Recent Chat Activity (Main Lobby)
Join Chat

Loading Chat Log...

Prefer not to see ads? Become a Community Supporter.
View RSS Feed

Soft

Zombie Apoc. Part 3.

Rating: 5 votes, 4.20 average.
Here is the 3rd bit to my Zombie Apoc. story. It has been a while, but I took the hint from how my second story is my only blog with rates...and it's 5-star...and it's still in the "Best Entries" sections....so...win? Anyway if your gonna be lazy and just read this one instead of the first two then it's about a dude from Washington who went north to Canadia to camp with some friends, who in the panic of a zombie apocalypse, are either dead or missing. Enjoy, Comment, and Rate please. (So I can finally beat Grimwell out of the #1 Best Entry slot. )


So I woke up to a super bright white light shining straight into my eyeball.
"Yeah he's fine. His pupils dialated." Says some background woman.
"Dialatin'?" says some background hillbilly accent.
"Yes Dialating" says background woman putting emphasis on "ing".
"So he's ok right?" Says some background...teenager?
"Yeah." says random calm sounding woman. I have several questions right now. Where am I? What is going on? Are there still masses of zombies pounding on the walls outside this place? The woman shining a flashlight straight into my eye finally decided it was time to stop and I can only assume it was her and the others who had exited the room via creeky wooden door over on my right.

When I regained normal vision I could see I wasn't in a hospital like I had thought, but a wooden farmhouse kinda thing. I was hoping that this would all go away in my sleep and I could wake up in my bed, or a couch, or somewhere just drunk as hell...Nope. A few gunshots and screams from somewhere outside that door, then a red light shone through the cracks in the wood precursor to a blaring siren. I don't know what it was. The guns, the siren, or some kind of drug but I had felt safer then I had felt since we left Bellingham.


"Are you awake yet?" says background hillbilly accent again whom I now make what I would like to assume is eye contact. He had some seriously bushy brow covering his eyes, a red truckers hat, and blue overals. You know...every hillbilly stereotype come to life.
"I'm tired of watch duty over ya, just cause Frankie shot yer belly."
"I'm...sorry?"
"They told me to stay here incase you got confussled. What with'n all the zombies runnin' amuk through our crops and such."
That was the first time I heard the word "Zombies" and thought "Oh shit..."
"So. Are they still outside?" I asked him.
"Nah. We took care of them once we calc'lated the threat of havin' em' near us like that."
"So you shot them?"
"We lit em' suckers on fire! Burning like da hell they done scaped' from!"
"...can I see it?" He cakkled this hillbilly cakkle and cocked his double-barrel before waving me out the creeky wooden door.


Through this door was what appeared to be dirt roads connecting tiny wooden farms. Apparently this was a town covered in metallic and glass dome, the glass up top allowing for sunlight to grow their crops, a hole in the very top center of the dome letting fresh air in, and the metal around the lower sides keeping the undead out. A ladder lead up out the hole in the center of the dome to a platform on the side of it. Apparently if the undead ever piled up past the metal parts of the dome the red lights blared their sirens. Smoke and fire was sweeping up over the glass of the dome just barely making the air tight.

Once we got to the platform I could see twitching masses sitting, stareing, burning, not screaming anymore because their lungs hadn't the ability to push oxygen since the fire was enveloping it all. They almost looked like real people. Save the fact their eyes were either milky white or burnt out of their skulls, and their facial expressions depicted no pain. As much as I would like to say it was comforting to watch them burn, or satisfying knowing the disease what killed Tom, and Johnnen was ablaze beneath me, I can honestly say I was terrified.


This town was named crooked creek and it's peopel were almost all farmers living off the land. Godfrey was the hillbilly, Frankie the teenager I had heard who shot me, and Faith the medical intern. Everything was pretty regular. Do what the farmers say, grow the crops, when the red lights blare find a gun and go pick them off the glass while others set the surrounding area on fire. This worked well enough for a while until one of the hillbilly folks had tested the lines with Faith and tried to get frisky on her. I wasn't there but it goes she shot the guy in the neck after he had made it obvious he wasn't going to stop. Now I was the first one to get there afterwards. It was just her, some ripped clothes she was wearing, and a dead hillbilly. She told me everything he tried to do, but she didn't let him get close.


Now through some twisted hillbilly logic, I had been involved with this whole plot and scheme they conjured that turned into us killing the hillbilly together and trying to escape with it. This led to arguements, and the second one of them punched her I was all kinds of pissed off. I started swinging chairs at the hicks who came in the room, bats, I broke a glass bottle and stabbed a few. Faith ran out the backdoor and one of them fired a pistol in my direction missing terribly killing some other hick.


Now it was about then I realized I was alone fighting an army of hillbillys so I took off running for the ladder only to find faith already at the top. I started climbing with several bricks, stones, bullets, and etc. flying past me and a few hicks climbing up after me...I had almost made it to the top when one lucky stone hit me square in the back of the head, and another one hitting me solid in the hand. I fell almost 40ft into some nice comfy dirt which broke a leg.
Surrounded by cheering hillbillys who continuted to stomp me into unconsciousness like I was on fire, I rememberd the zombies burning. Their milky white eyes melting out of the holes in their heads, or being completely gone already. Their faces expressing no pain while they died slowly. I imagine hell will look similar.

Submit "Zombie Apoc. Part 3." to Digg Submit "Zombie Apoc. Part 3." to del.icio.us Submit "Zombie Apoc. Part 3." to StumbleUpon Submit "Zombie Apoc. Part 3." to Google

Updated 07-16-2009 at 07:29 PM by Soft Serve

Categories

Comments

  1. I Am The Walrus's Avatar
    Yayy I finally got my story,
    and its my favorite kind too,
    you know, the kind about zombies.