Hi Guys! So I have been working on this story for a few weeks now, just adding small things here and there when I have had time - having a job really blows, and having a boyfriend pretty much takes up all my other free time (this how ever does not blow - my love and I play zombies everyday so in fact he helps me with my writing...LOL!) But here is my new story A Tale of Two Dempsey's which follows the relationship between a young woman and the infamous Tank Dempsey. I can tell you that this story will progress through the nazi zombies genre as well - set in before Moon. You WILL see other favorites such as Takio, Nikoli, and Richtofen but I am unsure of when. I really like where this story is going so far, and would like to apologize in advance for not working on my first fan fiction, Tangible infections. I get very fickle with my writing but never the less hope to continue it... eventually.
Also everyone should get the new map pack for blops2 its amazing!
A Tale of Two Dempsey's
Chapter One
I'd never really given much thought about how I would die - though these past few months had given me enough reason - I would have never imagined I would go like this. Lungs without air, I stared into the cold eyes of my captor, and he stared right back - pleasure ripping through his facial features no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. In some way maybe it was a good thing that it all ended here - that I would die like this, I mean. These events - everything that had happened; I knew now was not the time for regret - my choices, my motives, where something that I could have only hoped for in my wildest of dreams. The life I had lived was something everyone should experience; adventure, mystery, romance - I lead a good life. To wish away what I had, had just so I could continue living would be foolish.
My captor grinned wildly - deceiving at first as he stalked closer, like a lion encircling his prey, to kill me.
I sometimes wish I could say I lived a normal life. Had a normal run of the mill husband who worked in a factory from 9-5 everyday while I seemingly waited for him to return to our white picot fence home with dinner hot on the table. I wish I could tell people what my husband did for a living - what he really did and why we had to move to the middle of nowhere. Stationed somewhere in Nevada, my husband was recently promoted to work for the Government at the USAF military installation just south of Groom Lake. This was a god send compared to his previous endeavors in Germany.
I let a long sigh escape my lips as I laid out on the grassy plain that was now our backyard - I watched our white sheets dance in the breeze, drying from this mornings wash. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky as I looked into the blue abyss, avoiding the suns rays. It was a magnificent place. The air seemed cleaner, the land was vast and healthy, and our home though small was top of the line. I guess there was something to say about being a military family. And yet, I missed my old life - my old friends, family - the hustle and bustle of city living and the memories each pub held for me.
It was out of the ordinary to see a woman drinking at a pub, laughing with the guys, cursing like a sailor - the more I think about it the more I come to realize of how I got mixed up with a man like Tank Dempsey.
Tank Dempsey was the raw definition of a man. Hand him a loaded weapon, a good woman, and something to shoot at and he is happy. Enrage him and he will rip your guts out. Don't get me wrong - Tank was as much a womanizer as any other man in that pub, but I knew - even back then that there was a gentleman wedged somewhere beneath that rough exterior.
"I think you should take a seat hotness." He told me, grabbing my arm; preventing me from leaving. He had been watching me all night from across the bar. Every time I turned his eyes where on me. The frown on my face became more prominent. I didn't say one word to him - I just wanted to crawl into my warm bed and try to avoid the hangover I knew I would be getting in the morning. I tugged lightly on my arm slightly but his grip became tighter.
"Let go." I was in no mood for this.
He respected my wishes and watched me wobble out of the pub.
Small hiccups erupted from my chest as I made my way back to my dumpy apartment. It was something that I loved to do - get trashed and walk home. It wasn't glamourous but nothing about me really was. I was an average run of the mill teenager - brown hair, brown eyes, jeans, t-shirt - nothing really 'hot' or 'sexy' about me. Always the friend never the girlfriend. Maybe that's what pushed me to drinking in the first place. Alcohol always did make me feel anything but ordinary.
Before I realized what was happening around me, I was pulled into an alley way and shoved up against the side of a building. My vision was blurred and I couldn't make out the person in front of me. I tried to push the figure away from my body. "Get off of me, stupid!"
"Don't be like that baby," I could tell it was a man by his deep voice. I began thrashing about, trying anything to get this filthy man off of me - nothing worked. I tried to swallow, to build up a decent scream when a loud lock of a gun rang through my ears. I thought this man was going to kill me. My mind shut down. I didn't want to die. I had my whole life ahead of me - sure I was living a pretty unexciting life but I intended to make it better over the years.
"Why don't you just back away slowly until your out of my sight you freak."
It was him. The man who had tried to stop me from leaving the pub. Suddenly I felt a weight being lifted off my chest and an apology harboring within my stomach.
"What you think a gun is gonna scare me," came the reply of my predator.
A loud bang rang in my ears - my body slid down the brick wall - there was this unimaginable wet feeling running from my chest down. I couldn't breath as the darkness swallowed me alive.
In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be emitting from a lamp that lay shattered on the hallway floor. I knew there was man near me - I couldn't see his face, I could barely make out his outline. All I could see were beady little eyes staring into my soul - the type that would send shivers down even the most trained assassin's spine. Eyes that followed your every movement; watching, waiting until you finally made a mistake.
I ran.
No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't out run him; no matter how loud I called for help, no one ever came. Troubled, I jolted awake, sweaty and confused. A strong arm shoved me back down to the bed.
"Relax hotness," a hoarse voice called from my left. "It was just a nightmare."
He was truly perfect at this time. His face was relaxed instead of his normal uptight scowl, his voice was hoarse with sleep and his desire to cuddle was something that I could not get enough of. I snuggled in closer to his muscly frame and smiled when I heard him grunt with approval.
Knowing that your husband was the Tank Dempsey you would think that all the nightmares would cease to exist.
I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness and lack of body heat woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow light making its way through my window. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, his truck was gone. Off to yet another exciting day at the base. I lingered by the window as long as I could, basking in the heat of the sun before starting my day.
I stared into the mirror as I stripped. I was pale - too pale for someone who lived in Nevada. I let my eyes travel along my refection stopping at my shoulder scar. It was an ugly circular shaped scar that never did quite heal properly. A small smile made its way upon my face remembering how it happened - I still can't believe he shot me. Oh sure he would constantly tell me 'It was the only way to ensure your safety' but the only reason he pulled that trigger was because he was a man of action not a man of thinking things through. Though I have to say, for an ugly deformity such as this, it does leave a smile on my face every time. Its like his mark, his calling card - TANK DEMPSEY PROPERTY - plastered on my body claiming his territory - maybe that's what it was; a brand to tell who I belonged to - a warning to others that sought me out.
I rolled my eyes at the thought. Tank might have been a lot of things but deep and meaningful was not one of them. My scar probably had no true meaning - just a poorly healed scar encrusted into my skin as a reminder to stop walking home drunk near dimly lit alley ways.
Alright I really hope this story comes out better than my last. I know my reviewers seem to enjoy my first story, but there is something about it that always makes me turn away. But at any rate there you have it! Let me know what you guys think if you like it so far and if it better than my first story! You can be honest with me! I need all of the feedback I can get!
