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a "You Tell Us What Happens Next" story
You sigh heavily as you put down the stop sign. It's approaching dark. Wouldn't want to be out here then. You look at your wall. It's a four-foot high makeshift block that stretches around the perimeter of your house. To protect you from the zombies. It's made out of spare wood, car parts, road signs--anything near.
A - go and see if you can just do a little more work on the wall. B - check on Shooter. He may need some company. C - go upstairs and go to sleep. You're really tired. D - go to town and look for survivors. You Chose D - go to town and look for survivors. You decide it's best to look for remaining life. You can never have too many people guarding your fort. You step away from the door of your base and arm yourself with a small pistol and knife-- and turn to see the city dot the horizon. You and Shooter built the fort on the outskirts of town for a reason. Zombies infested the place at night. You sigh--you have to look for survivors; you and Shooter cannot hold out by yourselves. Steeling yourself, you begin the long walk into town. You fail to banish the butterflies fluttering deep in your belly. The outlines of buildings and varying sizes of structures. After twenty minutes of trudging, you grow exhausted. . .and it grows dark. The sun sets and leaves you in darkness as you draw near the town. When you finally arrive, you feel fear crawl down your limbs. The town has been in ruins for years. Once-tall buildings were crushed to the ground, standing at half their original height. Fires burned in the far corners of roads and buildings. You often hear voices here--humans must be able to survive here, for the undead do not speak. You walk through the cracked streets, investigating. The distant voices fade in and out of earshot. "I need--" "I want--" "Help me--" The sounds make you shiver. You grow frightened and turn to flee from the village-- A zombie is face to face with you. Its green skin hung from the bony face--one eye socket drooped from its head--warm blood dribbled down its chin--its red good eye slumped around in the iris--the many scars etched on its face had held dry blood that cascaded down the zombie's cheeks. The zombie opens it jaws and let out a low moan--the gaping mouth shoots to your head, eager to bite down on flesh. You duck and unsheath your blade and firearm. The undead creature lunges--you slash the knife sideways, detaching its lower jaw. It stands--confused--and again attacks. It makes contact with your head, but cannot break the skin. No lower jaws can help chew. The zombie recoils, giving you a chance to strike. You take the chance. You grab it by the arm and twist it all the way around, causing it to snap. It again moans, but does not struggle. You battle your way behind the zombie's and pull its arms behind it. Your gun muzzle takes aim at the brain. The zombie rolls over and you two struggle on the ground. After minutes of rolling around, the zombie rolls on top of you and its mouth closes around your pistol. The gun cocks and fires. The zombie jerks back in recoil, then slumps lazily to the ground. You get up and dust yourself off, shaken. A loud voice calls--this is louder than the usual voices. "They're coming!" it calls. "Coming!" You feel drawn to the gentle voice. What should you do?A - Approach the voice--it could be a survivor. B - Fight the urge and go back home. C - Look for survivors, but in another part of town. D - Examine the lifeless zombie. You Chose A - Approach the voice--it could be a survivor. You stand up, wiping the sweat from your face. It's relatively dark. Getting dangerous now. The voice is echoing in your head. "Coming!" You begin to run. Strange noises seem to rasp at you as you sprint past buildings and vehicles. The voice is getting louder and louder with each step, it's going to burst your eardrums. You grab your ears in pain but do not dare stop running. Zombies are following you. You can sense it. Glancing to your left, you see where the muffled voice is emitting from. A woman in tattered clothing is backed up against the wall. Maggot-like zombies are crowding around her feet, preparing to eat a meal. The woman looks at you and pleads for help. Immediately, your muscles respond. Before you know it, you are in the group of parasites. You smash your heal against one, and a rope of slime arcs into the air. The insect is dead. You slash your knife at knee level, stroking the blade across the monsters. Your gun fires, killing one, and it lays still against the ground. Finally, you sink to your knees, but there are more overwhelming monsters. With final strength, you toss your weapons aside. Parasites swarm you. They munch on your bleeding flesh and crawl all over you. You do your best to fight, but cannot shake them. You will be consumed. The lady you tried to save is clawing at them and trying to fend them off. You focus comes back. You mind is determined. "Hrrgh," you grunt, and tear a maggot from your arm. You roll around, pulping their squishy bodies. At last, you are free, but injured. If you do not act soon, you will get infected. Still acting on adrenaline, you snatch the woman wordlessly and begin to run. She follows suit. You run and run and run until the city is far behind you. Zombies grasp for you without success as you pass. Your legs propel you farther towards your destination. At last, you leap over the gigantic wall you have built. The cabin door is approaching. You burst through it in your stride. As you run, a figure emerges from behind a couch. "Stop!" he yells, raising the firearm in his hand. You obey. At last, you rest on the ground, blood pounding in your ears. "Shooter," you gasp. "Shooter, help me." He rushes to your side. "Oh," he said in a whisper. He quickly examines the holes in your arm. They are gigantic, pumping blood out to cascade down your forearm. Without a word to the survivor, Shooter vanishes to the medical room to retrieve the antidote. You turn your head to the side. The woman sat solemnly, gazing at you. "I thought you couldn't bring zombies back to life." Her voice was quiet. Her mouth quivered. "You can't," you explain with effort. Every breath your ribs expand, causing pain to your diaphram. "You can't antidote zombies. The bite causes you to die briefly, and then reanimate as a dead thing. Whether that be parasite or human, I don't know. But if you get the antidote before you die--" You pause. A bloody cough builds in your throat. It spills out your mouth, and dribbles down between your lips. "Then you don't die," you rasp. Shooter barges in on you with a syringe hanging limp in his sweaty palm. "This is gonna sting," he said hoarsely. You don't care. The agony couldn't be any worse as the virus flows through your veins. Your vision falters. "Hurry," you plead, a tinge of moan in your voice. The needle pokes the crook of your arm. Viscous fluid drains from the syringe. You lay your head back down. Your vision regains strength. Everything becomes blurry, and then normal again. You can't control it. "Uhh," you groan and sit up. Every limb is palsied. You shake uncontrollably. Shooter holds you down, fear frozen in his cold, white eyes. Suddenly, you stiffen. Everything goes black. You awake. Alone. The room is void of life. It's night. It's stifling. You shakily clean your forehead of sweat. You sit up. Alone. No one to help you. Suddenly, the world seems more lonely. What should you do? |
