Gone Fishing

October 24, 2008

The boat rocked gently on the calm lakes surface.

A figure cast his fishing line out away from the boat, the hook landing with a small splash, distorting the reflection of a full moon.

While he waited for a bite he sat back and looked at the stars, enjoying the peaceful calm the night time brought.

With a jerk, his line went taut, almost pulling the rod from his hands.

The fisher began to heave on the rod and started to wind in his catch. After several minutes the water began to churn around the line as his catch neared the surface.

Reaching back behind him he the fisherman picked up an object and continued to reel his catch in. With a loud moan, a pallid face broke the water’s surface and darkened algae covered arms reached for the boat.

A loud shot rang out across the lake. The fisherman reached down, freed his hook, pushed the now still body back under the water and with that, recast his line and went back to watching the stars.

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Defending the constitution

October 23, 2008

Ortane took one last drag on his cigarette, dropped it to the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. At the far end of the ruined city street, four grotesque undead were pulling apart a now motionless body. As he watched, Ortane thought back on his life over the last few years.

He had been a respected constitutional lawyer by day, now he was a fearsome Zombie hunter by night, his intensity and zealotry fueled by the destruction of his country by his fellow countrymen.

In the beginning he had watched the mindless hordes tear down his country, its laws, institution and freedoms in disbelief, unable to comprehend that something this evil could happen in his own country. Only a few had stood against the initial assault, others had quietly slipped into the night or fled for safer lands. Now with the resistance grown, people were fighting back and Ortane had joined them on the front line, determined to make up for his inaction in the past.

He reached into the pocket of his long black coat, and pulled clear a road flare. Twisting the cap he ignited it and threw it to his side, letting the glow bath him in red. The four zombies looked up from their grisly meal at the sputtering of the flame and with several groans, began to lurch toward Ortane.

As they approached he smoothly loaded a flare gun, brought his arm up and fired. The flare roared away from him, slamming into the lead zombie’s right eye. With fire spurting from the now destroyed eye socket it fell to the ground, motionless. The second zombie stopped to look at the flame spurting skull and with a sigh as it released the air from its lungs fell to the ground next to the first.

Ortane stepped over the two bodies, pulling his blade from the second zombie’s skull. He stepped under the outreached arms of the third, smoothly sliding the blade up through the jaw and into the brain and with a quick side step dodged the body as it fell to the ground.

As Ortane turned the final zombie flailed out and knocked the blade from his hand, sending it skittering across the cracked and broken pavement. With a curse, Ortane reached into his coat and pulled clear a snub nosed shotgun, leveled it to the zombie’s forehead and pulled the trigger. With a roar that echoed around the street the powerful handgun took off the top half of its head clean off, and with a fine spray of ichor the zombie fell to the ground, joining the other three in a clumsy pile.

Ears ringing, Ortane quickly reloaded both the shotgun and the flare gun, grabbed his blade and set off down a side street as the moans of every zombie within ear shot began to converge on the sound of the shotguns discharge. Smiling, Ortane crouched down alongside a burnt out car and waited for the coming crowd of undead.


Marco,…

October 17, 2008

The doors swung inwards and the darkness was pierced by three bright flashlights as the group entered the hallway.

“OK, we need to find it quickly, lets split up!”

“ “

“ “

“Are you fucking nuts?”

“What? We can cover ground faster if we split up and search different areas”

“Your right, we could find it faster if we split up, the problem is, its dark and there’s Zombies”

“He’s got a point Bob, there’s probably Zombies in here”

“There’s nothing in here, why would Zombies stay in here, that stupid. Come on, you check the hallway, ill take this room and Jack you take that corridor”

As the beam of light lanced down the corridor a low moan came from the other end.

“Or… we could all stay together and search that room together”


The pass

October 16, 2008

Dun wiped the sweat and blood from his brow and looked out over the narrow pass before him. Four waves of the walking dead had tried to push their way through, each time the defenders had cut them down , but every time their own numbers had fallen.

Now there were just twenty left, the heavy machine guns had run out of ammo on the second wave due to an inexperienced farmer’s son firing blindly into the advancing horde. Now the ten men crouched on the canyon walls above and behind Dun were using rifles and hand guns to thin the waves down, so that the remaining infantry fighters with Dun could fight with enough space to swing their weapons.

Four days ago Dun had joined the small band of locals more out of curiosity than to see any actual fighting. The main Marshall force had been expected to go around the mountain range, attacking from the south. He had resisted joining the main battle force at the insistence of his wife and so had ended up at the pass. As it had turned out the sightings to the south had been diversionary, with the main army forcing its way through the brutal mountain range and to the pass and soon despite the defenders efforts they would push on across the plains and into the village and towns behind the mountain range.

The fighting had been intense from day one, with thousands of the walking dead trying to force their way through the small pass, where 5 men could stand shoulder to shoulder at its narrowest point. Now large parts of the valley were blocked with the piles of corpses of the fallen defenders and the air was thick with the stench of death.

Dun took a swig from the water canteen at his belt and hefted his giant twin bladed axe to his shoulder. The blades had been forged from a titanium alloy, the shaft solid oak wood. It had seen him through many battles but now with the fifth wave of undead and no sign of reinforcements to aid them Dun had become resigned to the fact that they were going to be overrun, sooner or later.

In the distance he heard the strange pulsating sound that the Marshalls used to control the dead, and with that the soft thuds as thousands of the undead began to walk toward the defenders. Dun smiled, the sun was high in the sky, the grass was green and the air didn’t stink too badly when the wind was right.

It was a good day to die.