Urban Dead Fan Fiction

Originally I was going to post this in this
thread but I realized it was way too long. It would have
cluttered up any future attempts to organize a Snarkpit-controlled
neighborhood.





So, I know this is geeky, but I was moved to write. And I'm
sharing in case anyone else feels like writing something too.
Post as much or as little as you'd like.



Here we go:

10-02-05

My name is T. Boardman, and I?ve been running for six days
now.

I?ve been surviving on luck and adrenaline. God knows how I?ve managed to stay alive this
long. The first night was simply
confusion.

Wait, let me back up a little bit. I need to make some sort of preface to that first
night.

We knew that there was an outbreak of something spreading
through the city (some strain of Ebola was one of the rumors going around), but
I just assumed the media was dramatizing and exaggerating what was happening. Fear-mongering for television ratings,
nothing but business as usual for Channel 7 Nightly News. But with the spread of the infection (at
least that?s what I?ve heard it is) came deaths, and with the deaths came the
first-hand knowledge that this wasn?t some concocted or inflated story to boost
viewership. This was truth. Brutal and grisly truth. One of my best friends, Scotty, works shifts
as an EMT. Or ?worked shifts? is the
correct tense I guess. There?s no longer
any emergency medical response in Malton.
I haven?t seen him in a week now, either. Anyway, it was through him that I first
formed a ballpark figure in my mind for the number of dead. He had been responding to calls for almost
24 hours straight when I saw him at the
scene of a car crash we had both been called to. In the two minutes we had free to talk,
during which the veteran firefighters cut open the car with jaws, I learned
that they had taken hundreds of people to St. Hilarion?s. He couldn?t or wouldn?t tell me how they had
died. In fact, the recollection of his
double shift seemed to weary him to the point where I stopped pressing for
information out of respect, despite my fear and curiosity. I still don?t know at what point the dead
rose and tore their way out of the operating rooms and wards and makeshift
morgues. Like I said, we only talked for
a couple of minutes before we both had to go back to work.

It was during the third call after the car wreck that I got
separated. Well, ?fled? is a more
appropriate word. Anyway, the call we
responded to was in Gibsonton. Looters
had apparently set fire to the Ducat building.
The Ducat building was just a beat down dingy apartment block with a
fancy name. We had finished hosing down
the bottom windows and had just finished axing open the door when we realized,
too late, why the building had been set afire.
I hadn?t really wondered why a looter would set fire to the Ducat
building, since it was nothing but low income apartments. With the clarity of hindsight I can see that
it was to kill the things inside. Gary,
a guy who I never particularly liked because of his disdain for us student
volunteers, was stepping through the door when he abruptly fell. He must have tripped, and the heavy oxygen
tank on his back didn?t help him regain his balance, because he toppled forward
as if pulled. Laughter, for the first
time that strained and sleepless night, came from the guys nearby, and they walked
towards the front door to help Gary
up. Wrestling to coil the heavy hoses I
observed Gary?s fall with only a sense of passing distraction. Like I said I didn?t particularly like
him. He would joke daily about the nicer
car I drove or the nicer town I lived in, and would never cease to criticize
and delegate mundane chores and criticize more.
But despite the hostility between us, looking back now I know he didn?t
deserve what he got. I think it was at
this point that Gary started to
scream, and the rest of the night, like I said, was simply confusion.

At first we thought the burned body that tripped over Gary
and toppled down the front steps was someone who had somehow, miraculously,
survived the fire. My first thought was
how we were going to treat this person without an ambulance. It was in the middle of this thought that
Buckley was bitten in the face. There
was screaming from the rest of the guys, as they wrestled the burn victim off
Buckley, and there was more shuffling from the front door of the apartment. More bodies, some blackened, some simply
singed or ashen, tumbled down the steps.
I think it was at this point that I realized these couldn?t be
people. These were f**king ambulatory
corpses. When they all started groping
and clawing and biting Malek and Dawson tried to push and kick them off.

I couldn?t move. I
could only watch. They didn?t think to
use the fire axes until it was too late to make a difference. I ran.
I ran through unfamiliar streets, down unfamiliar alleyways and across
intersections. I shed my gear as I ran. Everything that was cumbersome or heavy I
discarded. The only thing I gripped
tightly was the fire axe I don?t even remember picking up.

I passed figures, some silhouetted in the darkness by the
blaze of fires, some by the glow of shop lights. At this point there was still electricity in
Malton. I didn?t stop to see who or what
was standing in the streets with me. I
wanted to get away from those burned and relentless bodies. I ran, keeping in the shadows, until I found
myself away from the shops and plazas and apartments. I ran unthinkingly. I found myself in a cemetery, too tired to
run, or even walk. The irony did not
elude me. But I couldn?t run anymore. I remember vividly collapsing beneath the
granite figure of a seated mother, swathed in robes, coddling a child.

That was the start of the first night of this new life. Well, life is perhaps too generous a
term. That moment, propped up against
the gravestone of a person long since gone, was the start of this new
existence.

An existence dedicated to running, hiding, and surviving.

This pen is running out of ink. I?ll try to find another one buried in the
desks propped against the front doors.
Hopefully, I won?t be able to hear shambling footsteps outside.

Until next time.

T. Boar..d?

10-03-05

I had to flee the hospital this morning. I awoke to the sound of nearly a dozen undead
tearing through the barricaded front door.
I ran to the other side of the building, and threw my fire axe into the
bushes before jumping out the second story window. Having just woken up, and considering the
fact that my legs were still stiff and sore from all the running these past few
days, I hit the ground hard. I managed
to make it to another hospital, only a few blocks away, but to get here I had
to dodge a few shufflers, and passed by nearly a score of corpses that hadn?t
stood up yet. I hope they never do.

I?ve taken up temporary residence in one of the outpatient
wards on the second floor. I managed to
find another pen, and some more loose leaf paper amid the destruction and
garbage that litters nearly every room.

There are at least two dozen other survivors here, scattered
across the different floors and each staking claim to a different room. I take only small comfort in the knowledge
that there are other survivors here.
This morning taught me how quickly large groups dissipate when zombies
turn up. I woke up to an almost fully
deserted hospital, when the night before I had slept soundly knowing I was not
alone. People abandon buildings like rats
from a sinking ship. And like true rats
they don?t even have the courtesy to wake and warn those still sleeping.

Well, I can?t really resent them. That would be hypocritical. I froze up and then fled that first
night. I also left the hospital this
morning without searching for other survivors.

Survival of the fittest has come into play again it
seems. I guess at the end of all this,
if there is an end, only the biggest and the strongest rats will be around.

Now that I have a quiet moment to write I may as well
continue my account where I left off.

So, I lay there, propped up against a gravestone in the
middle of a cemetery on the outskirts of the commercial district. I didn?t have a watch on me but judging by
the temperature of the air and the darkness of the sky, it was yet early into
the morning hours, and I faced the daunting prospect of trying to survive my
first night alone. I didn?t know where I
could go. Unless my sense of direction
had failed me when I was running, I was somewhere on the northern outskirts of
Malton, possibly in Chancelwood. My
apartment was way the hell across Malton, in the Burdett
Building next to Woollacott
Park. I figured it would take me at least two days
to walk there, if I hid out during the nighttime. But what would be the point of going
back? I didn?t have any guns in my
apartment, and the fire axe I had was likely to be the best weapon I could
scrounge. I had no family in Malton to
look out for, and I had no idea where Scotty was. My thoughts briefly arced back towards my
parents and younger sister, who lived about a 4 hours drive south of Malton,
but I was roused back to the present by the sounds of movement in the darkness
to my left.

I lay there, trying to keep my ragged breathing under
control. The long grass of the
ill-tended cemetery muffled the sounds of what I deduced must be
footsteps. As the rustling of the grass
grew louder, I could tell that the walker was moving slowly and clumsily,
almost aimlessly. I wasn?t sure I could
slip away unnoticed, and something inside me decided I would not run this
time. Maybe it was a manifestation of
the guilt I felt for fleeing from the massacre at the Ducat building. Maybe I was simply sick of running and
slinking through the shadows. Whatever
the reason, I struggled to my feet with the cold wooden handle of the axe
tightly pressed in the palms of both my hands.
I still couldn?t see the figure for the darkness, but I faced the noise
of its approach. I called out. I think I said something stupid like ?hello,?
or ?who goes there.? Whatever was said,
the figure?s shuffling immediately acquired a purposefulness that spread a cold
fear through my guts. The wind shifted
at the exact moment, and I caught the scent of death. I still couldn?t see the approaching figure
but I could hear its resolute movements perhaps six feet away. My stomach turned twice before jumping into
my throat. My heart beat furiously
against my ribcage, like a bird struggling to take flight. At that point I could finally see the outline
of what must have been a man. He was
about my height, but he was limping and his right shoulder sagged down, giving
his silhouette a gross asymmetry. I
couldn?t see his face or even his clothing, but I could see his hands
outstretched. And
then, in one of the most peculiar moments of my life, time seemed to slow to a
halt. I froze and perhaps the man in
front of me did as well. I stared at his hands
now inches from my face. I couldn?t see his
features, but I had the ludicrous notion that if I could, it would have been
like looking into a mirror. I felt like
I was standing before another version of myself. I felt a sense of brotherhood and camaraderie
tinged by pity for this soulless doppelganger. As I stood there lost in dumfounded
contemplation, time snapped back. The
figure lurched forward with the deadly inability to resist a temptation so
close. It was then that I remembered that I
represented food to this grotesque perversion of a man. I stumbled backwards out its grasp. And then without thinking, as if something primal
inside of me had stepped forward to save itself, the axe rose above my head and
swept downwards with tremendous force.

The man?s head cleaved in two like a rotten cantaloupe. The smell of rot burst forth and a fine mist
of brain matter and flecks of bone covered my arms. As the body toppled backwards, the axe,
stubbornly buried deep in the torso, slipped from my hands.

I vomited twice before managing to pull the axe from the
body and clean myself off in the wet grass.

My limbs felt like jelly.
The fear had twice pumped adrenaline through my veins, and now my
muscles seemed beyond weak. Unresponsive
and acid burned. I managed to stumble to
a small house nearby. I vaguely remember
finding the door open, and having the presence of mind to close it before slumping
against the wall of the foyer. For the
second time that night I was struck by this peculiar feeling: an out of body
sensation during which the strangest notions entered my head. I remember thinking that it wasn?t an undead monster
I had cleaved in two in the cemetery. I
remember this feeling that it had been a real person, it had been me. Obviously it wasn?t, but maybe my chemical
raddled brain had been onto something that night. Thinking about it now, perhaps I realized
that that first killing had represented the death of something personal. It marked the death of my former life, my
former self, my worldly innocence.

I
didn?t even think to check the house for any more shambling dead before I gave
myself to sleep.

That?s enough for now.
I?ll need my strength for tomorrow.
Who knows what horror the daylight will bring.

T. Boardman

The robber
had been slipping through my fingers far too many times for my liking before he
had crashed into a tree. I had to wait for the doctores to arrive for about
three hours before they showed up.

<span style="" lang="EN-GB">Before I
had the time to ask what the hell had taken them so long, the driver said that
the hospital had been overfilled with people during the last hours. He had
never seen anything like it before. People just kept pouring in, hundreds of
them. They had bitemarks and bruises
all over.

Strange I
thought, nobody had reported anything unusual via the police radio.

I picked it
up and tried to get in contact with my fellows at Jensen BLVD Police Station, no answer.

I threw
myself into my police car and tried to get to Malton as quick as I could.</span>

When I got
there it was late evening. I could see smoke filling the skies from different
places of town.

I felt a
chill down my spine, something was really wrong.

I pulled
over at a gas station and asked a staff member what was going on. He turned
around and looked at me with dead cold eyes, limbed to the left side of my car
and smashed the window with his arms trying to get inside.

I panicked
and set full throttle, the guys arm loosened, and before I knew it I ran into a
lamppost. I tried to get the car working again, but with no luck.

It would
take me about six hours to get to the police station on foot, however it was
dark and I what scared to the death. What is going on?

I kicked
the door open and threw myself out of the car, ran along the streets until I couldn?t
keep going anymore. I was exhausted, tired and afraid. Afraid of the unknown.

I couldn?t see
anyone. In front of the was a big church. It seemed like someone had barricaded
it for some reason. I had never been a Christian, but in cases like this, I thought
it was best to make an exception, I went in inside and found a couple of
survivors as well as some soldiers guarding the building. The priest told me
that the city was at siege, dead people had arisen from the ground and eaten
everyone in their path. I could believe what I heard. Walking dead?

Here in Malton?
But at my state of being, I didn?t have the strength to bother either.

The priest
showed me a place to rest. I slept for about twelve hours before the priest
woke me up. Slowly the memories came back at me. I had to get back to the
police station and check on my buddies. Before I knew it, I was back on the
streets, running like hell. There where people here and there, If they where
dead or alive I couldn?t tell, I just kept running.

After what
felt like an entire lifetime, I got to Jensen BLVD Police Station my only real home. The building had been barricaded.

As I approached the
building, I saw people watching me through its windows. I went in and stumbled across
some familiar faces. They all seemed like they had went to hell and back.
Without saying anything they just threw me a shotgun and some pistol clips. We
sat down and discussed what to do next, me and another wanted to create some
kind of a base of operations in the outskirts while trying to contact other
cities. However we never managed to agree on any particular plan. During the
following evening and night, I looked around the police station for more
equipment, but with no particular luck, other than some shotgun shells. After
that, I threw myself in the couch at the cafeteria trying to get some sleep.

Filip Coulianos

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http://zombies.alexsaintcroix.com/ :smile:

haha nice Hamish MacMeph

i was just about to get off my shift when the worst of it came, around about six in the evening. throughout the day we had had a huge influx of people, injured with all kinds of strange ailments: bites, which slowly lead to skin necrosis; serious infections, real quick ones too ive never seen anything like them and paralysis in people that spread throughout the body until they died.
each hour more and more came in demanding help. the emergency room waiting antechamber was full, the sick were piled up against eachother. those we did get into the wards had to be put on blankets in the corridors. extra doctors had been called back in off-shift. we were desperately calling other hospitals for help but they all had the same problem.
i think it was about seven-thirty when we had to start piling dead up outside of the morgue. it was around then when it first happened as well.
i was running through the main corridor, jumping over doctors and nurses helping the ill on the floor, going to the EM on a desperate page. i got there and the first i saw was one paramedic pushing a stretcher half-dragging his partner who had blood all down his uniform. he was moaning and gripping what looked to be multiple wounds all over his body. i started to move closer and noticed the flesh hanging off the woman on the stretcher. the ambulance outside was smoking in an over heat. suddenly there were screams from my right. i turned and saw a hideous sight. some guy was biting this poor person. he was actually pulling off bits of flesh. people rushed around in panic. i looked around some more and saw several more people doing the same thing. three security officers rushed in diving on one of the guys. i watched as they desperately tried to wrestle the guy. one of the officers withdrew in pain, a bite in his neck. i was about to rush forward and help when all these other psychos rushed forward and attacked the rest of the security officers. one of the officers managed to crush one of these insane people's heads with a baton but was quickly over powered. what i noticed is that all these psychotics seemed so lifeless in their movements. only when they went to bite did they move properly. i screamed at the receptionist to call more security but she replied that the phones were down. immediately i took off towards the main reception to get help. the huge rush of people from the ER had crushed almost everyone in the corridors. i leaped through them in horror and reached the reception quickly. but someone had already gotten help - shotgun armed police, at least twenty, were rushing around and sometimes disappearing to the distant screams to help. people were screaming about the dead rising again and attacking. i did not believe this until i looked over into a semi-closed curtained bed area where i saw a nurse desperately trying patch up an obviously dead body. i was walking over to tell her when this body rose up and grabbed the nurse. i froze. that was not possible. that body had been clearly dead, after my ten years experience i knew what a dead body looked like. this thing bit deep into the nurses face, her screams smothered in the hungry kiss. i shouted for help and ran to help her. i stopped before i reached her after see i police man raise his shotgun to the thing. there was a deafing bang and the things head exploded. the nurse was hit too, but i reminded myself it was probably for the best. the busy buzz of scared people and panic silenced for a minute before erupting again ten fold.
there were suddenly more gunfire down the corridor where the morgue was and three bloodstained police officers appeared from at the junction at the end of that corridor. they fired a few shots down at something before running up to the reception shouting "Run!". i looked over to the several receptions who were screaming about being cut off from calls all around the hospital. the police men were desperately shouting orders or demanding a response into their radios. that is when i knew i had to run and thats what i did, i ran out of the hospital into the street, which was in a similar state of distress. there were more of these things everything. alot of them were concentrated on attacking a bus. the whole thing was shaking and windows were shattering. but i was disturbed from my stare. the sound of a helicopter, coming fast. i saw it fly over the rooftops and come crashing down towards the street. it crashed at an angle scraping along the ground, its rotor blades still spinning. tens were caught in the spinning blades. the helicopter crashed into the bus, flipping over. the rotorblades sliced into the street itself finally stopping.
i was terrified. tears were streaming down my face and just started to run. what was happening?

Dr. Derek Thompson

---

Bullet Control: $5000 for a bullet.
"I would blow your f**king head off! ...if I could afford it. I'm gonna get another job, start saving some money... then you a dead man!"

I woke up
to the screams of an terrified man this morning. He said that a few people was
trapped inside and un-secure building only two blocks away from here. The zombies
had smelled their presence and were on their way. They needed help, fast.

Without
hesitation I grabbed my shotgun and made myself ready. As a cop it was still my
duty to protect the citizens of Malton and to bring justice to those who
disobeyed the law.

The zombies
had no right, no right at all.

I ran
through the two blocks with a few other guys and spotted the building.

The zombies
where already there, I could smell it. I reloaded some shotgun shells and went
inside. We all split up inside to find any survivors. I simply continued
through the hallway and opened the door.

There at
the floor, a zombie was devouring a body while a woman and her child was hiding
in a corner, too scared to run away.

I froze, to
terrified to do anything. The zombie was too bothered eating human flesh to
notice me. Then somehow I got back my consciousness raising my shotgun and
screamed ?you have
no right, you bastards!? firing a shell. It made a perfect hit right in the
back of the zombie. The whole back got thorn apart, but the zombie seemed to
take no notice of its injuries. Just slowly turning around looking at me. I
fired again, it arose and started to move towards me. I fired again. The zombie
had now a big whole though its chest but it didn?t seem to notice. I pressed
the trigger one last time to finnish the job when to familiar ?click? sound
appeared. What the hell was I supposed to do? Out of ammo? Luckily enough I had
been trained for similar situations and without thinking I just grabbed my 9mm
and kept on firing, but the zombie just kept on moving towards me. It was now
about a metre away from me, I was scared to death, how do I kill this thing?

I could
move, couldn?t do anything, to scared when a man showed up from behind me with
a fire-axe in his hand chopped off the head of the thing. I felt the relief go
through my body. That was too close, I thought.

The
building had been secured and the zombies where all dead.

Time to
move back to base, to get some rest.

Filip Coulianos

We moved
our base of operations into Havercroft. ?Closer to the action? they said. I couldn?t stop
thinking of the man in the house who got eaten by the zombie by the woman and the
kid. He must have been that poor girls dad? I had been a dad once, but my boy
got killed in an accident. That girl must feel the same way as I did?

It took
about a day to make preparations and move off. The streets seemed to be too
quite when we made our move, I didn?t spot a single zombie despite the fact
that the new base was quite far from our last one.

I rested at
the police station during the night and searched for more equipment during half
the day. Then I felt ready, ready for revenge.

I grabbed
my gear, reloaded my shotgun and went out on the streets, all by myself. This was
personal I thought, I couldn?t rescue that man in the house, but I could avenge
him.

At first I ran
around sporadically looking for zombies. The streets had been cleared and
almost every building was barricaded and had people inside.

I stopped
by an arms dealer to get some ammo, but with no luck. The shop had already been
stripped out of everything.

I continued
to the east since the centre of the town was in that direction and it proved to
be a wise decision. After only a couple of blocks I stumbled across a single
zombie standing outside a barricaded building trying to get inside.

Payback time
I thought, raised the shotgun. This time I aimed for the head, looking straight
into its eyes, or what was left of them as I shot.

The shot
cleaned the head from its bloody shoulders. My first
zombie kill, I didn?t feel bad for it at all.

<span style="" lang="EN-GB">I noticed a
smoke pillar aiming for the skies a few
blocks north and continued towards it. When I got
there, I saw something terrible, the smoke came from a big fire outside </span>Bryan
Place Fire Station, the barricades where in flames and a big bunch of zombies
where outside trying to get in. I estimated that there where ten of them. I got
too scared to make a proper judge of the situation and just ran back to our
headquarters, Moseley Plaza Police Dept,
and reported to the other guys in there. Hopefully we could try to kill them
together.<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; color: black;" lang="EN-GB"></span>

Filip Coulianos