Explanations
"So, would anyone mind telling me what happened here?", Isaac quipped as he picked up an M4 off a dead Marine. A curse escaped his lips, as he realized the magazine was empty. "Anyone got a spare mag?" A tall black man who looked like he would be more at home with William Wallace's Highlander's than with a motley crew of survivors chucked a clip at the President, who caught it and slapped it inside the weapon. "We have no idea. I was just finishing my shift at the hospital when the head nurse down at the morgue said that the dead were walkin' and lo and behold, here comes a dozen walkin' dead marching up the stairs.", spoke a blonde woman, who looked a bit like Carolyn. Carolyn. Please be alright...wherever you are. A low cough interrupted the President's moment of brief peace, and he spun around and saw Casey, his arm at his side and limping towards Isaac. "Casey? What in the hell happened to you?"
"Who's this guy?", uttered a Marine standing next to the black man. "My chief aide."
Casey sat down, wincing as he did. "I know what's going on here. I don't have much time...might as well tell you everything.."
"Go on, tell us everything." Isaac placed a hand on Casey's shoulder.
Casey halted for a minute, trying to remember it all. "During the Cold War, a Soviet spy plane crashed near Alaska...Onboard there was a virus, called Solanum. We interrogated the pilot, everyone on board. They said that the Soviets wanted to make a frontline army...An army impervious to fatigue, an army devoid of fear...An army that didn't needed to be trained. We didn't find out HOW they found the virus, but we got the sample. Anyhow, we sent out the samples to be experimented on to our labs in L.A, Chicago, New York, and other places. Last night, the samples got loose in the sewers, somehow."
The Marine stonily looked over at Casey. "How do we stop it?"
"You don't. We can only wait them out."
"How do we kill them?"
"Headshots, white phosphorus, fire works wonders too."
Casey groaned and collapsed sideways.
Isaac rushed over to Casey and pulled him up. "Mr. President...you must get to the safehouse in the mountains. There must be a working government. We must not let this nation collapse into anarchy. No, we can't let that happen. Now go. I'm already feeling that same...hunger that these beasts are feeling." Casey took his arm off his side. There were about a dozen bite marks on his rib cage. "Please, finish me. I don't want to become one of them." Casey looked upwards at Isaac. People always said that the eyes were a gateway to the soul. Casey's eyes showed a man who was terrified. His piercing brown oculars stared into Isaac. "Do it. Please." The black man solemnly walked over to Isaac and placed a Beretta 92 in his hands. Isaac placed the muzzle of the 9mm against Casey's temple and whispered "God forgive me." He pulled the trigger.
A short time later, the group of survivors and the President of the United States found themselves traveling in an armored car. The previous owners had been the Pennsylvania Avenue branch of Bank of America, but it was now under new ownership, The Presidential Cabinet of Zombie Killers. "I didn't catch you guy's names. You go first." Isaac pointed to the black man.
"I'm Chris."
"I'm Jenny." Said the blonde woman.
"I'm Brian." Said the Marine.
"I'm David.", said the man driving the armored car.
"By the way, Mr. President, your speech this morning was really, really gay. GOOD MORNING, AMERICA, HOW'S BREAKFAST? Whoa, that's not very christmasy." He swerved to avoid an overturned car.
Isaac chuckled. "Yeah, I was going to kick my speechwriter in the ass, but the undead apocalypse kind of put a damper on that."
Jenny groaned and then slapped her hand against her forehead. "You know, the reason I voted for you was your undying optimism. Can you please try to keep a sense of we're gonna get out of this alive and chill out in the President's safehouse six hundred feet below the ground with a geothermal power supply, food, and a heated pool for the next five years?"
"Not until I talk to my wife we're not."
David shrieked and then yelled. "WE GOT A PROBLEM!"
Brian opened the back door of the truck and peered outside, and then darted back inside, grabbed his Mossberg 590 and with a spring in his step, jumped out and started blasting away at the undead. Isaac, Jenny, and Chris followed suit.
Isaac may have been 53 years old, but he was still a Marine at heart and he knew how to handle an assault rifle. Isaac fell to one knee and put a three round burst into two zombies, while Brian covered Jenny and Chris's six with blasts from his shotgun. David fired from the top of the armored truck with his Para-Ordnance P14 .45 handgun. "YEAH! YOU LIKE THAT, DON'T YOU YA SONS OF BITCHES", cried Brian as he continually put shot after shot into the undead hordes, who fell silent and still-again. But his moment of victory was cut short as a seemingly dead corpse in the alley he was in got up. Brian saw this as your run of the mill zombie, pop it in the head and it's down. But this time, when Brian pulled the trigger, a weak –CLICK- was heard where there should've been a BOOM. The zombie moved in for the kill. It collapsed on top of Brian, with his only defense the wood grips of his shotgun his only effective means of survival from the death jaws of the zombie. Isaac looked over at Brian and saw his predicament. "BRIAN, NO!" Jenny tugged at Isaac's shoulder. "Leave him! More are gonna come!" "Go choke on a dick, Marines don't leave Marines behind!" Isaac snapped at Jenny. Isaac, calm despite the situation, casually sprinted at the undead member and put the heel of his shoe into the zombie's skull, sending it flying down the alley.
"THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU"
A low moaning sound was heard, and that soon turned into a hungry groan that grew closer and closer by each second. No time to waste. Isaac and Brian sprinted like an Olympic Gold medal runner back to the truck, and like clockwork they sped off, leaving the undead to feast on exhaust.
"So, would anyone mind telling me what happened here?", Isaac quipped as he picked up an M4 off a dead Marine. A curse escaped his lips, as he realized the magazine was empty. "Anyone got a spare mag?" A tall black man who looked like he would be more at home with William Wallace's Highlander's than with a motley crew of survivors chucked a clip at the President, who caught it and slapped it inside the weapon. "We have no idea. I was just finishing my shift at the hospital when the head nurse down at the morgue said that the dead were walkin' and lo and behold, here comes a dozen walkin' dead marching up the stairs.", spoke a blonde woman, who looked a bit like Carolyn. Carolyn. Please be alright...wherever you are. A low cough interrupted the President's moment of brief peace, and he spun around and saw Casey, his arm at his side and limping towards Isaac. "Casey? What in the hell happened to you?"
"Who's this guy?", uttered a Marine standing next to the black man. "My chief aide."
Casey sat down, wincing as he did. "I know what's going on here. I don't have much time...might as well tell you everything.."
"Go on, tell us everything." Isaac placed a hand on Casey's shoulder.
Casey halted for a minute, trying to remember it all. "During the Cold War, a Soviet spy plane crashed near Alaska...Onboard there was a virus, called Solanum. We interrogated the pilot, everyone on board. They said that the Soviets wanted to make a frontline army...An army impervious to fatigue, an army devoid of fear...An army that didn't needed to be trained. We didn't find out HOW they found the virus, but we got the sample. Anyhow, we sent out the samples to be experimented on to our labs in L.A, Chicago, New York, and other places. Last night, the samples got loose in the sewers, somehow."
The Marine stonily looked over at Casey. "How do we stop it?"
"You don't. We can only wait them out."
"How do we kill them?"
"Headshots, white phosphorus, fire works wonders too."
Casey groaned and collapsed sideways.
Isaac rushed over to Casey and pulled him up. "Mr. President...you must get to the safehouse in the mountains. There must be a working government. We must not let this nation collapse into anarchy. No, we can't let that happen. Now go. I'm already feeling that same...hunger that these beasts are feeling." Casey took his arm off his side. There were about a dozen bite marks on his rib cage. "Please, finish me. I don't want to become one of them." Casey looked upwards at Isaac. People always said that the eyes were a gateway to the soul. Casey's eyes showed a man who was terrified. His piercing brown oculars stared into Isaac. "Do it. Please." The black man solemnly walked over to Isaac and placed a Beretta 92 in his hands. Isaac placed the muzzle of the 9mm against Casey's temple and whispered "God forgive me." He pulled the trigger.
A short time later, the group of survivors and the President of the United States found themselves traveling in an armored car. The previous owners had been the Pennsylvania Avenue branch of Bank of America, but it was now under new ownership, The Presidential Cabinet of Zombie Killers. "I didn't catch you guy's names. You go first." Isaac pointed to the black man.
"I'm Chris."
"I'm Jenny." Said the blonde woman.
"I'm Brian." Said the Marine.
"I'm David.", said the man driving the armored car.
"By the way, Mr. President, your speech this morning was really, really gay. GOOD MORNING, AMERICA, HOW'S BREAKFAST? Whoa, that's not very christmasy." He swerved to avoid an overturned car.
Isaac chuckled. "Yeah, I was going to kick my speechwriter in the ass, but the undead apocalypse kind of put a damper on that."
Jenny groaned and then slapped her hand against her forehead. "You know, the reason I voted for you was your undying optimism. Can you please try to keep a sense of we're gonna get out of this alive and chill out in the President's safehouse six hundred feet below the ground with a geothermal power supply, food, and a heated pool for the next five years?"
"Not until I talk to my wife we're not."
David shrieked and then yelled. "WE GOT A PROBLEM!"
Brian opened the back door of the truck and peered outside, and then darted back inside, grabbed his Mossberg 590 and with a spring in his step, jumped out and started blasting away at the undead. Isaac, Jenny, and Chris followed suit.
Isaac may have been 53 years old, but he was still a Marine at heart and he knew how to handle an assault rifle. Isaac fell to one knee and put a three round burst into two zombies, while Brian covered Jenny and Chris's six with blasts from his shotgun. David fired from the top of the armored truck with his Para-Ordnance P14 .45 handgun. "YEAH! YOU LIKE THAT, DON'T YOU YA SONS OF BITCHES", cried Brian as he continually put shot after shot into the undead hordes, who fell silent and still-again. But his moment of victory was cut short as a seemingly dead corpse in the alley he was in got up. Brian saw this as your run of the mill zombie, pop it in the head and it's down. But this time, when Brian pulled the trigger, a weak –CLICK- was heard where there should've been a BOOM. The zombie moved in for the kill. It collapsed on top of Brian, with his only defense the wood grips of his shotgun his only effective means of survival from the death jaws of the zombie. Isaac looked over at Brian and saw his predicament. "BRIAN, NO!" Jenny tugged at Isaac's shoulder. "Leave him! More are gonna come!" "Go choke on a dick, Marines don't leave Marines behind!" Isaac snapped at Jenny. Isaac, calm despite the situation, casually sprinted at the undead member and put the heel of his shoe into the zombie's skull, sending it flying down the alley.
"THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU"
A low moaning sound was heard, and that soon turned into a hungry groan that grew closer and closer by each second. No time to waste. Isaac and Brian sprinted like an Olympic Gold medal runner back to the truck, and like clockwork they sped off, leaving the undead to feast on exhaust.