Re: The Never-Ending Story

Part 2: Is this real?
(undergoing rewrite)

Last edited by Professor Oblivion (2013-09-17 01:01:31)

Re: The Never-Ending Story

Part 3: The Mission

(undergoing rewrite)

Last edited by Professor Oblivion (2013-09-17 01:02:01)

Re: The Never-Ending Story

Part 4 (undergoing rewrite)

Last edited by Professor Oblivion (2013-09-17 01:02:22)

Re: The Never-Ending Story

Part 5: Salvation
(undergoing rewrite)

Last edited by Professor Oblivion (2013-09-17 01:02:42)

Re: The Never-Ending Story

Part 6: Questions
(undergoing rewrite)

Last edited by Professor Oblivion (2013-09-17 01:02:58)

Re: The Never-Ending Story

Part 7: The Signal
(undergoing rewrite)

Last edited by Professor Oblivion (2013-09-17 01:03:14)

Re: The Never-Ending Story

Part 8: The O-Men
(undergoing rewrite)

Last edited by Professor Oblivion (2013-09-17 01:03:30)

Re: The Never-Ending Story

NEXT MORNING

Something was tickling him, wet and warm, touching his face. He shot up out of his sleep with the pistol in his hand. A scruffy little dog, suddenly frightened, jumped back. It’s tail shot between its legs and it laid flat on its belly, head all the way to the floor and stared at him.

He swept his hand through his hair.

“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me”.

Early morning sunlight streamed through the top of a boarded up window behind him. Dust was floating through the bright sunbeam that pierced through the dark room and created a trapezoid pattern on the floor. The dog’s ears pricked up but it didn’t move. Getting as low as it could possibly get on the floor, it faced him and stared. Then it’s tail popped up into the beam of sunshine and began a very slow and tentative wave left and right. There were brown and beige patches on its entire body. A thin white stripe was like an arrow down its snout. Its wiry hair stood up as if it had been shocked by electricity. Though thin and slightly malnourished it otherwise looked healthy. And it had big kind brown eyes in which he could see his own reflection.

Mark took his eyes off the dog and looked around the room. It was a bedroom and had been ransacked, probably not long after the hazing, so there was furniture knocked over, clothing, bedding, dresser drawers and hangars strewn about the floor. Some photographs and prints on the walls hung skewed at awkward positions along with a broken glass mirror.

Re: The Never-Ending Story

The ride to the compound Rory mentioned was long and mostly uneventful.  As Eladio followed their van in his Winnie, he saw Lou lean out the passenger side window to pick off the occasional stray zombie.  But the closer they got to the compound, the more Lou leaned out, and the more zombies he picked off.

Zombie activity at the compound gate was surprisingly heavy for such an out-of-the-way location.  The survivors inside, Eladio thought.  The stiffs must sense them beyond the gates.  Rory laid on the horn and slowed as they approached.  Eladio watched on as a number of men, their arms armored in PVC piping, marched out of the gates to clear a path with their batons, machetes and baseball bats of both the wood and aluminum variety.  One guard even used a nail-embedded 2x4. 

Once inside, they stopped their vehicles and the guards closed the gates behind them.  Eladio took in the compound, which basically amounted to a trailer park surrounded by a ten-foot-high security fence re-enforced with steel sheeting and topped with some rather painful looking razor wire.  Rory said it would take a howitzer to get through the thing and, luckily for them, howitzers were hard to come by.  Not to mention that stiffs don't know how to aim and pull a trigger.

Compound denizens rushed out to welcome Rory and Lou back home.  Rory was telling the truth; there had to be at least two hundred people here.  As the two men hugged their respective families, Rory introduced Eladio.  "Okay, listen up," he began.  "As you can see we found us another survivor.  He doesn't say much, but he's a good guy.  Everybody, this is Eladio.  Eladio, this is everybody."

Eladio looked across the multitude of faces, all smiling and welcoming -- except for one.  A man.  Roughly Eladio's age.  A mop of gray hair and a wild, salt-and-pepper beard.  And a most unwelcoming sneer...

Re: The Never-Ending Story

I turned crimson. I had never felt like that before. She had caught me totally off guard. I did regain my composure pretty quickly and even managed a chuckle. Tom finished his lesson, and asked us to reverse positions with our partners. Gwen wasn't interested, so with permission from Tom we left the lesson early.

Those last two days at summer camp were two of the best days of my life. My experiences there had influenced me in so many ways. It had broadened my horizon in the concepts of re-animation. There were more scientific methods of re-animation, a fact I knew prior but had seemed far to complex at my young age to comprehend fully. The fancies of the alchemists of ages past was easier to wrap my mind around then the infinite cells of the human body and how their decay and regeneration affected it. More importantly I had made a friend for the first time in my life. More than that, I loved Gwen. Maybe more than anyone. Though I only knew her two days. Any time we were not in our scheduled activities we spent together, talking, walking, fishing, even swimming, but it was all to end too soon. The final hour came and Gwen's parents came to pick her up. I gave her a farewell hug and she a peck on my cheek. We had exchanged phone numbers, but when she drove away from camp she drove out of my life.

Last edited by Theli (2013-09-19 23:11:22)

Re: The Never-Ending Story

He barely remembered getting in here. He knew he hadn’t come far from the bottling plant. His ankle was very swollen from the fire escape fall and had become too painful to walk on. He’d tracked behind buildings and through the woods making very slow progress, barely able to navigate the rough terrain, staying off streets and away from where Hazers may be.

He looked at his leg. His ankle was very swollen. He’d have to stay holed up in the room for a while before he could move on. It needed some time to heal. The problem was that he didn’t know if it was safe. He’d not been able to do a proper scout before taking cover.

Looking back at the dog he wondered how the mutt got in. Every way into the room was sealed. It must have been in here when he stumbled in, crashed and secured the door behind him. The whole ordeal at the factory took a lot out of him and he’d swallowed a painkiller just before he found the shelter.

Birds were chirping over the incessant hum. It was a bit louder. And a mild regular thump could be felt coming up from the ground.

He got up and hobbled over to the boarded up window. What he saw through the crack in the boards was a bright sunlit empty street. There was no movement and no sound outside of the constant throbbing of the vessel. He could see some houses across the street. Cars were stranded in the middle of the road with doors still open. Others were parked in front of the abodes as if the owners were just sitting inside their homes having breakfast. One house had open windows with the front door left ajar. The others had been boarded up.

The dog crept over to him and was sniffing his leg. He bent over to give it a pet when he heard a burst of static from his walkie that caused the scrawny thing to jump. Then a garbled voice came over his radio.