Stair Well to Hell

December 22, 2008

Ortane kicked the table against the door, slid the deadbolt across and started running for the stairs. As he reached the first steps, he heard the door buckling behind him as they broke their way through the flimsy door.

Bounding up the stairs three at a time, he pulled his shotgun clear from its holster and started to re-load. He turned at the top, picked up the can of gasoline they had brought with them and started to pour the contents onto the stairs.

“Jane, get the kid and head for attic, once you get there, go out of the window, jump down and get over to the barn, hopefully there’s some sort of vehicle still here.” He said, as he sluing the now loaded shotgun over his shoulder and pulled a pistol free from the recesses of his long jacket.

Fear in her eyes she pulled her child close “Where are you going?” she asked.

The first zombie, pallid grey flesh and dead eyes reached the bottom of the stairs, Ortane smoothly raised his pistol and fired one shot. As the zombie fell to the ground he turned, smiled and said “Im going to meet you at the barn”. Spinning on his heel he hurled the half empty can at the next zombie who had begun to climb the stairs. Knocked back it stumbled and disappeared in a cloud of flame as Ortane fired again. Instantly the stairwell became a burning inferno, thick black smoke billowing up, engulfing the one time lawyer from view.

Grabbing her son, Jane ran to the attic ladder, pushed the child up ahead of her, and began to climb.

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Too Much Noise!

December 9, 2008

Clutching his head with his hands he screamed against the sound. The constant banging, scraping, shuffling and thumping had been going on for days. Morning noon and night all Steve could hear was the sound of a hundred zombies trying to get into the room. Unable to sleep, with no room to walk more than a few feet Steve was beginning to go crazy.

“STOOOOOOOPP!” he screamed, hurling himself at the wall. From the other side the banging increased as a undead hands and bodies hammered harder against the wall. Sobbing he slid to the floor, pressing his hands againt his ears, trying to make the noise stop. As he sat there he saw the small knife lying on the ground. His eyes hardened as he reached out and snatched it up.

“You want noise? I want it stopped!” with that he stood up, strode to the door, unlocked it and threw himself into the press of bodies as they came flooding into the room.


This is My Oil Rig!

December 5, 2008

BAM

.

.

.

CLANK

High above the small boat the grappling hook and attached rope clawed onto a railing. Pulling themselves up, hand over hand, hundreds of feet above the ocean, the three helped each other over the railing and onto the deck of the Oil Rig.

“Goddamn that’s a long climb” Wheezed Mike, lying on his back trying to get his breath back.

To his right Harry was leaning on the railing, looking out over the ocean at the clear blue sky above it “I’m just glad we made it here and off of the mainland. If I have to climb another rope like that every day, for the rest of my life, I’ll be fine with it.”

Elaine, having caught her breath, started to walk around the deck, calling back to the others “It looks like they left in a hurry, I guess once the news broke they just wanted to get back to their families”

“I don’t blame them, poor bastards, everything going to hell and their stuck out here” said Mike as he hauled himself up and walking toward the nearest door “Lets find out what sort of food supplies they have onboard”.

Harry reached the door ahead of him and pulled the door open. A stairwell stretched down into the now dark bowls of the Rig. As he began to step down the stairwell, a low inhuman moan drifted up from the darkness below him. As he stood there, a shambling figure slowly moved into the light. The creatures left arm was missing and its skin had been torn away across the entire right side of its body, leaving dark, black, muscles visible across its shirtless torso. Seeing Harry it started to move faster toward him, arms outstretched, stumbling up the stairs.

With a shrill scream, Harry jumped back and slammed the door shut. Seconds later the door shuddered as the zombie began to hammer against it.With his back pressed against the door he shouted to Elaine on the other side of the deck “I think I know why they evacuated! And we need to do the same thing!”


Little Town on the Plain

December 4, 2008

As the world collapsed around us our little town drew closer together. We established early on that we faced a situation of unimaginable suffering and destruction if we were unprepared. So we procured stores of food, fuel, weapons and other supplies. We built large walls around the town, originally made of wood, but over time we reinforced them with concrete and steel.

Other towns laughed at our efforts, they said it would all blow over in a couple of weeks. They were wrong. We reminded them that it may still ‘blow over’ as they arrived at our doorstep begging for shelter. Those who we took in were made to work in the fields or face eviction from the town.

A full week after the first evacuees arrived we saw our first undead. It had chased a deer through the forest and as it stepped out from the tree line and saw one of the guards it turned and made its way toward him. At the sound of rapid gunshots we ran to his aid, finding the man gibbering in terror, cut, covered in blood and a now dead zombie at his feet with 15 bullets in it.

Our biggest mistake was not executing the guard there and then. It sounds harsh, but that mistake cost the lives of ten residents. It was also our first exposure to how quickly a zombie infection can spread, how truly dangerous it is and how overwhelming in force the response has to be.

Life is harsh, but we survive, and that is all that’s important anymore.


My Journey

December 3, 2008

Six months ago a group of them came to my house, killing indiscriminately. They took my sister.

I have thought about those few moments as I fought for my life every day since. Why did she attack, them when she could have run? Why did they not come back for me?

I awoke several days after the attack, covered in other people’s blood, dehydrated, with a massive bruise on the side of my head. It took me a week to recover.

I set out as soon as I had the strength, gathering up food, supplies and weapons while tracking them down like the animals they are.

Now I see them. There are more of them now, twenty five, maybe thirty. My sister is still with them!

People say you can’t bring someone back from being undead. But then they said you couldn’t bring someone back from the dead too.

I am going to kill them all, and when my sister sees me, she will come back to me, come back to life. She has too, I need her to.

If you find this, then I have failed. I am wearing a red sweater. Please find me and put me to rest.

Thank you.


What we should have done

December 2, 2008

In retrospect, we should have nuked the infected cities. Of course, the general scientific consensus was that it was a virus that could be contained. A lot of theories were thrown around as to how people were infected. Was it an airborne virus? Sexually transmitted? A handshake? Terrorists?

The first few victims were restrained and studied, while those who suffered injuries in their restrained were sent to hospital. Within a few days, hundreds of undead began to pour out into the surrounding areas.

It took weeks before we figured out how to actually kill them. Weeks were thousands died and rose again. By the time we had figured it out, it was too late. Financial institutions had collapsed, industry and distribution services had stopped across large areas of the globe. Within months the world went dark as civilization came to a standstill and fear, war and the dead stalked the globe.

There were some in the beginning who recognized it for what it was. Who called for us to quarantine and destroy. Who shouted for us to destroy whole cities so that the rest of us could live.

We ignored them.

We paid the price.

We should have used nukes from the start.