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    Walking Dead: Renegade

    Hello all,
    I love to write stories, but this is my first attempt in a ZA setting. I hope to write one a week and continue the story...this is sort of my "pilot".
    WARNING:
    The Following Story Contains Scenes of Graphic Violence and Adult Language. Readers Discretion is Advised.

    Chapter 1 “A Friend”

    In a black-ops facility, which looks like a makeshift military base in the middle of the Arabian Desert, a series of inaudible voices can be heard in the quiet air. Inside oneof the dimly lit buildings, a naked Arab man with a long black scruffy beard isstrapped to a metal folding chair and badly beaten, a broken nose with driedblood on the nostrils and a swollen shut left eye. On the right side of the beaten Arab man is anold blood soaked wooden table with razor sharp wire cutters, a CRL propanetorch, and a bloody serrated knife. Standing in front of the prisoner is a Special Operations TIER-1 soldierin a desert camouflage uniform, a four stripe captain insignia and black eagleon his shoulder. His sleeves are rolledup to his elbows, a fat cigar in his mouth, as he paces in front of the Arabprisoner. This grizzly special operations soldier named Joe is a muscular 29 year old, roughly 6 ft 1 in, and 220 lbs and has a scruffy brown beard.
    Joe (in Arabic): We know that Mukhtar planned and financed the ambush of that Army Ranger operation in Kandahar. We know that Mukhtar is behind several other attacks on soldiers’ patrols throughout Afghanistan! He’s killed a lot of my friends…so don’t lie to me anymore! Tell me where Mukhtar is hiding (Joe gets up right inthe Arab man’s face and whispers into his right ear)…I am going to cut off each finger, burn it shut, and beat the shit out of you…I am going to do this over and over until I run out of things to cut off…then, after you squeal like a women for hours, I am going to put a bullet in your head.


    Arab Man (in Arabic): I don’t know!! I don’t know anything!

    The soldier grabs the steel cutters from the table, forcefully pulls the resisting Arab mans right hand toward the cutters and chops off his index finger. Blood squirts out while the Arab man writhes in pain. Joe grabs the propane torch, lights it, while adjusting the knob, and burns the bleeding stump cauterizing the wound as the Arab man screams in agony. Joe then uses the still burning torch to light his cigar while he takes deep puffs. He exhales a cloud of smoke in the Arab man’s face. The Arab man wimpers in agony as he stares in the soldiers hardened eyes.

    Joe (in Arabic): Tell me what I want to know! And this all ends…


    Arab Man (in English): I can’t! I can’t!

    Joe,once again, grabs the Arabs bloody hand and puts the sharp cutter blades around the middle finger. The Arab Man screams out into the empty desert night sky.

    A sudden bright flash: a concrete house surrounded by neighboring clay and mud homes,special ops soldiers quietly sneak around in formation in the pitch black.

    There are five Special Ops soldiers who sneak in a shuffling crouched stance,scanning the surroundings, as they move into position encircling the front door of the large concrete house. The soldiers are wearing black night vision goggles,their faces covered in black ski masks, desert combat utility uniforms with a black eagle on the sleeves. Each one is holding an HK416 battle rifle with suppressor equipped with laser sights mounted under the barrel. Lead Special Operations Soldier Joe gives a hand signal for others to stand behind him as they hold position a few feet away while one of the soldiers lines the doorframe with explosives. The solider finishes lining the doorframe with explosives and steps a few feet back, pressing a button which triggers a sharp controlled blast that blows the door down. The soldiers’ storm in with rifles pointed forward sweeping the first room. Inside the homes front room, an Arab woman dressed in a black burka, who is stunned by the explosion, turns wide-eyed toward the soldiers. Suppressed shots ring out as the women falls backward violently from a gunshot blast to the head. The soldiers rush through the large living room to a back hallway and see a closed room door on the near left side. The lead soldier kicks down the door; two children awaken in fear and jump up from bed as more suppressed gunshots ring through the dark house. The two children are knocked backward as they are both victims of single head shots. The soldiers move further down the dark hallway; an Arab man rushes out of a door on the far right side screaming “MY FAMILY!” in Arabic. He is knocked backwards, straight onto his back, by the force of three simultaneous shots: two to his body and one to the head. Two soldiers move into the room on the right side to scan and clear. The three remaining soldiers,including Joe, surround the man’s body as it lays lifeless, blood draining onto the floor from underneath. Joe takes out a photo from his pocket and compares it to the dead man. He lifts up the Arab man’s lifeless head bythe hair and places the photo right next to the bloody now disfigured man’s face. One of the observing soldiers snaps a photo of the man’s mangled face with a small digital camera. Joe nods at his team and hand signals that the unit needs to exit immediately. The unit of soldiers quickly exits through the destroyed front door. As the unit runs down a gravel street, away from the concrete home, towards a black 70’s Volkswagen van idly parked, Joe radios from his ear piece.

    Joe (to Radio Operator): Renegade to Echo 1, target eliminated, friendlies cleared, request reaper in five.


    Radio OperatorVoice: (Static response) Roger that Renegade, reaper will engage in five.

    Minutes later, the hum of a predator drone can be heard in the air, quickly becoming more audible and rapidly approaching from a distance. The unit members pile into the parked van andspeed away. A minute later the raided home blows inspectacular fashion, also destroying the two closest neighboring homes, and rattling the other neighborhood homes including shattering nearby windows.

    With a sudden bright flash, Joe lays asleep on an old springy cot. He sits up yelling and sweating profusely.

    Joe: “No! No!”

    As he wipes away beads of sweat from his face, he slides up to the cots edge. Joe is now clean shaven and wearing brown cargo pants, with a form fitting black t-shirt, and black military boots with 550 cord replacing the normal boot laces. Joe is always prepared for survival, he never leaves anything to chance; it goes back to his early days in combat training.

    The room looks like a huge unfinished basement with gun rack upon gun rack ofweapons, ammo, and explosives. There is sunlight beaming inside from skylights on the ceiling. From a glimpse around the room, it is clear this man has been stocking piling weapons and ammo for years, if not decades. Clearly visible gun racks, fully stocked with HK416 assault rifles are along the far end wall a few feet in front of the cot. This is clearly not the average gun collection. It looks like a military arsenal. Directly to the left of the cot is a long wooden work bench with several weapons laying on top: a faded tan color FN SCAR-L, a tan M110 Semi-Automaticrifle equipped with a variable optic scope, a long black Barrett M82 Rifle equipped with a Leupold Mark 4 scope and a folding bipod, and at the far end of the workbench, a tan Milkor MGL laying on its side. These weapons, on the workbench, were being cleaned and oiled. Hanging on the wall right above the workbench are numerous framed medals for service and valor, certificates of awards and diplomas, and a lone picture of Joe in civilian clothes standing next to a pretty blonde women and a little boy, who looks identical to Joe, standing directly in front of both of them.
    Joe slowly gets up off the cot and walks a few feet toward a group of large metal lockers near the entrance, passing an exercise area with old used barbells and a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. He reaches the row of large lockers which are mounted against the wall near a large black steel door which is the only exit. He opens the first of the lockers, only to find it almost empty with just two cans of soup and an MRE.


    Joe: Shit! I have to make another run.

    Joe walks back past the cot toward the rifle racks and picks out one of the HK416 assault rifles; it’s equipped with a black shoulder strap, an optic red dot scope mounted on the top rail and a flashlight attached under the barrel. He makes sure to check the clip already inserted in the rifle is full and takes two extra clips which he places into a nearby desert camouflage backpack on the floor. Joe,then, opens a large steel footlocker at the end of the cot and pulls out a black .357 desert eagle placing it in his empty right side holster. He also pulls out a black HK45C handgun equipped with a laser sight mounted under the barrel holstering it on his back belt line. He kneels down and reaches into a huge wooden crate located underneath the workbench and grabs 3 M84 stun grenades and a large black sheathed 14” bayonet placing them into his backpack and straps the pack snuggly against his back. Joe walks towards the steel door, lifting the reinforced cross bar, pushing open the thick heavy steel, and heads outside.

    As Joesteps outside, the sun shines bright overhead. It is a very hot morning as he emerges from this large concrete garage located in the backyard of a modest modern single family home. The concrete garage takes up a majority of the backyard space. On the right side of the garage are several rows of solar panels and on the left a very large rainwater container. This shelter was built to be completely self-sufficient and off the grid.

    As Joe glances ahead, a few undead are in the distance roaming the streets of this abandoned suburban neighborhood. Joe turns, closes the door and locks it turning the key tightly. After putting his key away, he takes off his assault rifle slung over his arm and places the rifle butt firmly against his shoulder, ready to fire as he crouches down and walks toward the street via a walkpath on the side of the home. Joe walks slowly and scans his surroundings undead usually roam the neighborhood street. Joe opens the house fence door and walks onto the neighborhood street; an undead man turns and begins to move toward him. The undead looks emaciated, grayish color skin, with huge scars across its face and yellowish eyes. For Joe, they all look the same. Joe fires a single shot. The shot hits the undead directly, whipping its head backward, as the back of its head splatters open. A nearby undead man in a grey suit hears the shot, turns and slowly advances towards Joe. Joe fires another shot hitting the wobbly undead man in the right eye; it drops to the floor instantly. Joe sweeps around with his rifle looking for more undead.

    Joe: These things! Shit!

    Joe lowers his rifle realizing the coast is clear and walks down the deserted neighborhood street. There is garbage strewn across the empty street, and two cars abandoned in the middle of the road. People haven’t been anywhere near this neighborhood for months. Joe walks down the lonely road.

    After walking for an hour, Joe approaches a small downtown area. It is eerily quiet. Cars are parked in designated parking spots in front of some of the stores, but other cars are abandoned in the middle of the two way street. Some of the mom and pop shops are boarded up; they haven’t been in business for years.

    Joe walks on the left side of the street with his HK416 rifle pointed forward scanning for undead. He hears the faint roar of ac ar approaching from a distance. Joe quickly takes cover kneeling behind an abandoned blue Ford car parked nearest to him. He points his rifle at of the noise as Joe is concealed behind the car, his rifle barrel barely visible over the front hood. A white U-Haul van speeds up on the right side of the street. The van stops suddenly in the middle of road. A skinny white man opens the driver side door and steps out. He is wearing ripped worn-out jeans and a dirty white tank top. He has a long bushy mustache and seems to have an older face, even though he can’t be older than 35. He is very nervous. The stranger looks around and sneaks toward one of the mom and pop stores that is not boarded. The stranger looks closely into the glass display window, using both hands to block the glare. Joe slowly sneaks up toward the van as the stranger continues to stare through the store window. The stranger is clearly interested in something at this shop, trying desperately to get a better look. Joe finally sneaks within a few feet of the strangers back and sees a black snub nose revolver with a wooden handle tucked in his back belt line. Joe has weapons expertise so he instantly recognizes the revolver as a Smith & Wesson Bodyguard .38 Special. Joe suspects this guy is no professional: he is too nervous and lightly armed, and probably inexperienced

    Joe: Psst! Put your hands up. Let me see your hands!


    Stranger (in a heavy Georgiaaccent): Oh shit! Don’t shoot!

    The stranger raises his hands slowly. The stranger is trying to turn his head slightly to get a peripheral glimpse of who is behind him.

    Joe: Walk back slowly towards my voice. Keep your fingers interlocked, palms pressed against the back of your head! Keep looking forward!

    The stranger nervously complies and walks backward toward Joe’s voice. As the stranger gets close, Joe, with his free hand grabs the revolver, and shoves the stranger up against the front hood of the van.

    Joe: Put your hands on the hood of the van.


    Stranger: Ok, man, just don’t shoot!

    Joe, tucks the revolver in his own front belt line, thoroughly pats down the stranger and turns him around, rifle still pointed at the stranger’s chest.

    Joe: Who are you?


    Stranger: My name is Andy, man. I just…


    Joe: What the hell are you doing here?


    Andy: Listen man, I was just looking for food. I have to get some food for my group.


    Joe: Group?


    Andy: Listen, a couple of my buddies are holed up in some old garage a few miles down the highway. I was supposed to look for some food. That’s my job, I get food.

    Joe lowers his rifle slightly and looks at Andy.

    Andy: Listen, I just want to check that store.


    Joe: There isn’t shit inside.


    Andy: Naw, man I think I saw some cans on the shelf in the very back.


    Joe: It’s not worth the risk.

    Andy: Listen, let me try. What’s the difference?

    Joe thinks for a second; suspecting this guy is no threat, he steps aside and hands Andy back his revolver.
    Joe: Be my guest.

    Joe keeps a suspicious eye on Andy’s every move, holding his rifle ready. Andy walks toward the stores front door and slowly pushes it opens. He creeps inside nervously, the revolver now pointed forward gripped tightly in his shaky hand. Andy walks toward the rear of the store and spots several cans of beans on the bottom row of the empty shelves. He smiles as to signal “he knew it” and grabs the cans. From his right side an undead women attacks, pushing Andy to the ground. The undead lady is trying to bite Andy’s face as she jumps on top of him. Andy is able to slide his revolvert o the undeads chin and pulls the trigger. The undead women slumps lifeless on top him. Andy shoves her aside and quickly stands up. As he gets up, he sees several undead coming from a back room as the gunshot alerted them to his presence. Andy runs towards the front door, clumsily holding a few of the bean cans against his waist with one hand, the other hand holding his gun. As he rushes out the front door, an undead man yanks Andy’s shoulder backward trying to bite his neck. A gunshot rings out as the undeads head snaps back from the force of the bullet. Realizing his chance, Andy runs forward and sees Joe on one knee with his rifle aimed directly at him. Joe shoots again, hitting another undead approaching directly behind Andy’s right shoulder. The bullet whizzes by Andy’s ear, he could feel the gust of wind and strange sound as the bullet passed his head. Joe fires again and again. Andy runs toward the van’s driver seat as a hoard of undead move toward them approaching from all sides of the van. The gun shots alerted all of the nearby undead.

    Andy: Get in the fucking van!

    Joe abandons his position and gets into the vans passenger seat. Andy starts the van and peels out, leaving the swarming undead hoard behind.

    Andy: God Damn! That was some close shit!


    Joe: It wasn’t worth the risk.


    Andy: Thanks! Man! Holy Shit!

    The van speeds off into the horizon. A few hours later, the van is speeding down a major but barren two lane road. Joe and Andy are talking while they drive down the empty street.

    Andy: What’s your story? Are you some kind of hunter or militia guy? I bet you’re one of those dooms-dayers…well, I guess ya’ll were right! (Andy smiles)


    Joe: Something like that.


    Andy: I bet! I see you have that heavy gear and you look like you know how to handle it! So what’s your story?

    Joe blankly stares at Andy, not the least bit interested in getting to know you chit chat.

    Andy: I get it. You don’t know me! Well, before this shit happened I was a pharmacist. (laughs) Well, sort of, I grew weed in my backyard. Unfortunately, I wasn’tvery good at it. I got pinched quick. Was in the pen for several years…then, one week, over a few days, guards went home after their shifts and they never came back…group of my buddies saw our chance, decided to make a break for it. We should have stayed! We didn’t know the world had gone tos hit. Man, just my luck.


    Joe: Your buddies?


    Andy: Yeah, they’re cool man. After a few days of wandering around, we found this mechanic garage and decided to buckle down. My buddies have my back; they’re crazy as hell though. Sometimes they go over the line,but…man, they do what they have to do, I tell you. We’ve been gathering food and storing as much as we can…we have some to last a while. But, you know, it won’t last forever.


    Joe: Yeah.


    Andy: Man, I’ll introduce you…if you want? They went out for supplies, same as me, so they’ll come back sometime later. It usually takes them a whole day. They do the harder jobs.


    Joe: Is that where we’re going?


    Andy: Don’t worry man, you saved my life. You’ll be a perfect fit. They have to take you in now!


    Andy: But first, check this shit out! I want to show you something.

    The van turns right on a small side street. They drive for a few minutes and pull into an empty shopping center driveway. They drive through a large abandoned parking lot and stop in front of a huge mega department store. Andy looks over, out of the passenger side window, and points to the open electric front doors of the seemingly quiet store.

    Andy: Check that out man. I’ve been scouting this place for weeks. It’s fully loaded. It’s got everything inside, hasn’t been looted. I think people are too scared togo in. My buddies said, “just leave it be…there’s no need to die.”

    Joe: Yeah.

    Andy: The problem is its full of those crazies. I’ve seen new ones go inside every day. So there’s no way I can do it by myself, get what I’m saying.


    Joe nods agreeing with Andy’s assessment.

    Andy: I say we storm the joint, you and me, and get what we can.


    Joe: That’s a plan…but it won’t work.



    Andy: Why not?



    Joe: Too many variables…and not enough of us.



    Andy: Come on man…we’ve got to take a risk. Big rewards!

    Joe shakes his head in disapproval, surprised at the willingness of Andy to rush guns blazing into an obvious suicide mission.

    Andy: Let’s do it! I saw you in action back there…you know what you’re doing. I figure we can do this shit together!


    Joe: IF we try…we can’t just storm the place. We are undermanned and don’t have enough firepower. Well be overrun in minutes. There is no telling how many of those things are inside, it’s a large area to cover using just two people. And we only have a partial recon.


    Andy: So how would you do it?


    Joe: We would have to go quietly and quickly. Shoot only if we have to and have a plan to retreat once we get in trouble. Get in, Get out…the key is SPEED!


    Andy: Ok...Come on man, let’s go for it! I’ll follow your lead.

    After 20 minutes, Joe talks out plan details and they both get out of the van. Joe takes his assault rifle and checks the clip inserted in the gun. Sure enough, still has plenty of ammunition. Joe grabs the extra clips from his backpack and snuggly tucks them into his front pockets. Joe also grabs the sheathed bayonet out of his backpack and hooks it onto the left side of his belt. Joe draws the HK45C handgun from his rear beltline and hands it barrel first to Andy. He orders Andy to grab one of the many loose shopping carts. Andy runs over, quickly grabs a nearby cartand rolls it back to Joe.

    Joe: I’m going to take point. Stay close behind me and watch my 6. Just like we discussed…You got that?


    Andy: Yeah.

    Joe takes the lead in front of the cart as Andy follows closely in tow. They slowly move toward the open front doors of the store.

    As they enter passing the glass front doors which are jammed open, they peer into the dimly lit horizon and in the distance: thousands of square feet of fully stocked shelves. As they creep inside, Joe scans the area looking for undead. The department store is quite large, but eerily quiet, and only lit with a little sunlight dripping in from the front doors. Joe turns on the flashlight mounted at the end of his assault rifle. As they sneak further inside, they hear a crackling and groaning in the distance. Joe lifts his hand and signals Andy to stop. Joe slowly creeps up toward the noise as Andy waits with the cart in the background. Joe turns into the first isle, to be a sporting equipment section, rifle facing forward with his finger placed firmly on the trigger. An undead women is standing in front of a shelf on the right almost motionless. Joe lowers his rifle and places it over his shoulder using the strap. Joe unsheathes his bayonet and sneaks toward the motionless undead women. As Joe gets close to her back, h eaggressively slashes the bayonet across the undead women’s throat as its body falls to the floor, its head left attached only by the spinal cord. Joe then stabs its temple with one stiff downward stab. As he pulls his bayonet out of the women’s head, an undead man tackles him from behind. They hit the ground while the undead is trying to bite Joe’s shoulder. Joe is able to quickly twist around to face the undead and is holding its throat, pushing its biting jaw away. The undead suddenly falls forward on Joe, lifeless, as a loud crack broke the struggle. The back of its head is crushed. Andy, smiling, is standing over Joe, holding a shiny new steel baseball bat. Joe pushes off the undead body, gets up and points forward. They need to get moving. The longer they linger the more likely they’ll attract attention.

    As they turn the corner at the end of the sporting aisle, a counter top is visible; Joe can see shotguns and handguns racked in large glass display cases. Joe uses the butt of his rifle to break the glass. Andy and Joe quickly place the guns into the cart. Joe goes behind the counter and grabs box after box of different ammunition, stacking them on the countertop. Andy throws the ammo into the cart. After looting the hunting department, Joe gives a signal for them to get moving.

    A few minutes later, after moving a few feet over to a nearby section of the store, they arrive at the soft drink aisle. Shelves are stacked with soda, juices, sports drinks, and, gallon jugs of water. Joe places as many gallon jugs of water in the cart as can fit. The cart is now overflowing with rifles, ammo, and waterjugs. Joe signals for them to get moving. Its time to get the hell out as it has become too risky to continue wandering the store; they’ve been lucky so far to avoid a herd.
    As they head for the exit, Joe leading moves quickly toward the front doors. As Joe approaches the doors, he realizes that the cart is not directly behind him anymore. Joe turns around and sees Andy a few feet back fighting to get away from an undead obese man in denim overalls. Andy is trying to avoid a bite as they dance around. Joe takes one knee and aims his rifle through the optic sight, looking for a clear shot. Andy struggles to stay standing, but whispers.

    Andy: Shoot it!

    Joe calmly takes aim and slowly squeezes the trigger. A shot echoes through the quiet store. The large undead man falls sideways as the bullet rips through the side of its skull. Andy grabs the cart and runs toward Joe. Joe hears moans and groans as he faintly sees a herd of undead moving toward them from the back of the store. Joe stays kneeled, rifle aimed forward, trying to provide cover fire for a fleeing Andy.

    Joe: Move!

    As Andy gets near, Joe grabs the front of the cart and they both run outside towards the van; its back doors open ready to be loaded. Andy quickly begins to throw the cart contents into the back of the van, as Joe; rifle aimed at the store front doors, provides cover fire. A large herd of undead emerges from the department store entrance. Joe flips a switch on the rifle, located just above the trigger, changing the rifle from single fire to fully automatic. Rapid fire gun shots ring out, mowing down one undead after another. Joe is right on the money: head shot, after head shot!

    Andy (yelling): It’s all loaded!


    Andy runs to the front door of the van, jumps in and starts it. Joe, begins to retreat, jumping in through the open rear doors of the van. Joe continues to fire, but the undead just keep pouring out faster than he can kill them.

    Joe: Go! Go!

    The van speeds off into the distance.

    Andy: God Damn! That was intense!

    Joe, lays his rifle down, and moves from the back to the front of the van as he climb sinto the passenger seat.

    Andy: Holy Shit! WOW!

    Joe smiles at Andy, signaling mission accomplished, as they speed back onto the main road.
    Half an hour later, the van pulls up to an old mechanic garage. It has a small gas station as there are gas pumps a few yards to the left of the main garage. The garage door is locked, secured with a giant masterlock.

    Andy places the van in park and sits for a minute, reflecting on all that just happened.

    Andy: Listen, I need to tell you something. The guys I’m with…well there not exactly the boy’s church choir. I mean they do what they got to do…you know what I’m saying. I just want to be straight with you, since you saved my ass a few times now. These guys will never take a stranger but if somehow they do, they will expect you to get with the fucking program fast. Nasty Nate is the one we’ve got to convince. I think I can get him to let you join us. I mean we brought a whole van of ammo and guns! WE did that shit! But he doesn’t like strangers so you’ve got to be cool. I am not messing with you. These guys don’t fuck around. They are real hard asses. They’ll put a bullet in your head if they think you’re gonna be a problem. Got it?

    Joe blankly stares at Andy. Joe rarely responds to threats and he certainly isn’t intimated by them.

    Andy: Ah, Fuck it! They’ll take you. Look what we just did together! We are a great team!

    Joe and Andy get out of the van. Andy walks to the locked garage door and crouches toward the padlock. Andy takes out a set of keys from his front pocket and removes the lock. He slides open the metal door.

    Andy: Check this out!


    The garage is square shaped, filled with boxes upon boxes of canned food stacked up against all four walls almost touching the ceiling. Andy walks in as to give Joe a grand tour. Andy spreads his arms open wide as he walks in, his back facing Joe. Joe, looks in, but stays at the front door entrance looking around

    Andy: I told you! Man we have enough shit to lastfor a good long time! Some of my guys, they’ve been taking shit from people we find stranded or sometimes we crash homes.


    Joe: What do you mean?

    Andy looks up at the plethora of food boxes, puts his hands on his hips, keeping his back to Joe.

    Andy (bows his head and shuts his eyes): I can’t lie. We had to do some bad shit to get most of this stuff. Nates rules are pretty simple: they have shit, we want it and we take it any way we can. Women, children, old people…it doesn’t matter! It is either them or us. And it sure as hell ain’t gonna be US! We will do whatever we have to do to stay alive! You hear what I’m saying?


    Joe: I suppose so…

    Andy smiles, as he thinks Joe finally understands what is required to “fit in” with Nate’s crew. Hopeful he has convinced Joe about the need for Nate’s methods, Andy turns around. As he does Joe quick draws his .357 desert eagle from his side holster and a loud bang pierces through the garage! Andy’shead violently whips back; the rear side of his head blown open like a splattered watermelon, spraying some of the boxes directly behind him with brain matter and blood, his whole body falls backward by the force the shot. Andy hits the ground face up as the life quickly fades from his blue eyes. Joe lowers the smoking desert eagle to his waist, walks up to Andy’s twitching body and stares down at Andy’s lifeless face.

  2. Back To Top    #2
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    Nice read

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    Thank you!

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    Chapter 2: “A Little Compassion”
    WARNING:
    The Following Story Contains Scenes of Graphic Violence and Adult Language. Readers Discretion is Advised.

    Joelowers the smoking desert eagle to his waist, walks up to Andy’s twitching bodyand stares down at Andy’s lifeless face. As he stares deeply at Andy’s prominent bullet wound, Joe’s eyes become fixated as if he is in a trance.

    A brightlight and blinding flash: Joe is under the baking hot desert sun. Joe looks much younger, somewhere near his early 20’s. Joe and another soldier are on their stomachs, slowly crawling as they approach asmooth patch of sand. Both soldiers aredressed in full desert ghillie suits, resembling desert debris.


    Joe: These are the coordinates.


    Partner: Roger that…


    Joerolls on his side and unzips a desert camouflage colored case strapped to hisback. Joe removes a long black Barrett M82 Rifle equipped with a Leupold Mark 4 scope and a folded bipod attached underneath the long barrel. Joe unfoldsthe bipod as his partner hands him loose ghillie material. Joe dresses up the Barrett Rifle so it looks like desert rock. Joe rolls back on his stomach, holds the Barrett tight against his shoulder and removes the lens caps protecting the scope. Joe’s partner, hisspotter, set up a powerful Leupold Mark 4 spotting scope on a short tripod. The spotter peers through his scope calling out distance estimations, elevation and wind speeds. Joe peers through the rifle scope scanningthe horizon for his target. About a mile away, a white tent is visible with about 50 people sitting outside onchairs lined up in rows. It is some kindof celebration. Standing in front of the audience is an excited middle aged bearded Arab man dressed in a traditional dishdasha: an all white gown often worn by Middle Eastern men. A woman is standing behind him in a traditional black burka. Both the Arab man and women are about equal height.


    Spotter: Target acquired. Approximately1600 meters, southwest.


    Joe: Roger that


    Joe adjusts (or DOPEs) the scope range. Joe, peering through his rifle scope, aims the crosshairs directly at the Arab man’shead. As Joe continues to adjust his rifle, the women in the black burka steps in-between Joe’s bullet path and the target. She is directly facing the Arab man looking into his eyes. Joe uses his ear radio.



    Joe: Renegade to Alpha 4, package delivery obstructed by civilian, copy.


    Radio Operator (static muffledresponse): Roger Renegade this Alpha 4...deliver the package.


    Joe: Roger.


    Radio Operator (static muffledresponse): Repeat, deliver the package.


    Joe: Roger that.


    Joe has his cross hairs lined up and his finger firmly on the trigger. Joe steadies himself, exhales and squeezes thetrigger. A loud bang rings out as sand is whipped up around Joe by the rifle expelling gas. The spotter, through his scope, follows the bullets vapor trail as it whizzes toward the target.

    Four seconds later, the Arab man nods his head yes toward the women. At that moment, the bullet smashes into the back of the women’s head, her face explodes outward with blood and bonesplattering as the bullet proceeds to penetrate the Arab mans lower cheek. The lower backside of the Arab man’s head blows outward splattering blood behind him. The power of the .50 caliber bullet is immense as it pushes the women forward, while knocking the Arab man backward; both fall down in the same direction. The people in the audience are aghast. Loud screams and shrieks are heard as the audience scrambles: some run away, while others duck down for cover. Armed militiamen dressed in black robes rush to aid the deceased Arab man.
    A flash of light: Joe is standing over Andy’s dead body staring at the gunshot wound. Joe rubs his temple with his leftfingers and takes inventory of the things around him; this usually helps break his disassociated state. Joe takes adeep breath as these lapses are becoming more frequent. Even though Joe feels it has been hours, it has only been a few minutes. Joe regains his barring and looks back toward the van. He holsters the desert eagle and thinks for a second.
    Joe walks toward the van, gets inside and backs it up to the garage entrance. Inside the van, Joe moves from the driver seat to the back of the van and opens the back doors. He jumps out into the garage and begins toload the boxes of food. After an hour, Joe has loaded almost all of the boxes except for a few bloodstained ones near Andy’sbody. The van is completely full with ammo, guns, and food. The sun is beginning to set and Joe realizes he needs to hurry. On the left side of the garage is a small roundtable with two full jugs of whiskey sitting on top. Joe unscrews the whiskey tops, grabs both jugs,and pours it all around the garage. He douses the entire area including Andy’s body. Joe tosses the whiskey jugs, walks over to Andy’s body and takes the snub nose revolver and HK45C handgun. Joe, tosses the two weapons into the van, closes the backdoors, slips into the driver seat, and moves the van several feet from the garage. Joe exits the van with an M82 stun grenade,pulled from his backpack, griped in his right hand. Joe walks to the building door, pulls the grenade pin, and tosses it into the whiskey soaked garage. Joe walks back toward the van as the grenade detonates with a loud bang and sparks. A few seconds later, a fire is spilling out of the garage door. Minutes later, the entire garage is engulfed in flames. Joe gets back into the van and speeds off into the afternoon horizon.

    A few hours later, the white van is parked in the backyard directly in front of Joe’s compound. The backdoors are open and Joeis unloading the boxes and guns. Joe hears a loud crack in the distance. It sounds like wood breaking. Joe grabs his HK416 assault rifle, which is leaning up against the left side of the van. Joe walks toward the front of his home via the side walk path. As he opens the gate, he places his rifle snuggly against his shoulder and aims it forward as he creeps onto the quiet neighborhood street. Joe scans around looking for undead but a few homes down, at a large two story brick home, the front door is noticeably wide-open. Joe stares at this for a second, puzzled. He knows all of the homes in this neighborhood were sealed up. He has performed reconnaissance of the immediate area several times over. In fact, Joe often sits on his rooftop, killing undead, for shooting practice. People haven’t been around the neighborhood for months. Joe slowly moves toward the open-door house, keeping his rifle pointed forward as he scans the horizon. As he approaches the open front door, Joe turns on the flashlight mounted at the end of his rifle. Joe rapidly enters the home sweeping the rifle left and right, looking to clear the first room. Nothing! Joe moves left to the dinning room, rifle aimed forward scanning the area. Nothing! Joe sees a hallway directly in front him. He moves quickly through the hall and sees an open bedroom door on the left side. Joe storms the room with his rifle pointed forward. The room is large as it is the master bedroom. It has a large bed, nice wood furniture, and a separate sitting area. Joe sees an open door to a bathroom in a far corner of the bedroom. As he begins to move toward the door of this attached bathroom, he stops. Joe realizes that someone is behind him.



    Stranger: Hold it right there.


    Joe hears the click of the guns hammer being pulled back. Joe bows his head and closes his eyes: disappointed in himself that someone got the drop.



    Stranger: Drop the rifle and put your hands in the air!


    Joe slowly lets the rifle drop to the floor. He raises his hands up with his palms open.


    Stranger: Turn Around!


    Joe turns to see a stocky white guy and instantly recognizes the gun as a chrome Ruger Super Redhawk Alaskan Revolver: .454 Casull. That is a serious gun: not for an amateur. The stranger is wearing blue jeans and a button up tucked in shirt with a large cowboy belt buckle. The stranger is portly with a pot belly. He looks around 40 years old with a nicely trimmed brown beard and a receding hair line.



    Stranger: What the hell are youdoing here?


    Joe: I was going to ask you that…


    Stranger: This isn’t your house asshole!


    The stranger walks towards Joe and reaches for his holstered Desert Eagle. As he reaches in, Joe sees the opening he needs. Joe, with his left hand, grabs the wrist of the stranger’s gun hand and yanks it upward: the gun fires two rounds into the ceiling. At the sametime, Joe lands a stiff right elbow across the stranger’s temple, cutting the stranger open. The stranger falls hard onto his back, the revolver falls on the floor and slides a few feet away. Joe jumps on top of the man, sitting on his chest with both knees firmly pushed up against the strangers armpits. Joe begins to rain hard punches down as the stranger struggles to block. The stranger tries to buck Joe off, but ends up rolling over, with Joe now riding his back. Joe hooks both of his feet into the inner thighs of the stranger, keeping his chest firmly pressed against the stranger’s back, while sliding his right forearm across the stranger’s throat. Joe, then, grips his left bicep with his right hand and squeezes both elbows toward each other. Joe’s choke is locked in tight. Joe rolls over onto his own back, while maintaining the choke as the stranger lies on topof Joe’s chest. The stranger’s arms are flailing, as he grabs Joes right forearm pinned tightly across the strangers trachea. The stranger is gurgling, drool rolling down his mouth, struggling for air, and rapidly losing consciousness. The stranger uses his last breath to scream.


    Stanger (gurgling): I AM A COP!


    Joe releases the pressure slightly.



    Joe: What did you say?


    Stanger (gasping for air): I’m a cop…


    Joe releases the choke hold and pushes the stranger off. The strangers face is bruised up badly with blood pouring down his temple. Joe quickly stands up and backs away toward his rifle as the stranger gets to his knees, massaging his throat,while taking deep breathes.


    Joe: What are you doing here?


    Stranger: This is Sandra’s home.


    Joe: Yeah, but I don’t know you.


    Stanger: Sandra is my sister.


    Joe: She never mentioned you. She never said she had a brother.



    Stranger: We weren’t exactly close. Besides I live in Texas. I am a cop in Lubbock. I drove here because I couldn’t get a hold of her when the shit hit the fan. I looked for her at our parent’s house in Amarillo, I thought she’d be there, and then at a few relatives, friends…I didn’t know where else to look. So I came here. I can’t find her.


    Joe: Sandra hasn’t been in this house for months.When things got bad, she and her husband packed up and left.


    Stranger: Who are you?


    Joe: I live two houses down.


    Stranger: Why didn’t you leave?


    Joe: I just didn’t…


    Joe picks up his rifle and walks toward the bedroom door.


    Joe: There is no one here. Everyone’s gone.


    Stranger: Wait! Where are you going?




    Joe walks out the door and leaves the house; he often feels the night is too long when the dead roam.

    As the sun begins to rise; a pretty brunette woman with olive color skin looks panicked and tired as she drives her small compact Toyota as fast as possible down a deserted road. She takes a quick left, the car tires screech as she struggles to maintain control after turning at such a high speed. The road she turns onto is an empty neighborhood street. It looks like suburbia USA, although the homes look abandoned. The women, realizes she doesn’t recognizethis area. She gasps at the realization of being lost. She hits the brakes hard;the car screeches to a halt.


    Women (crying): Shit! Shit!


    She slams her hands against the steering wheel out of frustration. She gains her composure and drives away. She eventually sees another right turn and yanks the steering wheel hoping to get the hell out of this neighborhood. As she makes the turn, she catches a fast glimpse of a 13 year old boy in the middle of street. It is too late to hit the brakes, so she swerves right to avoid a collision. She loses control of the car as it rams into the driver side of a red Lexus parked along the sidewalk. The front end of the women’s car is crushed. Having hit her head on the steering wheel, she loses consciousness. A few minutes later, she slowly regains her senses. She looks around even though her vision is blurry. She tries to remove her seat belt, but it is jammed. She pulls the door handle and leans against it with all her strength. The driver door slowly scraps open. She tries to slip under the seat belt, but her ribs burn and her leg seems numb. She once again pulls on the seat belt hard, it finally loosens. She pulls herself out of the crushed car using the bent door as a crutch. As she tries to put weight on her leg, she screams in agony. Her leg is broken. The entire left side near her abdomen is aching: her ribs are broken. She drags herself a few feet from the car using her good leg to hold most of her weight. But after a few feet, she is forced to sitdown along the curb. In the distance, she sees the back of the young boy she tried to avoid.'


    Women: Hey Kid, Help Me!


    The boy turns around, but he is a grayish color, has a decayed nose, dried blood around his mouth and sunken yellow eyes dressed in tattered old clothes. He’s undead.


    Women: Oh No! No!


    She tries to slide backward, but the pain makes her immobile. As the boy slowly approaches, she notices two more undead following behind him.


    Women (screams out): Help Me! Please, someone, Help Me!


    Lying ona rooftop of a single family home several yards away is Joe. He built a small sniper perch that seamlessly blends in with the black roof tile. Joe is lying on his stomach, rile aimed forward, watching this attack unfold through the scope of his Barrett M82 Rifle.


    Joe (whispers to himself): This is not your problem. Don’t get involved.


    Joe places his finger on the trigger and remains ready to fire. Peering through his scope, he aims the crosshair at the women’s head.


    Joe (whispers to himself): Do her the favor…


    Women (crying); Please, help me, someone PLEASE…


    Joe closes his eyes for a second to think, a bright flash: Joe is in his home dressed in civilian clothes. He is in his living room arguing with the pretty blonde (his wife) from the picture hanging in his garage. In the background his son is watching from a small mud room near the front door.


    Joe’s Wife: PLEASE, say something…I don’t know what to do Joe. Everyday it’s the same thing with you. You go to that fort you built in the backyard and we don’t see you fordays. You’re not acting like part of this family! You’ve shut us out! I thought I could get used to the night terrors and the mood swings…I am trying to be supportive! Ever since you gotback from your tours, you don’t interact with anyone: not me, not your therapist, not your son, not your friends…what am I suppose to do?


    Joe: I don’t know.


    Joe’s Wife: That’s all you ever say. Do you know the world is falling apart? Every day on the news, we hear how some virus is making people crazy and it’s spreading! But you just go back to your fort and hide. You should want to spend time with your family! What if it spreads HERE? (She shakes her head in disappointment) I spoke to David, and he thinks I’ve let this go on way too long.


    Joe (Stands up angrily): David!?! Are you fucking him?


    Joe’s Wife (smirks): He’s there for me, Joe. He has been all along. All those years you were gone…and I can’t help how I feel.


    Joe, losing his temper, rushes his wife. He grabs her by the throat and slams her up against the wall. The rage is seething out of his eyes.

    Joe’s wife (whimpering): Just do it, Joe.


    Joe regains control of his emotions and loosens his tight grip. Joe’s wife slips away, rubbing her bruised throat and walks toward the door. She grabs their son and puts his shoes on.


    Joe’s wife (sobbing): We are leaving! Don’t call, don’t look for us, don’t try to find us. As far as I’m concerned, the Joe I loved died in the war. I don’t know who you are anymore…


    Joe’swife grabs her son and rushes out the door, and as she slams the door behind her:



    Joe (in a soft whisper): Don’t leave, PLEASE…


    Bright flash: Joe opens his eyes and is peering through the Barrett rifle scope. The crosshairs are still aimed directly at the injured women’s head as the undead creep closer to this helpless victim.

  5. Back To Top    #5
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    Spectacular story so far. Thanks for writing!

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    Thanks a lot! I appreciate the support!

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    Chapter 3: “My Hero”


    WARNING:
    The Following Story Contains Scenes of Graphic Violence and Adult Language. Readers Discretion is Advised.


    Brightflash: Joe opens his eyes and is peeringthrough the Barrett rifle scope. The crosshairs are still aimed directly at the injured woman’s head as the undead creep closer toward this helpless victim. Joe grimaces, unable to shake the thought of his wife and kid. He tries to squeeze the trigger. He can’t. Joe steadies himself. He tries to squeeze the trigger again. Joe can’t do it. Joe thinks for a second, arguing with himself. It’s obvious the injured woman has no chance against the approaching undead. Joe can’t escape the thought: she would be better off dead.

    Joe (as he tries to squeeze the trigger a third time): Arghh!

    The undead boy is only steps away from the injured woman. She is crying, clutching her left rib and moaning in agony. She can’t move in any direction as a result of her injuries. As the undead boy grabs her hair, yanking it towards its stained rotten teeth: a bang of the powerful .50 caliber round echoes through the streets. As the undead boy pulls the injured woman’s hair closer towards its mouth its face explodes outward. Blood and bone splatter the injured woman. The force of the shot pushes the undead boy forward as he falls flat. Another two shots ring out: the trailing undead drop to the ground. Their heads are blown completely off. The injured woman, covered with blood and brain mater, sobs uncontrollably. Her eyes are glassy. She is completely unaware of what just happened. She places her face in the palm of her hands overwhelmed by emotions.


    A few minutes later, Joe approaches with his HK416 assault rifle pointed at the sobbing injured woman. Joe kneels in front of her to inspect her wounds. She is inconsolable, barely conscious, and unaware that Joe is kneeling before her. She lost a lot of blood from her wounds. Joe grabs her by the waist and hoists her, stomach first, over his shoulder. The injured woman yells but then goes limp. Joe walks to his compound.

    Inside Joe’s compound, he gently places the unconscious woman on the cot. Joe grabs a knife and cuts open her shirt. Joe strips her nude. She is heavily bruised, has several lacerations, and one very deep gash under her left rib cage. The gash is dripping blood, bright red and inflamed. Joe quickly walks to the row of lockers. He pulls out a desert camouflage medic bag from the third locker. Joe walks back to the cot placing the bag on the floor. He opens up the medic bag filled with first aid gear. Joe goes through the medic bag contents: pain pills, irrigation syringe, IV lines, burn aid package, alcohol wipes, sterile flushing solution, bandage gauze, bandage strips, tweezers, and scissors. Although not a doctor, he has plenty of training and experience with battlefield medicine. As commander of DEVGRU units, Joe has seen many injuries. He sits back for a second, frustrated, knowing he needs antibiotics to prevent sepsis. Joe grabs a few pain pills and a cup of water. He shoves the pills deep down the woman’s throat slowly pouring down water. The woman gags and spits up, but swallows the pills. She falls back into her unconscious state. Joe cleans the woman’swounds with alcohol swabs. He uses the bandages and scissors to dress the wounds.

    Joe thinks about his options. The nearest pharmacy in the town center was looted. His best shot is a larger Walgreens approximately six miles away. But pharmacies and department zones are heavily contested, so it won’t be easy. Joe stands up and packs for his mission. He grabs an HK416 assault rifle. Joe puts on a LBT MP7 chest rig and inserts three clips in the slots as well as four M84 stun grenades in the pouch. Joe holsters his .357 desert eagle on his right hip and a black HK45C handgun on his rear belt line. He takes green Steiner R Spec Binoculars placing them into his camouflage backpack. Joe straps the backpack firmly against his back. Before he walks out the door, Joe checks the clip inside the HK416. He walks outside locked and loaded.
    As Joe steps outside, Andy’s white van is parked nearby from unloading food the night before. He jumps into the driver side. As he turns the van ignition, Joe notices the vehicles fuel gauge is pointing to empty. He might have enough fuel to complete the mission. Joe drives toward a large fence door on the far end of the backyard. He parks, gets out to open the gate fence. Joe then drives onto a narrow back ally road meant for garbage pickup. Joe closes the back gate. The van speeds off.

    Twenty minutes later, the white van is approaching an abandoned shopping center. Joe parks the van approximately two hundred yards from the drug store entrance. He reaches into his backpack pulling out the Steiner R Spec Binoculars. Joe looks through the binoculars and spots four black Harley Davidson Motorcycles parked along the far side of the lockedup Walgreens. He scans the area closely and spots four burly bikers wearing black leather jackets, creeping around the store; two of whom are peering through the glass front doors. Joe takes a deep breath. He hoped no one would be around.

    In front of the pharmacy, two bikers are pulling on the doors, checking if they are locked.

    Biker 1: Shit! Fucking door is locked.


    Biker 2: Shoot the damn thing open!


    Biker 1: Are you stupid? You want those crazy cannibals to know we arehere? We got to find another way!

    As the bikers argue, Joe creeps up, rifle pointed forward, moving along the near end wall of the drug store. Joe sneaks toward the very edge of the wall and peeks out. Two bikers are still standing directly in front of the entrance, while another is a few feet away acting as a look out. Joe sees three but knows he counted four men with his binoculars.

    Biker 2: So, what the fuck are wegonna do?


    Biker 1: Maybe we can find a window…


    Biker 2: There’s nothing butbrick all around!


    Biker 1: Well, what? Are we justgonna go home?

    Joe leans against the wall, his rifle tight against his shoulder, ready to fight: when his eyes begin to glaze.

    A brightlight and large flash: Joe is in full desert battle dress uniform with a helmet, sitting in the front passenger seat of a tan Humvee. The Humvee is in a convoy of four military vehicles. The convoy is driving through rugged mountain terrain on a dark moonlit night. Driving Joe’s Humvee is a young bright-eyed soldier also wearing full battle dress uniform. The young solider seems nervous and extremely anxious as he tries to keep focused on the road. They are closely following the lead Humvee.

    Driver (nervously): Hey, Sir. Permission to speak freely!


    Joe: What is it?


    Driver: Well, Sir, I heard shit is going wrong back home. Some weird virus is spreading around making people crazy cannibals. Like the dead are coming back to life or something…that’s what my cousin said. But he’s kind of a redneck.


    Joe: So...


    Driver: Well, Sir, rumor has it that we may be pulled out of Afghanistan to go back home and patrol our own neighborhoods.


    Joe: Don’t believe everything you hear.


    Driver: Yes, Sir! I just thought I’d ask, since I don’t get to talk to officers much.


    Joe: You will get home soon enough.


    Driver (looking disappointed):Yes, sir.

    The lead Humvee slows to a crawl as the convoy rolls to a stop. Radio chatter can be heard urging caution. The lead Humvee rolls a few feet forward when a large powerful blast rips the vehicle apart. Large chunks of metal tear through Joe’s Humvee. A big piece of metal decapitates the young driver while metal shrapnel hits Joe. Joe kicks open the mangled passenger side door and limps out. Joe stumbles a few paces before collapsing on to the ground. A bright light and flash: Joe shakes his head taking inventory around him trying to break his dissociated state. He is standing against the wall of a drug store with armed bikers just a few feet away.

    Biker 1: Listen, we have to get in there!


    Joe slips his rifle barrel out of the side of the wall and aims directly at the biker standing guard. He holds steady for a shot. Joe takes a deep breath and pulls the trigger. A shot cracks through the air as the biker keeping watch is hit center mass pushing him down. The two other bikers, surprised by the gunshot, run for cover on the opposite side wall. The bikers pull their weapons. The lead biker has a black Glock 22 and his partner is armed with a chrome .38 special revolver. Both bikers fire errant shots towards Joe’s direction. Joe, meanwhile, rifle peaking out of the corner, can’t find a shot. Joe returns fire as the rifles shots crack the air.


    Biker 1 (yells towards Joe’s direction): What the fuck!?! Come out you ************!

    The two bikers fire several more rounds towards Joe’s general direction.

    Biker 1(screaming): You prick! You killed Jack! You’re a dead FUCK!


    The two bikers fire more rounds towards Joe’s position. The two bikers hold fire and remain hidden behind the opposite sidewall. Joe pulls his rifle back standing ready against the wall. Out of the peripheral of Joe’s right eye, he sees someone sneaking toward him. Joe quickly turns right and fires; the approaching armed biker is hit in the left check. The biker’s brain mater splatters behind him as he falls to the ground dropping a brown Remington 223 bolt action rifle. However, Joe looks down at his own waist and notices he is bleeding. This biker got a shot off. Joe falls back against the wall clutching the wound. Joe grimaces as he feels for the bullet entrance hole. The bullet entered above his left hip. Joe can’t feel an exit wound. He stands back up and reaches for a stun grenade in the pouch of his chest rig. He pulls the pin throwing the grenade towards the two remaining bikers. As the grenade rolls toward them, the bikers scramble. One biker runs out from behind the wall as the stun grenade detonates. The exposed biker is momentarily stunned from the blast. A bullet races toward the bikers head whipping him sideways on impact. In the distance, a loud motorcycle engine can be heard racing away.

    Joe moves out from behind his wall, rifle pointed forward, scanning the perimeter for any more hostiles. The area is clear. Joe grabs his wound and grimaces in pain. He shakes his head to regain composure.

    Joe (in a shaky voice to himself): Get your shit together. You’ve got a mission.

    Joe moves toward the front door firing two shots shattering the glass. He ducks down and enters the Walgreens. Inside, the Walgreens is fully stocked; as if it is ready to open tomorrow morning. They must have closed right before the world went crazy. Joe creeps forward,scanning his rifle left and right, clearing the front of the drug store. He slowly moves toward the back. In the very back is a large pharmacy section. Joe clears the pharmacy waiting area. Directly in front of him is a long white customer counter; behind it, an area where prescription drugs are stored. He jumps over the counter into this prescription drug area. Behind this counter are large shelves stocked with rows of prescription drug bottles and medical supplies. Joe grabs large bottles of antibiotics, bottles of powerful painkillers and large bags of IV fluids. He throws them into a nearby plastic shopping bag. Joe jumps back over the counter. As he lands, he feels weak and dizzy. Joe shakes it off quickly moving out of the drug store.

    Joe stumbles toward his white van. When he sits inside, he examines the bullet wound. There is a large blood soaked stain around his left hip. The blood stain is spreading to the pant leg. Joe turns the van ignition and drives off.

    Ten minutes later, the van is racing down an empty neighborhood road. The van begins to sputter. Joe looks at the fuel gauge. The van is completely out of fuel. The van engine dies. It slowly glides to a halt. Joe puts the van in park. He looks around and takes a deep breath. He estimates he is approximately one mile from his compound. Joe grabs his rifle,placing the bag of medicines inside the backpack before he abandons the vehicle. Joe begins the long walk back. He holds his rile close knowing he is easy prey. In his experience, the undead respond to sounds and most of all the smell of blood. Joe is wounded and bleeding: it’s like pouring blood into a piranha pool.

    A few minutes later, Joe sees in the horizon a panicked young man struggling to run. The young man is approximately twenty years old, wearing a black baseball cap, a dirty white t-shirt and loose torn blue jeans. Behind the young man, yanking on his shirt is an emaciated undead man. It has large lesions on its face and is wearing a dirty blood stained grey suit. The young man sees Joe approaching in the distance. The young man wildly waves his hands.

    Young Man (yelling): Hey! Help Me! Please!

    The young man looks as if he is about to break free, but two more undead tackle him biting his arms and legs. The young man writhes in agony. Joe points his rifle toward the attack as he walks toward the scene. He aims at the attacking undead swarm and pulls the trigger. Shots ring out as a bullet smashes one undead on the side of its face. The two feeding undead lookup toward Joe. They abandon the young man and move toward Joe. Joe fires two more shots: one hitting an undead in the eye blowing the right side of its head off. The second bullet strikes the other undead in the mouth ripping its jaw off. The unfazed jawless undead walks towards Joe. Joe fires again hitting the undead in the forehead blowing out the back of its head. Joe moves toward the young man, scanning left and right for undead. The area is clear. Joe walks up to the bitten young man sprawled on the floor. The young man’s arms and legs have huge chunks of flesh messing. As he stands over the young man, Joe aims his rifle. The young man is bleeding from his bites crying while breathing heavily.


    Young Man (looking up at Joe): Please…HelpMe!


    Joe: I am…

    Joe squeezes the trigger putting two bullets in the young man’s head. He examines the young man’s wounds. Joe falls to one knee and feels his own wound. A bright light and flash: Joe is on a gurney, wearing a medical gown in a dimly lit hospital. A well kept male army nurse is reading his chart.

    Army Nurse (surprised look on his face): You were seriously injured! You’re lucky to be alive. You’re the only one that survived from the first two trucks. Lucky guy!


    Joe: What happened to my team?


    Army Nurse (shaking his head): Well,like I said, almost everyone in the first two trucks died. They didn’t make it…I suggest you get some rest. You got hit with some bad shrapnel. You’re lucky to be alive.


    Joe feels his chest under the medical gown. There are several bandaged wounds on his upper chest near his right shoulder. Flash of light: Joe is kneeling next to the young man’s dead body under the hot sun. Joe removes his hand from his bullet wound. As he stares at his hand it is soaked in blood. Joe hears a hiss and foot steps approaching from his rear. He quicklyforward shoulder rolls. Joe quick draws his desert eagle, turns around and fires. The shot hits an approaching undead woman in the neck. As she falls back, Joe walks over firing another shot to her head. He holsters the desert eagle and picks up his rifle. Joe walks off, wobbly but determined to get home.

    Twenty minutes later, Joe is approaching his home. He is barely able to walk. Joe is sweaty and has blurred vision. He pushes forward toward the backyard fence. Joe opens the fence door and wobbles toward his compound.

    As Joe opens the compound door, he is noticeably dizzy and weak. He slams the door shut and stumbles toward the cot. The injured woman remains unconscious. She is still breathing. Joe drops his gear on the floor. He falls to the ground on his hands and knees crawling toward the side of the cot. As he sits up, leaning up against the cot, Joe looks down at his bullet wound. The blood stain has soaked almost all his pant leg. Joe groans loudly but then belts out a deep laugh.

  8. Back To Top    #8
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    Very nice update, keep em coming!

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