OMEGA
Written by Chris English
After reading this, you may wonder why this is in the resident evil section, because no mention of the game is in here anywhere. That's because I based this story on the resident evil games to avoid any complications with dead characters or future plots. I remembered some people may get confused after someone wrote a reveiw asking why there was no reference to the games. Just read it as a story, and if you want it to be a resident evil story, just change the character names.
CHAPTER 1
Alfred Willow swiped his security key card through the thin slot. The small LED beside it changed from red to blue. He tapped in six numbers on the panel on the other side of the small lights. The tiny light turned to green. Willow pushed the door open and walked through.
He was a scientist, working on special chemicals to prevent soldiers from feeling pain. He was on a breakthrough. After years of hard work and failures, he had finally found it. A chemical that would shut down the part of the brain that registers pain. And it was a complete accident. All this time, the chemical he had tried so painstakingly hard to create had been in the forest of the island all this time. Willow found this mildly amusing. He smiled slightly, then his face returned to its unemotional state.
Willow didn't really feel much emotion anymore. Not since Stacie was killed. He had got home four evenings ago, and found his house in a mess. Like someone was searching for something. The chemical most probably. Everything was on the floor or broken. He had stepped into the kitchen. Stacey was there, propped up against a cupboard. Her chest had five bullet holes in it, her forehead had one. Her blood was on most of the walls, her body was still bleeding. Her eyes stared blankly at him, cutting through him, making him feel ill. He had fell to his knees, crying heavily. She hadn't known about his work. She had no involvement. But they killed her anyway. The bastards had murdered the woman he loved.
Willow snapped out of it. Soon they would pay. Yes, they would pay for their cold act against him. After many tests, he had created a vaccine against the virus. The successful tests he decided to destroy. Only he would survive the plague. His plague. He walked over to a metal sheet on the wall and pressed a button. It rose, revealing a clear sheet of thick plastic. Behind it, four men were aimlessly wandering around. The virus had not only destroyed the parts of the brain feeling pain and emotion, but all other parts as well. There was no intelligence, no ultimate goal. Their skin had started to peel off in large chunks. They were decomposing.
Although immune to the virus, he still had to be extremely careful. They ate living creatures, including humans. Willow always carried a .440 Magnum with him. 8 shots. The only way to kill them was a shot to the head or decapitation. Once the brain had lost contact with any part of the body, it could not operate it. He had kept a small amount of the cure in case he needed more.
The virus was transmitted by blood. If it entered the blood stream, it took about three hours to take effect. The bodies would decompose And eventually the zombie would die. It had a life span of only four weeks. But that was plenty. The island of Johnston Atoll would cease to be populated in just over a week. Willow lifted his finger above a button. It would send the virus carrying monsters out of their cages, around the whole building. The zombies would do their work. He smiled again. "Goodnight, everybody!" he joked to himself. His finger touched down on the button.
Frank Smith stepped into his house. The room was pitch black. He turned the light switch on and a pool of brightness lit up the room. He threw his keys to the table and they missed the side, jangling as they hit the ground. Frank didn't care about picking the keys up as he didn't need to go to work tomorrow.
He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He looked to see what he had. It was mostly empty. Only two pints of milk, a half block of cheese, three pieces of bacon and a few mushrooms. Frank tapped a rythm on the top of the fridge door as he looked at the remaining food. "Great." he said sarcastically to himself. He took out a pint of milk and poured a third of it into a glass before putting it back. He drunk a mouthful and walked back to the living room. He switched the television and computer on. He flicked through the channels to find something worth watching. 'Day of the Dead' had just started, so he left it on that.
Frank sat in front of his computer and logged on to the net. He went to a web page which demanded a user name and pass-code. A restricted site which he knew held a secret. Depending on the size of the secret, he would need to be good. But there wasn't a system he couldn't bust into.
It had taken him seven minutes to break the first three codes. He could hear the movie in the background. He looked at the clock. He had twenty minutes before the military arrived. Frank broke through the last code. He stuck in a floppy disk and clicked on the copy button before reading what he had just found.
Frank stared at the stream of gibberish. They where either a foreign language rarely used, or just random letters to piss him off. "Shit." he murmured. The words finished copying to the floppy and Frank ejected it. He switched the computer off and turned around. He grabbed his jacket from the armchair and knelt down beside the table to pick up his car keys. They where gone.
"Looking for these?" said a voice behind Frank. He turned around to come face to face with a tall, brown haired man. The intruder was holding Frank's keys in the air.
"Who the hell are you?" Frank asked. The man pulled his identification from his pocket.
"Agent Stanton, FBI." said the man calmly. Frank suddenly knew he'd been rumbled.
I am not going down for this though. Not today.
Frank moved his hand to the table and picked up his gun. Agent Stanton was quicker though, and had his gun aimed at Frank before he could take it out. "Don't try it." he said, still calm. Frank relaxed his arm. Agent Stanton walked over to him and grabbed the gun, then handcuffed Frank. "Let's go." he said and pushed Frank out of his house and into the black car. He opened the passenger door at the back and pushed Frank in. Agent Stanton got in the driver's side. He started the car up and drove away from the house.
Michelle Hays stepped out of the supermarket into the blistering sun. She had to shelter her eyes as she walked into it with her free hand. She lowered it, and walked down the street.
As she did, someone suddenly screamed. It sounded as if it was coming from around the next corner. Cautiously, Michelle walked slowly round the corner to see what was going on.
In the middle of the road, someone was crouching over another person. It was hard to tell what was going on. "Hey, you need a hand?" called Michelle. The crouching person turned its head slowly, then stood up. Michelle dropped her shopping as the man staggered towards her.
His face was decaying, some parts had dropped off, leaving the bone visible. It seemed to have no intelligence at all. Michelle ran back down the street to warn people what she had seen, but as she got halfway there, more screams rang out, and people started running down the street towards her.
As they go closer, Michelle turned to see the man still following her, along with three others. "What the hell is going on?" Michelle asked herself. She turned 90 degrees and ran into a nearby house. She closed the door and locked it, then ran for the back door. She locked it as well, then ran up the stairs and shut herself in a room, blocking the door with whatever she could.
Agent Dan Stanton had been driving for about thirty minutes now. His suspect hadn't spoken at all throughout the journey. He was wanted for murder on three separate occasions, as well as hacking into top secret government files. He had been on this case now for two months, and soon he would have closed it and could be given a new case to work on. He was currently working alone, and was hoping to be working with someone next time. Then he would have someone to talk to, and also not have to do all the work.
He took his concentration off the road for a second, but in that short period of time someone stumbled in front of the car. Dan saw it too late and tried to stop, but his car slammed into the body with a hard crunch. The person flew over the car and landed on the road behind them. It didn't move.
Dan stopped the car and opened the door. He looked at Frank, who was confused as to what happened. "Don't move." he said. Frank stared out of the back window silently. Dan decided that the body was more important than getting a simple promise from a murderer and ran over to the person in the road. He checked for a pulse, then felt something soft and sticky.
He pulled his fingers out of the corpse's neck and looked at the bloody mess on his hand. He looked at the body puzzled, and it suddenly grabbed his head. He managed to jump out of it's grip as it tried to bite his skull. Dan turned and ran to the car. He got into the drivers seat and twisted the key in the ignition. It tried to start up but couldn't.
"Shit! What the hell is that?" Frank yelled.
"I don't know!" Dan yelled back. Suddenly the car started, and Dan went hell for leather down the street, leaving the thing behind.
Jake Foreman sat at the bar silently. He often came here. Not for any particular reason, but being alone helped. He either came here, or stayed at home. He did know someone he'd thought of asking out. She was in the group of Marines he was situated with. He met her there a couple of years before, and became good friends. They had saved each other on numerous accounts. It seemed she liked him a bit more than friends, as well.
He downed his shot of whiskey in one go, and knocked on the wooden bar, signalling for another. The bartender walked over to him. "I think you've had enough, mate." he said. Jake lifted his head up.
"I think you maybe right." he said, his voice tone altering during the sentence. He stood up and turned around to leave. "See ya tomorrow." he said to the bartender.
"I'll save your space." replied the large balding man as he wiped a glass with a cloth.
"Oh, would you? I'd be ever so grateful." He staggered slightly to the exit. He walked to where he usually parked his car, then remembered he drove it into a tree a few days ago. "Oh yeah," he said to himself. He lit a cigarette, then walked down the road in the direction of his apartment.
Along the way, he noticed a group of about three men, about his age, approaching him. Jake ignored them at first, until the middle one came forward. He was apparently the leader. "Hey, you got any money?" he asked gruffly.
"Yeah. In the bank." Jake replied sarcastically. The leader seemed surprised at Jake's uncooperative actions. He took a step forward.
"Have you got any on you is what I meant." he stated angrily. Jake looked into his eyes.
"Yeah. Why?" he replied.
"Give it here, and you won't get killed." said the leader, sounding a slight bit pleased at his success. Jake kept looking at him. Then smiled slightly.
"Just try it." he replied, not moving at all. The leader was now angry, that was clear. He stepped back and spoke calmly.
"It ain't a good idea to piss me off. Because when I get pissed off, people end up in one of two places. A hospital or a cemetery. Which one will it be?"
Jake took the cigarette out of his mouth, dropped it on the cold pavement and squashed it with his boot. He looked up at the thug. "It ain't a good idea to piss me off, either. Because you'll only go one place. The cemetery. So get outta my site, fat-ass." The man turned to his gangster buddy to his right.
"Cut this son of a bitch up." he said, a slight smile on his face. The man flicked open his pen knife and thrust the blade at Jake's chest. Jake dodged the attack, grabbed the mans arm and twisted it behind his back. The man cried out as Jake snapped the bone in his arm.
The second man ran up behind him, also holding a penknife. As he was about to swing at him, Jake spun round and kicked him in the ribcage. The attacker let go of the knife as he flew through the air. Jake grabbed it and swung round. The blade knocked the leader's knife clean out of his hand. He watched it land on the road, out of reach. Then he faced Jake, and saw his fist come crashing into his face.
Jake sent the leader tumbling backwards, blood starting to gush from his broken nose. Without checking to see if they were all right, Jake carried on walking home. "They only come out at night." he mocked.
Jake opened the door and walked into his apartment. He walked over to the table and slapped a clip into the unloaded gun he was carrying. He put the gun on the table and lay on the coach. He flicked the TV on using the remote control. He took his jacket and shirt off, then his sneakers. He hadn't got any decent socks now. He flicked through the channels and stopped on one at random. It was a stand up comedy show. He wasn't sure when it started, or who it was, but he left it on. The picture from the television lighted up the unlit room with a blue-grey light.
Jake watched the show for a while, and found it genuinely funny. He looked in the TV guide and noted down the name of the show on the back of his hand. He decided to watch it again next week. When it finished, he turned the TV off, and the room fell dark again. Jake closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Michelle opened the door to the bedroom she'd been hiding in for ages. She could hear the people outside screaming as whatever had taken seige of the town attacked them. She peered down the landing and saw nothing. She walked slowly out of the room, keeping silent so she could hear anything. The house sounded deserted, which was a good sign. She looked in each room to see if anything was in them. Nothing. She walked to the top of the stairs and looked down. She slowly descended them. As she got to the bottom of the stairs, she decided that nothing was in the house, so she was safe for now.
After searching the house, she found little of any use. There was food, but she wasn't hungry. The television wasn't working, all it showed was fuzzy black and white lines. She looked around the room and found some movies. She looked through them, and chose Cliffhanger. She put the video cassette in the machine and pressed play. She used the remote to turn the sound right down, so she could just hear it.
The film was just over a third of the way through when Michelle heard gunfire outside. It sounded like shotgun blasts. She stood up and peered out of the window. She saw a man outside firing at the crazy people who were killing everyone. She ran to the front door and unlocked it. She opened it. "In here!" she shouted. The man spun his head around to see her, fired again, then ran into the house. Michelle slammed the door and locked it whilst the man grabbed a table and cabinet, and he blocked the door with it. The people outside tried to get in, but couldn't break the door down. After a while, they gave up.
The man walked into the living room and fell backwards onto the couch. Michelle walked in and sat in an armchair, watching him as he rubbed his face and groaned. "Are you alright?" she finaly asked.
"Yeah." he replied. He sat up and extended his hand towards her. "Name's Pete. Pete Thorpe." he said. Michelle took his hand and shook it.
"Michelle Hays." she said. Pete smiled, then layed back into the couch. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Something bad." Pete replied. "Very bad."
The phone rang suddenly, and Jake woke up quickly. He picked up the receiver and put it next to his ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me!" came the reply. The caller said it so loud Jake had to had to block the earpiece to stop himself going deaf.
"Rob. What is it?"
"Just got a call. We have to go to base. It's urgent."
"Why?"
"Don't Know. Just have to be there at 2:20." Jake looked at his watch.
"It's Ten past Nine now. Come round and pick me up around 12:30."
"Sure. Wait a minute, what happened to your car?" Rob asked.
"I sort of crashed it. Into a tree."
"Dick head."
Rob put the phone down. Jake laid down again and laughed. He got up off the coach and took a cigarette from a packet on the table. He picked up a box of matches and opened it. None left. "Godammit." he murmured. He walked over to his cooker and turned on a grill pan. When it glowed red, Jake pressed the end of his cigarette on it, still holding it in his mouth. It glowed and Jake lifted his head up. He stood in that spot, breathing the smoke in and out. He walked over to the bathroom and ran water into the basin. He had a piss while the sink filled up, then got a disposable razor out of a plastic case. He smeared shaving cream onto his chin and lower face. He dipped the razor in the water and shaved his face.
As he nearly finished, he cut his face and blood started to run from the cut. It was a bad cut. He ignored it and finished shaving and washed his face. The blood washed off, but more seeped out. He wiped it off with his arm and pulled the plug out of the sink. The water gurgled and disappeared down the hole on the centre of the basin.
He walked into the main room and picked his cigarette up out of the ashtray, which was starting to fill up. He had only just recently started smoking. He decided to leave his cigarettes behind. Maybe he'd try and quit.
He stubbed the burning stick out and put it back in the ashtray. He put his shirt, jacket and sneakers back on. He opened the fridge and picked up the half-full bottle of beer he had started drinking three days ago. He drunk from it and waited for Rob to arrive, then when he did, Jake took his cigarettes with him.
They got to base just in time. Captain Joseph Edwards had just started briefing the team on there mission. "Here's what we know," he started. "At approximately one o' clock in the morning, Friday 23 July, communication was lost with Johnston Atoll." Jake raised his arm. "What is it, Foreman?"
"I don't know if I've missed anything important, but who is this 'Johnston Atoll'? I never heard of him."
"Johnston Atoll is not a person, it's an Island off the coast of Australia." Jake nodded.
"Fair enough." he said. Edwards spoke again.
"Anyway, we sent a special unit in to investigate. Two days later, we received this transmission." Captain Edwards turned round and pressed the play button on the cassette player.
The tape was a little fuzzy and hard to hear what was being said in some parts, but everyone got the picture of what was being played.
It said: "This is Commander Robinson. All my team are dead. We were attacked... by creatures. Most looked like people, but they were rotting away. I was almost sick. We opened fire, but they kept on coming at us. We tried to retreat, but we were surrounded by these... things. Me and a few people got out alive, only to find more of those monsters. I was bitten by one just twenty minutes ago, a large chunk of flesh being ripped off by this bastard's teeth. I was the only one who got out alive. But now something just as strange is happening. I am getting a fever, and feeling itchy, but my skin is starting to decompose..."
A large crashing sound suddenly sounded on the cassette, making some of the team jump.
"Oh, shit!" were the last actual words on the tape. The rest were horrifying screams and the sound of ripping skin tissue, blood splattering over the walls, and the chewing of flesh. Suddenly the tape went dead, and all that could be heard was deep breathing and quiet moaning. Then, without warning, a sound like shattering glass tore through the silence, and the tape crackled then stopped.
Every member of the team fell silent and a slight flicker of horror appeared on their faces, except from Captain Edwards who had obviously heard the recording before. "As you may have worked out, it is up to us to find out what happened to Commander Robinson and his team, why communication has been lost and what the hell is going on." said the captain almost calmly as if nothing had happened. There was a short silence before he carried on. "As we are not entirely sure of what we shall be facing when we get there, it is extremely important you stay frosty. It is possible that some locals have gone insane due to no contact with the rest of the world. This could explain the appearance of the skin rotting where they have clawed at there face or shit like that."
"What about the eating people bit?" Jake asked suddenly. Edwards looked at him.
"Shut up." he answered. Jake shrugged.
"What? What did I say?"
Captain Edwards turned round to face the team. "We leave in one hour. Get ready and get on the carrier." He looked at Jake. "Don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." replied Jake.
"OK, dismissed."
Written by Chris English
After reading this, you may wonder why this is in the resident evil section, because no mention of the game is in here anywhere. That's because I based this story on the resident evil games to avoid any complications with dead characters or future plots. I remembered some people may get confused after someone wrote a reveiw asking why there was no reference to the games. Just read it as a story, and if you want it to be a resident evil story, just change the character names.
CHAPTER 1
Alfred Willow swiped his security key card through the thin slot. The small LED beside it changed from red to blue. He tapped in six numbers on the panel on the other side of the small lights. The tiny light turned to green. Willow pushed the door open and walked through.
He was a scientist, working on special chemicals to prevent soldiers from feeling pain. He was on a breakthrough. After years of hard work and failures, he had finally found it. A chemical that would shut down the part of the brain that registers pain. And it was a complete accident. All this time, the chemical he had tried so painstakingly hard to create had been in the forest of the island all this time. Willow found this mildly amusing. He smiled slightly, then his face returned to its unemotional state.
Willow didn't really feel much emotion anymore. Not since Stacie was killed. He had got home four evenings ago, and found his house in a mess. Like someone was searching for something. The chemical most probably. Everything was on the floor or broken. He had stepped into the kitchen. Stacey was there, propped up against a cupboard. Her chest had five bullet holes in it, her forehead had one. Her blood was on most of the walls, her body was still bleeding. Her eyes stared blankly at him, cutting through him, making him feel ill. He had fell to his knees, crying heavily. She hadn't known about his work. She had no involvement. But they killed her anyway. The bastards had murdered the woman he loved.
Willow snapped out of it. Soon they would pay. Yes, they would pay for their cold act against him. After many tests, he had created a vaccine against the virus. The successful tests he decided to destroy. Only he would survive the plague. His plague. He walked over to a metal sheet on the wall and pressed a button. It rose, revealing a clear sheet of thick plastic. Behind it, four men were aimlessly wandering around. The virus had not only destroyed the parts of the brain feeling pain and emotion, but all other parts as well. There was no intelligence, no ultimate goal. Their skin had started to peel off in large chunks. They were decomposing.
Although immune to the virus, he still had to be extremely careful. They ate living creatures, including humans. Willow always carried a .440 Magnum with him. 8 shots. The only way to kill them was a shot to the head or decapitation. Once the brain had lost contact with any part of the body, it could not operate it. He had kept a small amount of the cure in case he needed more.
The virus was transmitted by blood. If it entered the blood stream, it took about three hours to take effect. The bodies would decompose And eventually the zombie would die. It had a life span of only four weeks. But that was plenty. The island of Johnston Atoll would cease to be populated in just over a week. Willow lifted his finger above a button. It would send the virus carrying monsters out of their cages, around the whole building. The zombies would do their work. He smiled again. "Goodnight, everybody!" he joked to himself. His finger touched down on the button.
Frank Smith stepped into his house. The room was pitch black. He turned the light switch on and a pool of brightness lit up the room. He threw his keys to the table and they missed the side, jangling as they hit the ground. Frank didn't care about picking the keys up as he didn't need to go to work tomorrow.
He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He looked to see what he had. It was mostly empty. Only two pints of milk, a half block of cheese, three pieces of bacon and a few mushrooms. Frank tapped a rythm on the top of the fridge door as he looked at the remaining food. "Great." he said sarcastically to himself. He took out a pint of milk and poured a third of it into a glass before putting it back. He drunk a mouthful and walked back to the living room. He switched the television and computer on. He flicked through the channels to find something worth watching. 'Day of the Dead' had just started, so he left it on that.
Frank sat in front of his computer and logged on to the net. He went to a web page which demanded a user name and pass-code. A restricted site which he knew held a secret. Depending on the size of the secret, he would need to be good. But there wasn't a system he couldn't bust into.
It had taken him seven minutes to break the first three codes. He could hear the movie in the background. He looked at the clock. He had twenty minutes before the military arrived. Frank broke through the last code. He stuck in a floppy disk and clicked on the copy button before reading what he had just found.
Frank stared at the stream of gibberish. They where either a foreign language rarely used, or just random letters to piss him off. "Shit." he murmured. The words finished copying to the floppy and Frank ejected it. He switched the computer off and turned around. He grabbed his jacket from the armchair and knelt down beside the table to pick up his car keys. They where gone.
"Looking for these?" said a voice behind Frank. He turned around to come face to face with a tall, brown haired man. The intruder was holding Frank's keys in the air.
"Who the hell are you?" Frank asked. The man pulled his identification from his pocket.
"Agent Stanton, FBI." said the man calmly. Frank suddenly knew he'd been rumbled.
I am not going down for this though. Not today.
Frank moved his hand to the table and picked up his gun. Agent Stanton was quicker though, and had his gun aimed at Frank before he could take it out. "Don't try it." he said, still calm. Frank relaxed his arm. Agent Stanton walked over to him and grabbed the gun, then handcuffed Frank. "Let's go." he said and pushed Frank out of his house and into the black car. He opened the passenger door at the back and pushed Frank in. Agent Stanton got in the driver's side. He started the car up and drove away from the house.
Michelle Hays stepped out of the supermarket into the blistering sun. She had to shelter her eyes as she walked into it with her free hand. She lowered it, and walked down the street.
As she did, someone suddenly screamed. It sounded as if it was coming from around the next corner. Cautiously, Michelle walked slowly round the corner to see what was going on.
In the middle of the road, someone was crouching over another person. It was hard to tell what was going on. "Hey, you need a hand?" called Michelle. The crouching person turned its head slowly, then stood up. Michelle dropped her shopping as the man staggered towards her.
His face was decaying, some parts had dropped off, leaving the bone visible. It seemed to have no intelligence at all. Michelle ran back down the street to warn people what she had seen, but as she got halfway there, more screams rang out, and people started running down the street towards her.
As they go closer, Michelle turned to see the man still following her, along with three others. "What the hell is going on?" Michelle asked herself. She turned 90 degrees and ran into a nearby house. She closed the door and locked it, then ran for the back door. She locked it as well, then ran up the stairs and shut herself in a room, blocking the door with whatever she could.
Agent Dan Stanton had been driving for about thirty minutes now. His suspect hadn't spoken at all throughout the journey. He was wanted for murder on three separate occasions, as well as hacking into top secret government files. He had been on this case now for two months, and soon he would have closed it and could be given a new case to work on. He was currently working alone, and was hoping to be working with someone next time. Then he would have someone to talk to, and also not have to do all the work.
He took his concentration off the road for a second, but in that short period of time someone stumbled in front of the car. Dan saw it too late and tried to stop, but his car slammed into the body with a hard crunch. The person flew over the car and landed on the road behind them. It didn't move.
Dan stopped the car and opened the door. He looked at Frank, who was confused as to what happened. "Don't move." he said. Frank stared out of the back window silently. Dan decided that the body was more important than getting a simple promise from a murderer and ran over to the person in the road. He checked for a pulse, then felt something soft and sticky.
He pulled his fingers out of the corpse's neck and looked at the bloody mess on his hand. He looked at the body puzzled, and it suddenly grabbed his head. He managed to jump out of it's grip as it tried to bite his skull. Dan turned and ran to the car. He got into the drivers seat and twisted the key in the ignition. It tried to start up but couldn't.
"Shit! What the hell is that?" Frank yelled.
"I don't know!" Dan yelled back. Suddenly the car started, and Dan went hell for leather down the street, leaving the thing behind.
Jake Foreman sat at the bar silently. He often came here. Not for any particular reason, but being alone helped. He either came here, or stayed at home. He did know someone he'd thought of asking out. She was in the group of Marines he was situated with. He met her there a couple of years before, and became good friends. They had saved each other on numerous accounts. It seemed she liked him a bit more than friends, as well.
He downed his shot of whiskey in one go, and knocked on the wooden bar, signalling for another. The bartender walked over to him. "I think you've had enough, mate." he said. Jake lifted his head up.
"I think you maybe right." he said, his voice tone altering during the sentence. He stood up and turned around to leave. "See ya tomorrow." he said to the bartender.
"I'll save your space." replied the large balding man as he wiped a glass with a cloth.
"Oh, would you? I'd be ever so grateful." He staggered slightly to the exit. He walked to where he usually parked his car, then remembered he drove it into a tree a few days ago. "Oh yeah," he said to himself. He lit a cigarette, then walked down the road in the direction of his apartment.
Along the way, he noticed a group of about three men, about his age, approaching him. Jake ignored them at first, until the middle one came forward. He was apparently the leader. "Hey, you got any money?" he asked gruffly.
"Yeah. In the bank." Jake replied sarcastically. The leader seemed surprised at Jake's uncooperative actions. He took a step forward.
"Have you got any on you is what I meant." he stated angrily. Jake looked into his eyes.
"Yeah. Why?" he replied.
"Give it here, and you won't get killed." said the leader, sounding a slight bit pleased at his success. Jake kept looking at him. Then smiled slightly.
"Just try it." he replied, not moving at all. The leader was now angry, that was clear. He stepped back and spoke calmly.
"It ain't a good idea to piss me off. Because when I get pissed off, people end up in one of two places. A hospital or a cemetery. Which one will it be?"
Jake took the cigarette out of his mouth, dropped it on the cold pavement and squashed it with his boot. He looked up at the thug. "It ain't a good idea to piss me off, either. Because you'll only go one place. The cemetery. So get outta my site, fat-ass." The man turned to his gangster buddy to his right.
"Cut this son of a bitch up." he said, a slight smile on his face. The man flicked open his pen knife and thrust the blade at Jake's chest. Jake dodged the attack, grabbed the mans arm and twisted it behind his back. The man cried out as Jake snapped the bone in his arm.
The second man ran up behind him, also holding a penknife. As he was about to swing at him, Jake spun round and kicked him in the ribcage. The attacker let go of the knife as he flew through the air. Jake grabbed it and swung round. The blade knocked the leader's knife clean out of his hand. He watched it land on the road, out of reach. Then he faced Jake, and saw his fist come crashing into his face.
Jake sent the leader tumbling backwards, blood starting to gush from his broken nose. Without checking to see if they were all right, Jake carried on walking home. "They only come out at night." he mocked.
Jake opened the door and walked into his apartment. He walked over to the table and slapped a clip into the unloaded gun he was carrying. He put the gun on the table and lay on the coach. He flicked the TV on using the remote control. He took his jacket and shirt off, then his sneakers. He hadn't got any decent socks now. He flicked through the channels and stopped on one at random. It was a stand up comedy show. He wasn't sure when it started, or who it was, but he left it on. The picture from the television lighted up the unlit room with a blue-grey light.
Jake watched the show for a while, and found it genuinely funny. He looked in the TV guide and noted down the name of the show on the back of his hand. He decided to watch it again next week. When it finished, he turned the TV off, and the room fell dark again. Jake closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Michelle opened the door to the bedroom she'd been hiding in for ages. She could hear the people outside screaming as whatever had taken seige of the town attacked them. She peered down the landing and saw nothing. She walked slowly out of the room, keeping silent so she could hear anything. The house sounded deserted, which was a good sign. She looked in each room to see if anything was in them. Nothing. She walked to the top of the stairs and looked down. She slowly descended them. As she got to the bottom of the stairs, she decided that nothing was in the house, so she was safe for now.
After searching the house, she found little of any use. There was food, but she wasn't hungry. The television wasn't working, all it showed was fuzzy black and white lines. She looked around the room and found some movies. She looked through them, and chose Cliffhanger. She put the video cassette in the machine and pressed play. She used the remote to turn the sound right down, so she could just hear it.
The film was just over a third of the way through when Michelle heard gunfire outside. It sounded like shotgun blasts. She stood up and peered out of the window. She saw a man outside firing at the crazy people who were killing everyone. She ran to the front door and unlocked it. She opened it. "In here!" she shouted. The man spun his head around to see her, fired again, then ran into the house. Michelle slammed the door and locked it whilst the man grabbed a table and cabinet, and he blocked the door with it. The people outside tried to get in, but couldn't break the door down. After a while, they gave up.
The man walked into the living room and fell backwards onto the couch. Michelle walked in and sat in an armchair, watching him as he rubbed his face and groaned. "Are you alright?" she finaly asked.
"Yeah." he replied. He sat up and extended his hand towards her. "Name's Pete. Pete Thorpe." he said. Michelle took his hand and shook it.
"Michelle Hays." she said. Pete smiled, then layed back into the couch. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Something bad." Pete replied. "Very bad."
The phone rang suddenly, and Jake woke up quickly. He picked up the receiver and put it next to his ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me!" came the reply. The caller said it so loud Jake had to had to block the earpiece to stop himself going deaf.
"Rob. What is it?"
"Just got a call. We have to go to base. It's urgent."
"Why?"
"Don't Know. Just have to be there at 2:20." Jake looked at his watch.
"It's Ten past Nine now. Come round and pick me up around 12:30."
"Sure. Wait a minute, what happened to your car?" Rob asked.
"I sort of crashed it. Into a tree."
"Dick head."
Rob put the phone down. Jake laid down again and laughed. He got up off the coach and took a cigarette from a packet on the table. He picked up a box of matches and opened it. None left. "Godammit." he murmured. He walked over to his cooker and turned on a grill pan. When it glowed red, Jake pressed the end of his cigarette on it, still holding it in his mouth. It glowed and Jake lifted his head up. He stood in that spot, breathing the smoke in and out. He walked over to the bathroom and ran water into the basin. He had a piss while the sink filled up, then got a disposable razor out of a plastic case. He smeared shaving cream onto his chin and lower face. He dipped the razor in the water and shaved his face.
As he nearly finished, he cut his face and blood started to run from the cut. It was a bad cut. He ignored it and finished shaving and washed his face. The blood washed off, but more seeped out. He wiped it off with his arm and pulled the plug out of the sink. The water gurgled and disappeared down the hole on the centre of the basin.
He walked into the main room and picked his cigarette up out of the ashtray, which was starting to fill up. He had only just recently started smoking. He decided to leave his cigarettes behind. Maybe he'd try and quit.
He stubbed the burning stick out and put it back in the ashtray. He put his shirt, jacket and sneakers back on. He opened the fridge and picked up the half-full bottle of beer he had started drinking three days ago. He drunk from it and waited for Rob to arrive, then when he did, Jake took his cigarettes with him.
They got to base just in time. Captain Joseph Edwards had just started briefing the team on there mission. "Here's what we know," he started. "At approximately one o' clock in the morning, Friday 23 July, communication was lost with Johnston Atoll." Jake raised his arm. "What is it, Foreman?"
"I don't know if I've missed anything important, but who is this 'Johnston Atoll'? I never heard of him."
"Johnston Atoll is not a person, it's an Island off the coast of Australia." Jake nodded.
"Fair enough." he said. Edwards spoke again.
"Anyway, we sent a special unit in to investigate. Two days later, we received this transmission." Captain Edwards turned round and pressed the play button on the cassette player.
The tape was a little fuzzy and hard to hear what was being said in some parts, but everyone got the picture of what was being played.
It said: "This is Commander Robinson. All my team are dead. We were attacked... by creatures. Most looked like people, but they were rotting away. I was almost sick. We opened fire, but they kept on coming at us. We tried to retreat, but we were surrounded by these... things. Me and a few people got out alive, only to find more of those monsters. I was bitten by one just twenty minutes ago, a large chunk of flesh being ripped off by this bastard's teeth. I was the only one who got out alive. But now something just as strange is happening. I am getting a fever, and feeling itchy, but my skin is starting to decompose..."
A large crashing sound suddenly sounded on the cassette, making some of the team jump.
"Oh, shit!" were the last actual words on the tape. The rest were horrifying screams and the sound of ripping skin tissue, blood splattering over the walls, and the chewing of flesh. Suddenly the tape went dead, and all that could be heard was deep breathing and quiet moaning. Then, without warning, a sound like shattering glass tore through the silence, and the tape crackled then stopped.
Every member of the team fell silent and a slight flicker of horror appeared on their faces, except from Captain Edwards who had obviously heard the recording before. "As you may have worked out, it is up to us to find out what happened to Commander Robinson and his team, why communication has been lost and what the hell is going on." said the captain almost calmly as if nothing had happened. There was a short silence before he carried on. "As we are not entirely sure of what we shall be facing when we get there, it is extremely important you stay frosty. It is possible that some locals have gone insane due to no contact with the rest of the world. This could explain the appearance of the skin rotting where they have clawed at there face or shit like that."
"What about the eating people bit?" Jake asked suddenly. Edwards looked at him.
"Shut up." he answered. Jake shrugged.
"What? What did I say?"
Captain Edwards turned round to face the team. "We leave in one hour. Get ready and get on the carrier." He looked at Jake. "Don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." replied Jake.
"OK, dismissed."