Hello Everyone, this is Greg here.
New story here called Outbreak Central, and props go to my friend Jake for writing this, but didn't have an account, so I am posting it for him, R&R please.
It was not a particularly cold day in Morde. The citizens were used to the sharp wind constantly sweeping in from the sea, but even today, the wind was not very active. There was no seeping rain or painfully fresh air. No, what made this day more biting and chilling than any other was the moans. The wretched moans echoing across the city, ricocheting from building to building and paralyzing all who heard them.
Occasionally, a human scream would erupt from a distant place. Some who caught that sound froze and gulped. Others who heard it turned their heads and began to step slowly in the direction from which the sound came. This was not the only discrepancy between these two factions. The main difference, in fact, was their state of life. One half had a racing pulse and an unsteady hand. The other half had instead no pulse at all, and cloudy eyes more frightening than death. And yet both of these halves walked, and ate...
The government had been releasing absolutely no information of importance to the general public. The entire country knew what was going on, though. They had all read the books and jumped out of their seats at the movie theaters. There was more than enough material about these, until recently, fictional beasts, these "Zombies". They were the living dead. Bodies rising up to feed. And their favorite snack was human flesh.
It was, of course, common knowledge that any bite inflicted by one of these zombies onto a human transformed the one they had bitten into a zombie themselves. Bad side-effect.
People across the US were gearing up for these monsters. The news reports were coming in from all over, stories about the undead overrunning towns everywhere. Adults were angry, teens were skeptical, and children were frightened. The army moved into many major cities to set up defenses and try to control any outbreaks. It was mostly futile, as the military was simply not trained to deal with an enemy of incredible durability whose only goal was to devour humankind. Plus, the soldiers were simply unprepared for the psychological stress they would have to deal with. Faced with their comrades dying and joining the ranks of their enemy, and the constant moaning and snarling and mindless aggression, it drove many a brave man insane.
Fathers of households were boarding up their windows, filling up bathtubs, and buying guns. Young and foolish girls and boys were out partying what they thought may be their last parties. Policemen were patrolling the streets day and night, doing their best to remain calm, some rookie officers wetting their pants should a shadow move in an alley. The homeless were just trying to get the hell off the streets and into somewhere safe. Crime basically stopped, as robbers and crazed gunmen saved their ambition for later, or at least until there were no freaking dead people walking around.
The city of Morde was counted among the most interesting cases of an infested city. So many instances of strange courage, horrible judgment, surprising alliances, and incredible battle between the survivors and the zombie threat. Truly a diverse and crazy city, it was one of the first to be overrun, and one of the worst-handled overall. So much carnage and so many mishaps. The government made little effort to officially escort residents to the relative "safe haven" of Leenman Island, sealed off by army forces early on.
The few humans remaining in Morde fought for their lives. The one true goal was to make their way to Leenman Island by any means necessary. They had all listened to their radios, all heard that the island was sealed off to the undead, and that any survivors should go to the island and save themselves. The survivors heard, and as one, stood, and began to gather their things. It was either Leenman or death. The latter option did not look appealing in the least.