Authors note: BOOM! I'M BACK, MUMMY!
Ok, so on a more serious note, I guess I'd address the skipping. You see, I keep skipping here and there, that's because I think some scenes don't work and I avoid writers block by just skipping over the blocks. It also keeps the experience…running, fast as Id like to think, just…doing what they have to do and get on with it. Also, I am never making promises again on when the next chapter will be. Sorry.
The alarm clock rang, its sound loudly echoing in the camper van. As with every day that they woke up, it wasn't neccercarily the sound of the alarm clock that woke him, as much as it was the Russian that was sleeping next to him swearing loudly in his native language.
"You really need to learn to wake up early. How'd you manage in the war games?"
"I had Doctor next to me."
Patrick groaned. In his mind he pulled up the layout of their sleeping quarters. Heavy's room was right next to medics. It didn't take the mind of an Australian survival expert to figure out that they probably tore down the wall between them and pushed their beds together. Whatever happened next was none of his business.
"C'mon, we've got to get up. I want to be back on the road before midday."
"Always rushing us. You did not seem to be in a hurry before zombies attacked."
"It's about my parents, of course! We've wasted one day on the beach, and now, two more days rescuing some radio host in the middle of a zombie-infested town. We're losing valuable time."
Ludvig tapped on Patrick's shoulder. "We get radio girl, and then we get your parents. One before the other."
"Why did I even agree with this?"
Ludvig gave Patrick a slap on the back. "You were rushing, no?"
"…right." Patrick stood up from the bed that they had stacked on top of the crates in the back. He glared into the small mirror in the bathroom, using his kukri to shave.
"Can you do that for me too?"
Patrick laughed at the begging face that Ludvig put on. It was completely unlike the hard grumbling look he usually had on his face at this time in the morning.
"Eh, why not?"
6 wounds later…
"You are terrible!" Ludvig pulled the kukri from Patrick's hands and tossed it aside.
"If you keep moving like that of course I can't shave you properly." Patrick picked up his kukri and started cleaning it systematically.
Ludvig stormed out of the van, most likely to ask Günther to medigun his bleeding face. He was alone, for the first time since he was bleeding out back in the base. It was a feeling of serenity, one he hadn't experienced in quite a while.
After he had wiped his kukri clean he finished his shave. A quick gaze on the clock told him that they still had half an hour before the sun would have risen above the horizon.
In the silence, Patrick returned to his own tried and tested set of preparations. He tidied the bed, reset the alarm clock, and opened the weapon cabinet.
Calmly he laid out his SMG on the flat surface of the bed, and disassembled it. With every separate piece laid out and organized he could easily conclude that it was in pristine condition (as always.) Despite that, he cleaned out the muzzle before quickly putting it back together.
Next up was his kukri. He tugged at one end to make sure that the handle was still holding strong before pulling it through a knife sharpener (twice)
Finally, Patrick checked his sniper rifle in the exact way he had done so many times before. With a satisfying nod he laid it down next to the kukri and the SMG
"I am back." Ludvig stepped back into the van. His weight titled the van slightly to the left, and the thee objects fell off the bed.
"Watch where you're standing!" Annoyed, Patrick picked all three of the weapons up, quickly running through his process of checking all of them again.
"Your food is getting cold." Ludvig placed the plate of bacon and sausages on a nearby chair before leaving Patrick alone again. Judging by the amount of fat and grease he could smell, Dell must have done the cooking this morning. Patrick smiled as he sat down and took his first bite. Unhealthy, yet delicious. He quickly finished up, before tossing the plate in the sink.
"Ok, we're going to reach the outskirts of Alice Springs in a minute of driving. We need to find out the highest building closest to us, so we can overlook the town and identify buildings with transmitters. From there we go and check them out, one by one." Dell repeated his plan while pointing at one of the buildings nearby.
With Dell's truck leading, the smallest convoy that ever existed on the planet approached the first set of buildings.
As usual, Patrick, the one with the sharpest eyes spotted the massive amount of zombies clustered near the first of the buildings that could be suitable for use.
At that same point, without noticing the horde in the distance Dell felt the immediate instinct to hit the brakes. For the first time since they started driving they managed to stop to a halt without crashing into each other.
"What's up, Patrick?"
"Ok, I got a plan. We lure em out, easy enough. When their numbers are thinned we move in and clean out the building. From there, we go spotting, k?"
"All right, I'll get my sentries set up." Dell hung the walkie-talkie on his tool belt. "Sentry goin' up."
Not much more than a minute later Dell had put down his first sentry, to the right of the road.
"Put one on the left and we should be good. Dispenser here in front of my van to rev up Ludvig…"
"POOT DISPENSER HERE! NEED A DISPENSER HEER! PLACE A DISPENSER HERE!" Out of nowhere, Dell flew into a rage. "ALL YOU PEOPLE SEEM TO KNOW MORE ABOUT ENGINEERING THEN THE ONLY REAL ENGINEER HERE!"
Dell threw down his toolbox…on Patrick's foot
"YA BLOODY WANK STAIN! I SHOULD RIP YOUR BLOODY ARMS OFF AND BELT YOU WITH THE FLOPPY END!"
"I"D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY, YOU LEATHERBRAINED AUSSIE!" Dell and Patrick were standing so close to each other that they could hear each other breathing.
Suddenly, both of them felt a sharp pain on the back of their heads. With the speed of a ninja, Ludvig had dope slapped both of them .
"SHUT UP! HORDE IS APP ROACHING!" With a furious look on his face Ludvig pointed at the first of the zombies that were now only 200 meters away from them. Ludvig grabbed the toolbox from Patrick's sore feet and tossed it in front of them. It automatically unpacked as soon as it hit the ground. However, as it turned out, Dell was right about sentries needing precise maintenance.
The sentry unpacked on its side, while still making the appropriate sounds. It's base seemed to twist and turn as a normal sentry would while the double-fed Gatling gun lay stationary on the ground, facing away from them. It still opened fire on the few approaching zombies that ran in its thin effective range of straight ahead, until the base turned again, this time sticking behind a stone, forcing the sentry downward. In the confusion, the Sentry launched its rockets….at the ground. It exploded in a yellow fireball of bullets and metal scraps.
Ludvig had already grabbed his minigun and was starting to unleash the first rain of bullets on the horde. Patrick leaped up and ran to the side of his van where he reached for the ladder and climbed up onto the top. From there he walked to the front of his van, where he had duct-taped one of his guns down. He removed both straps, checked his rifle in one motion, and hten started taking potshots (highly effective ones, should I mention) at the horde. As usual, it was quite easy, because unlike humans the zombies did not care for their own survival. They didn't hide behind anything, or at least try to avoid the risk of having their heads explode into little pink clouds.
Coupled with the expertise of Patrick, and it was easy to see why it was so easy.
On the ground level, Dell had (reluctantly) set up his second sentry on the left of the van. Günther was chipping in , helping to maintain the sentry on the right while occasionally chipping in with his set of twin revolvers.
The "battle" lasted not much more than 5 minutes, but the amount of dead zombies littering the road ahead must have been higher than 300. None of the four mercenaries had even received as much as a scratch. The only fatality was one of Dell's sentries.
"All right, this thinned their numbers a lot. Now, let's pack up and empty out that building!"
Patrick rushed in through the cracked front door. Quickly and efficiently he deposited 4 pieces of hot led through the head of one of the creatures that approached. With a quick draw he pulled out his SMG and emptied it's clip on the zombies that tried to approach through the open room to the left of him. Both weapons were empty, and a snarling zombie approached quickly . Patrick stretched and dropped his rifle in his left hand. Even before it hit the ground Patrick had firmly grasped his kukiri. With a large slash, the sharpened steel cut through the creature's neck, decapitating it instantly. It's head rolled away from the now-collapsing body.
The head hit the ground mere moments before Patrick's rifle did.
Patrick kicked the now headless body over and stepped into the room on the right. He opened fire upon the last zombie on this floor
"CLEAR!"
"JA!" Eager for some bloodshed, Günther walked past Patrick, and climbed the stairs. With glee, Günther opened fire on the shadow at the top of the stairs. It's skull cracked open and released a red spread of blood and brains on the clean white wall behind him.
With a big smile, Günther ascended the stairs, now wielding his revolver and now brandishing his trusty bone saw. He was looking forward to cutting another one of them apart.
Patrick 's mind flashed back to a list he had made years ago. Scout, money, Soldier, absolutely crazy, unreliable, adrenaline, Pyro, ? , Demoman, money, Engineer, money, Heavy, money, Medic, bloodlust, Spy, money. His team, and the reasons why they took part in the war between RED and BLU. His past interactions with Günther had somehow clouded him from the fact that Günther was absolutely addicted to blood and death. Heck, he himself had said that the healing part of his medigun was merely a side-effect of his research.
Oddly enough, with all the crazy that made up the rest of his team, they truly were helpful…at times. Even Scout.
"Patrick, you ok?" Dell stared at him, half concerned, half bored.
"Heh, eh…no. How the fuck did Scout die? He's faster, more agile, can friggen jump in mid-air. And do we believe he just…lost?"
"Well, …no, but he's loud enough to just….If he'd survived we would have definitely herd him bragging, now wouldn't we?"
"True…"
From above both could hear a cheerfull voice singing German folk songs, terribly off key. It would be hilarious, hadn't it been for the fact that it was absolutely terrifying to imagine the terrible things that Günther was currently performing on his next victim. Both Dell and Patrick had been on the other side, caught off guard by the "weak" medic. While the torture didn't last long before they lost their lives (and got resurrected by the sacred respawn) the psychological impact lasted quite a bit longer. At least the pyro wasn't…as cruel as the medic could be.
And yet, when you talked with him he seemed like such a fine person.
"CLEAR!"
"All right, let's move." Patrick ran up the stairs, and stopped. He was not one to shy away from the sight of blood, but…let's leave what happened there to the reader's imagination. Günther was already cleaning out the next floor.
Patrick checked every room (with great disgust) to make sure that it was clear, while Dell ran up to the next floor to help out Günther.
"I'll take left!"
"KAY!" Gunther gutted a zombie with his bonesaw before finishing it off with his revolver.
With a firm swing of his wrench Dell crushed the skull of the first zombie that approached.
"Another satisfied customer."
It had not taken them long to identify the radio building. It had a large transmitter on top of it and Patrick's observation skills meant that they could easily identify the radio sign on the side of the building
"All right, here's the plan. We move in, and get her out."
"Do you really need a plan for everything?"
Patrick glared. "I have a plan for everything indeed. What do you do, swing your wrench around hoping it hits something?"
Both the Australian and the Texan were caught off guard by Günther flying into an angry rant…in German. After he was finished he pointed at the door that led back down
"Meine Herren, let us go. AND NOT A WORD UNTILL WE GET OUT OF HERE!"
Patrick and Dell both refused to look at each other, yet they both shared the thought of feeling like they had just been scolded by their father.
"And right!" Patrick screamed into the walkie-talkie as he yanked the steering wheel to the right. He ran right through the flower bed, skidding onto the parking lot. As soon as his van had pulled to a halt he and Ludivg jumped out. They were pulling attention, and had to move quickly. Dell put a sentry on top of his truck, and was pumping out smaller mini sentries to create a small barrier around them.
The radio building had been fortified, barricaded from the inside. However, it didn't quite measure up to Ludvig with a rocket launcher. The front door was blasted to pieces, and Patrick (fully armed, I should mention) ran int. At first he could barely see through the smoke and debris , but it quickly faded
"HELLOOOOOO! WE'RE HERE!"
From far away, most likely upstairs he could hear a yell, faint, yet clearly.
"HOLY SHIT!"
Quickly, Patrick made his way up the nearest stairway. With a precise kick he smashed through another barricade, towards where he could hear a constant screaming.
"Don't let me be too late, c'mon, let's not…"
There was a zombie sitting behind a microphone. Patrick would have shot it, hadn't it been for the fact that the zombie had not changed color. Also, it smiled. It was a mangled, starving human being. He could see bones sticking out from her skin.
"Are you the DJ?"
"The one…and only. Who are you?"
"Here to help. C'mon, can you walk?"
"Not far…"
Patrick knew they couldn't stay around for long, so he chose the fastest way. With a uneasy feeling he lifted her up from her chair, and started to walk back. What worried him is that he had such an…easy time carrying her.
He discarded the thought, and put himself into the inhumane focus. There was nothing standing in-between him and his objective. He could feel no pain, or struggle, just inner peace.
Before he knew it, he had gently put down the DJ on the bed and was driving the van through the Outback. He had allowed himself to rest again, taking in the Doors music and the orange sunset.
"Still a good song."