Zombieland [Mature]; It's gonna be one hell of a ride

[Mysteria]

A Roleplay By Sedalb:


http://www.collider.com/wp-content/image-base/Movies/Z/Zombieland/slice_zombieland_movie_poster_01.jpg

Rated M for Mature: Violence, Sexual themes, Strong Language

Welcome to the United States of America. Land of the free, home of the brave… oh yeah and home of one other thing…

Zombies

Ever since some poor sap took a bite out of a contaminated piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken, the first zombie was born. It wasn’t long before they were crawling all over the place. The virus affected their brain, making them erratic, violent… and they had a serious case of the munchies. Their snack of choice? Other humans of course…

Now the entire country, possibly the world, has been infected, and it’s people like me who stayed alive because of a few simple rules.

Rule #1: Cardio
As soon as the zombies went loose, the fat people were the first to go. Poor cardio resulted in zero chance of survival. No matter how secure you were, there’s going to be one time or another that requires you to run.

Rule #2: Double tap
We’re in America, we can never be too stingy with our bullets. After you shoot a zombie, instead of wondering weather or not it’s dead, give it a quick bullet to the head. If you think too long you might find yourself with a “dead” zombie biting your neck to satisfy their hunger.

Rule #3: Avoid Bathrooms
As time passed, the zombies starting getting clever. They started to attack us when we were at our most vunerable place. If they can be avoided, avoid bathrooms at all cost.

We’re in Zombieland now, people who used to be your friends and family are mindless human eating monsters now. If you’re not ready you’ll be soon to go. This is why I have rule #4: Buckle up, because it’s going to be a bumpy ride.


Where are we?

Los Angeles, California

Word of mouth between the non-zombies spoke of a zombie-free area in Detroit Michigan. With all the guns they had up there it really isn’t that much of a surprise. As promising as it does sound, no actual evidence has risen that Detroit is zombie-free unlike the rest of America, but for many non-zombies like us, it’s our last hope for survival.

Get ready for a cross country zombie killin’ ride.

[Mysteria]

Sedalb:

Hi, my name is Robert. I’m 20 years old, single, currently living in Los Angeles to study Commerce, and I’m currently being chased down Hollywood Ave by a pack of ten… twelve young blondes.

Now most guys my age would consider this a fulfilment of a certain lifelong fantasy of many collage virgins such as myself. However the situation in which these girls are chasing me are in the least bit sexual. Oh they want a piece of me alright…

See, these young seemingly attractive young blondes… they’re zombies.

I knew it was a bad idea to walk down such a busy road in a city like this, but the ammunition store was just a few blocks away, and ammunition I needed. I’m currently running away from a good number of blood thirsty zombie chicks carrying an empty double barrel shotgun. See that car that’s crashed into the palm tree a few blocks up? Yeah, that used to be my car.

The gun store was just a few blocks away, thank god for cardio.

Unfortunately I wasn’t prepared for meeting any zombies in front of me, and indeed standing in front of me was a very hungry looking blood soaked Charlie Chaplain. God he looked pissed.

My instincts told me that it was much better to die at the hands of many screaming hot girls then a man who resembled Hitler. But I continued running anyway, hoping for one small miracle to save me from this unfortunate fate. My prayers were answered by the sound of a truck engine.

A truck came speeding around the corner, flattening all the once gorgeous girls behind me. As I looked back to see what the hell happened, I soon jumped out of the way as the truck came zooming towards me. As I jumped out of the way, the truck ploughed straight into Charlie Chaplain, dragging him a few yards across the pavements until the vehicle stopped.

The door popped open as the strangest Guardian Angel I’ve ever seen began walking towards me. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, jeans, with a nice white cowboy hat. He was also wearing a Polaroid camera around his neck while wearing a pair of very tacky star-shaped sunglasses you see in souvenir stores. He was also carrying a bat.

Unsure of what his intentions were, my first instincts told me to run. Instead, I cowered with fear wrapping my arms across my face yelling things like “Don’t hit me” and “Not the face! Please!”. The man gripped both hands of the bat and swung it as hard as he could.

WHAM!

I was half expecting some form of blunt object to hit me, but instead I heard a grunt, followed by more swings of the bat. The man was now beating up one of the zombie chicks who survived. If it weren’t for him, I’d be its meal by now.

“There… that oughtta do it!” He grunted, then taking a picture of his victim with his Polaroid. “Used to be a pretty one too, whatta shame eh?” he laughed?

I was too stunned to say anything, all I managed was a few incoherent wails.

The cowboy looked at me, “You’re like a deer in headlights aren’t chea? How the hell did you manage to stay alive this long boy?” throwing the bloodied bat on his shoulder.

I said the first thing that came to my mind. “Er… Cardio?”

The cowboy laughed, “Cardio eh?” He tapped his bat against my legs, “You’re gonna need a hellofva lot more then Cardio to survive here. Now be quick and help me look.”

Without saying another word he headed towards the sidewalk. I was too scared to follow him, yet too scared to not follow him. In the end I pussied out and began to walk slowly behind him as he observed the tiles in the sidewalk.

“Um…” I started, “What exactly are we looking for?”

“We’re looking for Arnold Schwarzenegger’s star of fame… gotta pay my respects.” He answered, not taking his eyes off the many stars of different actors and directors of the movie business.

“I think it’s over there…” I added, pointing to a single star near the corner.

The cowboy grinned, “Good eyes kid, you oughtta stick with me. Could use someone riding shotgun.” He said as he eyed my shotgun. Half chuckling to acknowledge his pun, he returned to his pickup truck to get something. I turned to face the star of Arnold. That’s a guy we needed, the terminator, the comma- “TAKE THIS YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” The cowboy returned with a sledgehammer and smashed Arnold’s star to pieces, “That’s for goin’ political on us!” he sighed as he heaved his sledge back to his truck.

Something tells me I’m in for one hell of a ride.

[Mysteria]

edeekbcool:

Ive been hiding out in this boarded up church for the past month. Over this time my .22 rim-shot and 12-gauge shottie have almost run out of ammo.

I figure I need to move on to some place safer. Earlier today on my CV i heard about 2 people heading towards the Holywood Bowl. The church im in isn't to far from the Bowl but i crahsed my bike into the door (and broke both) when a zombie tried to claw at my face on the way here.

Ive learnt the best time to travel is at night and my hunting watch (present from my dad at age 14) told me it was 8 PM and from all of my days out hunting I know the sun has just set. I tear a strip of clothing off my camo trackies and tie my long black hair back. I begin to load up the pockets on my hunting belt with my remaining ammo; .22 in the left and 12 gauge in the right. Lazilly i toss my 12-gauge over my shoulder and throw my .22 to the floor next to me. taking out the crowbar i had found stuck in the leg of one of the zombies that broke threw my first baricade atempt i quitely pry out the nails from one of the boards i had found stuck to the window ,before i arived, and poke my head out into the night.

Its a half moon and i can see for about 100 metres in all directions. There are about 5 zombies limping around the church from what i can see. I quickly pry off the rest of the boards and slip through the window, .22 in hand. Checking my watch again, the times now 8:43, and seeing as the walk to the bowl will take a few hours I have to get moving. I silently creep around the edge of the church, being carefull not to alert any zombies to my location. I start walking through the side streets going in the direction of the bowl, although, im not entirely sure im on the right track.

Ive been walking for about an hour and have yet to fire my weapon. although i had to stab a zombie with the hunting knife i Always keep in my boot as it was blocking my path. Ive always been good at knifing animals and i guess zombies are no exception.

After another good 15 minutes walking through the street i find myslef on a main road running down to the Bowl, but it is still shrouded in darkness. I swap my .22 for the 12-gauge and flick the safety off. I can see about 30 zombies colecting around something in the middle of the road. As tempting as it is to go and investigate i dont have the time to waste or the firepower to survive. Its probably just the corpse of some unfortuante human.

Getting woried one of the zombies might turn around and spot me in the moon-light, as im now im out of the cover of buildings, i start to sprint down the road. I run for maybe 3 minutes before i hear the gastly sound ive been dreading....

"AIYEEEE!"

I sprint as fast as i can down the (not for long) deserted road. I throw a glance over my shoulder, theres atleast 30 zombies chasing after me mouths open...some dripping with blood. I run as fast as i can (un-fortuanately not verry fast) down the road, firing my 12 gauge as a zombie lunges out from a side street at me, blowing his head into pieces, I close my eyes and rush the the blood cloud pushing the bleeding corpse aside.

Throwing a quick shot over my shoulder at the horde folowing me, i dont notice the zombie running at me head on. With seconds 2 spare i drop my 12-gauge and pull out my trusty knife, still stained red, and slash up thorugh the zombies skull. Wiping one side as i return it to my boot, i grab my .22 and fire a quick shot into the skull of a zombie ahead of the pack behind me.

I look forward again to see the Bowl looming ahead, throwing one last shot behind me, hoping for the best i dive through the closest door and slam it shut behind me.

Im safe...for now... I lean against a wall watching the zombies scratching at the glass as I hear what sounds like a truck in the distance...

[Mysteria]

yumi-temme:

GET UP GET UP GET UP
Drop the bombshell!

The music rang through the street, as a Ford F-150 came speeding down the road, a yellow smiley face painted on the front bumper. A girl stuck her head out of the sunroof, wearing a hockey mask painted red with blue hearts. She lifted her arm up as she aimed her Les Baer Custom at the zombie by the glass, and fired. It hit once in the head, and once in the back of the neck.

"Aww crap, I missed!" She wailed, lifting up her hockey mask to reveal green eyes now squinting with anger. Her white and red hair was pulled into a high ponytail for now, out of the way so she could aim properly. The driver poked her head out the driver side window and whistled.

"I think your losing your touch, Tannette." The girl said teasingly, earning a glare from the girl known as Tannette.
"Well sorry, Nali, I thought I was getting better."

"Weeeell~ I suppose it could have been the fact that the car was moving." Nali answered, blowing some pink hair out of her eyes.
"You should burn it anyway, Tannette. Poor guy inside must have been frightened to death. He's a nice shot though."

"I suppo--Oh my gosh! Nali! Look!" Tannette yelled happily, pointing to about 5 more zombies that were coming that way due to the music. Nali whistled.

"Looks like a party! What luck!" She cried, sticking her head back in. Her sister smiled excitedly, before doing the same, as the music was blasted again, and the vehicle revved.

Now look who's comin' yeah look who's back
Quick drop the bombshell
Straight to the track
The 21st century killing machine
I'm on the inside of a five-headed team

As the zombies came running closer, the vehicle's tires screamed as the rubber revved against the black and red street. The vehicle reered back, before speeding toward the zombie group. It rammed into them, hitting two as another one was completely mutilated by the tires as they crushed its head and bones. It ran a few meters before turning, so that the driver side was toward the zombies. The pink haired girl stepped out, as Tannette popped out of the sun roof again. She climbed out, but stayed on the roof.

The zombies screamed as they ran closer. Nali heaved a sledgehammer out of the driver side, and gripped it like a baseball bat. She took position and waited for the zombies. TannetteAimed carefully, taking out two of the zombies that got close, shooting their heads once, and their legs as well. A particularly fat one was coming closer, and Nali checked her grip, before smirking. This one the female baseball league in '03. She took a step, and swung the sledgehammer as hard as she could, breaking the zombies skull to bits, and sending blood everywhere.

It fell, and twitched a few times before stopping. She sighed and leaned the sledgehammer down on the car, turning to her sister.

"See? I told you that if you slam the brain, it would die." Nali stated. Her sister shrugged, grabbing a tattered black notebook and jotting that information down.

"Very interesting. This just help me prove that zombie...mutationism is mostly in the brain. I think it might have something to do with the saliva of the zombie." Tannette declared, smiling at how her theories were turning out. Man, if only this was a course in college. Then she would Ace with flying colors.

"Should we check on the dude?" Her sister inquired, pointing toward the door.
She watched as her younger twin, by 53 seconds, shrugged in neutrality, not really caring one way or the other.

This could never be the same
And We just wanna survive

Tannette sighed as the song ended, poking her head inside the truck to turn the CD off, popping it out. On the cover, in red sharpie, were the words;
'Zombie killing mix'
She smiled. It was their favorite songs, and they made it in an abandoned store bfore the zombies invaded it. Not saying they didn't grab a few...necessities.

She grabbed a few bttles of thick black liquid before climbing out the open driver's side door. She poored a little on eache bodie, and put the empty bottles in the bag she carried, and removed a box of matches. She struck a match, and watched it burn in her hand for a few moments, before smiling and droping it onto the black liquid. It was gasoline. And it cleaned up bodies well. She watched as the zombie's bodies burned away. Fire was such a magical thing to Tannette.

Nali looked towardds the door. After a moment of hesitation, she walked over and knocked on it with her foot, careful to avoid the bloody body of the zombie her sister had hit.

"Yo! You in there? Parties over, time to move!" She called, blowing her pink hair, once again, out of her face.

[Mysteria]

emptycarousel:

Nico Parker, the pleasure is all yours. First thing’s fir…-Motherffff-

And here we go again!

Dangling on the slightest strand of hope, the plummet below was unnerving, horrific sight. How the hell did I get in this mess? I was out of breath, and this…this wasn’t helping me catch it. I could be dancing my go-go booty off in a sweaty club next to Honey A with no shirt and Honey B with the ecstasy. But, noooo! Honey A and Honey B have to be some wretched, diseased, and deathly versions of themselves looking like Liza Minnelli in her “Mama, are ya’ proud o’ me now!?” stages.

Holding on only by a hair, now…

“Ugh! Fine!”

I stopped running for just a moment, tucked the mace between my legs (among other things), turned to look in the glass building’s reflection, and--Ooh! I look faaabulous--realigned my fake eyelashes to where they were supposed to be. No more dangle. I’m not losing these babies. I call my left eyelashes (the ones with the rhinestones in them) “Kibbles”…and the right eyelashes “Cher.”


Cher’s the boss. Don’t lie to yourself, Baby.

“Unggggh!” the moan of Zombie-Honey A came closer. Before this nasty zombie crap, a moan from Honey A would’ve made my night. Well, more accurately, his night. Mmmmhmmm, I said it. But, so gargled and gaunt, that warbled tone was looking to feed a hunger I wasn’t willing to fulfill anymore.

Rather, I spun my mace into his temple. The splattering sound was so gross, I just had to scream and quiver my hands in disgust.

“Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.” I could gag!

[Mysteria]

Death Wish:

Donnie walked quietly down the unmoving I-95. His left hand was shoved into his hoodie pocket holding the sony made cd player. In his right hand he cluthed a tire iron. The music coming through the headphones was turned down low so donnie could vaguely hear his surroundings. Either way it wasnt a smart move but he felt like he would lose it walking in silence.

"bring da motha f***in ruckus.." he sang the lyrics quietly to himself.

He wore a light grey hoodie and on it were black logo's spray painted on, probably by hand not design. There was also a few splotches of blood on the hoodie. blood and small chunks of flesh were stuck to the tire iron as well.

"wit ghostface catch the blast of a hype verse ma glock burst..."

Donnie looked at all the devastated cars around him. Most of them were out of the normal lines of traffic. Some of them were burning, others were upside down, some were even still running, none were moving however, and all of them were either empty or had dead bodies inside.

"I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk..."

Donnie stopped walking and paused the music. His eyes danced across the horizon ahead of him. He had one this several times toay since he started walking. He looked around him at both left and right then he looked beehind him. Nothing was around except the abandoned cars and dead bodies. He was also listening for any sign of anything. Donnie had come to learn that in zombieland, anytime you seemed or felt alone, you probably weren't.

He turned and focused ahead and began walking forward again. He was about to pressed the play button when he saw the sun reflecting off a windshield, a moving windshield. He felt a rush of hope flow through his body. He dropped the tire iron and threw his hands up into the air and jumped around "OVER HERE!!"

Thump, thump. The tires of the car rolled over a dead body. Kira looked in the rearview mirror at the body she had just run over. "ooo your really dead. You didnt even have any juices to squeeze out" she said snorting at her remark. She looked ahead and slowly turn the steering wheel as she turned the bend on the highway. she noticed there werent as any bodies closer to Delaware as there were near Philly. "No wonder delaware was so boring, they had a population of 12." she joked to herself.

She looked a bit down the road at the frozen traffic of abandoned cars. "some of these are niiiice" she said cruising slowly down the road looking at the cars she passed. Kira then noticed a guy moving and jumping around and waving his arms. She could also hear his yells for help faintly. "That ass clown is gonna wake up the drag bags yelling like that" she said calmly. Looking to her right she could see zombies coming over the hill towards him now. She wanted to save him though, she was getting lonely again and needed someone to talk to. She turned the steering wheel and went off the road so she could go faster without weaving through cars. She pushed her foot down on the accelerator and sped towards the guy racing the zombies.

Donnie smiled glad to see the person in the big black truck saw him. He then heard a loud growl coming from a distance. He looked to his left and saw a dozen zombies running towards him through the grassy field and soon that dozen doubled. "oh SHIT!" he said and took off running towards the truck. He could see the trunk getting close but the zombies were closer.

Kira could see the zombies were beating her to the guy so she put the pedal to the floor. She could see the messenger bag hung across his chest swinging like it had a weighted object inside, perhaps something of use to her.

WHAM! The Ford Explorer collided with the zombie closest to the guy, it was about to tackle him. Hittin the brakes in between the other zombies and the male survivor bought him a second of time. "Hurry up get in." She yelled after putting down the window a little. The guy scrambled to the rear driver side door oof the car and pulled the handle "Its locked!" he yelled to her. Her hand flung onto the unlock button. As soon as the locks jumped up into the unlocked position the guy flung open the door dived into the car and slammed the door shut a split second before a zombie came banging anxiously on the exterior.

The zombies pounded and rammed the car visciously their hunger for living flesh drove them mad. They climbed onto the hood and roof, smearing blood and grime on the windows from their hands and faces pressed on the glass. "go before they get in!" the guy in the back seat said sounding frantic still. "I know i am....chill" she said pushing the accelerator all the way to the floor. The tires spun kicking up dirt and dust before picking up enough friction to launch the car forward.

As the car jerked forward a few of the zombies lost their weak grips on the smooth exterior of the large SUV. Though two of them held on tight. One was on the hood still attacking the wind shield trying to get at Kira. The other was holding onto the bars on the roof with one hand and pounding the top with the other.

Up ahead kira could see the side of the road come to an ending and an exit ramp was there. She looked in the rearview at her new passenger "hold on" she said driving back up onto the road. The car jumped as the terrain changed. The zombie on the hood was thrown upward and back. As it flew back it collided with the other zombie knocking it off as well. The two zombies crashed face first into the windshield of a honda civic. Donnie had got the warning a little late as well. When the car jumped he was thrown to the side and his head hit the window with a thud.

"OW! maybe a better warning next time?!" he said rubbing his head.

"yeah sorry bout that" she said calmly focusing on the road.

"Thanks for the help any way. Oh boy! i dont think you dont wanna go that way" he said calmly.

"Ooookay, hold on." she said, she made a quick turn onto the exit ramp.

Donnie was jerked to the side again hitting his head on the window again, in the same spot. "Come on!! warning!" he said rubbing his now really sore head.

She giggled "im sorry, you should come up here so you can see" she said looking at him in the rearview.

He climbed up into the front seat with a little struggle. Once up front and settled he looked at her and smiled "whats your na---" she cut him off before he could finish.

"Star!....just call me star. Its easier, less personal." she said calmly. She had learned the hard way that making friends in zombieland was the makings of emotional homicide.

Donnie gave her a sideways look and nodded. He had never given himself a fake name and wasnt prepared to either. "ugh ok, well in that case call me.....wu" he said a little nervous now.

She looked at him with an amuzed/curious look "you mean wu like the Wu tang clan?" she laughed.

"Ugh yeah pretty much" he nodded a little embarassed now.

"whatever, fine by me. So where are you headed wu?" she said looking at the road again. She was already amuzed by her new companion.

"Well no where really. Well actually i was looking for a safe place to take shelter." he said calmly.

"HAH you mean a hiding place." she accused him quickly.

He snickered "is that what they're calling it now in zombieland" He said trying to make himself feel less embarassed. however his cheeks turned a little pink from embarassment giving up his guise.

She smiled "yup thats what we call it." she said pinching her lips together Thump, thump. The car rolled over another body.

"well whatta bout you ms. brave and bold, where you going?" he asked.

"nowhere, well im just trying to see everything there is to see in this country before it completely falls apart. Looks like its happening already so im a little behind schedule. So i guess you can say im headed west." she said slowing the car to a stop then looking at him.

"oook. thats fine by me. Wait what are you stopping for?" he asked looking at her a little nervous.

"whats in the bag? if we are going to travel together no secrets." she said calmly.

"ok 'Star'" he put emphases on her false name. He opened the messenger bag that he had with him and pulled out the MP5 inside.

"oh, mind if i ask why arent you using that?" she asked a little confused now and completely ignoring his smart remark.

"no more bullets" he said pulling the trigger a few times only to hear a few clicks. He then dumped the bag but nothing came out.

she nodded and turned back to the road. "oook, well all i got is a baseball bat and an empty shotgun so we are in the same boat." she said the truck began to move again.

He nodded slowly and looked out the window. he realized he had left his tire iron on the road when he was getting her attention. He forgot about it quickly though, there would be plenty of other, more creative weapons to be had in zombieland.

[Mysteria]

Moosh:

"Danny?"

No reply.

"Danny? Danny!"

"What?" the man in question snapped.

"There's too many stairs... you're gonna have to carry me..."

"There's no way i'm hauling your fat ass up these stairs."

"S-shut up!" The voice went from a plea to a whine. "Mom always told you to stop calling me that!"

"Well mom's not around anymore, is she?"

Daniel Devoe forced open the heavy metal door with a huff. He glared out at the sunlight as if cursing its existence before stepping out on to the roof of the anonymous, buisness-type building. His brother Bogey followed close behind, practically heaving his lungs out. He shoved Dan out of the way and wandered towards the edge of the building, taking in his surroundings.

"Where are we?" Beau, AKA Bogey, asked. He looked over the side of the roof questionably, as if searching for an answer.

"How should I know?" Dan stuffed his hands in his pockets, pulling out a cluster of lollipops. He snorted. "All the good flavors are gone! All that's left is orange and green."

"Can I have one?"

Dan unwrapped a green one. "No."

He meandered over to his brother's side and looked around, his honey-brown eyes void of any sort of emotion. After a long pause he said "I don't see any zombies. I wonder if they'll follow us up here."

"Probably." Beau said.

Dan crossed his arms. "How would you know?"

"Remember that one zombie whose arms I cut off with hedgeclippers? He still followed us." Beau ran a hand through his hair matter-of-factly. "I don't think stairs are gonna stop these guys."

Dan clicked his tounge, rolling the lollipop to the other side of his mouth. "We should probably get the hell out of here."

"Good idea."

The two brothers trekked back down the stairs, their boots thunking heavily against the steps. Both of them had clearly run into their fair share of zombies; their clothes were torn in random places and splattered with all sorts of zombie remains, from blood to skin chunks to brain matter. Dan had a shotgun with a sawed-off barrel over one shoulder, which at one point (judging by the blood caked to it) was used to club a zombie to death. Bogey hadn't managed to find a gun, and Dan refused to let him use the one he'd found. Instead Bogey had what appeared to be a parking meter strapped to his back thanks to an oversized belt. After picking out all the change on the inside, Bogey started using it to brutally bash in zombie skulls.

The two brothers crouched by the doorway to the building, looking out hesitantly. They didn't see any zombies; but then again, they could be surprisingly sneaky at times. It was best not to take any chances.

"Okay," Dan began, gripping his shotgun. "On the count of three, make a run for the car. One, two..."

"Oh, shit!" Bogey cursed, swinging around. Dan looked back over his shoulder to see what used to be the lobby's receptionist stumbling towards them, eyes foggy and unseeing, jaw gaping open. A rope of blood and saliva ran from her open mouth.

Daniel bolted out the door with Bogey in pursuit. "MOTHERF--!"

With surprising agility Dan leapt into the driver's seat of their (stolen) convertable, jamming the key into the ignition.

"Hey! I wanna drive!" Bogey protested, jumping into the passanger seat and slamming the door shut.

Daniel slammed on the gas. "Shut up, Bogey! Just SHUT UP!"

Dan swung the car around, creating a long, arched skid-mark. The receptionist bolted across the road, jumped for the hood of the car, and was promptly sucked underneath the wheels.

Bogey grinned. "Now thats what I call lethal DEVOE-tion!" He said, pumping a fist in the air.

Dan bumped his head against the steering wheel and groaned.

[Mysteria]

demondj0220:

Longshot walked down the streets of LA, looking for at least a sports supply store or a gun shop to restock his dwindling supply of ammunition. He checked his hip pouches again, and found the same thing he saw the past few hours: four clips left, fifteen rounds each. 'Sixty rounds, not even enough to make sure these suckers stay down,' he thought, keeping an eye and an ear out for signs of any zombies. As he kept walking, he heard gunshots and engine revs from a mile or two away.

"Holy...," he muttered, in shock. "How can there be any humans left standing?" He quickened his pace, finally finding what he set out to earlier that afternoon: a gun shop, completely untouched.

"Jackpot!" he said, trying to keep from attracting any zombies as he made his way to the store, pulling on the handle of the door. With a soft hiss of the piston, and an electronic chirp somwhere in the bowels of the store, he entered, looking at all the assembled guns on display.

"If there is a god of weaponry, I pray to thee that I am not worty," Longshot joked, looking for magazines for his weapon. After around five minutes of searching, he found them, inside one od the display cases in the hunting section. He also found the rounds he was looking for: hollow point rifle rounds. Once Longshot loaded up his pouches and started heading out the way he came in, he heard a growl coming from the back of the store.

"Just my luck," he complained, pulling up his rifle, aiming down the sights. As the store clerk, now a flesh eating zombie freak, charged, Longshot kept a steady bead on his target, waiting for it to clear the cluttered back section of the store. "I got a present for you, dipstick," he taunted, and as the zombie started to roar, Longshot put a bullet through the zombie's mouth, taking the back of the head with the rest of the bullet. The zombie fell backwards, landing squishily on the laminate flooring. He walked up to the still corpse, and with a practiced one handed shot, put another round between the zombie's eyes.

"Nice puppy, now stay dead," Longshot said with a chuckle, grabbing several boxes of hollow point rounds, and exiting the store. He heard from a few survivors heading east that there was supposed to be a zombie-free zone at the Hollywood Bowl, and after grabbing a map of the city from the rack by the door, started heading that direction on foot.

[Mysteria]

splicer407:

Spinner stopped for a second in his walk down the empty street, the hilt of his scythe bumping against his right hip, his chain clinking a bit from the motion and the edge of his coat hanging nearly motionless in the slight breeze. It was definitely too quiet. Suddenly three zombies burst out of a side alley, and two more from a nearby dumpster. He quickly drew the one other weapon he had, a 9 mil, and started shooting their legs, backing down the street the way he had come for more time. Two of them fell over, one had a few holes in its face and the other holes in its legs, that one kept crawling closer.

Spinner emptied the last few shells from the gun and then, completely out of ammo, threw the thing so hard that it impacted at least 2 inches into a skull, sending the owner to the street like a cinder-block. Spinner then grabbed the end of his scythe and swung it off his back, almost brushing the ground, and straight up into the head of the lead zombie, leaving two still alive. The one that could still walk seemed more agile than the others had been and rushed him, holding a lead pipe in its hands. Spinner slammed the head of the scythe into the thing's stomach, sending it reeling back.

Quickly throwing the scythe up in the air Spinner flipped over his hands and slammed his feet into into the zombie's ribcage, causing a horrible cracking sound as they both landed on the street, spinner dodging to the side and catching his scythe on the way down, then slicing the creature's head off before slamming his foot down on the head of the crawling one.

He began to clean the scythe on the clothes the zombies wore, leaving large red streaks. He was less than a mile from the bowl, he should be able to make the walk in about ten minutes and the zombies had been thinning out. He reached into his pocket and grabbing an ear-bud, then slipping it into his ear. Then he grabbed his iPod and clicked the play button after selecting Metallica's 'Better than You'. He resumed walking down the road, bobbing his head to the song.

[Mysteria]

Sedalb:

I stepped into the cowboy’s truck, passenger side as I lay my shotgun barrel facing upwards next to my feet.

“Um…” my attempts at starting conversation were pitiful, “What’s your name?” I asked.

The cowboy grunted, “No…” he answered, “No names, makes us all fuzzy and attached… ya’know, all that bullshit.” He turned to face me, “Just call me Canuck…”

“Canuck? As in, Canada?” I questioned weather it was possible for someone like this to come Canada.

“Don’t give me no bullshit boy. Ask me to say “Aboot” and I’ll shove my fist up your ass and rip tear out everything I can grab hold of!” I felt very uncomfortable for obvious reasons. Though the fact that people like this can also live in Canada gave me a small amount of comfort. America wasn’t the only country with rednecks. “What should I call you?” Canuck asked.

“Call me Happy Meal.” I answered, which got an immediate response from Canuck.

“Happy Meal?!?” he laughed, “What kind of queer name is ‘Happy Meal’? Bullshit I’m calling you Happy. We’re not at McDonalds.”

I didn’t care what he called me, as long as he left my ass alone.

“So where are we headed?” I asked as Canuck started the engine.

Putting the truck back into drive he answered, “Headin’ to the Hollywood Bowl. I got myself some supplies there.” I wondered to myself what kind of supplies this might be, then again I never really met a Canadian redneck before... who knows what this guy has.

It wasn’t a far drive. Luckily Hollywood Ave pulled pretty close to the Hollywood Bowl. Soon enough we found ourselves in the parking lot, but we weren’t the only ones. Two girls who appeared to have arrived driving a Ford F-150 appeared to be shouting at something, or someone inside the building.

“The hell is this?” Canuck said to himself while I was more or less thinking the same thing.

We parked quite a distance away until Canuck jumped out of the truck and made his way towards the group. Though they were girls, having just survived an ordeal involving 10 gorgeous women has made me develop a small trust issue with women. So naturally I stayed behind Canuck, holding my empty shotgun for show. Canuck on the other hand did not seem scared, but a bit furious.

“Were you inside taking my stockpile?” he yelled, waving around his sledgehammer as if it were a toy. “I swear..” the man’s face was red with rage as he kicked open the door. He walked in, ignoring the other person who was inside hiding from the zombies and walking straight to one of the corners. I gave a small shrug to the ladies as I quickly followed Canuck inside the building. What exactly was he looking for?

Soon enough, the answer came when he yelled “A HA!” holding a rather large cardboard box. “Still here!” he said with a satisfied grin on his face. He opened the box and I found out what “his stockpile” was.

It was a box filled with M&Ms, and apparently he had two of them.

“Found them in the supermarket, just layin’ there. All the flashlights and water were gone, but they was too stupid to take the M&Ms.” He was in heaven at the moment, I could tell.

Other then figuring out that my fellow survivor adores M&Ms, there were three new people here as well. “Um… hi” I said… proving that my attempts at starting conversation were still pitiful.

[Mysteria]

yumi-temme:

Tannette stared at the boy. He looked really awkward. Fun...
" 'ello. You look a little shaken. Not having a good time yet~?" She teased, leaning against the wall. Nali came from the door and stood beside her sister.

"Pyro, dear, don't harrass the poor creature. It's bad enough lone ranger here is crazed, don't spook him yet!" Nali chastised sarcastically. Tannette put up her hands in mock surrender, then stared at the man.

"Yeah...M&Ms are good. But I like Mars bars. They are way more awesome." Tannette said, looking at her surroundings. Hmmm. Ok, interesting. This was way more boring a place than she thought.
"Rubix, can we go now...? I'm bored..." She mused, leaning on her sister dramatically. Nali patted her sister's head teasingly.
"No, my dear, we just met non-zombie humans. Let's enjoy the moment. Who knows when they could turn, and we'de have to put them out of their misery."

"Yay...More burning." Tanette sighed, her voice a little creepier than normal. Tannette was a Pyro in every sense of the word. Nali didn't mind though. It WAS helpful. And since they would pour as much gasoline from abandoned cars as they could, they were good to go, so their Ford could go for miles...Or in case they needed a zombie quick fix.

"Soooooo...you guys heading somewhere? Or are you just wandering around?" Nali asked, pulling her sister of her.
"And is it just you two...? OR are their more of you?"

[Mysteria]

Serendipitous Bliss:

Picture this:

About mid way through high school, you find out that you pretty much can’t live without something – say, for example, one candy bar a day. Just one, that’s all. So you’ve had one, every day. Since high school. Kind of like a cup of coffee; it’s innocent, simple and to keep you going.

And then some idiot goes and gets himself zombified and you have to risk your own neck just to get a Goddamned Baby Ruth, when the desk in your classroom has a whole drawer full of them. But your classroom is probably swarming with zombified five-year-olds.

So, here I am, stalking a convenience store in the fashion district of downtown LA and fifteen not-very-easy miles from where I want to be, but honestly, I doubt the Hollywood Bowl has as many Baby Ruth’s as I’d like.

“Well, now or never.”

I stand up slowly from behind the overturned Beamer – such a pity, too – and move towards the front of the store. The first few non-zombies I introduced myself to were ok. And then they died. And then they tried to make me a snack. So, I’m not big too on getting to know whoever is left anymore. I just really want to live through this and maybe – hopefully – get my damn candy bar.

The barrel goes in first (I learned that from horror movies) and then I’m supposed to peak my head in there to see if anything is going to make me a meal. Well, that’s the part I hate, but it’s necessary, indeed; my gray eyes scan the inside of the little convenience store, making sure the immediate area is clear. Darting into the building, I press my back to the end of a shelving unit and glance either way, like this was some spy movie. God, I must look ridiculous right now.

Next, I glance into the surveillance mirrors, positioned at the corners of the room near the ceiling. The place is a mess, may I add; there’s glass on the floor from broken bottles and the broken doors of the coolers two isles to my right, there’s liquid mixed with blood, making the floor slick and a various assortment of has been knocked off the shelves onto the floor. One isle to my left, I can see – and smell – a corpse, but the positioning of another mirror gives me a blind spot.

Candy is usually near the check-out, right? So, I dart to the left, away from the wall of drink coolers and that’s when I heard it, that stupid, droning groan. The sound of something dragging across the floor soon joins the groan, just before it turns into a snarl.

Crap. I just want my candy bar!

[Mysteria]

edeekbcool:

After a few minutes i think the zombies got bored and started to wander off, luckily though the sound of a truck was getting closer and soon enough a Ford F-150 pulled up in the car park. Not wanting to get involved i sat in my corner and watched...

Two girls got out of the car couldn't have been older than 20 both looking verry similar in apearance. Wondering if they'd notice me I stayed sitting in the corner. They came over and (un-fortuanately) saw me hiding. Running through the door they started teasing me. aparently i looked "scarred".

I pull the piece of cloth from my hair and slowly stand up i start to say hi but am cut off by a huge red neck bursting through the door, waving a sledgehammer wildly. i slowly sit back down hoping he doesn't notice me aswell, but he just walks over to a box in the cornor and lets out an excited "A HA!"

I stand up again and watch as the redneck gets followed in by a slightly timid looking man who peers into the box, he looks disapointed...

I quitely walk over to where there all standing to see the box is full of M&M's...i go and sit back in the cornor...this is gonna be one hell of an experiance...

[Mysteria]

Angelicwarrior:

Okay, yeah most people would be like "Oh shit we're all gonna die! This is the end of the world and we're all royally screwed!" But, for some reason though I'm not like that. yeah true I am a bad ass ex-marine but still! Does it not seem the least bit strange that I find it amusing to bash some zombie heads and break things!?

Oh well maybe I'm just thinking too much. I mean really I've been driving down this road for two days, I haven't seen a mush-head to kill in even longer; my trigger finger is startin to get a little itchy. You know more the usual. Ah well I guess that is one down side to everyone being a zombie.

As I'm driving I look to the side of the road and notice a girl walking into a store. A zombie maybe?

"What the hell?"

After I stopped my car I got out on leaned up against my car. I don't exactly want to make myself known just yet. No instead I'm just gonna wait right here and see what.....what the hell is she doing!? As I watched this woman I couldn't help but wonder what was up with her.

"It's almost like this woman thinks she's in some spy movie or somethin."

Okay this woman is crazy! No point in sticking around I mean really. But as I thought that a zombie came into view behind her. Not even really thinking I pulled out my pistol and ran in.

"HEY LOOK OUT!!!"

It's about damn time! I think as I pull the trigger and splatter the zombies brains all over the shelves behind it. Seeing the other one basically crawling on the ground I give out a small laugh.

"Lets see here."

A pole, the perfect weapon for this occasion. Seeing it on the ground I pick it up, casually walk up to the zombie, well.....lets just say the zombie now has two new holes.

"You all right?"

I asked as I turned around to face the girl. Oh my god! was about the only thing I could think.

This girl is hot! Okay I just need to act smooth.

"Name's Twenty, you?"

Somethin told me my luck had just changed.

[Mysteria]

Moosh:

Daniel and Bogey cruised for a while, not really bothering to say anything. They didn't know where they were going. The plan had been to find a place to hide and wait for the zombies to all die off (if they would ever die,) but it seemed as if no matter where they went, zombies always managed to follow.

Of course this was a problem, but at the moment they had worse things to worry about. Their car was almost out of gas, and if they didn't refill it soon, they would be (for lack of a better term) completely and utterly screwed.

Fucking zombies, Dan thought, looking as if he were about to fall alseep at the steering wheel. He took a turn, slowing the car in an attempt to save gas. Fucking car, running out of fucking gas...

Bogey leaned out the window, his hair ruffling in his face as they drove along. "Hey Danny, what's a Hollywood bowl?"

Dan shrugged. "I don't know."

"There's a building up ahead that says 'Hollywood Bowl." Bogey said with a hungry smile. If the sign said 'bowl' on it, then chances were it had food to put in a bowl, right?

Dan gave him a look that suggested he had died on the inside. "That's great, Bogey. Really great. And hey, if you happen to see, oh, a weapon supply store anywhere, don't wait to tell me, okay?" Dan fixed his eyes ahead, scowling. At that moment the car made a sound like a dying animal, rapidly losing momentum. "What the hell?"

Bogey bit his lip, poking the gas meter. "We're out of gas, Danny."

Dan snorted and forced open the car door. "I noticed. C'mon, Bogey, lets go check out the Hollywood Bowl, whatever it is."

Bogey grinned, grabbing his parking meter and climbing out of the convertable. "What about the car?" He asked.

Dan stuck his hands in his pockets, searching for his stash of lollipops. "Leave it."

"But I like this car!" Bogey protested, watching his brother walk away. Bogey gave one last look at the shiny, zombie-gut-encrusted convertable before calling "Wait for me!" to his brother and running to catch up.

[Mysteria]

Sedalb:

Slipping a few m&ms in his mouth, Canuck addressed the others.

“You kids trying to find a place to stay” he asked, throwing his sledgehammer to the side to free his hand to make it much easier to enjoy his candy. “This here is the safest place in all of L.A thanks to little ol’ me. I’m staying here for one more night though, then you can do what you wish to the place.”

I couldn’t help but ask, “Where are you going?”

“Where am I going? Hell if I know, this is my vacation time and I’m gonna spend it how I wish.” He answered with a mouth full of m&ms.

Vacation? Well I guess he was from Canada, makes sense that he got caught up down here in the middle of his vacation. “So you got stuck here when the zombie virus hit on your vacation?” I restated, “Kinda messes up your trip huh.”

Canuck looked at me with screwed up eyes, “Messes up my trip? Hell no, this has been by far the best vacation I’ve ever been on!” he walked back to his pickup truck laughing at the idea of how a zombie invasion could possibly ruin his trip.

With him gone, it left me with the two girls who looked around my age, and one other guy who seemed he was running from zombies recently.

“I’m Happy Meal…” having just remembered Canuck’s reaction to my name, “But you can call me ‘Happy’ for short. How about you guys?” I asked.

Canuck came back with a large hockey bag filled with who knows what. By the way he was carrying it seemed fairly heavy, and definitely not filled with m&ms. He threw the bag down inside the building, which was in fact the main lobby of the Hollywood Bowl theatre. There he opened it and opened the bag and revealed the contents.

Inside was a vast collection of rifles, shotguns, knifes, sharp sticks, crowbars… nearly anything you can imagine some crazed gun-crazy bank robber would pack. The cowboy grinned as he threw me a box of shotgun shells.

“Before we stay, we’re gonna need some water. Some idiot decided to throw a zombie in the water filtration system in the Hollywood Bowl… so don’t drink it.” He laughed, “If you wanna stay here, grab a gun. If you wanna help me find water… grab a bigger gun.”

“Are these your weapons… or did you find them here?” I had to ask

“Well…” he started, “Those two hunting rifles and pistol are mine. Found these in random empty homes. God Bless America and their right to carry as many ass kicking guns as they please!”

[Mysteria]

splicer407:

Spinner had kept walking and now he rounded the top of the last hill and jumped the fence into the seating section of the Bowl. He walked down the rows, spotting a few dead bodies among them, and finally made it into the building. But where were all the people? He had heard that this was a zombie-free zone... After searching a few of the smaller rooms he arrived at the lobby, where he spotted several people standing there and he darted back around the corner.

After poking his head back around the corner and turning his music down he concluded that these people were non-zombies both by their appearances and the few words he caught from across the room. Spinner made his move out from behind the wall and instantly tripped over a cable lying across the entrance to the hall, causing him to fall to the floor as well as knocking his scythe loose. When it hit the floor it made a huge clatter and came to rest only a few inches away from Spinner's nose.

"Uh... Hi." he said, face still on the floor which, thankfully, was rather clean where he was.

[Mysteria]

yumi-temme:

While Tannette was spazzing happily about the weapons, and they're size, Nali looked over at the young boy who introduced himself as Happy meal.

"Interesting name..." She looked toward her sister and sighed at her childness. "I am Rubix, and that is Pyro. Cause I can think outside the box, and her...well, the name is self explanatory." She ended, looking at the Man peeking around the corner.

"Well, your awfully stalkish looking. What do they call you? Creeper?" She asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow in half interest.

Her sister was digging through the weapons excitedly, babbling on about some weapons.

"Cause when we got there, a zombie that looked like Larry Goodborne came trotting out, an arm dangling from it's mouth by an artery! And Rubix and I, Thank God, had just raided a gun shop, that strangely had rubber ducks in there as well, and, anyway, we had this kind of Gun, But it was brown, not gray. And the shells were a bit differrent. I liked it a lot, see, cause the trigger was nice, and therre was little recoil, if any." She babbled, holding up a Remington R-15 VTR in complete awe and amazement.
"DUDE! Where. Did. You. Get. THIS!" She cried happily. "This is like my favorite to use, but a zombie bit my old one, and it totally died! I shall name it...Pressly!" She said, hopping up.
"And if you don't mind, I'll help with the water thing. I'm bored to tears!" She explained, turning to her sister and the man behind the wall.

"I wonder if there are more of us out there~" She mumbled.

[Mysteria]

DayDreamer:

Tch.

Tch.Tch.Tch

Worthless piece of crap stolen vehicles. The trouble with grand theft auto is that you can't get a carfax when you're hotwiring a car you found along the highway. At best, the way this craptrap runs, it would be considered tampering. I could do a decent stint in the good ol' pokey either way. It's funny, isn't it? Zombie apocalypse at hand and here I am, talking about silly things like felonies.

I miss Boston.

I've been driving so long, lookin' for life, fightin' for the same. I've stolen more in the last month than I have in my entire existance. Food, gas, water.. anything I can get to help me survive. I got this gun from a pawn shop I looted a pawn shop in Omaha. Man, those Nebraska zombies are the worst. Very unfriendly group, I must say. Hah, as if there are friendly zombies somewhere, waiting to have coffee and chat.

Tch, hmph, tch.

And that would be the end of my current transportation. Looking around, doesn't seem like L.A. has a lot to offer, more than Boston had, of course.. once everyone I knew was dead.. or rather, undead. I suppose the logical thing to have done would be head back to Louisville and search for the remainders of my childhood, but eh, never look back. So I figure, if I gotta bite the big death chalupa, might as well do it in the most glamourous city in the country. Who knows, maybe with the shortage of actresses alive, I can make it big.

That was silly, don't be silly, Bean.

And I suppose talking to myself isn't silly, oh genius voice in my head.

I didn't take long to decide which building to check first, as I saw a few people heading into a Hollywood Bowl. Well, I hope they have shoes in my size.

[Mysteria]

Aiyana Dreamwalker:

~~Cue Morning Suite from Peer Gynt Suite~~

Ah, Suburbia. Calm, peaceful Suburbia...Quiet, clean Suburbia...Suburbia, a place where drama was the only crime. Suburbia, where there are no worries except the height of one's lawn, nosy neighbors spying on you, wondering if that cute guy you like is finally going to ask you out, and the occasional zombie munching on the people from across the street's dog.

//SKREEEEEEEE. Music stops//

Hold the phone. Zombies. Well shit. Ashley Sanders, aka Zephyr, dropped to the ground and rolled behind an immaculate garbage can before the brainsucker could catch glimpse of her. That was close, Dummy, she chided herself. You keep that crap up and you'll end up undead fodder. Or worse, undead. Such pep talks were common for Zeph; she'd be a total jerk to herself, calling herself names, taunting herself, work up her anger, and go ballistic on those undead SOBs.

Ya gotta move fast, turd-for-brains, or else you're gonna end up like that dog. What the hell was she going to do, though? The last zombie she'd killed used up the last of her gas. No gas means no chainsaw action, meaning she had to drop her weapon for the sake of getting the hell out of there. That was a stroke of sheer genius, Zeph. Did you come up with that plan on your own? Get rid of your sole weapon. Yeah, that took true brains, didn't it?

Zeph peered around the edge of the garbage can. A little ways down the block, three or four houses away, a huge freaking, gas-guzzling, sure-to-kill-five-zombies-and-not-even-get-scratched Hummer was parked on the curb. This is your chance, meathead. Screw it if you can't drive. You gotta learn at some point. If you're lucky, you'll take some of them out with you when you inevitably crash.

"Yeah, thanks for that vote of confidence," she whispered. Hopefully someone remembered to leave keys there...

Checking to make sure the zombie was still occupied with its meal, the tiny girl bolted toward the closest-thing-she-could-get-to-a-tank of a car. She wasn't called Zephyr for nothing. What the ex-college student lacked in tactics, strength, and, at the moment, weaponry, she made up for in sheer speed. The girl could run.

As she approached the Hummer, she noticed the driver's side window was shattered. That's going to put a damper on the defense factor, she thought. Zeph almost hurled when she saw inside the cabin. A headless body was slumped in the driver's seat, blood covering the seat and pretty much all the upholstery in the surrounding area. Thankfully, oh God yes, thankfully the key was still just sitting there in the ignition.

With a shudder, Zeph quickly opened the door and threw the decapitated body out of the car. She felt horrible--it was terribly disrespectful to the dead--but it was necessary. She intended to live, damn it. It's not like he's going to be using this car, anyway, her conscience rationalized. If you keep hesitating, that zombie's going to see you, and then you'll end up like that poor loser. Dead. Now go!!!

Zeph shut the door and buckled in, a basic safety measure even she knew, and turned the key. The engine roared to life. Her eyes widened; she had to go, NOW. The zombie's head snapped up. Her time was up. She clutched the gearshift, moving it around til it fell on D, another basic she learned from when her friends once tried to teach her how to drive, and slammed on a pedal. Nothing happened. Nice. That's the brake, Dipstick. You're just full of good ideas today, aren't ya? Yes, let's just steal a car that WE CAN'T EVEN BLOODY DRIVE, MORON!!!!!

"SHUT UP! I'M TRYING!" Zephyr yelled, slamming down on the other pedal. The Hummer launched forward. Only two words could express the euphoria the girl could feel at the moment: HOLY CRAP. Ignoring all traffic signs and signals, Zephyr became a near-flying metal death machine as she drove as fast as she could for the Hollywood Bowl, the only reputed safe spot in all of LA, trying her hardest not to die in the process.

[Mysteria]

edeekbcool:

"Names Humanshield" I said, "but please just call me shieldy" i continued while getting up to go check the ammo stash. Pulling out my remaning rifle ammo i grabbed as much as i could before returning it to my belt and looking for a shotgun to match the one i had lost on the way here. After a few minutes of searching i found one before returning to my corner.

While collecting ammo I listened to the two sisters talking. Turns out they were Rubix and Pyro, the names seemed self explaintroy. Pyro seemed a little over excited by the gun stash though...

Happy meal...I think me and him will get along just fine. I like how he seems to stick behind Canuk, if we end up splitting up I'll follow them. I like the look of creeper aswell. His sythe looks dangerous could be useful to know he has my back.

I think ill just stick back and watch for now...see what comes of this.

[Mysteria]

Buchanin:

Greetings, My name is Nicholas, or Nick... but please, call me Crush.
Were am I? You don't want to know.. oh.. you do? well then, I am currently rummaging through the back side of a counter of a BP gas station in downtown L.A., looking for what I hope to be a pack of "Camel Crush" cigarettes... helps the nerves.

"Were are these bloody things" I said as I tore through what was once, a civilizied establishment. A sound came from the other side of the store, which I replied to by holding my breath, and crouching behind the counter, stareing toward the corner. "Again?" I thought "Can't a guy get a moments peace?" I had just gotten out of a mob of gangsters gone "brain dead" as I like to call people who get infected. Didn't help when the cops showed up.. to assist them.

I can't take the chance, my gun is too loud to shoot inside a building, downtown L.A. was filled with the worst kind of zombies, what kind is that you ask? "A lot of them" is the worst kind. I grabbed a pack of cools(yukk) and crept out from behind the counter. I inched slowly along the isles filled with chocolate and bubble gum, potato chips and funions. I tried to stick my head down an isle a little bit to see what it was. "A rat" i sighed "thanks, ruined my search... I was so close to those cig's i could-" I paused. I took three quick sniffs of air in through my nostrils. "Muurraaagggkkk!!" the battle cry of a braindead rang from behind.

Crush Rule # 20: Don't turn your back to an open door in a heavily populated city(sarcasm)

A hand grabbed onto my shoulder and gripped as if It was a farmer trying to wrangle a hog. The zombie hissed as it struggled to get its mouth close to me. "Get off me you goobag" I shouted as I squirmed for my gun. Click.... BAM!, ting, echoed from the ground as a smokeing bullet shell rolled up to a puddle of coagulated blood slatter. The rat walked shyly up to the dead rotten corpse of the zombie bastard that lay next to me. "Ugh, my head" I said as I sat up, reaching for my lighter and a pack of cools. The rat ran away at my movement. The lighter hissed as it toched the end of the cigarette. "yukk" I muttered after my first puff. "Didn't even get to pack it... well.. desperate times.."

I walked outside onto the street, looked around, put my gun over my shoulder, and started walking to my truck. "Ca-(static) Calling any surviv-(static)" My eyes widened in shock. I walked to my door and opened it, checked the back, put on my seat belt, and started driving down the street. I started tuneing the radio back and forth to get the message. "This(static) recorded message(static) head to(static) bowl" I paused. "Bowl?" i sighed "I hate technology." I turned the nob a little more. "Hollywood bowl(static) safety(static) hurry(static)" Hollywood bowl? I'm not too far from there. "Well, if there are survivors, then there is something to keep me from getting bored... or eaten." I tossed my cigarette butt out the window. "Lets rock"

[Mysteria]

demondj0220:

Longshot followed the signs to find the Hollywood Bowl, keeping to areas that looked relatively zombie-free. He also remembered his father's words of advice, minly the one about being quiet around blood hungry predators. But, after about thirty minutes of walking, he made it to the pedestrian access to the Bowl, seeing several parked cars, and one man scarfing what looked like candies.

"Ah, what the hell. They look human," he muttered to himself, using his rifle scope to get a better look. Sure enough, there were two girls, hot as a summer day, standing next to a redneck and a boy, by the look of him, is carrying a weapon thats running on empty.

"Better go and make nice with the locals," Longshot said, starting to make his way to the group when he heard a familiar sound; the srnaling growl of a zombie. He spun around, spotting a group of them not one hundred yards off. He pulled up his rifle, sighting in, and pulling the trigger, the noise of his gun letting anyone in the area know that they were about to get some very hungry visitors. Longshot ran to the group of vehicles, knowing that he bagged a zombie in the head.

"If you got weapons," he shouted to the group as he ran towards them, "might as well get ready to use them! We got company!"

[Mysteria]

Buchanin:

I turned the key from the ignition as I unbuckled my seat belt. "Well I'm here... the Hollywood Bowl." As I spoke, I saw something shifting out of the corner of my eye. "Oh christ..." I muttered. A man was walking into the Hollywood Bowl slowly, but there was a good sized horde of zombies following behind him. They were a good distance, but they saw him, and he didn't see them. What should I do? Fire a shot to get his attention? nah... Can't risk it.

I followed the braindead fruitcakes into the entrance, staying a far distance.

BAM
"If you got weapons," came a voice from the other side of the zombies, "might as well get ready to use them! We got company!"

"Shit" I said in a voice about to explode in excitement, "I get to shoot things"

I knelt down and pulled off my one strap pack. Pulled two 30 round banana clips out of the front pouch, laid a loaded pistol next to them, and looked through my scope.

I turned off the safety and pulled the mini 14 up to my shoulder, eased my finger over the trigger, and looks through my scope. I had a zombie right in my crosshair, my finger tightening, my adrenaline overflowing, I exhaled slowly. And then...

[Mysteria]

Sedalb:

I was surprised when more and more people began to show. I was wondering around L.A for a few days now and Canuck was the first human I found in awhile. Now that I’m with him, all of a sudden survivors are popping out left and right. No matter, as long as they weren’t grunting and trying to bite my neck for the tender spots then I guess I’m in no position to complain.

Canuck however dismissed most of the new comers, but took notice of the small group of zombies heading our way.

“I wonder what makes them travel in groups like that…” he said to himself as he got out his rifle, “No matter, time to say hello!”

Since I was using a shotgun, it was a bit useless at the moment seeing how the zombies were too far away for me to be of any use. Canuck however peered in his scope as he aimed his hunting rifle at the zombies. He seemed to be whispering to himself, sounded like “almost… almost” but too quiet for me to be sure. Suddenly he fired a shot and the head of two zombies jerked backwards and fell dead on the pavement.

“Yeeee haw!” he cheered, I was in shock.

“Did… did you just shoot two zombies in the head with one bullet?” I asked

He didn’t look at me, but still answered, “Hell yeah, took some practice though… I once hit three zombies but the third was still alive. This rifle ain’t that powerful, but it can certainly handle two.” He laughed as he took another shot.

This time he hit one in the face and only skimmed another behind. “Dammit!” he said as he reloaded and quickly finished off the zombie he missed. There weren’t that many zombies, and this was good reason why I wasn’t that frightened. That, and because we were a good number of survivors who were well armed.

“Once we’re done here, jump in your vehicles and follow me. We’re gonna get some water!” Canuck yelled as he shouldered his rifle, stepping into his truck, “Anyone who’s stayin’ here can handle these dumb bastards.” He motioned to the group of zombies, there were only a few left.

I jumped in the truck with him and kept my shotgun close in case a zombie decided charge towards us. Normally I’d look in the back seat, but having a pickup truck eliminated that issue… which was good. Without waiting any longer Canuck turned on the engine and drove towards the exit, anyone who wished could follow if they wanted to.

There were a lot of crashed cars on the side of the road, and plenty of debris as well. Canuck obviously concluded that his truck was invincible, and therefore could hit any object he pleased and still survive. We ran over TV sets, small tables, even rammed some other vehicles! We were heading southeast, over the main highway into another part of L.A. A part I rarely, in fact NEVER visited. We were now driving in the streets of Compton.

“There’s a water treatment centre down here!” Canuck explained, I just nodded my head and held my gun tightly.

Even if Compton was a zombie free area, I’d still avoid it and face zombies instead of this neighbourhood. It looked more or less the same as I imagined it. A few stalled cars here and there, doors busted open in project style apartments and graffiti everywhere. My favourite I found was on the side of a Burger King saying “Special Zombie Meal: Bullet to head”.

Soon enough we pulled into the parking lot of the water treatment plant. We were greeted by the sounds of gunshots that appeared to be within the building. Someone was inside and needed help. Canuck grunted in annoyance as he opened the door with a baseball bat in hand. I followed with my shotgun just in case.

The cowboy kicked open the door of the facility and followed the sounds of the gunshots. Down the hallway there was three zombies facing the other direction, they too were following the sounds of the gunshots. Canuck took this advantage and clubbed a zombie in the back of the head. I aimed my gun in front of Canuck and fired, splattering much of the second zombie and hitting bits of the third. Canuck however finished both with hard swings to the head with his bat. He was incredibly efficient with it.

“Oie! Anyone there?” He yelled.

It was good he yelled, there were plenty of people who were shot because they were mistaken as a zombie. It’s good to distinguish there are humans present before rushing in to help.

“Hell yea, get up here and help me cap these bitches!” He yelled

We turned the corner and entered a large water treatment room. There were two large water containers with many broken computer terminals and pipes in the room. We spotted the survivor on the second level on a metal catwalk. His back was facing us while he was gunning down a long line of zombies advancing to his position. He was black, bald, and wore a bullet proof vest. He had two large handguns which looked like desert eagles, they were certainly loud.

Suddenly across the room, the double doors burst open to reveal another horde of zombies rushing inside. They spotted Canuck and myself, and anyone who happened to be following. Canuck took out his revolver as he smirked at me.

“Time to nut up or shut up!” He grinned as he aimed his gun with his right hand and had his bat ready in his left.

[Mysteria]

yumi-temme:

Tannette and Rubix turned to see the retreating forms of Canuck and Happy.

"Hey! Don't take all the fun for yourselves!!" Pyro yelled, grabbing sone guns before running toward the Ford F-150. Rubix rolled her eyes and followed, climbing into the drivers side of the truck.

"Pyro, please put your seatbelt on. Your going to hurt yourself." She sighed, shaking her head at how excited her sister was. She turned out the window.

"If you want a ride, hop in the back." She called, messing with the radio until she found some music she liked.

"Tally ho!!!" Pyro yelled happily, pointing out the window. Rubix, shifted into gear and sped after Canucks truck.

Following him to the town, she couldn't help but smile. Pyro and she were herre once. Good times. Gooood times...

"Rubix! Over there, over there!" Pyro called happily. Rubix noted Canucks truck in the parking llot of a water plant. Good.

"Ok, geez, calm down, dear." Rubix sighed, opening the door and hopping out, grabbing her smiley faced sledgehammer. Her sister practically jumped out of the car, guns in tow, and ran into the plant, hot on Canucks and Happy's trail.

"Yo, Pyro, wait up!" Rubix called, running after her sister. MAn, was she a handfull. Then she heard gunshots. That made her move a bit quicker. Just a bit.

Pyro was behind Canuck and Happy, staring at the horde of zombies in front of them.

"Great. Pyro, i'm guessing your getting excited again, huh?" Rubix asked, cracking her knuckles in preperation for the oncoming fight. Her sister just smiled, clicking the safety off her weapons.

"Bye bye beautiful...!" She giggled as she fired at the nearest zombie, hitting it in the head.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

I had never been off of the eastern seaboard prior to the outbreak and, quite frankly, I'm having a hard time being away from home. When I left Massachusetts I thought it was localized. At least to the more populous regions of New England. Alas, this was not to be. En route to Montreal I stopped at rural shopping center for supplies. The place was completely void of people. Void of zombies, too, thankfully. Granted this made snatching up a shotgun, an unrealistic amount of ammunition, and food very easy. But it would've been great to see some people. Nevertheless, it was time to head north.

Montreal was a blood bath. Zombies as far as the eye could see. While driving through the obstacle ridden streets I spotted several survivors climbing up a ladder to reach a white-washed billboard with a message written in blue spray paint: "Human stronghold, underground city". As I read this, one of the survivors had reached the platform and reached into his backpack. I watched as he painted a large dash through the message in red paint. Underneath he wrote simply, "God help us.". Needless to say, I didn't stay long.

That was two weeks ago. Now I'm living in an abandoned bodega in downtown Compton, California. And it's really not too bad. The windows on the first floor all have iron security bars and steel pull down shudders. The windows themselves are plate glass so I can't see them breaking if the shudder or bars were to fail. The two doors on the first floor have two deadbolts in addition to pull-down shudders. Upstairs is a completely furnished living space. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, etc. And the fire escape goes right down to my car which is loaded up on supplies in the event that my security measures fail.

Honestly, I haven't felt safer (which may or may not be ironic considering I'm currently hiding in what was one of the most dangerous cities in North America). But, anyway, I have a ton of supplies. Cases of water, shelves of food, and a rack full of cigarettes (my personal favorite aspect of my living arrangements). Not much entertainment though. In fact, this neighborhood had become quite boring shortly after I barricaded myself in. I rarely hear the moans I had become accustomed to. Every now and then I might look out an upstairs window and spot a lonely zombie stumble by. But I've been held up here for a week and, I must say, it's getting pretty boring.

I've been contemplating heading out for some exploration but I'd hate to leave my shelter unguarded and come back to find the neighborhood full of zombies again. I once thought about going to Los Angeles. The police officers there are more like soldiers. Granted, Compton was supposed to be something similar.

"To Hell with it," I say aloud to myself. I unbolt the back door and lift the steel shudder.

'Ehhhhhhhhh-eeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrr.' The shudder squawks, much to my chagrin. But still, no sign of any zombies.

Looking back into the store I'm forced to contemplate what to do. Leave temporarily, or for good. Certainly, there are enough supplies in this building to last for a few months. But what good is survival when you haven't got sanity. I might as well be a zombie if I'm going to go crazy in this place.

A moment passes. "Fuck it."

I head back inside and grab a few cardboard boxes. I'll take any food that isn't already expired and head from there. Three boxes of food. Various cans, bags, packages, containers. None of it seemed to be very nutritious but it's food. I throw it in the backseat of my car and head back in for a few cases of water. Four cases of water, 30 bottles in each case. "That should be good for a while." Into the backseat it goes. I plop down on the driver's seat and just before hitting the ignition... a light bulb moment.

"Ah shit. I forgot the gun!" How could I be so careless?!

Quickly, I'm back inside. Up the stairs, into my former bedroom. There my shotgun lies right next to my bed as I left it every night. Next to that is my backpack full of ammunition. I sling the bag over my left shoulder and carry my shotgun at right shoulder-arms back downstairs (I knew I should have been in the Army).

As I head to the door I realize that I forgot one last crucial piece of survival gear. Cigarettes. By the carton, no less. There was no way I'd be able to get by without good ol' Phillip Morris on my team.

Behind the counter, I place my shotgun down and swing my bag around and start to cram as many packs of Marlboros I can into what bit of bag space I have left. As I rip a carton up and throw the packs that were within it into my bag I freeze.

Someone's breathing. And it sure as shit isn't me.

Half way across the room, slightly to my left, a ghoul is staring me down. He seems to be of Hispanic decent but his face is pale. Dried blood stains his gray face. His milky eyes paralyze me in fear. I haven't been face to face with a zombie since the initial outbreak.

So who was to make the first move?

My hands, still stuffed with cigarettes, are shaking profusely.

The zombie is completely unwavering. As if he is anticipating my escape.

As slowly as I can, I put the cigarettes down on the counter. Deep breath. Go.

I lunge at my shotgun in a flash. Hand meets pump. Stock meets shoulder. Finger meets trigger.

I pump the handgrip back, click the safety off, and take aim. He's on the move.

As he bolts toward the counter I ensure that my aim is true. Deep breath. Fire.

Click.

"Jesus Christ!" What was the matter with me? I hadn't even loaded the damn thing! I look down to my backpack that is overflowing with red and white packs of cigarettes. The ammunition at the bottom.

Eyes back on the zombie. Three feet from the counter. And closing.

I shake my head and sigh. My hands slide down to the barrel and I step up to bat.

With seconds to spare, the zombie leaps at me and I meet him halfway. With as much force as I can muster, the stock of my shotgun meets his skull and knocks him down before he can reach over the counter.

In a split-second, I'm on the ground sifting through my bag for some rounds. I pull out a handful and load up. Cautiously I step out from behind the counter to find the zombie flailing about on the ground with a massive wound on the top of his head; blood gushing all over the floor.

"That's fucking nasty," I mutter to myself before I take aim one final time at this ghoul.

Deep breath...

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

When dead people started trying to chew my face off, the first thing that I thought was “I’ve seen this somewhere before…”

That was a while back and I forgot to change the batteries on my watch so I don’t know what the date is. Now I figure I must have seen it in a movie. I wonder if I’m in a movie. I wonder if I’m breaking the fourth wall for thinking that.

My eyes train on a ladder about six feet off the ground. A fire escape, not totally lowered. I might could make the jump. Maybe. And maybe I could climb fast enough to shake the five dead folks on my tail. Or, maybe, I could not climb fast enough and wind up being a nummy in somebody’s tummy.

Eh, who cares?

I pump it up a notch and try not waste my breath laughing – I do love to run – and gain a few more feet on those remarkably fast corpses. The ladder is fast approaching and I’ve really only got one shot – it would be sooo like me to miss and crack my head open on the sidewalk.

I’m just off the thing now, and I make the snap decision to go for it. I jump and grasp and it’s all golden cause I got it – and now I’m flailing like a clumsy kitten whose reach exceeded its grasp, trying to keep my legs up high enough to keep from becoming an appetizer. Oh, if my gymnastics coach could see me now he’d shit bricks. Really massive bricks.

Upper body strength, you are my kryptonite. Go, skinny girl arms, go!

I grunt and groan and strain but finally haul my butt up a few rungs and stick my tongue out at the dead folks – unsportsmanlike I know, but they weren’t playin’ fair – and get my feet under me. Now we’re getting somewhere. Right now, I hate the blanket and flashlight and MREs and ammo and other assorted shit in my pack cause it’s heavy, but I’m not complaining. Gotta be thankful for what you’ve got, cause there are starving kids in China.

The building is five stories high and when I reach the top I check the guy who’s dead from a gunshot wound to the head… and judging from the gun in his hand it looks like he had a bad run of things. He’s been dead for a while, though, so I guess he ain’t too interested in my innards. He hasn’t got any ammo but the .38 snub nose may be useful so I pocket it. I check the door to the stairwell and it’s been blocked with a couple two-by-fours.

I take a minute and glance at the cityscape. Such a pretty view. Gotta appreciate things like this. Though, I have to admit, this is not what I expected when I got off the plane in Los Angeles. But I’m happy to be here. This will be fun.

Right?

It’s tough to convince anyone to look on the bright side when you’re the only one around.

My hand snaps to the Glock 37s in their holsters when I hear a gunshot. A rifle, and not far off.

Oh, I always hated hunting season. I wonder what’s in season right now, probably something like duck. I bet Mom is dressing one up from Dad’s hunting trip…

Another rifle shot. It’s not on the same block as me, but it’s still distinct. Dead folks, although surprisingly talented for being dead and all, don’t shoot guns, so that means there must be live folks up there. I scurry my way over to the ledge of the building nearest to the sound and hop up on it, hoping to catch sight of… well, something. More gunshots now.

But how to get there?

A huge grin spread over my face.

Oh I have always wanted to do this… Spiderman, eat your heart out! Uh, heh, not literally.

I can totally make that jump to the next building.

It’s not too long before I arrive at the source of the gunshots, a water treatment plant.

I resist the urge to “hoo-rah.” I pull out both 37s and I’m running in guns blazing, shooting walking corpses left and right, and all I can think is “Naw, it wasn’t Boondock Saints, those folks stayed dead in that movie… although that gunfight kicked ass. I am sooo the Duke!”

[Mysteria]

Sedalb:

The group of zombies roared and screamed as they ran towards us. With a large chill of terror crawling up my spine I bit the bullet and sucked it up. This is no time to be scared.

I brought up my shotgun and aimed it at the group of zombies aiming at no one in particular. This was the beauty of the shotgun, even a novice like myself can have deadly results with little effort. I pulled the trigger and the evidence of this became clear as I blew three zombies off their feet. More tumbled over them as I fired the second shot. I quickly opened both barrels to reload, fumbling with the shells as more zombies made their way to our position.

Canuck was having a great ol’ time though. “Ye haw!” he’d shout as he down zombies left and right with his pistol. It seems to two sisters Rubix and Pyro followed and decided to help. Perhaps this would be easier then I thought. I placed the last shell in my shotgun as I aimed once again to take out yet another group of flesh eating zombies.

“Eat this bitches!” the man on the catwalk yelled, firing both of his guns while taking out many zombies with him. I aimed my shotgun up to the catwalk and fired. The distance was a bit far, but the shot proved effective as four zombies were hit. Only two died but it slowed down the other two considerably. The survivor with the two pistols ran up to the two wounded zombies and placed the barrel against their heads, it wasn’t long before all zombies were dead up there.

Bringing my attention back to my current battle, I reloaded and fired two more shells at the zombie horde. Canuck was having too much fun to care about how many he killed. He’d wound a zombie with his revolver then finish it with his baseball bat, and once he ran out of ammo he went crazy with it. I’ve never seen so much blood on any sporting equipment in my life, made me wonder if Canuck played any hockey when he lived in Canada.

“That should be it..” the cowboy sighed, tapping some of the blood off his bent metal bat. “I think I might need a new bat soon.” He laughed.

The man on the second floor climbed down a ladder to the main floor. “Yo thanks guys, y’all saved my ass there.”

He stood just under six feet, he was taller then me and seemed to be in his late thirties. He wore a bullet-proof vest with holsters for his pistols on the side. He also had a shotgun strapped to his back along with a knife on his leg. Other then his vest he wore jeans, a white muscle shirt and a goldchain on his neck. His skin was a brownish colour, a few imperfections here and there but well kept. Bald head, a moustache and scruff on his chin. I knew I saw his face somewhere before.

“No names” Canuck stated immediately, “You can call me Canuck, the young guy is Happy, these girls are… Ru…Rubax? And.. uh… Pyro I think.” He stopped talking as the man observed us.

“No names huh? Well most people won’t have a prob killin’ me even if they knew my name.” The man answered, he looked at me again. The feeling was killing me, I knew I saw this man before, and his voice was very familiar. It was almost going to kill myself in frustration over this until he finally revealed who he was.

“The name’s Tupac Shakur, lets go kill some zombie niggas.”

Holy shit… Tupac is alive...

[Mysteria]

nonangelic92:

Hi people I'm brittany but call me Charm. I just got done hiking in Runyon Park when the zombie infestation occured.

I start walking through the park to get to my car, when I see someone huddled over someone else. I jog over to see what has happened.

When I get to the huddled person, I see that the person, who is African but awfully pale, eating the skin off of a dead person.

The guy looks up at me and eyes me like a buffet to a fat kid. "Oh shooter. Let's just go different ways and never see eachother again. Okay Mr. Zombie?"

I start to back away slowly, the zombie runs after me. "Oh shit." Runs like she's in a marathon, and climbs a tree. The zombie is on the ground looking up at her. I stare back down"Oh shit, I'm way out of luck."

Looks around hoping there is something in the tree she can use to kill the zombie dirtbag......

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

My ears rang terribly from the shotgun's blast and the writhing zombie moved no more. I collapsed to my knees after a moment. The smell was unbearable, much stronger than I ever recalled it being. I looked down at my hands to find myself completely drenched in blood and brain matter, accented with a few shards of skull. I hunched over and vomited.

"What I would do for some Purell right now."

After briefly composing myself, I stood up. I went back behind the counter and loaded up my backpack with the cigarettes and cases of shotgun shells that had spilled out earlier in my haste.

Back outside at the car I did a final supplies check. Food, water, ammo, gun, cigarettes. Everything I was intending on bringing, I had in my possession. No more running into the abandoned store to get any non-necessities. So I started up the car and off I went into the unfamiliar streets of Compton, California.

After a few minutes of driving I decided some music was in order. Something to take the edge off. I was still pretty shaken up by the encounter earlier. Having that close of a brush with a zombie was never my idea of enjoyment. But, hell, why not make light of it? I popped in a favorite CD of mine: Fear Everything by the Flaming Tsunamis. Straight to track number three, a song called "Corpse Disposal For Dummies".

Music to kill zombies to, I suppose.

The dead won't stay in the ground.
That's okay we like them around.

Mind you, this song is at top volume. I like my music one way: loud. But someone, through the din of the music, I still managed to make out some distant noise. A popping sound of some sort. I decided to turn my music down a bit in case it could be heard again.

I slowed down in order to listen more carefully, and sure enough. Pop-pop-pop-poppoppop-pop

Gunshots. A lot of them. That could only mean one thing. Survivors.

It seemed as if it was coming from ahead of me, but I couldn't be certain. Alas, with nowhere else to turn, I made a go of it.

The further I drove, the more defined the shots became. A lot of pistol fire accented by a bassy shotgun blast every so often.

After three more blocks I was almost certain I was in the vicinity of where the shots originated from. But suddenly it was silent. I stopped in the middle of the road and looked around. I was right in the middle of the projects. Off to my right I noticed a sign that read "Industrial Water Conditioning Corporation."

"Eh, why not?"

I pulled into the parking lot to find a truck parked outside and the entrance to the building bust in. It didn't look as if there would be anyone inside, after all.

I pulled a cigarette out and lit it, taking a quick drag and blowing out. "Oh well. Guess I'll just have to find myself some goodies in that truck."

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

All dead. And the stink was quite nearly unbearable.

I winced as I checked what ammo I had left and was dismayed to find only six more. Rekilling the corpses outside the water treatment center had been costly.

A noise behind me caused me to wheel, both guns aimed and ready. A man with a cigarette was considering a truck behind me.

The gun shots had stopped within the plant, and now I have to choose… go in or confront the dude?

I can’t make decisions, I’m a grunt!

[Mysteria]

demondj0220:

Back at the Hollywood Bowl, Longshot ripped round after round through zombie skulls, taking two or three out at a time. He noticed the redneck was also using a rifle as well, which ment he knew a thing or two about hunting these freaks. But after a few minutes, he was alone in the parking lot, only a few cars left abandoned, their occupants nowhere to be seen.

"Screw this," he said, jumping into waht looked like a sport truck, looking for the keys. Then he remembered a thing from his favorite movies: the keys are usually in the vanity visor. Pulling down the visor, sure enough, the keys landed right into his lap. "Jackpot. Score one for the sniper." He heard the other cars drive off in the opposite direction, and he heard a town called 'Compton' being mentioned. "Well, if that's where they're going, I should head that way too."

Longshot started the truck, putting it into reverse, pulling out of the parking spot, running over several of the re-dead corpses, and as he shifted the truck into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, he felt the back of the truck lighten, another rotted body adding itself due to motion onto the pile.

"Good riddance," he said, grabbing something out of the pack he tossed onto the passenger seat. "Now, what to listen to..." he muttered, flicking through cd sleeves until he found it. Scream, Aim, Fire by Bullet for My Valentine. Putting it into the cd player in the truck, he kept the volume low, looking for where the group decided to stop and defend themselves next.

Kill your enemies
My brothers dead around me
Wounds are hurting
Death is creeping for me

Longshot lightly nodded his head to the music, the emotional wounds of losing his teammates to those freaks, and then having to put them out of their misery having taken a toll on him.After what seemed like hours to him, he saw what he was looking for; several vehicles parked, the group of people he just warned to shoot or run regrouped at a water treatment plant. He slowed down, trying to park into the same place, but forced to keep his new found acquisition on the curb.

Once the truck was situated and shut off, he jumped out of the truck, grabbing his pack and his rifle, and headed for the group, only to see someone smoking a cigarette held at gunpoint by the same redneck.

"Uh, did I show up at a bad time?" Long shot asked tenatively, putting his arms up to show he ment no harm. "Name's Longshot, sharpshooter and sniper. You guys got names?"

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

“... You guys got names?”

It was total instinct to swivel my right shoulder and point the gun associated with it at the speaker. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to tell myself to stop. I turn my head to appraise the newcomer. Male, blonde, and holding up his hands in the universal “please don’t shoot me” gesture.

Um. Right. Don’t shoot people who ain’t dead yet. Gotcha.

“ Ah… heh heh…” I manage a small laugh before holstering both guns in one smooth motion. “ Sorry. Training.” I try to explain but I am really no good at that.

I’m also really bad at taking the lead so I step back and try to look less threatening but I imagine the Glock 37s holstered at my waist do not help. So I wait…

I know I’ve seen this somewhere before! Why do I keep thinking of raccoons?

[Mysteria]

nonangelic92:

I look at the zombie as it jumps for me. I break a branch off of the tree and take out my butterfly knife and start to sharpen the branch's end.

"This will kill that porn star mustache dwelling freak for sure."

I start to put my knife back into my pocket when I realized that I could have just stabbed the zombie in the head wuth my knife.

"Just great, I spend forever sharpening this stick, when I could have just stabbed you."

I put my hand out to get the zombie to just where I want him.

"Hey you stupid zombie come and get me. Fresh meat for your liking."

The zombie gets to where I want him. With full force, I jab the stick into the zombie's head. The zombie falls down dead and I jump out of the tree. I pull my stick out of the zombie, and brains are all over the stick.

"Ewww, nasty."

I wrap the stick off with the zombie's shirt, and head to my car. Once I get to my car, I make sure to lock all of the doors just encase a zombie trys to get me. I find my 9mm and put it in the back of my pants and my four cases of bullets in my short pockets. I turn on the radio and the only station I find working is a gospel station, so I turn it off.

I start to think to myself. If I turn on my car, will I be able to get to somewhere save before I'm confronted by a bunch of zombies. Only one can hope.......

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

Smoke floated through my nostrils into the presently polluted air of Los Angeles County. The Marlboro hung lazily from my lips with my hands pressed against the passenger side window of the truck. As I motioned to open the door I nearly jumped out of my jeans when I heard a sound so unfamiliar, I couldn't initially recognize it.

"Got names?"

I turned about at once and took aim, my cigarette falling to the concrete in the process.

A short woman stood but a few yards away with one pistol aimed in my direction and second aimed at another man.

"...Sorry," the red-haired woman said, straining to show genuine apology, "training." She holstered her pistols in an act of peace. In turn, I shouldered my weapon and bent over to pick up my half-smoked cigarette.

I studied the two carefully.

The short woman looked like something out of a first person-shooter. Her face was young and bright yet the rest of her seemed worn and damaged. Dog tags dangled from her neck, jingling merrily. Though she was not necessarily intimidating in the traditional sense, the air her presence gave off was a toughened one. A warrior.

Turning my attention to the other man, I was instantly struck by his sheer size. He was easily six and a half feet tall, weighing a good 240 pounds, most of which seemed to be muscle. A looming character, he was certainly the type of person I dreaded seeing at metal shows. But he smirked at me. A friendly sort of grin.

I took a drag from my cigarette and flicked it away, the smoke blowing all about. "You guys can call me Boston."

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I brighten almost immediately at the introduction. It has been so long since I’ve talked to another live human. I tried talking to the dead ones but they just groaned and tried to eat me. Not good conversationalists.

So I offer up my best smile and straighten up. A good smile and firm handshake, Dad always said, let’s ‘em know you mean it.

“ I’m Vee, it’s a pleasure!” I rush to shake hands. I’m losing my courage fast though, so I think to myself –

Simper fi, simper fi…

I am very small next to these two guys. Not that I’m not used to being dwarfed around big muscley men, but I don’t know these people and they don’t know me and I’m freaking out again, aren’t I?

I was never good with people. At least not talking to them. Not normally. I’m perfectly articulate when bullets are flying – oh this is ridiculous! I am not actually missing the hungry dead folks!

The one I’m walking towards isn’t so much bigger than me but the thing that catches my eye is that he looks about as awkward as I feel. But he doesn’t hold himself like a military man…

Christ! He’s just a kid!

This kid can’t be out of high school, the poor thing. I’m suddenly very conscious of the gore behind me. Gore I helped cause. Shit, kids shouldn’t see this… Judging from the blood on his clothes, though, this is not his first tour. He’s got a shot gun and he’s flicking a cigarette away.

Those things’ll kill you, ya know…

The other is big but friendly looking, blonde and tough looking. He’s got a rifle. Why do I always notice their guns? He looks closer to my age though, but also not a military man. Way too relaxed.

So I suck it up and try not to look like the socially inept weirdo I so very much feel like and continue on my way to shake hands…

[Mysteria]

nonangelic92:

I decide I'll take my chances on foot. I enter in a few surburbs and see a couple of the undead.

"Great, now I gotta be a ninja, and like do ninja stuff."

I hop over a fence into someone's backyard.

"Well so far so good."

I break into the house, and make sure the front door and everything else is locked.

"All good. I wonder if these people got any food cuz I'm starving."

I wonder all through the house to make sure if there ain't no zombies and then I go into the kitchen to find some food.


"What looks good. Dang these people got some money."

Pulls out a think of turkey and ham, mustard, cheese, and ketchup. And finds a loaf of bread. After I make my sandwich, I go find a wash cloth and wipe off all of the disgusting zombie blood I got on me.

I come back into the kitchen to find a zombie smellin' my sandwich.
I grab my butterfly knife and stab it in the back of the head, gettin' zombie blood all over my sandwich.

"That's just plain nasty. I can't eat this."

I make myself some more sandwiches and then grab my stick and a bottle of water and head into the other rooms looking for any weapons and a bookbag.
I find a bookbag in one of the bedrooms and a gaint lunchbag. I go back into the kitchen and get a couple water bottles, some dry food, and some more meat and bread and cheese.

"Okay I think I'm set. I got my food and water. I got shelter for now, but I still need more weapons."

I barriade the bedroom door, to make sure nothing gets in and close the blinds on the screen door. I open up a cabinet to reveal a tv and a few handguns.

"Sweetness. Now lets see what they have in the closet." I look through the clothes, "Ohh just my size." I pull out a pair of bright blue leggings and a soft purple short-sleeved sundress.

I sit on the bed and turn the tv on and turn it to a low volume. There doesn't seem to be any news about the infestation, so I turn it to Spongebob, hoping something about the outbreak comes on.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

The red-haired woman, Vee, smiled pleasantly at me, much to my relief. An out-stretched hand awaited my reply and I took up the offer. As she gripped my hand I was struck by how calloused her palm was.

Immediately I became self-conscious about how I must appear to her. I was never a "hands-on" type of person. In the years prior to Zombieland I was not one to work on the car, do much manual labor, or anything of that nature. With the exception of some lingering callous skin at the base of my fingers from lifting weights during high school I imagined that my hands were incredibly soft.

I did my best to to set aside my rather awkward mentality and shook her hand. I felt a smile expand across my face. It felt like an eternity since I had something to smile about.

Taking my hand back, I reexamined our surroundings. The abandoned cars, corpses in various stages of decomposition, and other assorted debris had become commonplace in this world.

Turning my attention back to the truck that I was originally intent on looting, I noticed a fresh spot of liquid beneath the undercarriage, seeping through a crack in the pavement. I recalled seeing that underneath a lot of vehicles shortly after being parked. Oil? Coolant? I didn't know much about automobiles but I recalled seeing the fluid underneath a lot of vehicles just shortly after being parked.

I turned back to Vee. "Is that your truck?" I felt embarrassed. Here I was with what could be the only friendly faces in thousands of miles and I could have been breaking into one of their cars.

Before she had time to answer, I heard movement from within the water treatment building. I looked to Vee and Longshot. Had they heard it, too?

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

The big truck was at least five tons in weight, most of that coming from the huge trailer full of petrol running behind the cab that she was driving. It was fast, heavy-and had a habit of going through rather than around or over anything in the way. She appreciated that, she'd always been a direct kind of woman, even if her...methods...had been often indirect.

That was why she was making no attempt to slow down if she saw anything smaller than a coach or truck in her way, since she needed to at least only clip those at worst. After all, too much manouvering meant that she couldn't play tag with all of the Zombies still scrambling or running all across the freeways, trying to get into still-sealed cars or simply chomping down on anything with flesh, even cooked, still on the bone.

"Thirty-two" she muttered as yet another Zombie ran under the wheels of her truck, the heavy vehicle not even jolting as it turned what had once been a human being into a red smear on the road. She wondered if she could splatter a round hundred before she hit LA...

The freeway was on fire in places, with burning cars overturned or tangled with the central reservation as they had clearly skidded out of control across the road. The lower half of a Zombie was still sticking out of the windscreen of one car while the upper half appeared to be eating what was left of a woman's leg. She'd seen much worse, even before Judgement Day, done worse to survive in prison.

In fact, bits of the freeway were physically missing, as though they'd been blasted by high explosives or had something very big and heavy simply blow up on top of the area in question. She suspected the former, from what little she'd heard.

Apparently the US Military had had hours, not days, to scramble and try to act when the Plague had broken out, with Infected often turning up at Military Bases without realising what was happening to them, seeking safety. When they'd turned after the MP's had kept them out, they'd simply scaled the walls or torn through fences and gone after everything warm and moving. Bomber pilots had Ejected rather than try to land at Bases overrun with Zombies, only to find that there was no such thing as safety in what everyone now called Zombieland. Infantry had fallen down so fast that mass Suicide would have been a preferred outcome. Armoured vehicles had lasted longest, but nobody could stay locked down forever.

What she was seeing was the outcome of panic and Apocalypse as Government and society collapsed overnight, with anyone who could do anything trying everything to stop this. None of it had worked, she could have told them it wouldn't. About the only place safe on this planet would be above the Artic circle now, where Zombies would freeze solid while humans could protect themselves. But where would be the fun in that? She hadn't had anything to live for for twenty years after all.

"Thirty-three, thirty-four" she muttered, as two more Zombies went under the wheels as they tried to charge down the racing truck. She almost wished she had a scrapbook and a camera, she could pick out individual mugshots and say "Truck" or "Shotgun" or "Baseball Bat" or "Knife" or "Hands"...

"...Repeat, this is a repeating message on the EBS to all surviving military, and Government personnel, all civilians who came hear this transmission. You are not alone. I repeat: you are not alone. The cities are overrun, Military Bases are not secure, but this does not mean that there is no safety. Government advice is to head for a large public area such as a Mall, Stadium or secure building such as a Police Station or Emergency Service headquarters. Secure the doors and windows, mark the roof and Evacuation Helicopters WILL find you. I repeat: Evacuation Helicopters will find you..." said a voice she didn't recognise over one of the few working radio channels.

It was repeating every five minutes, she'd been listening to it for the past two hours and already knew she'd kill the owner of that voice if she ever met him. Some things she just couldn't take too much of, like like elevator music. She changed the channel irritably, again...

"Thirty five" she muttered, as she went over another Zombie. She saw a sign shoot past as she kept her foot to the floor, not having used the brakes since she started out. Slow meant dead in this world. It read "LA turnoff-2 miles". About time.

"...This is God's punishment for our weakness, for turning our faces from HIS light, HIS strength, HIS way. Is it not said in the Bible, in HIS own words: "Lead us not into temptation?" We have Sinned, Brothers and Sisters, we have allowed ourselves to become seduced by what we have Created with our own two hands, forgetting that HE made those same hands. We have forgotten that HE allowed us our place in this world HE made, that HE gave us everything we could need. We abused HIS trust, HIS faith in us, this Paradise that HE Created and gifted us. We are the abomination HIS Word warned us against at the very beginning, when Eve and Adam allowed themselves to be tempted and seduced into betraying HIS trust. Our punishment is upon us for this, Brothers and Sisters, this is the End of Days, Judgement Day, when the Dead walk and claim the living to deliver all those unworthy Souls to HELL. I go to my Rest knowing that my cause was just, my path righteous, my Destiny what GOD chose for me and no other. Who amongst you can truly say the same? Think hard and Pray, Brothers and Sisters, Pray for forgiveness from HIM..." said the deep, powerful voice which threatened the windows of her truck every time she heard it.

She wondered what would happen to that man if she told him what the Prison Chaplain had really been like where she'd spent almost the whole last four years. He'd offered her Pennance in return for..something even she'd blinked at being asked. Then he'd brought in four Guards to explain the details when she'd laughed in his face.

The guards had been professional thugs of the kind who only find employment as Government heavies because they lack the intelligence to do anything else. For example, they'd never even considered she could have found a way out of the Straitjacket and created a Shiv from a broken plastic fork without them ever even realising what she was doing. When she'd finished with them, even as the desperate Chaplain had hammered on the doors demanding to be let out of the supposedly secure cell as alarms sounded everywhere, deafeningly loud, she'd just stood up and smiled at him.

Then she'd cut his right arm off at the shoulder with a blunt edge and considerable patience. She'd even done it so cleanly that he hadn't bled to death while she did it, although he had most certainly gone into shock. Even as ten men in Riot Gear burst into the cell and proceeded to beat her almost to death with steel batons she knew the last thing he'd seen her do was take a bite out of his lost arm, chew, swallow and then drink his blood.. She'd been laughing even in a pool of her own blood afterwards as broken ribs moved inside her chest.

She'd never even seen the Chaplain again, so it had been worth it. She changed the channel on the trucks radio one last time until she found something else, even as she took the LA turn-off, smashing through three crashed cars and flattening four Zombies as she went.

"Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine" she muttered, staring intently at the trucks petrol gauge even as she did. She'd get the rest of the way into LA, for certain, but she wouldn't make it back out without refuelling somehow.

"...Hollywood Bowl...safe zone..." comes crackling over the radio as she apparently start picking up some local broadcast from whatever's left of their radio stations up here. Well, she shrugs at the thought, better somewhere than nowhere?

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I'd always wanted to visit the West Coast, not necessarily under these circumstances, but one had to take pleasure in the little things. After musing for another minute or two, I lit a cigarette and made my way out of the house I'd commandeered for the time being. It was a bit of a shit hole, but I wasn't exactly expecting to find mansions in Compton. The city was just a stop on a quest that was frankly leading nowhere. I'd been wandering since I decided to leave my little apartment in Brooklyn, having no luck finding other survivors.

I was never much of a people person, but I wasn't enough of a recluse to enjoy the lack of human company I'd been receiving the last few months. The closest thing to a conversation I'd had since the zombies came was a shouting match with a few over eager looters. Sure, I didn't own the truck, but it was the only working vehicle I'd found for miles and there was no way they were gonna take it. That was back in Ohio, and as far as I knew all of them were dead, good riddance.

Still entirely unsure of what I was doing I quickly jumped into the front seat of my vehicle, the same truck from Ohio. It was a bit beat up, and I'd need to trade it in soon, so to speak. There was no way the Ford was gonna last more than another few weeks, the brakes were already feeling dangerously unresponsive.

Cracking the window a bit, I finished my cigarette and flicked it onto the sidewalk, hearing what sounded like gunshots. It was brief and I dismissed it at first, starting up the truck. This was always the fun part, the Ford being as old as it was, wasn't exactly designed for stealth missions. The muffler was more or less a zombie magnet, so as soon as I pulled out of the driveway, I had to book it. Speeding wasn't easy on streets littered with tipped cars, and bloated corpses, and that was Compton before the zombie apocalypse.

After a few minutes of slick maneuvering, I appeared to have lost a great majority of the undead. Only a small duo remained, the two hungriest fuckers on the street no doubt. Deciding it was best to dispose of them before landing in a potentially dangerous situation, I grabbed an aluminum baseball bat from the small stash I kept stored in what could be called the back seat. Of course, given the cockpit on older trucks, it was more of a minuscule storage space than a legitimate sitting area. Regardless, I opened the door, leaving the truck running. It appeared the two zombies were distracted by the increasingly guttural exhaust, smashing the tailgate of the Ford as if it was edible. This made the first kill easy, I simply put as much force as possible into the initial swing. Not only did I all but split the back of it's skull, but it went head first into the gate. For the time being he was disposed of, and his companion was almost as simple to deal with, sure it was now aware of my presence but it didn't react quick enough. I swung once, catching it in the now decaying jaw, there was a sickening crack upon connection but it did little more than knock the fucker back. I followed through with another, slightly off balance swing, dangerous, but I wanted to get this over with quickly. I connected once again, sending the creature to the ground. I took a few extra swings at both their heads, just to make sure, before entering the Ford and lighting another cigarette.

I figured I'd do a quick patrol of the city, I hadn't had a gun since I'd crossed into Cali and it would be nice to find a decent amount of firepower before moving forward. I remembered the gunshots from earlier, or I heard them again, it was difficult to tell over the rumble of the engine. Either way, it seemed I was heading in their direction subconsciously anyways. Picking up speed, I noticed another small group of zombies on my tail. It was unnerving how fast they were, in fact judging by my rear view mirror, one had climbed into the 4x4's bed.

"Fuck, fuck fuck." I spoke, more so in irritation then fear, they tended to be easy enough to throw off if you hit the brakes hard enough. I did just that, but to my complete dismay, the brakes seemed to have given up on me earlier than I ad hoped. Letting go off the gas, I allowed the vehicle to slow slightly before I swerved into the nearest parking lot. It belonged to a Water Treatment, at least according to a sign I'd seen a few meters down the street. Luckily for me, I wasn't going very fast when I collided with the abandoned Civic, unluckily for me I also wasn't wearing a seat-belt. My head hit the steering wheel pretty hard, and it left me dazed for a few moments. Thankfully I was still able to grab the dented bat in the passenger seat and exit the truck.

Five or six undead followed me into the parking lot, the overeager bastard that was on my bed beforehand now lay on the roof of the Civic. I decided I'd make a run for it, try to find a chokepoint of sorts to pick them off individually. Of course this was until I saw what appeared to be an armed group of survivors. I ran towards them, shouting all sorts of things, hoping that would be enough to not get mistaken for a member of the small mob that followed me.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

… And now suddenly there’s a crash and screaming dude running at us. So much for peace treaties. The guy has just jumped out of a barely stopped truck crashed into a civic. He’s not big, but he looks like he’s been through hell and all I can think is that he runs like a Marine. He’s got blood running down his face and he’s carrying a baseball bat that looks like it’s been shoved up Satan’s ass. He’s got six maybe seven dead folks right on him and man oh man…

Oh yeah. I got this shit.

I spring forward and shout something unintelligible – time to test these folks mettle. Glocks are out, and safeties are off, and it’s time to do what I do best.

Mayhem and destruction.

I take three steps to the left, dropping my bag off my shoulder as I go, and throw my shoulders back. These 37s can stop a freight train but they kick like a mule on ‘roids. Every bullet counts so I don’t so much as blink, just aim and squeeze the right trigger. The boom could bust your ears if you weren’t used to it, and the kick tosses my right shoulder back just a fraction of an inch. I reset my footing and the left trigger is squeezed in less than a second, and the second dead’s head explodes a millisecond behind the first. They both drop and I aim for the third, not wasting a second, but my Glock clicks uselessly in my hand.

“ Jesus fucking Christ…” I mutter. What little ammo I have is in my bag and I (more appropriately, the guy being chased) do not have time to get them. So I holster the guns, stoop and grab a heavy piece of pipe and take off at a sprint towards the dead folks.

On a side note, I do hate bludgeoning people to death. It is a messy business.

I don’t let the leader get within arm’s reach before I whack, Louisville-style. I may be small, but God help those I bite. The next one is on top of me and kick him Spartan-style as hard as my little legs allow. He was off balance, thank God, and stumbles back. I take the moment to crack his skull wide open, and again for good measure. He goes down and I jump and stomp his head, just to be sure.

“ Simper fi, bitches! Hoo-rah!” I bellow but I really shouldn’t because there are more and they are so gonna be on top of me in three seconds and did I mention I am not an endurance fighter? Oh I do hope I’ve made some friends here…

[Mysteria]

nonangelic92:

Wakes up a few hours later, to see the tv fizzling like snow.

"Just great. Now I have no tv to keep me company."

I gather together the food I found and put it into the lunchbag I found and that into the bookbag. I look around for a jacket to cover my arms, just incase a dead-head wants some of my flesh. I find abarely new leather jacket.

"Sweet, now I look awesome. I better grab those handguns I found and put them in my jacket pockets, along with those bullets."

After I gather up the rest of my supplies, i grab my sharp stick and open the glass door. I step out and look over the fence to see a few zombies in the road. I don't want to waste my bullets so take the alley-way.

"I wonder if there are any survivors? What if I'm the only person alive?"


Starts to panic a little, but then calms done.

"I can't be the only person alive, cause someone has to run the news station and tv broad casting channel."

After walking for a few blocks I come across a few children zombies. I pull out the handguns I found and fire a couple off bullets, but there all blanks.

"Damn it. I don't really need this."

By that time the children zombies see me and start chasing after me. I go into a full speed run, hoping I can find my 9mm before I get bitten....

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

The noise from within the treatment plant would have to wait. Vee was already on her A-game as a squad of zombies had sprinted into the parking lot in pursuit of a disheveled man a bit taller than I.

I counted three; four undead, already on the ground by the time I'm able to swing my shotgun around. As Vee stomped into a writhing zombie's head, collapsing his skull, she cheered wildly. Was she insane? There was still four or so advancing on us.

Taking aim at the ghouls I pump a shell into the chamber and let loose. A zombie, second to the leader, flinched for a moment as the round connected with his shoulder, but he kept coming. Another pump, another round, this one sending his brain matter all over the blacktop.

The speed of the zombies was enough to send me back-peddling while pumping out round after round. My third shot missed the pack entirely, the fourth penetrated the lead ghoul's neck, dropping him to the ground. The zombie convulsed violently but he was out of commission for the time being.

Two remained, one from the original group, the second stumbled down from atop a crushed Honda Civic. It appeared as though it had a broken leg that greatly reduced its movement.

The quicker of two was gaining on the new-comer. I cocked the hand grip back and pull the trigger, to which I receive the dreaded "click" sound.

"Goddamnit!" I jammed my fist into my pocket to search for an extra shell, to no avail. The ghoul was too far out of range to consider chasing him down and cracking his skull with the blunt end of my weapon. Vee was in the same situation, even with her great speed.

"Run over this way!" I called to the man. I figured that the ghoul was so occupied with his target that his speed combined with a power swing from my shotgun would be enough to take him out of the fight. The man seemed to acknowledge me.

I just hoped that in the meantime, Vee or Longshot would dispose of the limping zombie. Regardless, I'd be swinging for the fences. And for the newcomer's life.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I figured I could have handled the zombie on my tail easy enough, and before heeding the teenager's advice I simply stopped and swung. The bat broke on impact and left me unarmed, and the zombie for all intents and purposes unfazed. Throwing the marred weapon away I sprinted full speed towards the one with the shotgun. Judging by how he was holding it, I was almost completely sure what the kid had in mind.

Once I came within a yard of the gun turned club, I dove forwards, bringing myself to roll forwards upon impact. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn't want to risk slowing down and getting caught by either the ghoul, or the butt of the shotgun. After that nasty business was over with, I'd stand and dust myself off, eying the crippled zombie that was ambling around. It wasn't much of a threat, but I'd have preferred if someone addressed it immediately nonetheless.

Almost upon standing, I'd pull a pack of generic, regular cigarettes from my pocket, immediately placing one between my lips. I'd light it and take a drag or two before speaking, still keeping my gaze on the nearly out of commission ghoul.

"So you guy know each other or something?" I motioned towards Vee, Boston and Longshot nonchalantly, cigarette in hand.

[Mysteria]

TheGyspyQueen:

Oh boy can Boston make them bitches explode!

Boston is moving to rifle-butt one dead in the face, and there’s one limping dead guy left. Looks like he was some pencil pusher. Well, them’s the breaks. I’m out of breath though, and it takes a bit more for me to beat this one to death. The pipe is heavy in my hands, and when I finally let it clatter to the ground I have to stop and wait out the ache in my muscles. Jeez I was never this out of shape in the Marines.

“ So you guys know each other or something?”

I shake my head at him, placing a hand on my right thigh I kick my leg and shake my knee – kicking the one dead guy pulled something – and grab my bag again. First, I grab a field first aid kit – basically some gauze and antiseptic – and toss it to the newcomer. Next I grab two fresh clips and reload. I’m down to four now, and this situation is less than awesome. I sigh audibly and shoulder the bag again. I’m trying desperately to think what to say, anything at all, but all I can manage is a troubled frown.

I don’t want to be caught without ammo, and I haven’t forgotten the way Boston’s head swung towards the Water Treatment Facility right before the newcomer barreled in. There could be more dead folks in there. Hell, there were more dead folks everywhere, and I’m a much better shot than melee fighter.

All I can really do is wait for someone to take the lead here…

[Mysteria]

Sedalb:

“Holy shit!” were the first words out of my mouth. Of course I wanted to say something much cooler, especially since Tupac, a man who was presumed dead was standing right in front of me. Canuck looked at me with screwed eyes.

“You two know each other?” he asked, looking at both me, then Tupac.

I stumbled, “Yes… I mean no! Er…” I panicked, I was completely star struck, though Tupac sighed and turned to Canuck.

“Naw, I’m just a familiar face here in Cali…” He then turned to me, “And whatever questions you got, don’t bother… we got bigger issues now got it?”

I nodded my head, Tupac Shakur was talking to me. Talking to ME. I couldn’t believe it, here I thought all of those theories of how Tupac is still alive to be complete bullshit, and yet here he is standing right in front of me. My face was red, my brain was having a hard time working out my own little theories of how Tupac was alive, which got the attention of Canuck.

“You gonna be ok?” He asked, “Your face is all red, you’ve been bit?”

“NO!” my immediate response, I didn’t want to get shot by someone who’d have no problem doing it.

“Good, now… see them containers over there?” Canuck pointed his bat to a pile of water jugs, “If I’m not mistaken, that outlet over there can fill it up. Probably won’t be the cleanest water, but much better then drinking contaminated shit.”

Without another word I carried two jugs and filled them up. Both Canuck and Tupac followed as we headed outside to yet another conflict.

“I leave my truck for one minute and everything goes shitstorm!” Canuck yelled as he dropped his water. “Who the fuck are you guys? And where’d these dead zombies come from?” He raised his revolver at the group of survivors.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

Our new comrade tumbles just off to my side, leaving the zombie to charge at me full speed, just as I had hoped. Focused now on a closer target, the snarling ghoul's arms reach out for me.

Time suddenly slowed down. I find myself eye-to-eye with a zombie for the second time today. My knees braced, arms back, my stare unwavering. In another moment the zombie would be easy pickings.

From behind me, I hear the new guy say, "You guys know each other?" Was he really making conversation while there was still the threat of being zombie chow?

This distraction proved costly. For a split-second my mind was elsewhere instead of focusing on the wretched fiend at hand. I swung wildly in a desperate attempt to knock him away. I made contact with the side of his head but the momentum from his final lunge knocked me off my feet. My head hit the pavement with force and my vision went blurry for an instant.

Luckily, I had retained possession of my weapon. Keeping my left hand on the barrel, I slid my right down to the stock and shoved the weapon horizontally into the zombie's throat to keep it from biting me.

I yelled something that not even I could make out. But it was certainly a call for distress.

The ghoul retorted with a guttural growl. His entire body, from his head to his legs, was in some state of motion. His hands attempting to claw at my face, his legs spasming to gain momentum. All the while, bloody saliva dripped onto my shirt from his foaming mouth.

My pleas for air came in short, inconsistent breaths. My heart was literally pounding into my chest. Adrenaline replaced with fear. I continued to yell and grunt as I struggled for control.

But it was futile. For this moment, we were in a stalemate. And anybody who has spent time with the undead knows that zombies do not tire. I would need some help on this one.

[Mysteria]

Sedalb:

“Aw hell…” Canuck sighed as he saw some poor sap get jumped by a zombie. Ignoring the fact that these survivors, like the ones at the Hollywood Bowl, sorta came out of nowhere, he withdrew his pistol and readied his bat.

Approaching the survivor with the zombie mauling and growling on top of him, Canuck couldn’t help but snicker, “I think he likes you…” he said before stepping in with one big swing of the bat to the zombie’s head. Now when Canuck goes hulk on a zombie, he pretty much sets the standard for people not to be fucked with. I could only imagine a little boy Canuck playing Hockey up in his native Canada, beating up kids half his size on the ice with a hockey stick.

The impact of Canuck’s bat instantly broke the Zombie’s head. Blood, spit, and probably a little bit of vomit spewed all over the place. It was a mess, but it didn’t bother Canuck one bit. Once the zombie flew off the survivor’s body, Canuck took a few more swings at the zombie’s head… or what was left of it.

“Hoo wee… He’s seen better days I’ll tell you that.” He grinned as he observed his handy work. “You now…” he pointed his bat at the survivor on the ground, “You’ve been bit? Because I got an antidote if you did…”

Did I hear him correctly? Canuck has an antidote?

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I watch in mild curiousity as this dude with the Cowboy hat makes short work of Boston's friend.

Now here’s a lesson kiddies. Don’t yell when there’s people with guns. Unless you’re bullet proof. And judging by this guy’s balls he might very well be. But then again I don't know him and Boston saved my scrawny ass not a minute earlier. So I very audibly slide the safeties on my guns off.

How’s that for an introduction?

I remember not to turn the business end of my Glock on the living people this time but I do give them a very serious look. I need to know if they’re going to start shooting because Boston, the blonde, the newcomer and I are all sitting ducks here in the parking lot. I take a few steps to center myself in Cowboy Hat’s line of sight and give him a serious sizing up. He’s a big one, and judging by his stance he would not have a problem with blowing my head clean off.

The safeties are off and there are no more dead folk around. Just us and them. I’m not too good at looking intimidating, and let’s face it, I’d really prefer to make friends here. So I do the first thing that comes to mind.

“ Man, them dead folks are practically raining from the sky nowadays. Nice truck.” I say with my biggest, brightest smile, and pray to God I don’t get shot because wouldn’t that just beat all?

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

Now, I will admit this. I get sick very easily. It wasn't but a few hours ago when dealing with the Hispanic zombie in the bodega that I puked all over the floor. And that situation was nothing in comparison to what just befell me.

I just cheated death by all means. Almost no human will survive an attack from a zombie in a full mount position. Now, that would usually be enough for my nerves. But to add to my nerves, I was now completely covered in various bodily fluids and human tissue.

I wiped my face with my hand to find fragments of skull and brain on my palm. Disgusting. I wiped the hand on my pant leg.

Rather than vomit, I shoved a shaking hand into my pocket and extracted a beat up pack of cigarettes and my cobalt Zippo and lit up. This could be the best cigarette I've ever had.

"You been bit?" The cowboy asked.

I stood up and took off my drenched shirt exposing the Massachusetts state seal tattooed on the right side of my chest. As dirty as everyone gets in Zombieland, there is no rationale behind wearing a blood soaked shirt around. Thats just unsanitary.

I looked at the man in the cowboy hat waving a bloody bat in my face. "Nah. It didn't bite me."

My eyes focused back over on Vee who was grinning widely. I smiled and turned back to the cowboy. I took another drag and exhaled.

"So, thats your truck, huh?" I asked curiously, "Don't suppose you have a change of clothes in there, do you?"

[Mysteria]

Sedalb:

“No bites? Good…” Canuck dismissed the survivor and began back towards his truck.

I had to say something, “Hold on for a second.” I started, “You said something about an antidote, were you telling the truth? Is there an antidote?”

The cowboy turned to me and looked at me as if I were stupid. “Hell no!” he answered, in which my heart sank, “Course I got no antidote, but he didn’t know that did he!” he pointed his bat back at the survivor he saved, “If I asked for bites he could have just lied knowing full well I woulda blown his face off right then and now if he’d said yes. If made him believe I had an antidote, he would come crawling to my feet begging for it.” Canuck spat at the ground, “Ain’t nothing more annoying then some whiny bitch who later turns into a zombie when you least expect it.” His face was stern, something tells me it’s happened to him before.

I was now facing yet a new group of survivors, I guess it was time to introduce myself.

“Hello there,” I started, “My name is Happy, the cowboy with the bat is Canuck… and this is…” I choked once again, still can’t believe I’m with Tupac, “This… this is Tupac.”

Canuck looked at me, “Why does your face get red like that whenever you say his name? You got some sort of mancrush on him?”

I didn’t dare reply, no matter what response I had, it was best if I just stayed quiet. Canuck obviously never heard of Tupac, therefore had no idea why I was reacting the way I was. Thankfully this awkward silence was broken by the survivor Canuck saved.

Canuck replied, “Yeah this is my truck, and no I don’t got clothes in here for ya, what do I look like? Walmart?”

“They have Walmarts in Canada?” I asked.

He gave me a look, “You being a smartass?”

“No sir!” I replied, it was an honest question but obviously Canuck was not in the mood.

Tupac placed his water jugs in the back of Canuck’s truck, “Yo, I don’t want to interrupt this heartfelt meeting, but we in Compton, and this be filled with Nigga zombies waiting to jump our asses. So whatever arguments y’all had can wait till we get to a safe place.” He hopped on the back of the truck since there was only enough room for two in Canuck’s car.

Canuck then placed his water in the back, “Anyone who wants to come can jump on the back here, I’m heading back to the Hollywood Bowl, I’m staying there over night, then I’m heading out.” He finished as he hopped in the driver’s seat of his truck and waited a few seconds for anyone who wanted to hop in the back, then drive off to the Hollywood Bowl.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

I could already tell that Canuck was quite disagreeable. Nevertheless, I took the initiative in introducing those who were around.

Still enjoying my cigarette, smoke escaped from my mouth as I spoke, "Good to see some friendly faces." I blew the remaining smoke out and continued, "My names Boston. The tall, blond guy is Longshot. This," I pointed to the short red-head, "is Vee." Looking over to the man in the hockey jersey I realized that we hadn't truly met yet. "And to be honest, I don't know this guy."

I took a final drag and flicked the cigarette butt away. "If you guys are heading out I'll join you. I got a car. Could probably fit two or three people. Just gotta move some shit into the trunk." I looked about to see if anyone would take me up on my offer.

The three men jumped into the truck and I heard the engine rev up. If anyone wanted to leave, now was the time to say so.

[Mysteria]

CaptxMorgan:

I still found myself standing there, feeling as useless as ever. These people had pretty much saved my ass and all I had in return were my fists and a shit ton of awful jokes. Ignoring the bickering, etc, I made a run for my pseudo demolished vehicle. Sure the truck was dented in more places than I could count, but the doors still worked. Rummaging through the backseat I found another three baseball bats, a few packages of Ramen noodles and a can of Old Spice body spray. Bringing the can with me was a vain decision, sure enough, but I wanted to smell decent just in case.

Grinning, I made my way back towards the group, keeping the bats in my arms , and the body spray and Ramen in my pockets. Sure, I wasn't exactly loaded to the teeth, but I hoped the small pack would take me on anyways. The fact that I was both alone, and not dead yet would hopefully be enough to reinforce this point. Not a word would be spoken as I simply stood there, glancing at everyone who could still form a regular sentence.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I follow Boston. Always best to stick with the ones you know, and he did save my ass. I click the safeties on my clocks back into place and shoulder my pack, following his lead.

I watch as Canuck and his crowd climb into the truck and take a moment to consider. Canuck reminds me of some guys from my old squad, and that’s not necessarily a good thing. Best to keep quiet and keep alert.

I don’t know where we’re going but I can’t say I really care. I’m glad to be with people.

“ So…” I start awkwardly, and suddenly the question that’s been bugging me all day pops into my head. “ I just know I’ve seen this in a movie somewhere. How about you?”

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

I actually managed a laugh at Vee's comment. Though I didn't respond, I reflected to myself, 'I hope this isn't the movie where everyone dies at the end.'

I walked over to my car, a '98 Volvo S40, and popped the trunk. The boxes of food got shoved in first, save for a bag of beef jerky. Next, the cases of water bottles. I decided to leave several in the car. California was fucking hot, and my blood was too thick for this climate. If you're dehydrated, you might as well give yourself up to the undead.

As I crammed the remainder of the water into the trunk I stumbled upon an old weapon that I had forgotten about. My handy crowbar. I hung it around my belt and closed the trunk.

So it appeared that Vee would be coming along for the ride. The unkempt newcomer had ran back to his wrecked truck for some of his "supplies". His pockets were bulging and he held several bats in his arms as he jogged back over.

He reminded me of a lost puppy, albeit, a very grizzly puppy. I could tell he wanted to tag along and I was in no position to turn him down. Safety in numbers, right?

I nodded at the man, "If you're coming with me, how about a name?"

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

Flashing a grin at the teenager, I spoke very briefly "Just call me Donnie, and I fucking guarantee you won't regret giving me a ride." A small nod was given in the direction of Vee, who seemed to be the only person insane enough to travel with us. Sure, Volvos' has solid track records in crash tests and the like, but how would they hold up under siege? Deciding to put the overly critical thoughts aside, I threw my less important belongings in the trunk of the sedan. Such belongings consisted of the food, the body spray and three of the four bats. I wanted one of the things on me in case shit got rough in the next few hours.

After packing so to speak, I simply lounged against the back of the car, lighting up another cigarette before speaking yet again.

"So, where the fuck are we going now?" I grinned, allowing my gaze to switch between both Boston and Vee.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I offer up my third big smile of the day and offer Donnie my hand. He seems okay but maybe a little insane which is cool cause God knows I’m one coke short of a six pack.

“ Call me Vee. It’s a pleasure.” I said, pumping his hand firmly, after I had sat in the front seat next to Boston. I pulled my pack into my lap and opened it. “ So I’ve got like, about a months worth of MREs and some jerky and a couple canteens, and a blanket. I’ve also got some first aid kits and some antiseptic, but I’m down to six clips of ammo. I don’t suppose anyone has some .45 GAPs?”

I take a big swig from my canteen and unwrap some jerky, offering some to my new companions.

Heh. It’s like having a squad again. I forgot how much I missed this feeling.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I quirked a brow at the over eager woman. "I'd say we don't have to worry about food, water or shelter. Ammunition should be the only real goal at the moment." I muttered, still leaning outside of the car.

"Anyways, this is Compton, there has to be a fucking gun shop somewhere nearby." Once again, I looked at the various aluminum bats I'd brought with me. As effective as they were, I would much rather have a decent rifle or sidearm to use before the situation required melee weapons. "So, assuming Boston is willing, I say we find the nearest gunshop or Walmart and loot ourselves some fucking weaponry."

Dragging the cigarette, I let my grin grow slightly, eyes averted to the pavement of the parking lot.

[Mysteria]

nonangelic92:

Turns around and pulls her 9mm out and shots the first child zombie in the face. Hits a zombie child over the head, just to but herself some time. Shoots the second zombie child in the head, then faces the zombie child on the ground, and shoots him in the face.

"Stupid child zombies!"

I start walking until I come across the Hollywood Bowl. I enter the building and find some sorta stockpile.

"Looks like someone's been here before. I wonder if that same person is gonna be coming back soon."

I open up some of the boxes, and I find a bunch of M&Ms. I smile having not had chocolate for a long time. I grab one fo the bags and open it, popping a few M&Ms into my mouth.

I sit buy the stock pile and take my IPod out and turn the volume on low, and pop the headphones into my ears. I close my eyes listening to the sweet voice of Enrique Iglesias.

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

As I drive the truck into the city, becoming increasingly aware as I do that a truck this size was never meant to drive down city streets at the speed I am, I hear cracks of what can only be gunfire through the slit-open windows even over the roar of the trucks racing engine. In my "profession" you either have good ears or your dead, so I know what the sound is when I hear it. Survivors, that means survivors. About time.

I corner so sharply that the truck actually skids across the road, but I pull it out and downshift to keep control. Zombies are coming running out of shops as I do, charging through doors and leaping through windows. I steer the truck right into the middle of the road and keep my foot all the way down no matter what, if they get aboard this hulk and break into the cab at this speed I'll loose skin jumping out at the very least.

I pull on the air horn of the truck, which lets out a deafening blast of sound which can probably be heard a mile away, to let any survivors know I'm coming, then check my shotgun as the Zombies start to leap at the truck. I'd swerve from side to side to loose them or make it harder to board, but the truck is too heavy a vehicle. If I swerve I loose speed, if I try to swerve and fight off Zombies simultaneously I could roll the truck with me inside.

For anyone who cares to think about it, it's pretty obvious that a truck this size pulling a trailer full of petrol is basically a big bomb waiting to go off. It may make a very effective battering ram, but trying to stop in a hurry is lunacy unless you don't care if you live or die. Zombies don't, due to the important fact that their minds have long since rotted away. Even if the truck did roll, blow up and take out a city block, what would they care? They wouldn't even notice.

Over a dozen Zombies charge the truck, but while the speed is there the coordination isn't with the brain fried and served raw. Only three get any kind of grip, but one of those gets it's legs trapped under the left-side wheels and I hear the wet sound of tearing flesh, the crackle of breaking bone. That one is so mangled I'll be surprised if there's anything left below the shoulders, by the sound of it.

The second gets a grip on the door handle, but I've locked the door and the windows thick glass which isn't easy to break. It won't let go, but it can't get any closer to getting in from the position it's in. The last, though, gets hold of the radiator hub and, somehow, pulls itself up onto the bonnet. It keeps trying to stand up, but gravity and wind pressure keep it on it's knees, so it crawls forwards instead. Then it starts banging on the drivers side windscreen with bloody hands and what looks like a broken cell phone. All it does is leave bloody smears on the windscreen, though.

I take another sharp corner, fighting the wheel of the truck again as it skids and tries to roll, hold it but loose more speed and have to downshift again. The Zombie on the bonnet nearly slides off, but grabs a wing mirror and hangs on. This is ridiculous, so-as I spot a sign to the Hollywood Bowl-I change up as I hit a straight, lower the window and stick the shotgun out of it, aiming at the Zombie.

The thing see's a moving object and tries to bite it, of course, but that's what I want. A twist of the wrist puts the barrels end in it's mouth and I pull the trigger with the gun INSIDE it's head. Two thirds of it's head explode into a red mist and the thing falls off of the cab like the dead weight it is again. It hurts my wrist, but I'm stronger than I look and can handle the kick. I rack another shell and close the window almost completely, leaving the usual small slit just in case.

That's when I hear more gunshots and spot another sign, towards Compton Water Treatment Centre. I haul the wheel around and head straight towards it, hoping anyone there will have the sense not to shoot at my vehicle if they see Zombies hanging off of it-for one thing, I have no doubt there are some hanging onto the trailer-and Curse God yet again. Who would live my life if they had a choice?

Maybe I should stay inside the truck even if the survivors are stupid enough to open fire on me. All it would take is one stray bullet piercing the steel container with the fuel in and the explosion would rock their world in more ways than one...

I pull the horn again, longer and harder this time, just in case. I don't want to die THAT badly.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

Vee and Donnie were carrying out a lazy conversation. I grabbed a hearty hunk of mesquite beef from the bag of jerky and shoved it into the side of my mouth. I could not get over how much of a relief it was to have two companions, particularly Vee who was evidentially a soldier in some branch of the military. Military police I guessed. No women were permitted into the infantry but MP's often saw as much action as any foot soldier.

Donnie's story wasn't so obvious. He carried himself like a country bumpkin; a cherub, yet, he had a slight New York accent. I don't think he was much older than me, but he was aged somehow. Too many years spent on the beaten path, I assumed. It was better not to think about it. If he wished to tell his story, I'm sure he would.

I chewed into another piece of jerky and got comfortable in the front seat of the car. We weren't in a rush to go anywhere. I hung onto what Donnie had said earlier about finding ammo. I wasn't in need of any, though I knew Vee was. And Donnie didn't even have a gun. I suppose going on a quest to find some ammunition could do more good than bad.

"Let's get going," I called to Donnie. Looking back to Vee, "So if you're riding shotgun you could probably use this." I handed her my Remington and a box of shells. Using a pump shotgun while driving was way too difficult, and it seemed like I was leaving it in capable hands.

I started up the car and called to Donnie again. Unfortunately, I knew we were going to be delayed as the crescendo of a truck horn marked the approach of a big rig.

I looked back at Vee, then to Donnie. Drive or stay?

[Mysteria]

Serendipitous Bliss:

“HEY LOOK OUT!” Some idiot announced his presence as he ran into the convenience store and shot down the zombie I’d heard, and another that’d had his feet taken off somehow and someone had obviously forgotten to Double Tap.

“You all right?” He asked and turned towards me. The look across his face wasn’t anything new; I’d seen it every night on Open House since I’d begun teaching. The dark-haired man recovered himself well though, and introduced himself as Twenty.

I arched a dark eyebrow at him and walked casually to the shelving below the check-out counter, grabbing handfuls of Baby Ruth’s and putting them on the top, near where one picks out their Lotto scratchers. I peeked over to the other side and grabbed a few plastic bags, shaking them open and tossing the candy bars in.

“Some people have called me Teach or Teacher, so you can too, if you want,” I said and turned around, pointing a Baby Ruth at him threateningly. “But if you call me Baby, I’ll kill you.”

I added to my tone that I wasn’t joking and moved past him towards the drink coolers with the plastic bags, taking as many waters as the bags would hold without ripping or being too heavy. I pushed a few bags at his chest and smiled.

“Grab something. I don’t know where you’re headed, Twenty, but I’m going to Hollywood today – the Bowl in East Hollywood, exactly. It’s about fifteen miles from here and I hear it is safe there, for now. Just have to get a car, first…” I said, tone turning thoughtful as I glanced out into the street. “Do you have a car?”

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

Almost immediately I slid into the back seat of the car, noting the ruckus the approaching truck had created.

"Just fucking book it man." I all but yelled to Boston, sure it was selfish, but one had to be at least slightly cold to make it in zombieland, right? Of course, Vee still had to weigh in, and it all came down to the 19 year old kid from Mass. Either way, I wasn't entirely sure how it would play out, driving a tanker into a crowded parking lot at high speeds was never a good idea, and personally, I didn't want to see (or be a part of) the aftermath.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

Every now and again, whether you live in the world after dead people start getting the munchies, or in the military, or in civilian life, there comes this moment, this split second when you have to make a snap decision. It's do or die, and in my experience, moments like that are the moments that make you... or break you. I've been on both sides of that fence. Once it put me on top of the world when I made the right call, and another time it ended me.

Sink or swim, do or die, kill or be killed. Law of the land, survival of the fittest.

What I'm getting at is WHO IS THE IDIOT DRIVING A FUCKING FUEL TANKER AT LIKE SIXTY MILES AN HOUR INTO A CROWDED PARKING LOT?!

Now I know I've seen this in a movie.

I don't want to die. It's not my style. I'm a survivor and I'm pretty good at it. So while I'm staring at this huge big rig careening into the parking lot and trying not to have flashbacks and Boston is frozen at my left and Donnie is yelling for him to drive I have less than a second to make a decision that really is quite simple.

" Move!" I yelp in the most ridiculously girly fashion imaginable while slamming my foot down on an imaginary gas pedal and simultaneously readying the lovely pump action Remington - one of my personal favorite gun makers, if I may say so, next to Glock, of course - that I had been handed. I did not intend to shoot, although there were more dead folks hanging off that thing than crabs on twenty dollar hooker. But the unready soldier is the dead soldier and like I said, dying just ain't my style.

My job, what I'm really good at, is not taking the offensive. For every action there is and equal an opposite reaction. I am the reaction. So I wait to react.

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

Hell, I didn't expect the parking lot of the Plant to be packed out with survivors and their cars! I was expecting maybe a few gung-ho gun nuts who'd made it this far somehow and fortified themselves inside a building with thick walls. Instead, there's a whole group of survivors running in all directions and jumping into vehicles in a panic as they try to get out of the way.

Perfect. Well, at least no-one's shooting at me. That would REALLY ruin my day.

I'm still doing almost sixty to keep the Zombies off me, but the truck handles like a brick with Arthritis with a rocket engine mounted on one end using elastic bands and controls that are just for show. On top of which, I haven't actually driven a vehicle for almost four years-but needs must.

I pump the brakes, haul the wheel around and put the truck up on eight of its sixteen wheels as rubber screams in protest. The truck makes a forty-five degree turn faster than the designers ever intended and only just slams back down to level as I twist the wheel back to straighten out, clear of the survivors and their cars. The security fence of the Treatment Centre disintegrates like rotten string held up by matchsticks as the big truck barely looses any speed despite my maniac manoeuvre, but I manage to drag the truck around the main building without committing Suicide.

I snarl at the absurdity of finally having found survivors only to find myself having to save them from MYSELF to begin with, then I see the Outhouse where all the pumps are stored. It's nowhere near as solid as the main building and this truck isn't going to stop itself without maybe a quarter-mile to do so...

I aim the truck straight at the Outhouse, stand on the brakes and assume crash position. About five seconds later, an echoing contact sounds and sounds that seems to have escaped from Hell scream from brick, stone, metal and plastic as all of them shatter, twist, bend, break, groan and grind all at once. If the End of the World had an Orchestra, I imagine it would sound something like this. The windows shatter, then the glass explodes in all directions, including over me. The cabs structure somehow survives the impact, meaning I don't get crushed like an Accordion being played by God, but the impact is so physically shocking that I loose all track of up and down, for a second even whether I'm alive or dead-then the engine screams one last time and dies, even as the truck finally stops.

That REALLY hurt, I'll have bruises on my bruises, but I'm not dead so I'm doing better than most. I can smell smoke and spilling petrol, though, which I'm sure is coming from the trucks damaged engine, so I have no time to waste getting out of here. I grab my shotgun, check I have my three knives-Swiss Army knife, Steak Knife I used to kill a Zombie since it was already sticking out of it's head a few hours ago and a WWII combat relic that's still probably the best I have-sheath them and drag myself out of the ruins of the cab.

There are Zombies all over the place, of course, but the truck hit so hard that they've ended up on the roof, flung through walls, in pieces and with several broken bones everywhere I look. The most intact one is upright, but seems to have broken its collarbone because it's arms aren't moving. I shoot it in the head and everything but fragments of spine disappear above the neck. Combat Shotgun, at least there's that. I shake my head to clear it and look around.

The nearest car has a man with a Military bearing and a young red-headed woman in it. They may all be armed, but they seem unlikely to shoot at a fellow human at a time like this. I take a chance, sprint over even as battered Zombies start to drag themselves upright and dive through a still-open door full-length across the laps of the two sitting in the back.

"Pleased to meet you, you can call me Psycho, but introductions can wait until we're the Hell away from here. That truck is torn up, loaded with petrol and I'm pretty sure the engine is so damaged it's only a matter of time until something shoots sparks out so it blows up. May I suggest RUNNING LIKE HELL ITSELF IS AFTER US!?" I snap out, even as my new comrades in arms just seem to sit and stare at me.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I blink.

I’m not entirely sure what I just witnessed.

Either I just saw the most incredible feat of attempted vehicular suicide ever in the history of the world, or I just saw the stupidest last ditch effort to save one’s own ass ever. I may spend the rest of my life debating the question.

Anyway, I slide out of the car, mouth still hanging slack in sheer dumbfounded stupor, shotgun at the ready in my hands. I finally gain control of myself again and consider the situation. There’s a chick with dreadlocks running towards me yelling something about running. I can’t leave her and I’m sure I probably should cause that was the dumbest, most ridiculous, foolhardy, AWESOME thing I have ever seen anyone even consider doing and I grew up on military bases for crying out loud.

There’s a verifiable horde right on her heels and I’m scared to use the shotgun because it’s not mine and I’m no good at shooting those things – don’t get me wrong, they do some lovely damage but I am a girl of small frame and big guns rattle me. I’m not dead sure I can shoot that monster and not hit our new suicidal friend. So I fall back on my old trusty Glocks. I have them out and the three dead folks nearest to her neck spurting blood from where their heads used to be before anyone could say “Bob’s your uncle.” Nothing like my babies for precision.

“ Backseat!” I bark at the new arrival in the command voice Dad taught me how to use. “ Donnie – clips – my pack –“ Each pause is interjected by an exploding head on the part of some dead person. I’m running low on bullets fast and I really hope that either a miracle happens or this new lady hurries the hell up and gets in the car so I can too and give that pretty shotgun some exercise. I want to keep one eye on that tanker that looks so much like a nice big napalm gift basket from Satan, but there are too many dead folks.

Please oh please, hurry up, lady. And please oh please, Boston, be a good driver.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

Someone's going to have to explain to me later on what the fuck just happened. As far as I can tell, an oil tanker just crashed into the perimeter fence that surrounds the Water Treatment Center and now there's a middle-aged woman with dreadlocks in my backseat, screaming about the tanker exploding.

Taking a look out my window, my jaw is sent to the floor. A legion of ghouls is descending upon the truck and on us. I reach over and pull Vee back into the car by her arm. Before I give her time to close the door, we're off. I throw the car into drive and punch the accelerator, causing us to burn out. The car reeks of burnt rubber and smoke fills the air around us. Collecting myself for the moment, I ease off the gas and take off further into the parking lot to buy time.

Once we've put enough ground between ourselves and the undead I bang a uey and prepare for the dash back to the entrance, and ultimately out of the parking lot.

"Vee, Psycho," I say quietly, "Blast anything that gets too close." This was going to be a buzzer beater. We were only about 80 to 100 yards from the entrance, but the amount of zombies terrified me. Between the undead swarm and the volatile oil rig I felt there was nothing good that would come of this.

'Fuck it.' I slam on the accelerator and start speeding towards the horde. I hope Vee and our new comrade could take out a lot of the ghouls, because I'm not sure how many of these wraiths I'll be able to eliminate with a sedan.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

Good news, self. Boston is a fantastic driver.

If fantastic equals homicidal, I mean.

But homicidal works right now.

Something jerks me by the arm and before I know what’s happening, the parking lot, horde and ticking bomb of a rig and all, are careening past me and I fight the split second wave of nausea that slams me. I curl my feet to my chest and roll onto my heels in the passenger seat – hurrah for being limber – lean forward, hook one ankle around the arm rest in the between Boston and I, grab the “oh shit” handle and lean out to grab the door and attempt to close it while Boston tries to re-enact the latest Indianapolis 500 at a one-hundredth scale.

Suddenly we’re still and I slam the door shut with a bit too much force. I slump back into the seat and for a just a fraction of a second all four of us are staring at a huge dead horde of monsters I’d never even had nightmares about – except for that one fucking movie I just can’t remember – a burning oil rig, and on the other side of it all, the street, our survival, everything. We just stare, and I can’t hear so much as a breath except for…

“ Vee, Psycho… blast anything that gets too close.”

Oh good fucking God he cannot be thinking what I think he’s thinking…

We’re in a fucking Volvo-

I wouldn’t try this in a Hummer-

Maybe I would, but not unless I was really drunk-

Oh God we’re gonna die, and this crazy beautiful bastard is gonna kill us-

Spec-fucking-tacular way to go-

“Boston-!” I choke out, and I swear I cracked the butt of that Remington my grip was so tight. Great thing about military training, though, it was ready to go. I had only to aim.

“Fuck it!” he shouts and did I say this guy was a kid? He’s a fucking animal.

“ Fuck!” I repeat, more of bellow than a scream this time, and I rush to hand one Glock to Donnie and one to Psycho – they better not hurt my babies – hope Donnie remembers the clips are in my pack like I said – I pump the Remington and whisper to myself “Simper fi.”

It’s us and them, a Volvo full of four crazy terrified suicidal survivors versus a horde of hungry flesh eating freaks. There’s a certain aesthetic beauty to all this. The blood, the guts, the gore. A symphonic poetry of the boom of shotgun blasts and the more precise crack of pistols.

Wish I was smart enough to appreciate it.

We hit the horde at something near to fifty miles an hour, which was the best this little thing can manage in that tight a space. Funny thing about German cars, though. They build ‘em like brick shit houses. I can’t say how deep we manage to plow through them, because all I remember is the roar of engine, death, and guns. If it moved, I was shooting at it, hands automatically reloading shell after shell after shell.

The sun was blocked out by the mass of bodies.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I was never a fan of glocks, or any sidearms for that matter. Not enough stability, guns with stocks and longer barrels were a definite preference. Nonetheless, I had pretty solid aim back in the day and I had plenty of time to practice on the undead. So, when Vee handed me the weapon I immediately rolled down my window and started firing. I picked targets to some degree, but for the most part I was firing into the wild, rotting yonder. I emptied the clip almost immediately and began to fumble around for Vee's pack.

"I show up and a handful of those assholes follow me, how the fuck did you attract so many? And why the fuck would drive a fucking moving bomb?

I muttered almost inaudibly, now rummaging through the recently discovered pack and working on reloading my weapon. They were harsh words, undoubtedly but the woman certainly made living more of chore than it had been minutes ago. I continued firing potshots, doing as much as I could to keep the encroaching horde from tearing the Volvo apart and making damn sure they got the meal they worked so hard for. The fear of hitting the tanker was more or less erased by the fact that it would be almost impossible for anything to get past the pseudo living wall the zombies had become.

"Just keep your foot on that pedal man."

I managed, trying to sound both calm, and reassuring, something I was typically good at. Speaking was difficult due to the various jerks and shudders that rocked the car. There was no way the suspension was going to make it the whole ride.Hell, the whole bottom of the Volvo was probably mangled beyond recognition. It wouldn't be long until it just gave up.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

We were about half a football field away from the street and it seemed like an eternity. The Volvo was holding its own, moving at a clip of about 35 miles per hour, but it didn't seem fast enough.

I became increasingly worried about the damage to the undercarriage caused by zombies-turned-roadkill. The car's white-washed hood had become stained in various shades of sanguine and I'm sure the dents on the front end were becoming more and more severe. I had lost the driver's side mirror to a side-swept ghoul.

Thirty yards now. As furious as my comrades' rate of fire was, it all seemed to be drowned out by the incessant moaning of the rotting dead. What I would do for some music right now.

Though the dead were all about us, our speed kept us safe from their bites. Slowing down was certain death. There would be no recovery from that. We'd be forced to a stop and, more-likely-than-not, ripped from the car and devoured by the zombie horde.

To Hell with that thought. We needed to pick up the pace. Our situation was reaching critical levels with every second we spent within the depths of the zombie mob. Of course, it did not get any better as we grew nearer to the tanker.

"Keep fucking shooting!"

Fifteen yards. A break was beginning to form in the ranks of the ghouls just ahead. This was our chance. I shoved the clutch into second gear and pounded the accelerator. The ride became more and more jerky as the dead began to act more like rotting speed bumps.

We got clear of the vast majority of the zombies. I looked back in triumph. "Oh shit! Fuck yes! Good bye you ugly bastards!" Anyone with virgin ears was shit out of luck. I could not contain myself, granted, we Irish are not great with clean mouths. I grinned from ear-to-ear at Vee before putting my eyes back on the road.

Just as I was preparing to turn, we connected with a lone zombie. The force of the collision sent the ghoul flipping over the hood and smack into my side of the windshield, before rolling off onto the pavement. Though the glass did not shatter, it was severely cracked. Completely unable to see, and, in turn, unable to anticipate the turn, I slammed the breaks.

Whether or not there is truth in this, I could swear that I read utter disappointment in everyone's face at this moment in time. They continued to fire relentlessly on the infected.

"Keep it up!" I yelled, my voice cracking from too much adrenaline.

Flicking a switch on my door, the window rolls down and I stick my head out the window in order to continue our desperate escape. This inconvenience took precious seconds away and now the undead behind us were right on our ass. Five yards and closing.

With the tanker coming up on the right I realized that it partially blocked that side of the road, leaving us to turn left. With the turn, and the tanker, approaching, I could only pray that it would stay stable long enough for us to get clear...

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

Despite my near incessant use of religious references, especially coupled with profanity, I’m not a big religious person. Sure, I bow my head at prayer and I think everyone I know that’s dead now should be in some place like heaven – except for Shawn, that fuck is certainly rotting in hell – but I was never one of those devout types.

I know what hell is now.

I can’t say I’ve found Jesus or anything like that, because the answer to my problem is still the business end of a firearm, not prayer, but holy fucking shit.

It felt like forever, trapped in that tiny Volvo with a mass of horror pressed down upon us. We manage to keep a three or four foot radius somehow, although exactly how that happened eludes me. But the ride was bumpy and loud and occasionally Donnie would try to be encouraging and Boston was shouting expletives from time to time, and things were tight and claustrophobic and oh god, looking at those fuckers up close and personal was torture. Chunks torn off, things sticking out at wrong angles, and not all of them were fully clothed and quite a few of them had begun to rot. The stench was something that I will never, ever outrun as long as I live, I am sure.

Fuck the Middle East. This is hell.

I swear, I could have bawled like a baby when I saw the light break through their ranks, and I began to laugh as Boston broke through it, a cold, derisive, insane laugh. The kind of laugh that says “I’m eighty percent positive that this is a hallucination of my dying mind.” But as we cleared the crowd and Boston began to gun the engine so we could clear the tanker, and my laugh was changing to an overjoyed giggle, the unthinkable happened.

Fuck you too, Murphy’s Law.

It was over in a second and a sickening crack of glass, punctuated by Boston’s cursing. My laughter abruptly stopped. And now that insane bastard has stuck his head out the goddamn window… I’m gonna punch him later. I roll down my own window and climb out of it halfway, so that I’m sitting on the car door and gripping the roof, trying to have faith that Donnie or Psycho will cover my exposed back. I pause to get my footing and my bearings. My plan is to get a wider view with the Remington, and hopefully prevent Boston from losing any facial features, but right about then I notice the tanker.

Oh my God. The tanker. The bomb. The mother-fucking gift wrapped anti-dead horde weapon.

I slam my hand down on the roof of the car, praying Canuck and his bunch have gotten clear. I can’t see them and I don’t have time to care.

“ Get clear, get clear! We’ll blow the place to hell if we can get clear! I’ll take the shot but fucking get clear!”

I am insane. Please, someone tell me that this is not plan A.

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

"Do I look like I WANT to be followed by enough Zombies to eat Godzilla, idiot?! They came after me because I was in the Rig, the damn truck was the only vehicle big enough I could jump start to use as a battering ram. In case you didn't know? The Freeways are Infested and on fire!" I snap out at the man who apparently thinks I'm deaf.

It's the last thing I do before everyone starts shouting about the legion of Zombies coming after us I was trying to outrun in the first place. The red head-Vee, was it?-shoves a Glock in my hand as the driver starts driving like he can outdistance Death itself, shouting at me to shoot Zombies. Well, given the crush trying to smash us flat and eat us, I would have guessed that was the plan.

I shrug, it's not my gun or ammo, but it'll do. I smash the back window with the gun butt and open fire with a marksmans precision, dropping a Zombie without most of it's brain with every shot. My job does NOT get easier when the car crashes into the horde like it's a battering ram-goodbye, suspension-but I keep shooting. I have to fight for reloads, twice, before we finally break out of the horde as the driver somehow keeps the half-wrecked car moving-just before a Zombie bounces off the windscreen and shatters it.

Yet again, who'd live my life? The car slowing down so that the driver can roll open the window and see again is all they'll need to catch us. That's when Vee has an idea, if the driver can follow basic instructions.

"Get clear, get clear! We'll blow the place to hell if we can get clear! I'll take the shot but fucking get clear!" shouts Vee, even as she leans out the window to get a clear shot. I smile, that kind of lunacy I can respect.

I swing my whole body around and kick the windscreen clean out of the frame with all my weight and muscle behind it. Then I roll over the man in the seat and smash out the window, copying Vee's posture to watch her back, hoping she'll watch mine. If I get killed by a Zombie which bites me in the ass while I'm escaping I'm coming back from Hell to haunt whichever clown let it happen, even if my bodies still walking around.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I let out a small laugh at the mention of blowing the tanker. I was pretty sure the ensuing explosion would be enough to take out a football field, but I was never any good when it came to explosives. Whatever the blast radius was, I didn't care enough to dispute it because frankly we were probably dead either way. Reloading my weapon and shoving a spare clip into my pocket, I move to exit the car, planning on being as belligerent as possible to buy some time. Of course, before I can even touch the handle the crazy woman had already found a way out of the Volvo.

"What is this? The fucking Dukes of Hazzard?" I sigh, shaking my head before grabbing door handle yet again. It would be impossible to get a solid enough angle to cover anyone while stuck in the car. So, I simply copied Vee and Psycho's idea on the only vacant window. Even then it didn't feel like enough and suddenly I was wishing we had a jeep. Four people in a car and we were all sticking out the sides like something out of an old gangster movie.

"Vee, you sure you can make the shot? I don't think the spray would cover the distance we'd need to get clear." I shout as loudly as possible, hoping I'm audible over the combination of gunshots, moans and general discord. Even as I'm speaking I'm taking potshots, aiming for torsos instead of heads. This wasn't a marksmanship contest and I was focused on stopping power instead of risking a wasted shot on an attempted one hit kill. Psycho was covering Vee, who was covering Boston, and I was doing my best to keep them all in good health. This left me a little too exposed, and suddenly one of the fuckers was all but on top of me, grabbing at my jersey. Reacting as quickly as possible, I stop shooting momentarily and smack the living dead on the crown of it's head. After a few more whacks, it relinquishes it's grip and I fire a single shot at it's cranium killing the bastard instantaneously.

Resuming my previous position, I go back to firing into the crowd, wondering how long it would be until we were clear.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

Oh man I don't think I can make that shot with the Remington, Donnie has a point.

"Trade!" I bellow, watching Donnie to make sure he gets the idea before I offer up the only thing keeping me from losing what little ass I have.

Boston is pullling past the tanker now, and we're through the worst of the horde. But being through the horde means not a god damn thing, because now the horde wants to chase us down. But the good news about that is that the majority of the fuckers are coming from behind now, which lets us concentrate our fire.

I want to scream at Boston, tell him to drive faster, but I don't. If we don't clear at least a seventy five yards and get up something like fifty miles an hour, we are dead as these fucks the minute I take the shot. I can do this. I can do this. I once pinned a Coke can at 125 yards with a Glock. This is more like hitting the broad side of the barn. Except I have to hit the right part to cause a spark and explode this barn to Kingdom Come. That is, if it doesn't explode on its own accord first.

I will not giggle like a madwoman. I will not giggle like a madwoman.

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

I drop a Zombie with every shot, but the way we're swinging around is defeating even my aim and a few get up again, minus a chunk of head or an eye-but still. One gets too close as I take careful shots, but it isn't expecting me to grab it's head with my free hand, slam it face-first into the side of the car repeatedly until it's brains come out of it's ears and then throw it away like garbage. It doesn't get up.

"Drive faster or we might as well get out and PUSH, man!" I shout, as the Zombies slowly start to fall behind us as the battered car slowly accelerates. The Zombies can't run at anything like the speed the car is moving, but there are more coming out of every structure in sight and every alleyway, even some vehicles, all lured out by the sounds of screams and gunfire. We are NOT going to make it at this rate, not even Suicide Run style.

Blowing up the tanker is a good idea, but if we take it out at this distance we might as well bend over and kiss our asses goodbye before more Zombies come and snack on our deep-fried selves. The car is so damaged that I doubt we can even get up to speed fast enough to outrun the explosion if it was life or death-which it is at the minute. My day continues to improve.

As we drive on as fast as we can, we start to crash into running Zombies again and even more of the cars frame buckles. I know enough about engines to be well aware that the noises I'm hearing are a death rattle sound, we have minutes to go with this vehicle before we're dumped in Hell and left for dead. I suppose there are worse ways to go than being eaten alive by the walking dead bodies of your loved one's, but right now I'm running low on ideas. Maybe being strapped to a ticking Nuke?

If I survive this I'm going to the White House to kick whatever's left of George Bush's dangling parts, repeatedly, so hard a Surgeon won't be able to find them when I'm through. After that I'm going to Cheyenne Mountain so I can Nuke the USA and everywhere else they have weapons aimed. This planet deserves it.

I take one more second to see if anyone has any ideas, then I'm going to try something drastic

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

"Way ahead of ya." I let a grin play on my lips before pulling myself back inside the vehicle to exchange weapons with Vee. It wasn't quite a carbine, but at least aim wouldn't be as much of an issue. I didn't even think to ask for extra shells, but it could wait, the undead were calling.

I climbed back out the window and fired off a single shot, and I have to admit it was a hell of a lot of fun. It was pretty satisfying to completely eviscerate whatever I aimed at, leaving brain mattered scattered upon the street like some sort of grotesque confetti. I fired off another shot before the issue of ammo reared it's ugly head.

"Vee, are there shells in the pack?" I yell out again, it was probably beginning to annoy the other patrons of the car at this point, but I'd be useless without them.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

t was crunch time. Our vehicle-my vehicle, the first car I ever owned- was managing to chug along. The others were doing their damnedest to keep the wraiths away from the struggling car.

As I took a wide left turn onto the street, the break pedals screeched horribly. There wasn't much life left in this battle-worn horse. Nevertheless, we made turn and got on the street, with the dead still in pursuit.

This was the moment of truth. I'd have to summon every bit of horsepower this baby could muster. I stomp my foot onto the pedal, full force, and flatten it into the floorboard. Pedal to the metal.

30. 35. 40. 45. The red needle of the speedometer hovers right around the 45mph mark, refusing to go any further. Alas, it was faster than even the fullest zombie sprint. And it would give Vee a much better chance of hitting the tanker.

Taking a peek in the rear view I guessed we were about 40 yards away from the tanker and getting further by the second. I knew shit about explosions, but I figured we were a fair distance away. And the zombies were still near the truck by this point.

"Vee. It's your call."

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

“Box in the passenger seat!” I shout back to Donnie, praying that the sounds I was hearing were not the death of the Volvo, brave little monster though it was. I check behind me quickly before I check the ammo in the clip, which had eight bullets left. I shove the clip back in and pause to shoot a pair of deads that are heading for Psycho. Donnie has pretty well blown himself a nice couple of seconds of a breather with the Remington and all that’s left now is for Boston to get us clear.

This is it. We’re pulling clear. Boston is coaxing the poor car into a sprint but

God only knows how far we’ll make it.

“ Vee, it’s your call.” I barely register Boston’s voice.

“ Get your ass back in the car, Psycho!” I yell, dropping myself back in simultaneously.

I don’t have a chance trying to shoot that thing over the roof, I’ll get decapitated by debris before I can even think about getting out of the way. And I can’t shoot out of my own window because the tanker is on the driver’s side. So I do the last thing I can do. I lean over Boston’s lap.

I have less than five seconds to do this.

I plant my hand in between his legs and lean over just enough to get my eyes out the window, and fortunately I’m a scrawny shit so he shouldn’t have a bit of trouble steering, but it is cramped and uncomfortable.

“ Sorry.” I mutter quickly then take three seconds to line up the shot with my right hand. I aim for what metal I can see on the ass of the tanker and pray to God this works.

I don’t ever second guess myself, that’s the kind of thing that gets you killed. But I almost did, this time. If I was wrong, if I misjudged this even by a little, we would all die, either by burning to death or being eaten alive. The car wasn’t going to make it much farther, and we didn’t stand a chance on foot. The only thing we could hope to do was to blow as many of those fucks as possible to hell and then make our getaway. Assuming we didn’t get blown to hell ourselves.

Assuming I didn’t blow us all to hell.

“ Cover your heads!” I shout to Donnie and Psycho, then pause to glance and Boston. “ Drive, hell’s on your heels.” I mutter, then aim, and pull the trigger twice in quick succession.

I don’t stop to look at my handiwork, just drop into Boston’s lap and cover my head with my arms.

The explosion is deafening and after the first half a second of the roar I stop hearing anything at all. I feel the vertigo, though, as the back end of the car literally lifts up.

That’s it, we’re dead, I fucked up. Oh god. I hate fire.

I squeeze my eyes shut and think that this is the craziest end to the craziest day in the craziest month ever. Fitting to end it with an explosion.

[Mysteria]

Angelicwarrior:

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this woman. From the way she acted it seemed as if she hated men, or was having a bad day. Hell it might just have been both.

"Well now, I must say that's a pretty interestin way to thank someone who just saved your life. But hey I realize people here in California have different ways of showin their gratitude towards others. So Miss Teach, your welcome."

Of course while I was saying this Teach here was running around getting candy bars and water. It kind of makes me wonder if she was even listening to me, and it also made me think that I may have been right. Maybe this woman really was a bit looney. Because of this I figured it might be best if I did as she said, for now. Well, I then found myself throwing stuff I don't really need into a bag that Teach shoved to my chest.

"I'm not really goin any where particular. Just tryin to find some place I can now call home."

Once again Teach's actions made me wonder if she was even paying attention.

"Ya I got a car. Mighty fine one too. Seeing how is I'm not really heading anywhere I guess I could give ya a lift."


I said this pointing out to my black SUV sitting out in front of the store.

"Come on, lets get the hell outa here before more of them mush heads show up."

So with that I made my way of the store. Figuring Teach was right behind me I threw my plastic bag in the back and hoped into the drivers seat. Shit far, this was gonna be a hell of a long 14 miles.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I was going to say something about the dangers of road head, but I instead decided to bite my tongue. I pulled myself into a pseudo-fetal position seconds before Vee fired the shot, doing my best to protect my head. This was like deja fucking vu, except I was in a Sedan, not a humvee. The second I felt the back of the car go up, I knew there were gonna be some bruises.

Luckily for us, Volvo's are in fact built like metal fortresses, which was strange because I always considered Sweden to be a very soft country. So, all national musing aside, while the car did flip, it remained intact, and assuming everyone protected themselves properly we'd all likely walk away.. While the car decided to do it's best impression of a gymnast, I simply kept my eyes closed and my head down. Hearing was gone, the explosion saw to that, hopefully it would only last a few minutes.

When the vehicle finally came to a halt, I let my eyes ease open, and the first few seconds of sight weren't encouraging. We were upside down, and I had a funny feeling that something unpleasant would happen if we didn't immediately evacuate. Ignoring the ringing in my ears, I made an attempt at yelling, doubting anyone would hear me.

"We need to get out of here NOW." I managed, as loudly as possible before trying to right myself. Luckily, the window was still open from earlier and it seemed like it would be easy enough to climb through, but I wanted to be sure everyone was conscious before escaping.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

"...have to... get... now..."

My eyes opened for a moment before rolling back into my head.

"get out..."

Someone was shouting, pleading. I just couldn't figure out if it was actually someone or if it was in my head. I couldn't open my eyes, no matter how hard I fought. I must be dying.

There was a pressure on my bare chest, directly on top of my solar plexus. Breathing was unbearable, bordering on impossible. I managed enough strength to raise an arm in a feeble attempt to remove whatever was residing on my chest. My hand rubs over the area and I feel something soft in between my fingers. Vee's hair.

The dead weight of her head was causing the pressure on my chest. With every bit of effort, I force my eyes open. Putting a hand on her shoulder I shake her as hard as I can, though I imagine my condition has left me less than capable to rouse someone. That's when it set in. Adrenaline took over. I shook her as hard as I could, "Vee. Vee wake up! Vee, for Christ's sake, get up!"

I looked around to find myself looking face to face with the headrest of the driver's seat. We had flipped. To my rear, Donnie was in motion, blood trickling down from his hair line, but otherwise, unharmed. Psycho laid beside him face down. Thankfully, the steady compressions and decompressions of her abdomen indicated breathing. Taking that as I a cue, I checked Vee's neck for a pulse. It was racing, but it was there. She was just knocked out.

My adrenaline levels returned to normal. Relieved beyond compare my eyes closed back up again... and I slouched back onto the roof-turned floor with Vee still unmoving on top of me.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I snap awake. I always do that. No lazy mornings for me.

The first thing I register is something pounding. I freeze, thing it’s those dead fuckers. But then I open my eyes and get an eye-full male chest.

Right. Boston. I’m hearing his heartbeat, pounding frantically beneath my ear. I raise my head and see him still, but his eyes are open.

Okay, now that scares the fucking shit out me.

“ Boston?” I croak, eyes looking past the upside down driver seat to Donnie’s wide-eyed and bloody face.

That’s when I started to register other things, like the blood on my head and the fact that my whole torso throbbed and the heavy ringing in my ears. And then… heat. It’s hot. I’m hot. Oh god. I hate fire, I really hate fire.

“ Move.” I groan, half to my own body and half to the others. “Gotta move.” I scramble to all fours, and register for the first time that the car is flipped.

Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe we survived that.

Glass is scraping my hands and knees and my ribs are screaming but I don’t have time to care. Psycho isn’t moving, oh God. This isn’t over. We’re not safe. I grab Boston’s arm and pull on it, trying to pull him up.

Fire, I hate fire.

“ Fire.” I choke out, smelling smoke. “ Someone grab Psycho.” My voice is getting louder, more steady. I reach for my pack and find my Glock still in my right hand. I stare at it, wide-eyed.

Why can’t I make myself let go?

I feel like such a pussy, sitting there on my knees, half in tears, gripping that gun like a baby with a comfort blanket. I use my left hand to grab the pack and check my other holster… thank God, the other gun is still there. I do not have time for this. We have to get out.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

So, everyone lived, it was nice to get a lucky break every so often. Allowing myself to catch my breath, I look over to Psycho's unconscious form. It fucking figured, the only person who got knocked out was going to be my burden.

"Once we get out of here, we're gonna have to move fucking fast." I speak, feeling surprisingly lucid, and despite the pain I was glad I had my wits and strength about me. After the little tidbit of advice, I grab Psycho's wrist and pull her towards me while simultaneously crawling backwards out of the window. Sure, it was a little unceremonious, but it was more efficient than a more delicate approach. I wanted to get the woman clear so I could go back and help the two other passengers, assuming they would need it.

It was only once I was half way out of the window that I noticed my left eye was becoming increasingly difficult to keep open. Letting go of Psycho's arm, I raise a hand to it. It only took a moment to realize there was a rather substantial gash right on the eyebrow. Grunting, I wiped my now sanguine digits on my jersey and went back to work.

My knees were all but shredded once I fully exited the vehicle, the tiny shards of glass piercing the skin like sharks' teeth with every movement. Once I pulled Psycho out far enough, I rose to a kneel and grabbed her under the arms, lifting the woman as gently as possible. Half dragging, and half carrying her, I plopped her down a few yards from the wreck and hobbled back to the Volvo.

"You guys gonna need any help?" Oddly enough I found myself grinning as I leaned towards the Driver side window. It was probably because I was imagining what a sight I must have been. Personally I felt like I went a couple of rounds against Mike Tyson while little people were gnawing on my legs, and I imagined I looked even worse than that.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I blink up at Donnie, half grinning like an idiot.

“ Oh, you so served in the military.” I muttered, crawling over Boston. I am not thinking about the fact that I just nearly died in his lap. I am not. I squirm through the driver’s side window ahead of Boston and pull my pack out with me, then grab the box of shotgun ammo as well. There’s next to none left.

I pause to appraise the damage on Psycho and check her pulse. It’s a little fast but still beating. She, like the rest of us, looks like she rolled in some glass and got kicked in the face by a mule. Looks to me like she’ll have a very nice shiner on her right eye.

I give myself the go over, as well, including lifting up my shirt to investigate my ribs. A glorious purple splotch is already spreading over my left side, and I think I must have slammed into the steering wheel when we flipped. My knee aches and I have a cut above my hair line that’s trailing blood down my face.

Now I look back to the Water Treatment Center.

The good news is, I can’t see any dead folks. All I can make out is the wreckage of the tanker and fire. Did I mention I hate fire? The blaze is a little close to us than I’d generally like, and I notice some liquid from our car trickling towards it. I shoulder my pack and grimace again.

“ Time to go.” I announce, pointing to the slowly trickling liquid, hoping my conscious comrades hurry the hell up.

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

"What did you do today? Oh, the usual. Got blown up by people trying to kill me, survived, killed them, the usual. How about you?" I mutter, before someone hits me on the head with a sledgehammer-and I suddenly realise that I'm conscious. As memory floods back, I recall that the reason I feel as though I've been hit with a sledgehammer is because when the car flipped I got slammed into the roof head-first so hard that my skull left a dent and I was temporarily blinded. Then I was torn loose by simple momentum and, as the car rolled, I tumbled like a top and bounced off of seemingly everything solid in sight. Strangely enough, I lost conscious at some point during this.

Bruises on my bruises? I think even my brain is feeling pain at the minute, which just happens to be physically impossible. My bones feel as though someone's been using my entire skeleton as piano keys rung by machine gun fire. If any part of my body isn't aching as though it's been dipped in acid and cut with a knife it's probably fallen off-so I'm almost glad I can feel every inch of agony. Ow.

I finally remember to open my eyes and discover my right eye appears to have lost an argument with something blunt, since I can still see out of it. Somewhat, that is, since a red blur seems to be affecting my bad eye-oh, that's a nasty knock alright, I'm glimpsing the inside of my own eyelid. Perfect, I should stop commenting that this day can't improve, it's getting more interesting all the time-every second, in fact.

My knuckles are bloody, my lips are split from the same impact which damaged my eye, I suspect, so blood is all over my chin and lower face. My hands and legs are grazed with small cuts, but I got lucky there it seems. I think my teeth are loose, too, but at least nothings broken-besides, after surviving a Nuclear Detonation, every other chance and way of dying seems rather boring. Of course, being eaten alive by the Undead MIGHT test that theory...

My brain finally registers what was said last as I shake off the effects of the blast at last and I glance over at the man who apparently dragged me out of the wreckage, then at Vee. I just smile, even though it hurts my face.

"I DID serve in the Military, actually, in a sense, just not in any Branch you'll have heard of. Long story with no happy endings in sight, kind of like now if we don't, oh, I don't know, RUN?!" I yell at them, taking my own advice in a hurry. I can see the petrol leaking from the car heading for the tanker fire slowly, too...

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I cannot, I will not let fear rule me. It’s not in me, and it wasn’t in my parents, or their parents before them. It isn’t in the Marines, or in the MPs, or even in Blackwater.

The fact of the matter is that fire scares me. I wish I could say I have a good reason for that, like I got burned as a child or witnessed someone burning, but I don’t. I just am. And I always have been.

And it is because of that that I refuse to run after Psycho as I would so much like to do and stand instead waiting on Boston, ignoring what I assume is gas leaking toward the blazing tanker.

Never give in to fear. Never leave a man behind. Never surrender.

A part of me is screaming in my head, the same part of me that can’t quite stop the uncontrollable shivering that racks me. But then the part of me that is still a soldier still on the battlefield, not a small scared girl trying to survive this thing, steps up the plate and tells the rest of me to quit acting like a pussy.

I will not be defined by fear.

It takes every ounce of strength and determination left in my beaten, bruised, exhausted frame to make the four steps back to the car and squat down, slowly and purposefully offering my hand to Boston.

I cannot let it rule me. Never give in, never surrender. And never, ever, leave a man behind.

“ Boston… let’s go.” I manage to speak somehow, and I never want to admit I’m scared stupid, not of the dead folks or the very real chance of dying, just of the fact that there’s fire. I try to keep my voice calm and level but I’m sure anyone listening can hear it.

And just in case the mood got just a little too somber, I slipped in some car fluid and fell smack on my ass.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

I cannot begin to explain how much pain I feel. My body weighs heavily upon itself. Moving seems impossible. Unfortunately, I was not quite able to brace myself like the others were.

The ringing in my ears is still profuse. It takes such an effort to open my eyes that I'm tempted to keep them shut for good. Why should I bother to continue in this world? We're going to die inevitably whether it be to starvation, dehydration, disease... anything. And then on top of that, there are millions of blood-thirsty ghouls running around trying to lynch anything that isn't already (un)dead.

I should have just stayed in the bodega. Scratch that. I should have stayed in New England. I'm sure I could've found shelter in some rural Vermont town or holed up in my house. But no. I had to travel all the way across the country. And for what? To nearly be eaten by a Mexican behind the cigarette counter of a store? Or to come within feet of being blown to kingdom come in the streets of Compton.

And now here we are. Laying completely docile in a flipped over car within 50 yards of the site of an explosion that could probably be heard from the other side of Los Angeles. It wouldn't be long until all of the zombies within a good 5-10 mile radius would be converging on this location.

I look over to my left- the driver's side- to see Vee reaching out for me. Let's go. I still can't tell if these words are spoken or in my head. But I'm forced to oblige. I crawl over to the door and take Vee's hand.

Let's go.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I walked a few yards away from the car as Vee helped a clearly wounded Boston out of the vehicle. It was at this point I wondered who would end up being a liability. Suffice to say, we'd probably be fucked if we were all completely healthy, but unless the kid recovered quickly he'd slow us down way too much. Of course, I kept these thoughts to myself, if it became an issue I'd address it then, for now we had to come up with a plan.

"Boston buddy, you think you're gonna be able to walk, or run if need be?" I spoke, hoping he'd hear me despite the fact he was likely half conscious. Our first priority would be finding a vehicle, I was probably the least banged up and I doubted I'd make it far if we had to escape an attack on foot. 'Atleast we're armed.' I thought to myself before remembering I'd left the Remington in the Volvo. I jogged back over to the car and reached into the window, blindly fishing around for the shotgun. It took a few seconds, but I finally found the weapon. Letting out a sigh I returned to my previous position, eyes darting around the street.

"You guys should probably find somewhere to hole up, and I'll go find us a car." Sure, I didn't like playing the hero, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

"Does anyone know of any slightly secure buildings around here?" I asked as directly as possible. The water treatment plant itself probably could have worked, but asking them to walk back through the miniature hell we'd created was probably a bad idea.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I pull Boston to his feet. He looks unsteady and I pause to grab his head and look him dead in the eye. It doesn’t look like he has a concussion, but he looks like he could use a lie-down.

So I look around to find one.

Donnie is moving and being active, which is good. Means he’s healthy.

“ I’m not from here… I don’t know where anything is.” I tell him, still surveying the street. “ Let’s try to stay together though…” I continue distractedly.

What I do know is that people in crisis situations revert very quickly back to the basics and this street would have been jammed with cars on when the infection came, full of would be evacuees. And you can tell. It looks like Psycho actually drove her truck down this street, cause most things are pushed towards the curb but there are lots of cars. Panicked people run well, they don’t drive well. And they don’t think about things like keys. I also know that if we stay still for any length of time they will come and we are so low on ammo.

Failing all else, I do know how to hotwire most models.

“ We need a car.” I tell myself. I talk to myself sometimes, helps me keep things straight. “ Come on.” I say to Donnie and Boston, and just to be sure, I grab Boston’s hand and pull him along behind me for about fifty yards to make sure that he’s both following and away from the damned fire. I let go of his hand then and dart off with my nearly Olympic sprint and check the nearest car, a Cadillac. The steering column is ripped to hell, no good.

“ Help me, one of these has got to be good.” I call back, moving to the next one, which is a little Ford Echo, but I don’t even bother checking inside because the thing is wrapped around a light post. The next one is an old Dodge Charger, but it’s leaking from the undercarriage which is not a good sign, but I didn’t want that one anyway. Too cramped, and that orange paint job is hideous.

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

If any of these so-called Survivors knew more than how to put one foot in front of the other, they'd be dangerous. Getting the ninjured man out of the cars one thing, but we have to get clear of the blast radius before the cars lit up or the secondary explosion will finish what the truck started. They think crawling forwards while looking for a damaged car to hotwire will work? They must be feeling particularly Suicidal today. Me, I know where to look.

I sprint up the street and break right into the nearest house with a closed garage-simple fact, people fleeing a Zombie Apocalypse will not stop to make sure all the doors and windows are shut and locked before they run for their lives, ergo closed garages mean cars which will not be infested. I kick down the front door with a brutal kick and step inside, sweeping the scene for hostiles-I fire at a movement and, a second later, a five year old girls corpse falls over for the second and last time with a huge chunk of skull missing. I've done worse, so I don't blink before moving on into the house.

No sounds of movement occur upstairs, but I've seen how fast these things move so I know better than to anticipate. People tend to forget what "Dead" realy means in a time like this. When you don't need to breathe, have no heartbeat and cannot get restless, you make NO ambient noise even a professional like me might pick up on. There could be rooms full of Zombies upstairs and I wouldn't know until it was too late if I dropped my guard at any point.

I step sharply forwards into the kitchen, to find a scene out of a Butchers nightmare. Two adult bodies, so shredded by teeth and hands that there's little more of them left than gristle and exposed bone, lie in front of the shattered kitchen window and broken-in back door. A Zombie is clearly dead by the back door, lying just outside, it's skull pulverised by what can only have been the Sledgehammer lying on the floor covered in blood and tattered flesh. Another is visible in the yard, also dead, a meat knife rammed into it's brain from under it's chin. The walls, ceiling, floor and every other surface are covered in blood and flecks of flesh, these two went down fighting like hell. The child must have been theirs, explaining why they fought so hard-but, again, it wasn't enough.

On the other hand, nothing with that severity of physical damage can get up even if it wants to. I still don't drop my guard, but I do cast around for car keys-hanging inside a half-collapsed small cupboard, as it turns out, clearly the fight got inside the kitchen before the two went down. I look around and see a door in the kitchen wall that must lead into the garage-

An air movement of all things alerts me. I spin around to find a Zombie literally "breathing" down my neck, just before I shatter it's nose and sent it reeling backwards with a vicious headbutt. I drop low and blast it point-blank in the face, what's left of it's head after that isn't worth mentioning. Then I hear more movement upstairs, at least three more Zombies are in the house, but why have they taken so long to react...?

"To hell with THIS" I snarl, only to discover it's not that simple when the garage door turns out to be locked, just in case no doubt. I draw back and shoulder-charge the door with no time to waste, taking it off it's hinges. Inside...it's a Station Wagon, a family truck. Big, solid, of the old fashioned kind which is designed to get you where your going even if the world ends. I like it immediately. I'm in the drivers seat within ten seconds of bringing down the garage door, five seconds later the doors are locked and the windows are up.

That's when the Zombies appear-and I get my answer. A slightly older boy child, maybe ten, is walking on a broken leg. The two others are easily in their 70's physically, their bodies just aren't up to running around, even as Undead. A whole family gathered here to protect itself, then died anyway...

I throw them all a single-finger salute, start the vehicle on first try, slam it into first and ram the accelerator all the way down. Burning rubber stench assaults my nose before the Station Wagon leaps forwards-and tears the garage door open by simply ripping it off it's hinges before catapulting it across the street as I ram on the brakes to shake it loose. I spin the car so the backs facing my new "friends" and slam it into reverse before racing the car backwards as though it's fun-which it is, to me anyway. I stop precisely a foot before I know they would all have ended up diving out of the way. I suppose my sense of humour takes some getting used to...

I unlock the doors and throw them all open with all speed. Then I say "Come with me if you want to live" with as deep a voice as I can manage. Damn, I've been waiting 25 years to say that with a straight face and I have to wait until after a Zombie Apocalypse for the right time?

"Can't you people take a hint? MOVE!" I snap out, reaching around to help drag the worst wounded into the car as fast as we can. We have no time to waste at all.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

“Well alright then.” I say, pleased with this turn of events. I sprint back towards the flipped Volvo, snatch my pack, and sprint away again. You know, I was almost chosen for the Olympics for my sprint once… Too bad I got shipped out before trials. I toss my bag in the backseat and check to make sure Boston is following… I’m really worried about how disoriented he is.

“ Wait a minute.” I say, suddenly looking at Psycho. “Umm… don’t take this the wrong way, but… should you be driving?”

This lady did crash a fuel tanker into a water treatment facility.

As I make the point, I glance back towards the water treatment facility. Where are all the other people that were there? I try not to think about the implications.

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

"I'm sorry, is that NOT the designated driver standing next to you looking like he's been used as the ringer inside a bell in Hell? I may drive like an Eastern European cab driver but I get where I need to go alive and intact, right now that's more bloody important to me than who's in the hot seat. Besides, if you feel like driving better than me a Tanker truck at racetrack speeds to avoid members of the Undead who regard you as food from using you as a crunchy snack, YOU can drive the next big vehicle we have to hotwire. Satan's codpiece, woman, GET IN HERE!" I snap, reaching back and dragging her into the car with such a violent jerk she ends up sprawled across both back seats.

The others clamber in, the injured and probably concussed driver last of all, but I don't wait and punch the accelerator so hard that gravity and momentum join forces to slam the doors shut even as we shoot off down the street as though we've been fired from a cannon. Still not fast enough.

"Everyone who doesn't feel as though they are a hot meal, lock the doors, close the windows, pull in all extremities tight and load your weapons as though you know how to use them. Anyone who does not do so IS food, because if they get me killed my last act will be to throw them to the nearest Zombie and live just long enough to see them die. Any questions?" I snap out, without taking my foot off the accelerator for even a second.

When the car blows and sets off whatever petrol left in the tankers wreck that the gunfire didn't, I intend to be behind thick walls, preferably fireproofed to the same standard as a space shuttle. At least.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I listen to the slightly antagonistic conversation between Psycho and Vee as I help the still out of it Boston into the back seat. I was never a fan of station wagons, but they really did seem to be the perfect post zombie apocalypse vehicle. Sturdy, small and maneuverable, much better than the Hummer a few blocks down that I was planning on commandeering. The fact that the car likely belonged to a recently deceased family didn't bother me. I was never a big fan of Darwin, but his theory was certainly beginning to seem far too relevant.

"So, where the fuck do we go from here?" I all but laughed, resting the loaded Reminginton shotgun between my legs as I nudged the still semi coherent kid to my right. My shit eating grin was probably out of place, but it wasn't everyday that four people survived both a hellish car crash and a horde of cannibalistic corpses.

"I'm thinking that, since we're fucked anyways..." I let myself trail off slightly as I lit a cigarette, the nicotine was much needed after the chaos we'd endured minutes beforehand. "We should hit Hollywood, you know take in the sights before we're eaten alive." The grin continued to play at my lips as I dragged my red, seeming and feeling eager as ever.

[Mysteria]

XtremeofParanoia:

Voices buzz about. My vision and hearing are still pretty shoddy but I'm coming to. My predicament has become quite different from what I last remembered. Examining my surroundings, I find myself in the backseat of some type of car, slumped against the passenger side door. The newest addition to our "team" was driving, raving about one thing or another. I couldn't quite understand it, but her mannerisms didn't put her in a very positive light.

I sigh and struggle to an upright sitting position. My still-throbbing head is too heavy for me to carry, and falls back on the headrest. Luckily, my senses were returning to a normal state. Donnie was saying something about going to Hollywood. That's when I remembered the the cowboy and rapper from earlier.

"The Hollywood Bowl," I manage. "There are supposed to be survivors there." I'm not sure what it is, or where, but if there are others there, it should probably be our first destination. My car was wrecked and so were the- "Fuck!" I shout, angrily, causing the throbbing in my head to intensify, "All the supplies are in my car! Did anyone grab anything before we left?"

How shitty it would be if all of it was left behind. Cases of water, boxes of food, the shotgun shells, as well as the cigarettes. "We're going to be fucked unless we have any of that shit. If not, I strongly recommend we find some."

The gun store we were discussing just prior to our escape from the water treatment plant seemed rational. We were still in the area and it was a pretty fair distance from the soon-to-be incinerated gas tanker. "We need to find that gun store," I say to Psycho, "and stop at the next packie. I could use some liquid encouragement. And cigarettes."

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

"Hollywood Bowl it is. Just one thing: where IS this gun shop, again? I didn't have time to stop and look on my way in, little busy" I call back to the now semi-conscious "Driver". We all look and feel as though we've fought our way through a War Zone hand-to-hand, I have no doubt, but we're still alive and moving. That gives us a very significant advantage over, oh, 99% of the Human Race or so?

"Okay, resident cynic? That's my job. Either nut up or shut up. We need all hands on deck here because we're all wounded and none of us have time to argue semantics like "How long till we die?" when the whole worlds already dead. Man who can barely walk? If you know the route, aim me the right way. If not? See if you can do something about the head wound. Your bleeding like a stuck pig and that'll drag Zombies down on us faster than my truck did. Vee, I need you to keep your eyes peeled for a Gun Shop and a Supermarket if you can find one, we need supplies, he's right. Anyone has anything helpful or useful to say, now's the time" I continue.

I'm down to loaded shells for my shotgun now, after that it'll be knives and body parts against Zombies, bad combination in the same way the iceburg and the Titanic were a GOOD combination. I need to find a fire axe, chainsaw or something similar. Hmm, gun shop might just have something...?

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen

A couple of things happen in real quick succession. First, I’m yanked into the back seat of the station wagon. Then Boston and Donnie start climbing in, so I clamber through the driver and passenger to take my seat in the front where my bag is. I’m tired and achey and all that craziness has made me damned thirsty so I take a swig from a water bottle in my pack and pass it around and Psycho drives like a madwoman. The Volvo blows and with it all of Boston’s supplies. The noise of the explosion makes me pull my knees to my chest, and for a moment I feel small, exhausted, and beaten.

But that’s just not me.

So I square my shoulders, set my jaw, listen intently to Psycho’s instructions, and watch for a gun store/supermarket. An army surplus store would be awesome. I could live on MREs forever, but I don’t have enough for everyone.
I spot a small convenience/grocery store with a few cars in front of it next to a pawn shop. Ah pawn shops. Gotta love ‘em.

“ There.” I point the site out to Psycho, flashing the boys in the back a grin. I love pawn shops. Time to go shopping.

[Mysteria]

Kristoff:

"Groovy, lets hit it" I reply, spotting the Pawn Shop as Vee points it out. I pull up right outside, check my shotgun and turn to scan everyone in the vehicle. The state we're all in? Not good?

"Alright, everyone who can get up and walk under their own power? With me in the shop. Grab anything useful and pile it in, we don't have time to think about it so I expect you to toss in everything except live grenades and loaded guns with the safety off. Priorities are supplies, weapons, ammo, in that order, guns do you no good if your so weak from starvation and thirst that you can't even pick one up" I bark out, hoping everyone will listen. Zombies can come out of anywhere any second in this world, suggesting we have time to spare is committing Suicide.

"Man with a head wound, pop the trunk without breaking the lock so we can use it. If you can't, say so now and I'll do it. Once your done, I expect you to stand guard and help us load up any way you can. I also expect you to scream like a little girl and then starting shooting if your sure you see a Zombie, one which isn't True Dead anyway. Beyond that? Lets GO!" I say, jumping out of the car, shotgun ready. I leave my door open long enough that I can hear his reply for sure, though.

[Mysteria]

CptxMorgan:

I gave a quick nod to our current driver before all but barging into the store. Luckily enough, the place was low key enough to lack an alarm, something I didn't think of until I was already rummaging through it's supplies. I'd left the Remington in the car, deciding that Vee or Psycho could cover my shit if more of those undead fuckers came along. My main goal was to grab as many supplies as I could fit between my forearms and chest. It may have been a bit selfish, but the first thing I looted were the racks of cigarettes, pulling every brand and type into the waiting cradle my limbs provided before sprinting back to the Station Wagon. After a few luxury trips, I focused on food in particular, canned good mostly, beans, soup, etc. Honestly, anything with a shelf life longer than a couple months.

Once I packed the necessary goods, I ran back in and all but desecrated the shop looking for shells. I was almost immediately drawn to the all but empty arms section, it seemed we weren't the only people who wanted weaponry from this place. Of course, there were a few scraps left on the store's floor, random shells and bullets, but sadly enough, nothing substantial.

Of course, it was a pawn shop and one couldn't expect the place to be packed with useful equipment. Either way, I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed as I left the small building with nothing but a small leather purse filled with about 24 shells and 30 or so 9mm rounds.

[Mysteria]

TheGypsyQueen:

I have to pace myself to stay behind Donnie; he seems to know what he's doing on point and I don't see anything to gain in messing up his groove. He attacks the cigarette racks with some gusto, so I busy myself with bottled water and dried goods. I'm small but I'm quick, so I can match two trips to Donnie's one, not counting the cigarettes cause he got damned excited about those.

I have to admit, I snuck me some gum and breath mints. I like cinnamon and mint.

I follow Donnie to the pawn shop and I am fairly disappointed - I was hoping for something a little better. I do manage to get a few boxes of .45 clips but it's not enough. Never is. For good measure I grab some .38 boxes because I did pocket a snubnose earlier today and I also grab some buckshot.

You never know, after all.

Shit, if we were in Texas, we'd just have to drive in a given direction and we'd find a gun show. Get all the damned ammo we need. But noooo... Freaking L.A. One of the highest violent crime rates in the country and I can't find a decent ammo stock to save my life and it certainly would.

I'm standing at the station wagon, dumping my last load of shit in the back when two things happen at once, one I had become very used to and the other a rare treat.

The first was the shuffle of dead feet and the hungry groan of someone with an unnatural case of the munchies. Used to that by now.

The second was an idea. My idea. Hurray for me!

I make a mad dash for the convenience store, ignoring everything else. The glass on the door shatters with the force I use to throw it open. I spot my target near the counter - a little spinning metal rack full of maps. I don't even stop to look at which ones I grab, but I do hope one of them has something about a Hollywood Bowl on it.

I'm back at the station wagon, tired and huffing, in no time, and I scramble back into the front seat, my arms full of maps, a stupid grin on my face, and giggling just a little. I'm sure Psycho's about to live up to the name with her driving again but who cares? Adrenaline is awesome.

I feel like an idiot but maybe these will help.

[Kristoff]

He gets up and out and springs the boot, so I leave him to it and sprint inside the shop. I grab as much food and water as I can carry that looks safe-I'll check the Sell-By date on the food later-and sprint back outside, dumping it all in the Station Wagons boot. I go back in just as quick, grab a second load and sprint out again, dumping it all in the back once again. My ears are sharp, even as beaten up as I am, so by the second run I'm hearing moaning noises drifting from not far enough away...

I sprint back in, find every shotgun shell I can find and load up, then put everything I can carry but can't load into my pockets. I pause to grab a rucksack, looks good and sturdy for gathering and carrying things, shove as much food and water in as I can and sprint back outside, throwing the rucksack into the boot and slamming it shut as everyone seems to be grabbing their gear and jumping back into the car as the Zombies get closer.

"Everyone alive, lock and load, close your doors and windows, lock em' up, belt up and cross your fingers. This is where things get violent, so repel Boarders" I say. Then I start the car again, just as the first of the new wave of Zombies appears, spots us-and starts running forwards. I slam it into first, gun the engine and pull out so fast that I nearly spin us before pulling into a straight line aimed at the Zombie.

Of course, head-on collisions are a good way to wreck the most solid vehicle, so I snap the wheel right at a precise moment and sideswipe the Zombie. The vehicle weighs a couple of tons, easily, so at twenty MPH being bitch-slapped by a moving vehicle sends the Zombie flying and it goes through a shopfront window without slowing down. "Cowubunga!" I shout as it goes flying, cheerfully pouring on the power at such a pace that everyone's being pressed back in their seats hard.

When we get clear of the small road we're on, though, I realise that we have a problem. A whole pack of Zombies is running down the road toward us, drawn by the explosion no doubt, as well as the stink of fresh blood. There's thirty-forty of them and, unfortunately, this is no movie. In a film, you hit a pack like that doing fifty in a big car? They go flying in all directions with broken bones and blood everywhere, the occassional body part left lying on the ground while a dented car races on past. In reality? The car buckles up like it's gone head-on into a cliff and the people in the front seats most likely die.

Good thing I deserve my nickname of "Psycho", really. Nobody completely rational would do what I have in mind. I just grin, spin the wheel and ram my foot all the way down.

The car slides, then jumps forwards and literally explodes through a fence, tears a steel-base washing line out of the ground, digs up a flower bed and crashes through another fence. A childrens swing simply buckles and then collapses out of the way like steel straws as I drive right over it, before we crash right through another fence and end up on a road half a mile from the first one-with the Zombies in hot pursuit.

I spin us onto the road, change up and grin like I've just seen the finish line in Hell. The Station Wagon responds in a way which tells me it just exists to show what it can do and takes off down the road so fast I can smell burning rubber even though the windows shut. Zombies start to appear from some of the houses, but we whip past so fast that they barely even register as blurs and have no hope of catching us. I do a handbrake turn at the end of the road, spin us around two crashed cars and keep my foot down no matter what happens.

"So, does anyone know where we're actually going?" I ask, even as I carefully note that we have a full tank. At least we'll be able to drive for hours yet, worst comes to the worst.

"Besides that, some of us are still bleeding everywhere. Grab the First Aid kit and fix that, will you? Bad enough we're crunchy snacks to the Undead already, we don't need to bait the trap by stinking of fresh blood too" I point out, even as I spin the car around the corner and just miss a lampost as I dodge past a truck on it's side.