Disclaimer: I don't own DOD nor do I own the zombies (except the
Juggernaughts and Vampires). I do own the characters in this fanfic but not
the mall or the stores in it. Oh yeah, I don't own Pizza Hut either.
A/N: Woohoo! I got a review! I know, the vet medicine thing is really dumb and kinda desperate. But, like I said in my bio, I write anything that pops into my head (I have a bad habit of not thinking things through ^_^;) Sooo... here's the first official chapter in my saga. Don't bother looking on a map for the streets 'cuz I just made them up, k? Cool. Read on.
Chapter 1: The Barrier Fails
Kimberly drove her silver Pontiac down the street lined with big houses, fenced in yards and perfect lawns. At the corner of Main and Elm stood her own white-shingled, black-roofed home. She parked her car in the driveway beside the two-story house.
Kimberly Henson was a single 28-year old mother who lived with her twins, Jerry and Monica, and their grandfather. It was difficult taking care of two youngsters and an elder, while managing a job, paying the bills and shopping for food and clothes. But she was determined to provide for her family, especially with the undead virus going around what was left of the US.
No one knows where the virus came from or how to keep it from spreading so quickly. The most logical method was to eliminate any zombie creatures seen. The only thing the citizens could do was to hope that the military's border barriers around the country remained strong. Outsiders couldn't come in and insiders couldn't leave. If any Deadlings, as they were called, came within the army's line of fire, they were immediately dealt with.
Kimberly unlocked the door and stepped inside, juggling the load of groceries she had bought last minute. She dumped the bags on the kitchen table and collapsed into a chair, completely exhausted from work.
It was Saturday and the Pizza Hut downtown was always packed on weekends. Babies wailing, kids running through the whole restaurant, adults wrestling their children into their seats and one old guy who couldn't make up his mind on what he wanted to eat. Ten hours of utter mayhem was enough to wipe anybody out.
"Mama!"
Jerry and Monica came barreling down the stairs and into the kitchen. They jumped into Kimberly's lap and gave her a big bear hug. They slid off to let her stand up.
"Hey you two, where's Grandpa?" she asked them as she hurried around the kitchen to start cooking supper.
"Grandpa was reading in his room", Monica answered, "But I think he's asleep now."
"Should we wake him up?" Jerry asked.
"No, let him rest. Supper won't be ready for a while."
"Okay!" the twins answered in unison.
There was a slight breeze in the air but the thick canopy blocked most of it. It was humid out as the sun began to set behind the tops of the trees. The forest dwellers were returning to their dens and nocturnal creatures were readying themselves for the nightly hunt.
Below, on the grassy landscape, camouflaged in the thin part of the woods was a group of soldiers. Their uniforms clung to their sweaty skin as they continued patrolling the perimeter, like they had been doing since early morning. They would take turns walking down to the nearest highway, watching for any signs of Deadlings heading for the border, then return with no news of enemies.
"This is absolutely pointless", a tall, burly man with a buzz cut muttered, leaning coolly against a tree.
"Stop complaining, Port", a much shorter soldier said, "You're just adding to the boredom."
"Tch, whatever."
"Yo Port! It's your turn!" An average-looking man with short black hair, sunglasses and a slight tan came out from the trees. He had his rifle securely in his hands.
"Dwayne, do you have to wear those glasses everywhere?" Port asked, annoyed with his partner.
"As a matter of fact, yes", he answered, taking a seat on the grass.
Port muttered something the others couldn't hear and trudged off to check the edge of the woods for the umpteenth time.
An hour later, he reached the ditch that separated his sector from the usually busy highway. It was one of the main roads that lead to Canada but since the ban of outsiders, it had become dead and useless. Across it, Port could see an empty field of long, uncut grass that dipped into a hill and disappeared into another forest.
He shook his and head sighed. "Once again, nothing but grass, trees and a road with nobody on it. The commander is an idiot to think something's gonna be coming this way."
Port turned around, ready to head back to camp, when a tremor in the ground made him freeze. He gazed out at the darkening horizon, searching for the cause of the tremor. He couldn't find anything but he felt the ground shake again. This time he heard the faint noise, like something was crashing its way here.
He grabbed his rifle and aimed into the darkness. More tremors came, each one caused by a booming noise that got louder and louder until it was equipped with a thousand pounding feet. Port got ready to pull the trigger at the slightest sign of movement.
All of a sudden, he heard a screech rip through the silence. The shocks and booming noises redirected themselves and headed away from his location, to his right. He put down his rifle in uncertainty. After about a minute or two of silence, he proceeded to return to camp.
But a scream of terror sliced through the air. Then another, followed by gun shots. Port looked up towards the direction of the screams. It was his camp.
"Dammit!" he shouted, loaded his rifle and ran off.
But he knew he wouldn't be able to make it in time. It was too far away, but he kept on going. His friends were in trouble.
But, unfortunately, he was right. By the time he reached the camp and hid behind a tree for cover, his comrades were stumbling about with looks of hunger on their faces and gashes covering their carcasses. Port took a moment to collect himself from the sight.
How can they be this smart? he thought to himself, I thought these Deadlings were as dumb as posts! How could they have known to come here? It's so far away.
But his thoughts were interupted when a hiss sounded. He looked up and traced the noise to a very strange looking creature. It had a nasty blue complexion, blood-specked hair, yellowed teeth, a tattered military uniform... wait, uniform! That thing was one of his own friends!
Port watched this mutated form of undead crawl about, as if confused about what to do next. Then, another one just like it but more animalistic jumped down from a branch in the trees. It landed, surprisingly, without making a sound. It opened its wide mouth and let loose a roar. The Deadlings seemed to respond to its call by focusing their attention on it.
The vampire-like monster beckoned for Port's friend to follow it as it leaped through the trees. The once human soldier followed in the same manner and all the Deadlings ran after them, arms outstretched like they do when they sense food near.
Port breathed a sigh of relief, thankful they didn't spot him. But he still felt for the loss of his close friends. He slid to the ground and hung his head. Then an unusual thought creeped into his mind. The Deadlings acted as if those... those Vampires were their leaders. And speaking of Vampires, where'd they come from anyway? These and many other questions whizzed through his head, all of them without answers.
Port stood up, still a little uneasy from the scare. He gripped his gun tightly and was about to make his way into the woods and after those things when a shadow fell over him. He turned around and was staring at the bulging knees of a giant. He looked up until he could see the beady little eyes of the zombie standing before him.
"Holy shit!" he shouted, right before the creature bellowed at him and brought its fist crashing to the ground.
Port jumped out of the way just in time. He started firing at the monster's grossly disproportioned head. He was the deadest shot in his rank and scored all direct hits. But the giant zombie continued to advance on him. Port tried shooting again, this time aiming for all its vulnerable points. Still nothing affected it.
Port got ready to fire again, but he realized that he had run out of ammo. He looked up at the giant and was crushed under its disgusting foot. His scream was cut short and when the zombie retreated into the woods, following the scent of the Deadlings, he was nothing but a bloody mass of broken bones.
A/N: As with the prologue, please R&R as soon as possible. No flames but constructive criticism is allowed. Thank ya kindly!
A/N: Woohoo! I got a review! I know, the vet medicine thing is really dumb and kinda desperate. But, like I said in my bio, I write anything that pops into my head (I have a bad habit of not thinking things through ^_^;) Sooo... here's the first official chapter in my saga. Don't bother looking on a map for the streets 'cuz I just made them up, k? Cool. Read on.
Chapter 1: The Barrier Fails
Kimberly drove her silver Pontiac down the street lined with big houses, fenced in yards and perfect lawns. At the corner of Main and Elm stood her own white-shingled, black-roofed home. She parked her car in the driveway beside the two-story house.
Kimberly Henson was a single 28-year old mother who lived with her twins, Jerry and Monica, and their grandfather. It was difficult taking care of two youngsters and an elder, while managing a job, paying the bills and shopping for food and clothes. But she was determined to provide for her family, especially with the undead virus going around what was left of the US.
No one knows where the virus came from or how to keep it from spreading so quickly. The most logical method was to eliminate any zombie creatures seen. The only thing the citizens could do was to hope that the military's border barriers around the country remained strong. Outsiders couldn't come in and insiders couldn't leave. If any Deadlings, as they were called, came within the army's line of fire, they were immediately dealt with.
Kimberly unlocked the door and stepped inside, juggling the load of groceries she had bought last minute. She dumped the bags on the kitchen table and collapsed into a chair, completely exhausted from work.
It was Saturday and the Pizza Hut downtown was always packed on weekends. Babies wailing, kids running through the whole restaurant, adults wrestling their children into their seats and one old guy who couldn't make up his mind on what he wanted to eat. Ten hours of utter mayhem was enough to wipe anybody out.
"Mama!"
Jerry and Monica came barreling down the stairs and into the kitchen. They jumped into Kimberly's lap and gave her a big bear hug. They slid off to let her stand up.
"Hey you two, where's Grandpa?" she asked them as she hurried around the kitchen to start cooking supper.
"Grandpa was reading in his room", Monica answered, "But I think he's asleep now."
"Should we wake him up?" Jerry asked.
"No, let him rest. Supper won't be ready for a while."
"Okay!" the twins answered in unison.
There was a slight breeze in the air but the thick canopy blocked most of it. It was humid out as the sun began to set behind the tops of the trees. The forest dwellers were returning to their dens and nocturnal creatures were readying themselves for the nightly hunt.
Below, on the grassy landscape, camouflaged in the thin part of the woods was a group of soldiers. Their uniforms clung to their sweaty skin as they continued patrolling the perimeter, like they had been doing since early morning. They would take turns walking down to the nearest highway, watching for any signs of Deadlings heading for the border, then return with no news of enemies.
"This is absolutely pointless", a tall, burly man with a buzz cut muttered, leaning coolly against a tree.
"Stop complaining, Port", a much shorter soldier said, "You're just adding to the boredom."
"Tch, whatever."
"Yo Port! It's your turn!" An average-looking man with short black hair, sunglasses and a slight tan came out from the trees. He had his rifle securely in his hands.
"Dwayne, do you have to wear those glasses everywhere?" Port asked, annoyed with his partner.
"As a matter of fact, yes", he answered, taking a seat on the grass.
Port muttered something the others couldn't hear and trudged off to check the edge of the woods for the umpteenth time.
An hour later, he reached the ditch that separated his sector from the usually busy highway. It was one of the main roads that lead to Canada but since the ban of outsiders, it had become dead and useless. Across it, Port could see an empty field of long, uncut grass that dipped into a hill and disappeared into another forest.
He shook his and head sighed. "Once again, nothing but grass, trees and a road with nobody on it. The commander is an idiot to think something's gonna be coming this way."
Port turned around, ready to head back to camp, when a tremor in the ground made him freeze. He gazed out at the darkening horizon, searching for the cause of the tremor. He couldn't find anything but he felt the ground shake again. This time he heard the faint noise, like something was crashing its way here.
He grabbed his rifle and aimed into the darkness. More tremors came, each one caused by a booming noise that got louder and louder until it was equipped with a thousand pounding feet. Port got ready to pull the trigger at the slightest sign of movement.
All of a sudden, he heard a screech rip through the silence. The shocks and booming noises redirected themselves and headed away from his location, to his right. He put down his rifle in uncertainty. After about a minute or two of silence, he proceeded to return to camp.
But a scream of terror sliced through the air. Then another, followed by gun shots. Port looked up towards the direction of the screams. It was his camp.
"Dammit!" he shouted, loaded his rifle and ran off.
But he knew he wouldn't be able to make it in time. It was too far away, but he kept on going. His friends were in trouble.
But, unfortunately, he was right. By the time he reached the camp and hid behind a tree for cover, his comrades were stumbling about with looks of hunger on their faces and gashes covering their carcasses. Port took a moment to collect himself from the sight.
How can they be this smart? he thought to himself, I thought these Deadlings were as dumb as posts! How could they have known to come here? It's so far away.
But his thoughts were interupted when a hiss sounded. He looked up and traced the noise to a very strange looking creature. It had a nasty blue complexion, blood-specked hair, yellowed teeth, a tattered military uniform... wait, uniform! That thing was one of his own friends!
Port watched this mutated form of undead crawl about, as if confused about what to do next. Then, another one just like it but more animalistic jumped down from a branch in the trees. It landed, surprisingly, without making a sound. It opened its wide mouth and let loose a roar. The Deadlings seemed to respond to its call by focusing their attention on it.
The vampire-like monster beckoned for Port's friend to follow it as it leaped through the trees. The once human soldier followed in the same manner and all the Deadlings ran after them, arms outstretched like they do when they sense food near.
Port breathed a sigh of relief, thankful they didn't spot him. But he still felt for the loss of his close friends. He slid to the ground and hung his head. Then an unusual thought creeped into his mind. The Deadlings acted as if those... those Vampires were their leaders. And speaking of Vampires, where'd they come from anyway? These and many other questions whizzed through his head, all of them without answers.
Port stood up, still a little uneasy from the scare. He gripped his gun tightly and was about to make his way into the woods and after those things when a shadow fell over him. He turned around and was staring at the bulging knees of a giant. He looked up until he could see the beady little eyes of the zombie standing before him.
"Holy shit!" he shouted, right before the creature bellowed at him and brought its fist crashing to the ground.
Port jumped out of the way just in time. He started firing at the monster's grossly disproportioned head. He was the deadest shot in his rank and scored all direct hits. But the giant zombie continued to advance on him. Port tried shooting again, this time aiming for all its vulnerable points. Still nothing affected it.
Port got ready to fire again, but he realized that he had run out of ammo. He looked up at the giant and was crushed under its disgusting foot. His scream was cut short and when the zombie retreated into the woods, following the scent of the Deadlings, he was nothing but a bloody mass of broken bones.
A/N: As with the prologue, please R&R as soon as possible. No flames but constructive criticism is allowed. Thank ya kindly!