(Forgive me for the recent surge in character development. I promise you that next chapter, you will see more action.)
Thoughts
Jenny lay on the hard floor of the armored van. The thin synthetic wool of her sweater provided little warmth. She gazed at the emblazoned logo of the Calvin Klein corporation on the back. I wonder if he's a zombie. Jenny thought back to the beginning of the day, which technically began the night before. Being a nurse at the hospital, she worked night shifts. The first hint that something was amiss came when Jenny was selected to give a man who was seriously injured in a bar fight his dose of morphine. Upon pulling up the sleeve of his shirt, she noticed that the man had bite marks all over his shoulder. It was an evil looking thing, too. Lines of mustard yellow grouped in nickel-sized eruptions around the bite marks. Jenny simply pushed the anxiety and disgust to the back of her head and found the nearest vein to inject the sedative inside the man and go discuss plans for Friday with her buddy, Brenda.
Friday never came.
Chris sat staring out the window. Thick plumes of ash fluttered from the bluish-black sky. Probably ten fires burning downtown up right now. Too bad the firefighters are out to lunch for the next ten years. Chris was no stranger to conflict. Born to an alcoholic father and a crack addicted mother, he witnessed violence on a daily basis. It got to the point where Chris thought every family was like that. At the age of thirteen he joined the Joint Chiefz, a street gang which prided itself as the most vicious street gang this side of the Mississippi. By the time his stint with the gang was over at the age of sixteen, Chris had eight people "under his belt".
But that's over now. I'm not proud of what I've done. All I can do now is survive this.
David sat in the driver's seat humming "Patience" by Guns N Roses as he smoked a Marlboro 100. He glanced down at the illuminated time readout next to the dashboard. It read 5:30 AM. At 5:30 AM yesterday, I was drunk as a skunk and banging some Armenian girl I had just met hours before.. David tossed the cigarette into the open Pepsi can by his side. The cigarette extinguished with a sound like a snake hissing. David snapped back to reality as he noticed what he had just done. Last damn can of soda I'll ever drink and I had to put a stogie in it. Fuck!
Brian cradled his head in his hands, trying to forget the day's events. I'm a moron. I don't know how to fight and protect my friends. I'm a greenhorn. How can you say that about yourself? It's not like you knew what you were fighting. They don't have a zombie survival training course in basic, Brian. At least you're alive. The little pep talk that Brian gave himself worked wonders. Under cover of ten fingers, he smiled to himself. Just survive, man. That's all that matters.
Isaac looked down at his cell phone, continually pressing the redial button. Though he had tried calling Carolyn about 10,000 times today, he still persisted. High maintenance services were probably the first to go. Oh well, hope springs eternal.
Sergeant Nick Jameson of the United States Delta Force gazed down through the AN/PVS4 scope on his M4A1 assault rifle. The cold night air fit the situation. It's gonna be cold for a loooong time. Wonder if the undead are cold to the touch? Earlier that day, by order of the late Secretary of Defense, for the first time in American history, the special forces were dispatched for domestic duty. Within the first half hour, half of the unit had been decimated, and within the first five minutes, the unit commander, second in command, and third in command were dead, and Nick, highly trained and member of the best special forces team in the world, found himself in charge. His first order? Retreat. Where? To that office building! Destroy the stairs. Camp out on the rooftop.
Nick suddenly became aware of the sound of an internal combustion engine. He peered down the scope of the AN/PVS4 and switched on the night vision. An armored car? We could use that...A grin spread across his lips.
"Team, wake your asses up, let's rock and roll!"
(OOOOOH! Cliffhanger! Looks like the zombies aren't the only enemy here!)
Thoughts
Jenny lay on the hard floor of the armored van. The thin synthetic wool of her sweater provided little warmth. She gazed at the emblazoned logo of the Calvin Klein corporation on the back. I wonder if he's a zombie. Jenny thought back to the beginning of the day, which technically began the night before. Being a nurse at the hospital, she worked night shifts. The first hint that something was amiss came when Jenny was selected to give a man who was seriously injured in a bar fight his dose of morphine. Upon pulling up the sleeve of his shirt, she noticed that the man had bite marks all over his shoulder. It was an evil looking thing, too. Lines of mustard yellow grouped in nickel-sized eruptions around the bite marks. Jenny simply pushed the anxiety and disgust to the back of her head and found the nearest vein to inject the sedative inside the man and go discuss plans for Friday with her buddy, Brenda.
Friday never came.
Chris sat staring out the window. Thick plumes of ash fluttered from the bluish-black sky. Probably ten fires burning downtown up right now. Too bad the firefighters are out to lunch for the next ten years. Chris was no stranger to conflict. Born to an alcoholic father and a crack addicted mother, he witnessed violence on a daily basis. It got to the point where Chris thought every family was like that. At the age of thirteen he joined the Joint Chiefz, a street gang which prided itself as the most vicious street gang this side of the Mississippi. By the time his stint with the gang was over at the age of sixteen, Chris had eight people "under his belt".
But that's over now. I'm not proud of what I've done. All I can do now is survive this.
David sat in the driver's seat humming "Patience" by Guns N Roses as he smoked a Marlboro 100. He glanced down at the illuminated time readout next to the dashboard. It read 5:30 AM. At 5:30 AM yesterday, I was drunk as a skunk and banging some Armenian girl I had just met hours before.. David tossed the cigarette into the open Pepsi can by his side. The cigarette extinguished with a sound like a snake hissing. David snapped back to reality as he noticed what he had just done. Last damn can of soda I'll ever drink and I had to put a stogie in it. Fuck!
Brian cradled his head in his hands, trying to forget the day's events. I'm a moron. I don't know how to fight and protect my friends. I'm a greenhorn. How can you say that about yourself? It's not like you knew what you were fighting. They don't have a zombie survival training course in basic, Brian. At least you're alive. The little pep talk that Brian gave himself worked wonders. Under cover of ten fingers, he smiled to himself. Just survive, man. That's all that matters.
Isaac looked down at his cell phone, continually pressing the redial button. Though he had tried calling Carolyn about 10,000 times today, he still persisted. High maintenance services were probably the first to go. Oh well, hope springs eternal.
Sergeant Nick Jameson of the United States Delta Force gazed down through the AN/PVS4 scope on his M4A1 assault rifle. The cold night air fit the situation. It's gonna be cold for a loooong time. Wonder if the undead are cold to the touch? Earlier that day, by order of the late Secretary of Defense, for the first time in American history, the special forces were dispatched for domestic duty. Within the first half hour, half of the unit had been decimated, and within the first five minutes, the unit commander, second in command, and third in command were dead, and Nick, highly trained and member of the best special forces team in the world, found himself in charge. His first order? Retreat. Where? To that office building! Destroy the stairs. Camp out on the rooftop.
Nick suddenly became aware of the sound of an internal combustion engine. He peered down the scope of the AN/PVS4 and switched on the night vision. An armored car? We could use that...A grin spread across his lips.
"Team, wake your asses up, let's rock and roll!"
(OOOOOH! Cliffhanger! Looks like the zombies aren't the only enemy here!)