No one was going to bet against us if we were beaten and starving, and so we made sure to be on our game.

It was kind of a give and take, in a way. In this new world I had found a way to adapt. I became good at snaring zombies, using a long catch pole with multiple snares, aloowing me to control a dozen posers at a time, wrangling them into the trucks. Of course, I had to be careful, any zombie I killed was deducted from my "pay", which was actually not o bad, after I started winning more.

After a year, I was still around, with several other 'classes' of gladiators dead and gone. They even allowed me to teach instead of fight, but I still asked to fight, to stay sharp and make cash.

Yes, cash was still a currency, as was gold, liquor, drugs, smokes and women. Just what you expect in the post apocalyptic biker Valhalla.

But yeah, I fought and I trained and I even became a sort of a trustee, taking my own groups of men out to hunt. I went further then other groups and brought back rarer game, runners. From then on I became something of a celebrity, the man who hunted and fought runners. People loved it, if you call degenerate fucking psychopaths people, they ate it up. I made bookoo cash until there came a day when no one wanted to bet against me.

They fucking went all roman gladiator and gave me my freedom. Of fucking course I swore every they asked did every bow and cutsey and fucked Thor's old lady and the old ladys of a couple other guys, not that they cared if I banged them as they never did because they had choice trim for miles around. it was more of a bonding thing for them, that we banged the same 'old lady'. But I digress, after that I became a fuckign celebrity.

I got pussy thrown at me, and took it all. Parties, booze, drugs, all of it. I went out on raids. I helped kidnap people. I looted, robbed, raped and murdered and did it all in the name of "A good fucking time, right Brimdog?! Woo! Yeah!". Fucking psychopaths.

That shit went on for a few years too. I went back into the gladiator pits for a spell, to make some cash and impress some of the higher ups. Oh, yes. There were higher ups. You see this little gang of bikers was part of a much larger organization. A real shit house rat crazy bunch of guys and gals that, for all I ever knew, had some knowledge of the virus. They were a continental comglomeration of bikers, Nazis, radicals, crazys, prisoners and shit knew what else, but they were being led by some supposedly rogue military outfit, and I wanted to know who.

So when I heard they were coming and the guys were gonna put on a sho, I signed up. Eiother I fucking die or they gonna notice me. They noticed. After I killed a dozen runners bare handed they wanted me to bang their old ladies  hahaha, sick fucks. I banged em though...

And oh yea baby, did I get in deep. I found out everything. You see, some of those gals were very lonely and I knew a thing or to about a thing or two about loosening lips. I even found more than a few lonely housewives and disgruntled employees that would be used by me down the road.

It took time. did it ever. But I finally did it. I got every last one of them. every one. Years of planning, of putting piece together with piece with new piece and old piece and always trying to keep the big picture in mind.

Every base. every camp. Every group. They all have a special something planned for them. Whether its explosives coated with infected fluids, tainted food and water or just strait up injecting them with goop while they sleep, every single one of those fucks, from the lowest pleb biker, to the top brass, that fucking asshole..., someone should have killed him before, maybe none of this would have happened. anyway, their all dead, or will be. Shot, stabbed, blown up, poisned, set on fire. I worked it all out.

One place, a prison, I set to lockdown and never open again. Ever. they'll all stavre to deaeth in there, the couple hundred that call it home. after they eat each that is. another place is just going to blow up. others will burn or flood with blood and infect everyone, ect ect.

and don't worry, no 'innocents' got hurt. We went all fight club and had our people doing the work. Yes, I had people. Those people that watched as I murdered their families. or robbed them and enslaved them. or raped their women. They helped me. God forgive me they helped me. I went to each of them, told my story and my plan. put myself out there. They picked up on that and understood the revenge angle and what had to be done.

From there it was chess and dominoes and a ten thousand piece puzzle all rolled into one that I was putting together in the dark in a room full of spiders. But I made it, we made it. And I watched from the mountain top as dozens of plumes of smoke, from miles around, began to rise from sites that we had attacked, these by bomb it seemed.

But it didn't stop there! No sir. you see, I was a fucking celebrity after all.

I had a big ol convoy, a few hundred, and we had all met up just like we planned to do what we said that we were going to do all along. My trail. For all the shitty things I had done to these people.

we were in a secure school auditorium, and I told them to let me know how they wanted me to die and that if it was by zombie then they better start rounding them up now. a few had laughed at that. what happened next wasn't what I expected.

Reba, a woman whose family I had murdered after raping her in front of them, one of my first monstrous deeds, walked towards me with her long machete. She had said that day, those years ago, that she would cut my balls off. The guys at the time had beat her and raped her for "smarting off, bitch!" So when she brought the blade up I knew she was gonna take her time. And I knew I deserved every second of it.

In fact, I was going to tell her to take her time and enjoy it, when she cut the ropes that had been binding my wrists. She took my hands in hers and said "I forgive you. I forgive you."

I was floored. Litterally, I fucking dropped. I was stunned. Stunned moreso when, as one by one, the other came by, telling me the same thing the reba had.

"I forgive you" a boy who mother I had maimed

"I forgive you" an elderly man whose wife I murdered

"I forgive you" a woman whose son died because I took their insulin

I cried. and cried. and cried. and they didn't stop.

"i forgive you" her face burned by my cigar

"i forgive you" his daughters arm broken - I remember that I had laughed.

"Stop" I mewed. "please"

"I forgive you" her family robbed and forced into slavery

"i forgivre you" her husband and teenage sons dead in the gladiator pits

on and on and on. and I remembered each and every one. I remembered how it felt to be so horrible. so cruel and merciless. Then it had dawned on me that they had stopped. they were staring at me, waiting.

"im sorry" I croaked

"No!" said Reba. "That's ALL over, now." the others murmered their agreement.

"so what now?" I asked, still in disbeliefe that they weren't nailing my nuts to a log and pushing me down a hill. and more.

"You're our leader. you're the gladiator." Reba said as the others laughed and cheered.

"fuck yeah, lets go kill some zombies!" some of the crown shouted. Rebas waving arms quickly quieted everyone. She motioned for me to speak.

"well, before" I waved around "all this, shit, I was supposed to meet up with some friends."

let me tell ya, these people were more then happy to meet anybody that I called friend, thinking that we were all cut from pretty much the same cloth, mentality wise I suppose. Maybe its a leadership thing, I dunno. anyway, after a few trips up and down the country over the last year or so we finally found the others. My Morningstar saga forums family.

I know it has been a while since weve had contact and I didn't want to surprise them, but dammit if Im not one for a sappy reunion. So when I located their survivor colony and took my caravan, which by this point was like alexander army in how we had grown, and went to say "hello" and "how are things" and "damn its sad that some of us didn't make it"

And they were surprised when I showed up too! I quickly settled in and learned how everyone had adjusted to their new lives and routines. This place was huge, and well ran. Millitary of fucking course.

this colony is all business and they didn't take too kindly to my past, seeing as how I was technically wanted. for numerous crimes against humanity. that made me shiver when they read the charge like that. But my vast network of helpers testified at my trial and I was let go with "time served".

figures. its the apocalypse, and I have a fucking record...


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Don't push my back against the wall and I won't knock your dick in the dirt
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