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Player Created Lore

Dr. J

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Blow me down with a feather @Darkstar 影 and @Stay Alive . both your story threads are fantastic. Can we please have some more?
 

Darkstar 影

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Blow me down with a feather @Darkstar 影 and @Stay Alive . both your story threads are fantastic. Can we please have some more?
thank you so much! I'm so happy you like them!
Yeah I'm happy you like them as well! It's great that we figured out how to make this work with the both of us, as I don't believe I've seen it done before, at least not on this scale(Dr.J Could correct me there if I'm wrong, but I don't think it's been done)
 

Stay Alive

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I gritted my teeth, awkwardly trying to see if I could put any weight at all on my leg. I heard the man yelling at the girl to start putting the food in backpacks, and I focused on trying to block that out. If I could at least hobble, I might make it out alive. I managed to drag my leg under me enough to stand on, and pushed down.

I jerked as my leg crumpled and pain heaved through me, making me nauseous. I fell back down, hard. I heard the man’s gun click, and felt my chest tighten as I saw more zombies crowd through the door. The man stepped back and grabbed the gun from the girl, and started firing. Once the first wave of the zombies lay dead on the floor, man turned and ran, grabbing his daughter and running to the door of the garage. Leaving me.

I scrambled backwards, fear blinding me. Adrenaline was making my blood sing, and I was panicking. I fought against hyperventilating, the zombie’s groaning filling my ears. “Hey!” My voice was shrill with fear. “You can’t shoot someone and then leave them to die!” One of the zombies was getting close, clawing at the air near me.

I thought I was going to die. I really did. Then I heard the slamming of feet, and all of a sudden the man was lifting me up, pretty much cradling me in his arms. I hissed through my teeth, my leg continuing to hurt as it jerked around while the man sprinted.

I heard him yell at the girl to fire her gun, and as I twisted my head around, I could see her struggling to aim. I felt the slightest bit of concern for the girl, even though she had shot me. The man suddenly shouted, readjusting his arms under me. “Girl! Take the shotgun and use it down a few of those things, assuming you want to live!” I lunged over his shoulder, yanking the shotgun from across his back. I aimed awkwardly, the jerking steps he was taking making it difficult. I closed one of my eyes, pressed the butt of the shotgun to my shoulder, and fired. I downed one, two, then three zombies. I missed a few more times than I hit, though.

Two hours of running –well I was being carried, but still- later, we had reached a lake. The man was out of breath and I could feel his arms shaking. He stalked over to the sand and angled his hand so he could snatch the shotgun from my hands, and dumped me heavily onto the ground. I rolled my eyes. "That would be a helluva thank you, shooting you after you saved me." He scowled deeply at me, and I was once again, afraid. I was at the mercy of someone I had just tried to hold up.
 

Darkstar 影

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I took the .38 Snub from Jasmine's hands and began firing at the door, which at least a dozen undead were pouring through.

"Get the food into the backpacks!" I shouted, taking out the zombies that got close. Jasmine immediately began stuffing all the food from the box into her backpack, and then into mine as I crouched down, still firing at the undead. My .38 Snub, only able to carry six shots in it's cylinder, ran out faster than I thought it would. I quickly tossed it into my open backpack, and held out my hand.

Jasmine, understanding the gesture, handed me her 1199, and I began firing what was left in that. With the first wave of undead on the ground, I ran over to the garage door with Jasmine, all of our supplies ready to go. We both pulled open the door, and saw a horde of undead limping and crawling towards us from outside as well as inside.

"Hey! You can’t shoot someone and then leave them to die!” Brave words, yet her voice had gone shrill with fear.
'S**t. I almost forgot about her. What do I do...' I thought to myself.
'Ugh. I can't kill a girl like this. What if it were Jasmine?' In only a few moment's hesitation, I sighed inwardly and sprinted inside, watching another wave of undead begin pouring in through the side door. I put my hand under the girl's legs and another on her back, picking her up and running as fast as possible back to Jasmine.
Together, we ran towards the cabin, which was far, but we could outrun the horde, even with me carrying a plus one. I wasn't thrilled, as I was saving someone who'd just threatened to shoot my daughter and steal our food, but I had to trust her for now.

A few from the horde were getting closer than I'd have liked, I bent down and shouted for Jasmine to take the 1199 from my pocket, and she did, sprinting and firing at the undead behind us. With each bullet she clearly suffered slightly more from the recoil, but she was managing. It wasn't enough, and I cursed under my breath.

"Girl! Take the shotgun and use it to down a few of these things, assuming you want to live!" I shouted, still sprinting alongside Jasmine. The girl did so, despite her noticeable struggle with the pain in her leg, twisting and pulling the shotgun from my back, firing at the closer undead, downing several with both shots. We kept going for awhile, slowly but surely outrunning the herd, and eventually, we were safe.

About two hours later, we arrived at Lake Baron, my arms killing me. We were very close to the cabin, and out of imminent danger. I snatched the double barrel from the girl's hands who rolled her eyes at me.
"That would be a helluva thank you, shooting you after you saved me." She muttered. I didn't say anything and returned the shotgun on my back, after setting her down on the sand beside the Lake. Now we had to decide what to do with her.
 

Stay Alive

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I was laying on the sand staring up at the man with two guns that could blast my head off. And he wouldn’t even be in the wrong for doing so. I was currently a cripple, and could barely even crawl. I decided I had every reason to be scared out of mind.

But even while the man burned holes into my face with his eyes, I could see the girl behind him. She looked at me, and then tugged on the man’s sleeve. She leaned up and whispered something to him. He frowned deeply, and then looked sternly at me. But the girl went forwards, kneeling next to me, while the man went and began filling up containers with lake-water.

I instinctively tried to put some distance between us, and of course, my leg throbbed painfully. I screwed my face up in response. My pant leg had been soaked through with blood, and while I didn’t think it was going to kill me right now, it might get infected if I didn’t take care of it.

“I’m sorry about your leg,” A little voice said softly. I jerked upwards. “I didn’t want to shoot you or anything… It’s just, well,” She glanced back at the man, still filling the containers. “I didn’t want you to shoot my dad.”
I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a pained grimace. “Your dad? Figured. You’re lucky to still have him around.” I blew air out of my nose. “Mine uh… Died. A while back, at the beginning.” I shook my head.

"My mom died too, but that wasn't because of the monsters...“ The gentle voice trailed off.

I made a sympathetic face, then muttered, "Anyways, uh, I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier but… I’m Max.”

The girl smiled, shaking herself from the memory. “I’m Jasmine. It’s nice to meet you.” I nodded in agreement. “How bad is your leg?” She asked, looking at my pants. “It must be bleeding pretty bad. Does it hurt much?”

She reached out, pressing lightly over where the bullet had gone through. I yelped loudly, jerking backwards. The man glanced over, pulling back the hammer on his .38 Snub.

“Jasmine!" He exclaimed, pointing the weapon at me and knocking over one of the containers of water.

“I'm okay.” Jasmine replied quietly, she then looked at me apologetically. The man stared for a second, and then slid the weapon back into the holster. “I’ll ask Dad if I can get you something for your leg…” She started to get up, and then after a moment turned to me suddenly. “Why did you threaten to shoot us?” She asked bluntly. The question caught me off guard, and I had to think for a moment.

I decided to tell the truth. “I needed food. You all had a lot.”

“But if you asked, we would’ve shared.”

I smiled weakly at her, an actual one. “I can tell. You guys are… Good guys, I think. If I had to go back and do it again, I probably wouldn’t have made the same choices. “ I paused, and added, “I was never going to shoot you. The gun was empty. It was more meant to scare you.”

"No sh*t Sherlock." The man muttered just loud enough for me to hear. I resisted the urge to glare at him.
 

Darkstar 影

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I held the Masshail in one hand, and .38 Snub in the other. I stood over the girl, who sat helplessly on the sand. I could tell she was trying to hide her fear, and somewhat succeeding, but I could see right through her. I was still staring at her intensely, holding the two firearms.
'What do I do with you?' I thought to myself, glaring into her eyes. 'She threatened to hurt Jasmine, and I'd have killed most people for that alone.' But I knew she must've been pretty desperate, holding up two clearly armed individuals, with an empty handgun.

I felt Jasmine tugging on my sleeve, and looked down at her, pulled from my thoughts. She stood on her tip-toes to whisper to me, so I bent down slightly.
"I think she's good." She said simply, and then went to sit beside the girl.
'I hope she knows that if Jasmine so much as says Ouch, I'll put a bullet into her skull.' I thought with a frown, glancing at the girl, and then remembered that I had to get water for Kurt's A*sholes, and us, so I prepared the empty milk gallon and two dirty water bottles, beginning to clean them in the lake-water and fill them afterwards.

“I’m sorry about your leg,” I heard Jasmine say softly.
“I didn’t want to shoot you or anything… It’s just, well,” She paused.
“I didn’t want you to shoot my dad.” She continued quietly.
“Your dad? Figured. You’re lucky to still have him around.” I heard the girl reply.
“Mine uh… Died. A while back, at the beginning.” She continued.
"My mom died too, but that wasn't because of the monsters...“ Jasmine's soft voice trailed off. I nearly choked at the mention of Rachael, and for a brief moment still felt tears gathering in my eyes, but quickly blinked them away. I hadn't yet grieved, simply pushed the thought of... acceptance, away for as long as I could. There's always the matter at hand, which is more important, which for now, is this girl.

"Anyways, uh, I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier but… I’m Max.” The girl finished, I could almost sense Jasmine's smile upon meeting the girl. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
“I’m Jasmine. It’s nice to meet you.”
“How bad is your leg?” She asked.
'That's another thing I need to consider, am I going to help patch this girl? We did deliver the wound, but only because she made us...' I thought to myself, still filling up the water.
“It must be bleeding pretty bad. Does it hurt much?” Jasmine had a lot of questions, as usual, I couldn't help but smile, that's Jasmine, I thought. Then there was a brief silence, and I heard a loud yelp, and immediately had my .38 Snub pointed at the girl's head, accidentally spilling one of the water bottles' contents into the Lake.

"Jasmine?!" I exclaimed, my eyes darting between them, assessing the situation.
"I'm okay." Jasmine replied casually, still looking at the girl's leg, then up at her pained face. I watched them, ensuring that no-one was seriously hurt, and then after a moment, slowly returned the revolver to it's holster, muttering to myself as I straightened and refilled the water bottle. Jasmine said something else, but I noticed my muttering drowned it out, and quieted myself.
“Why did you threaten to shoot us?” I heard Jasmine ask. I almost laughed out loud, almost. Jasmine was clearly unaware of what when a good time to ask a question was.
“I needed food. You all had a lot.” The girl replied after a moment.

“But if you'd asked, we would’ve shared.” Jasmine protested. 'Maybe if she didn't come in waving a gun around.' I thought to myself, screwing on the lids to all the containers.
“I can tell. You guys are… Good guys, I think. If I had to go back and do it again, I probably wouldn’t have made the same choices. “ Max paused, and then added, “I was never going to shoot you. The gun was empty. It was more meant to scare you.”
"No sh*t Sherlock." I muttered, slightly louder than I meant, but decided it didn't matter. I put all the water back into the backpack, and looked back at Max and Jasmine, sighing inwardly. 'Sh*t, I shouldn't have let them talk, Jasmine won't forgive me if I kill the girl now.'
"Sh*t." I repeated out loud, but quiet enough that neither heard me. 'Guess I should just get both of 'em inside for now, it'll be dark soon.' I thought to myself, and began towards them.
 

StonefishStoner

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I hope I'm not too late to the party... and my work will still be considered. This has only been roughly edited so my apologies in advance. On another note when posting here I can't put a line through some writing so I've just put in brackets crossed out, and some parts are meant to be blacked out for aesthetics so I'm just going to make the font black, it annoys me because you won't get the full effect but oh well.

Survive the Nights



Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: 10 miles outbound, off the East coast of Black Island.

Day 1

We are currently sitting in a chopper flying over a dark sea as we freeze our arses off. ETA is not for another three hours so I’m taking the time to write this. Technically this is just the approach and we won’t arrive and start our mission until tomorrow, but since we have received our orders I’m officially starting this off as Day 1. Yay me for productivity.

What this is, is an unofficial collection of journal entries written by myself, Grant Taylor, a black ops team member of the RedHawk Unit, Division 9, nominally functioning as a SERT team for the mission. The rest of my unit (i.e. the other seven guys freezing their arses off) include our team leader and Captain Kevin Tyson who we usually call Cap. The second in command Cameron James and the team medic John Kirk who gets the not so creative nickname ‘Doc’. Roger Burns as always with his too many tatts and the ginger Malcom Macintyre or ‘Mac’ for short, who also has the dubious pleasure of being the unofficial team mascot. We have the fidgety Will Sanders who is ironically our best sniper despite having the worst personality for it and finally Jared Wilkins who is the greenest member of the unit. I like to think that I’m the sane one in the bunch but we probably all like to think that.

Introductions aside, this is meant to be a professional log to help us recall all the pertinent details in the very likely case (read: every mission we’ve ever had) that we won’t get a chance to fill out a proper report until mission completion. Missions that can last anywhere from hours to months, hence the supposed necessity of this. Every team member is supposed to keep one of these “journals” and they are all supposed to be strictly factual in nature with no overt personal input. Both of those things are complete bull. These entries are never audited by high command and of the eight of us I’m only one of four who actually keeps a log. The others being the team Captain, Medic because theirs do get checked and Burns because he’s an idiot who thinks it funny to start every entry with ‘Star Date and Captain’s Log’ like he’s in an episode of Star Trek. That said mine are more like diary entries, which I cop no small amount of shit over, but if we’ve got a spare minute I’ll be writing. That said we don’t always get a spare minute. I’ll write what I can when I can. Deal with it. It’s mostly to help me keep sane anyway.

So where are we headed? That’s easy, Black Island.

What are we going to be doing there? Now that’s a harder question.

The mission is supposedly a milk run. I say supposedly because beyond getting our marching orders we haven’t been properly briefed yet and that sends up all kinds of warning flags. Not to mention we’re not the only team being sent out. Not sure on the numbers myself, we’ll probably find out tomorrow. What we know so far is that the island is self-sufficient, there are large numbers of fresh water lakes and rivers. The island itself is composed of a great deal of woodland, elevated and hazardous terrain, with key points of the islands’ civilisation spread across the land. Due to the remote location and large population the island boasts its own prison. There is little import and export – the island capable of supporting itself but not having any great commodities suitable for export or trade. There is no real overt reason that any of us can figure as to why they’d need SERT units.

Mac hopes it’s a Jurassic Park type situation. I hope Mac falls out of the helicopter. Cap hopes we both shut up and sometime soon.

I guess we’ll find out tomorrow either way.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Black Island, Union Point.

Day 2

We are one of twelve units currently at Union Point (effectively the largest settlement on the island) and that’s not counting the other nondisclosed number of units currently scattered across the island and the nominal army of backup waiting offsite on carrier ships.

And that’s not right. So many for this - babysitting disgruntled citizens as they wait to be evacuated? Overkill. We are not armed to subdue crowds, we’re armed to eliminate threats.

Which is worry to say the least, considering reasons for evacuating have been vague as hell.

When given the orders I could see the others straightening up, becoming more alert as the instinctive not right, not right spreads from one man to the next, and climbing into our hindbrains, an instinct born of too many battles and bullets and blood.

Cap isn’t happy, but he’s too good to give that away to anyone who isn’t our unit. He gives the order to disperse among the crowd. Tomorrow we move from crowd control to a perimeter sentry post as more civilians are trucked in from around the island.

We move out. Ignoring shouted questions as people wait to be shuffled out a chopper then ferried out to the waiting carrier ships. All the while the not right, not right keeps playing like an irritating pop song your mind won’t let go or forget. Worrying for now and something to be wary of, but not yet so different from any other mission. All missions go to shit eventually in some way or another. I mean, how different can this one be?


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Black Island, Union Point.

Day 3

We were told to expect reinforcements at the two month point. I don’t know why we’d need reinforcements just to shuffle disgruntled citizens off the island.

Something’s not right. (CROSSED OUT WRITING)

There’s probably nothing to worry about.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Black Island, Union Point.

Day 4

There was supposed to be a convoy of citizens from Sage Creek at 0900 sharp. They never arrived. When we tried to make contact with the units stationed at Sage Creek they couldn’t be reached. Mac might laugh it off but looking around at the others I can feel the mental security ticking higher.

Something doesn’t feel right.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Black Island, Union Point.

Day 5

Sentry duty has been quiet and I’ve spent the day thinking and this is what I’ve decided; there’s a lot of civilians here and with the island so isolated it would be easy for people to panic and things to go to hell in a handbasket.

The island has its’ own society, is insular, a world unto itself.

I don’t want to see how long it takes a world to end.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Black Island, Union Point.

Day 7

The guns we’re packing aren’t toys. We shoot something and it stays down. Never thought I’d see anything different. But you know what they say, ‘there’s a first time for everything’.

Mac saw him first and told the guy to stop. He had wandered out of the cleared back tree line – stumbled really – heading right towards our check point.

But the guy kept coming. Lurching forward – there was something wrong with his leg I first thought.

Mac ordered him to stop.

Then again when he didn’t. I thought he must have had a hard time – he was covered in dirt, clothes ragged.

This time Cap was the one to call out.

The guy started to move forward quicker, but still in those stumbling hops.

By the time he was twenty paces out we were all screaming at him to stop, guns held high.

And then we finally got a good look at him.

He was wrong.

Frothing at the mouth, jaw working around nothing and eyes glazed over and dead to the world. That dirt he was covered in? Blood. Old blood turned brown and flaky. There was something wrong with his leg – the bone was sticking out – a compound fracture and yet this guy was still hobbling forward like he couldn’t even feel it.

We were still shouting. He wouldn’t listen. So Cap shot him.

And he just kept coming.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Black Island, Union Point.

Day 8

Shit.

Shit.

Motherfucking Zombies. Fuck my life.

By the time we got the first guy to stay down there were other figures coming out through the trees. Same as the first. We figured pretty quick body shots did little but hinder mobility. Head shots, however, provide a more permanent solution.

We got a few stragglers, but a few checkpoints down got a whole damn pack of the bloody things. We spent the rest of the day and most of the night securing the city as best we could. The number of units finally making sense.

But Zombies. Possibly hostiles on locale my white ass!

And oh damn hell, I’ll freak out about this later, I’ll curl up in a ball and beat my hands bloody against the wall but, oh gods, but right now I need to keep moving, breathing, working. Monsters are real and I’m stuck on an island with them! What the fuck were they even doing on this island?

But it's not all gone to shit yet. Not completely anyway.

We’ll all follow orders. Complete the mission and go the hell home.

And not be eaten.

By Zombie.

Fuck my life so hard.



Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Union Point Power.

Day 14

So it’s been a while since the zombie revelation and I’ve got my shit together again, but if I suddenly have a case of itchy trigger finger that will be just between this journal and me. I wouldn’t be the only one.

Three days ago we received to secure Union Point Power, which supplies the majority of the island with electricity. This is the first time since the barricade setup that I’ve had time to write. Let me tell you it’s been some long days, longer nights and a very steep learning curve.

Our post here is relatively quiet. Unlike the city, Union Power is easy enough to secure with strong defences. Every few days we walk the perimeter and clear out the build-up of hostiles (Zombies if you couldn’t guess).

But only during the day. Daytime the dead aren’t too lively, (pun intended) slow to respond and more docile.

But at night? At night those things can move.

We’re all a lot warier at night, our sleep schedules are all messed up because of it seeing as we’ve still got work to do during the daytime. Even if it is boring.

There’s something I didn’t think I’d write in a zombie outbreak.

But yes sentry duty remains a bore.

Burns and Sanders came up with a new game to help combat the boredom though. I Spy sniper edition. With silencers of course – sound only attracts hostiles. It was a fun enough game until Cap banned it, the killjoy. In other totally unrelated news, there is now a significantly less amount of squirrels in the surrounding foliage.



Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Union Point Power.

Day 15

Not much movement last night. Sentry duty is still dull. Even more so now without I Spy Sniper, the original game just isn’t as fun after our altered version. There’s one zombie that’s been in the same spot since yesterday – after a vote, he has been dubbed Zombie Rob – that seems to be caught in some debris, bets are currently 10 bucks to 20 says he’ll make it to the fence by dark. It’s easier to think about them as things to bet on rather than as a something that used to be a living, breathing person that was probably horrifically torn apart by someone he used to know. If done and thought worse during my service.

If this is as bad as the zombie apocalypse gets I’m going to be just fine.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Union Power Point.

Day 16

Intelligence says a greater number of hostiles is incoming. We are ordered to the clear immediate surrounding area of hostiles in preparation. No more Zombie Rob. He never did make it to the fence.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Union Power Point.

Day 17

Attack was repelled though some supplies were lost and injuries sustained. Sanders managed to fall awkwardly and both sprain both his wrist while slicing his leg open on some debris, Kirk (the Team Medic) fixed him up quick. But had a harder time fixing Wilkins due to him getting a bit torn up before from one of the dead on him before Cap could pull the bloody thing off him. But Doc says he should be right.

Which is good. Since we have new orders again and this time no handy chopper to get us where we need to be. We have a map of smaller places to bunker down during the night, a general idea of where the major populations were settled in order to avoid them, a fuckton of ammo and a decent truck.

The goal is to get to the southernmost point of the island and take a ferry to the prison island just off shore. It’s supposed to be the most secure place – being separate from the main island – and in need of more men to help keep the evac being run from there, going as smoothly as possible.

There is going to be some long days ahead.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Crestwood Forest.

Day 22

Wilkins is a little off. Pale and shaky, with the rough bouncing of the truck on barely there dirt track side road doing little to help. Doc is worried about infection in the wound. We’re going to try to push through the night to make better time. The prison will have better medical care than any field medicine Doc can provide.

Cap is getting short with us – stressed and worried about Wilkins. Sanders can’t keep still and Cam has gone worryingly silent. We’re all worried.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Crestwood Forest.

Day 24

Wilkins is dead. He died and then Cap shot him. But not before Wilkins’ had managed to rip Burns’ throat out. That’s two graves we had to dig. Two men down.

Apparently, bites carry the disease. If it is a disease. Zombies in the truest sense of the word, just not a term borrowed to ‘kind of’ fit the situation. Better yet, we lost the truck when trying to fend off our own man. Now we are on foot.

Still no word on the reinforcements; we know they tried to call them in early.

We are not panicking.

Yet.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Crestwood Forest.

Day 26

Dog found. It keeps following us no matter what we do. Mac has been voted out as the team mascot, now replaced by Dog.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Crestwood Forest.

Day 27

Dog eaten by zombie today. Mac reinstated as team mascot.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Crestwood Forest.

Day 28

At night the forest turns into a forest of hands and teeth. I was never scared of the dark, but now when the sun dips below the trees my pulse starts to race, every breath I take echoes in my ears and all I want to do is curl up and wait for the night to be over. But that’s not an option, so I just nurse my itchy trigger finger, sweat too much and make bad jokes until dawns comes again.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass.

Day 30


Fire. Someone set the forest on fire. Flicking waves of heat that bite and flare with the promise of blisters and charred skin. We are keeping ahead of it. Somehow. If Lady Luck decides not to be a frigid bitch it will burn itself out before long, or we’ll make it to a water source ahead of it.

I’m breathing in ashes. Ashes of trees, of homes, of people and their futures burnt to crisp.

Ashes of people, their flesh free to float in greys and blacks after being seared from their bones by orange heat. We’re breathing in people. Swallowing them down. Monsters too. The things that used to be people but now hunt them. The good and the bad. The pure and the taint. We breathe it all in. We breathe. Breathe.

I have to keep breathing.

Do I? (CROSSED OUT WRITING)


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass.

Day 33

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: humans are the cruellest and most dangerous things out there. Even out here. Myself included.

Even surrounded by monsters, people scare me more. Myself included.

I shot someone today. I don’t know why. I just shot them.

How long does it take for a world to end?

I don’t think I want to know.

I’m scared I’ll find out. (CROSSED OUT WRITING)


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass.

Day 34

The one month mark past some days ago. Reinforcements still aren’t due. I could probably make a 28 days later joke, but it probably would have been funnier on the actual 28th day. If it was even funny to begin with - even gallows humour is failing us now.

We come across more civilians who have fled into the forest. That doesn’t say anything good for how the situation is going. And not all of them are friendly. We can’t do more than direct those who ask to evacuation points and quarantine camps that may not even exist anymore. And deal with those with less charitable intention.

We were a tardy attempt to control the situation that fell apart almost as soon as it was implemented. They hoped it could be resolved quietly, hence the information block and in doing so they’ve as good as killed almost everyone on the island who didn’t get out early.

I’d think it was a different world – some kind of fucked up nightmare world straight from the horror books, if not for the stars. They’re still there and still the same, but we don’t get to see them often. Surviving the nights is the most difficult thing right now.

Day is the time move. The dead are less…just less. They are not as quick to respond, seem less interested in moving around and far less likely to react even to noise stimulates. That said they’re quieter too, just standing around. Usually you can hear them coming for miles – they shuffle haphazardly into things, dragging limbs as they moan and groan low and guttural like they all caught eternal frogs in their throats that they keep trying to clear.

But in the day they stand around quiet and still. The whole lot of us walked into a cluster of the fuckers. The only thing that saved us is that it was day and they were slow to react.

If that had been at night we would be dead. Well, more of us. Cam was in the front and wasn’t fast enough to get back.

And then there were five.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass.

Day 36

Day also comes with more risks in the form of the still living population. We are not the only ones who have discovered the safety that daytime affords. Though we have yet to make contact or be contacted by another unit despite the fact that there should be several enroute to the Prison Island.

The day is good to move in but we are more open and exposed. The dead are brainless, the living less so. The living are smart enough to lay traps, are smart enough to pick good places to ambush others and the longer we go the less likely we are to come across those who ask for help rather than those who try and just take.

We are however, for the moment, still the best equipped and armed.

In a world gone to hell the man with the bigger stick triumphs.

There’s probably a life lesson in there somewhere.

Probably.

Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass.

Day 37

When I woke up this morning to take my watch shift, Doc Kirk was gone. Just gone. If anything or anyone had tried to take him, we would have woken up. But we didn’t. And how fucking terrifying is that? How long were we lying there in dark, with no one making sure nothing was creeping up to try and eat us? We looked for Kirk. We couldn’t find him. Nor did we have the time nor man power to keep searching. Cap wasn’t happy, his mouth a twisted downward slash that broadcast just how unhappy he was. But he moved us out regardless.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass, Earon Creek.

Day 38

We swung in closer to the creek to try and avoid some particularly mountainous terrain and also in the unspoken hope that we might come across Kirk.

We didn’t, but what we did find was just as surprising. People. A lot of them, maybe eighteen all up? Kids with them too.

It was surprising and good to see other people until it wasn’t. They wanted help we couldn’t give. We have rations only to last us to the coast, so we can’t share. Asking for our weapons and ammo is twice as useless as to ask for food.

We have orders. We cannot take these people with us, we don’t have the time and they’d never keep pace with us. It kills us just as much as it does them, though they don’t believe it. Dirty faces and judging eyes glaring out silent accusations.

Except one wasn’t so silent. An old duck. Fury overriding fatigued, fear and any good sense she might have had. She spat at us, screamed at us – which says something no one looks kindly or excess noise these days. The others shifted behind the woman, uneasy but not stopping her.

We were leaving keeping an eye out and the old woman just kept going.

“You’re leaving us to die! You’re killing us!”

They never should have done whatever the hell they did on such a heavily populated civilian island.

Just before we were out of sight Mac had had enough, he turned neatly on his heel, lift his semi and fired once. Shot her dead just to shut her up.

I was happy it was quiet again.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass.

Day 39

We were shot at today, which was a nice change of pace from trying to be eaten.

There was a man with a gun. Was. He shot at us from the high ground – goddamn mountains and hills - just on twilight too, when you really don’t want to start making noise. Sanders got a good angle and returned fire. By the time we found a safe way with cover to climb up the damn ravine, it was to find the guy had already turned after bleeding out. A farmer with a rifle – the calibre suited for light game, with a good scope – the guy had probably done some hunting.

Better than the gun, he also had a little cabin up there so we spent the night holed up doing weapons maintenance, and taking turns keeping watch.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass.

Day 42

It was a good day. We covered a lot of ground, encountered only two hostiles and no civilians. Even got a chance to forage some fresh supplies. It was a good day. But we all know how quick it can go to shit.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Griffin Pass.

Day 43

It went to shit.

Some things I write I know I can’t keep. Even if it’s an unofficial report. Even if it’s only for me. Even it looks entirely possible we might all die. Some things you can’t leave for others to find, just in case they do. Not when you work for the government. Not when you do the things we do. But somethings I have to write down just to get them outta of my head. Mac screamed at me when he saw me take this out. He tried to make me stop. I broke his nose. There’ blood. More blood. Cap’s pissed at us both but is too tired really to care. He’s been more quiet lately. Sanders is practically catatonic.

The comprise is that I have to show them after so they can check for themselves. To see there is nothing here that could ever be evidence of what we did today.

The morning was a quiet one, as had the night before had been – or as quiet as a night here ever is. We had a good spot and only encountered hostiles once in the early morning hours. No signs of any of the living. We were planning to make a push for the >LOCTION HERE< since it wasn’t far out of our route and Cap wanted to check if there were any units had holed up there.

There wasn’t. Instead we found tragic back-story here, seriously use your imagination. It was expected to say the least. Not quite as bad as last time. But still.

We tried to reason with tragic back-story here, seriously use your imagination. At first it seemed like tragic back-story here, seriously use your imagination. Imagination imagination imagination. and then tragic back-story here there wasn’t enough time tragic back-story here tragic back-story here how could we know? tragic back-story here tragic back-story here tragic back-story here tragic back-story here and there was so much blood, after everything I’ve seen so far who could imagine that a tragic back-story here tragic back-story here tragic back-story here tragic back-story here I still can’t believe it. People scare me the most. Case in point; you don’t need to be dead to eat someone else.

I don’t know how I’ll ever justify this. Even then, who cares? Who decides what’s right and what’s wrong? How far is too far? How can we bloody well tell? Just how thick is the thin line I’ve been toeing my entire career?

How do I justify the things I have done, and still will do?

Do I have to?

I can’t do this anymore. (CROSSED OUT WRITING)

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Please. (CROSSED OUT WRITING)


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Old Town.

Day 45

You think you’re prepared for it, in all the things I’ve seen, worn torn villages, bloody streets and bombs falling like rain nothing compares to the horror of living through this. Visceral and real, painted in vivid technicolour that sears into the backs of my retina – bright red splashing before deepening to a rich brown and the collage of greys that no human face should ever be. There are pictures in my head and I can’t get them out, writing this only does so much. But the worst thing is the smell. A wet fuming rot that follows at our heels like a dog. It’s hard to imagine I’ll ever breathe fresh air again and I know I’ve had this thought before, in other times and places, but I’ve never believed it so much.

I want this to be over. I want this to be over more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

How long does it take for a world to end?

Please just let it end. (CROSSED OUT WRITING)


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: South of Old Town.

Day 47

People scare me the most. Case in point; you don’t need to be dead to eat someone else.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Southern Coast, Black Island.

Day 48

And then there was two.


Team Member: Grant Taylor

Team Leader: Captain Tyson

Mission Code: >CLASSIFIED<

Location: Southern Coast, Black Island.

Day 50

The night was bad. Cap and I were holed up in a little fishing shed, more like a cupboard, by the coast. We were so low on ammo we fell back to the ‘isolate one and bash in its’ brains’ way of doing things.

It took us all night. They swarmed the shed like locusts.

We didn’t think the shack would hold out at some times.

But it did. We are still here, still breathing. Tired as anything but we didn’t sleep at all and we’ve been tired for a long time now. So goddamn tired.

But I haven’t survived this long for nothing. Even as the day drips by in odd contemplations, writing and sleeping, languid in this brief pause, but getting closer to another nightmarish sunset that I don’t want to see.

But fuck it.

I decided at some point between repeatedly smashing in the skull of what used to be an eight-year-old, that fuck it all I was going to live. Despite everything. Because of everything. Life has thrown down a gauntlet and I have accepted the fucking challenge.

I don’t know how long it takes a world to end, but I’ll keep going even when it does.

Cap is slumped down sitting beside me like a puppet with its strings cut. We are sitting in gore, clothes wet through and steeping in it as it dries slowly and sticking uncomfortably to skin.

It’s an odd thing to notice out of everything else, but Cap still has tear tracks on his face; clean white rivers that cut through the gore painted there. I think the young ones got to him. The little monsters that used to be kids. He used to have a kid I think. Now there are just little chunks of white that used to be bits cranium mixed in among the brain matter painting the ceiling.

Most of it Cap’s probably.

Because Cap didn’t have that same conversation with himself that I did.

We finished off the last one and he sat down beside me and ate a bullet.

I can’t even care beyond a vague sense of resignation and betrayal. Because fuck Cap for leaving me alone. Fuck Cap because I’m going to live anyway.

The mission now? Survive the night. And all those yet to come…
 
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Dr. J

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I have to say @StonefishStoner I don't care if you think you're 'late to the party'.
I could see the scenes, feel the action. Your narrative drew me in.
Could we have some more, please?
 

Darkstar 影

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I carried the girl through the thick forest in my arms, while her and Jasmine chattered. I still knew that I couldn't just trust the girl because Jasmine liked her, but I couldn't just drop her and go either. With Kurt, Max and the house to fortify, I had a lot on my hands right now, I could certainly use some help, but how much can she help us with a leg like that? How do I know she won't take all of our medical supplies and then pass away in two days? There were too many questions, and I didn't have enough time to answer them. Sweat dripped from my face as I kept alongside Jasmine, trudging through the woods. Luckily we were only about a hundred or so feet now, likely less.
I tried to imagine how I could possibly pay this much to Kurt so often. We nearly died getting the water and fuel, what happens when we need all of it again? And even worse, what if we can't find all of it? I glanced down at Jasmine, who was still engrossed it a conversation with Max. Then I noticed Jasmine's face. Behind the dried blood of the undead and dirt, she was smiling at the girl, a lot. Almost as if the girl were one of her old friends from school. I sighed slightly.
'I don't know how old this girl is. I don't know what she can do or if she wants to hurt us. But I'll kill her if she touches Jasmine.' I reminded myself. She might have shot a few of the undead for us, but that was to save her life just as much as ours, and at the moment she needs us.
I looked up at the darkening sky as we approached the cabin, Jasmine skipping beside me with a smile on her face. I glanced down at the girl, who was seeming to assess the cabin, and shook my head, taking them inside as the moon's light filled the sky.
 

StonefishStoner

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I have to say @StonefishStoner I don't care if you think you're 'late to the party'.
I could see the scenes, feel the action. Your narrative drew me in.
Could we have some more, please?
I think I'm going to leave it as is. I've noticed that a lot of people don't end theirs or if they do it's quite stale.

EDIT: I've actually left a lot of the story open for people to add to for example day 47 and 48, and I never went in depth with the characters how I would've liked to, it would've made the deaths feel more dramatic. I haven't done this how I would've liked to but if I had the time and effort to do it how I would've liked it would've been heading towards 20 thousand words.
 
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Dr. J

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It's been a while since my last diary entry. My hands shake quite a lot now, the nightmares come more often in the day.
I think John and Dan are starting to bond. We've been through so much as individuals, and quite a lot together as well.

The shotgun trap went off in the early morning as a zombie tried to take cover in the building, followed by the crossbow trap. Not the worlds best 'wake up' call. Glad Dan was on the ball there.

We're going to explore the other four single story buildings today. If I had to guess, military barracks for the prison officers ...
It's been a while since the initial scout, and based on that we encountered this morning, who knows what zombies might be lurking in there?

Dan supervised John resetting the traps. A curt nod gives his approval.
 

Darkstar 影

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Jasmine closed the door behind us, as I moved the girl inside. She immediately began seeming to size up the room, but I ignored her and moved to the corner of the room near the fireplace, beginning to set her down, deciding to do the closest thing to dropping her, without actually dropping her. Just as I bent down to put her there, Jasmine walked up behind me.

"Dad?" She said, as I froze.

"Couch." Jasmine ordered. I sighed for a moment, glaring at the girl. I stood up and moved her to the couch, placing her beside the gun case I was going to give to Kurt. I could tell Max wanted to smile, but likely knew better. I shook my head and began to pickup my hammer and nails, as well as the planks from the fence, fortifying the windows from inside.

"I'll get you a bandage!" Jasmine told the girl with a warm smile, and then skipped off towards the bathroom, where we left most of the medical supplies. Then there were a few moments of silence, besides the constant beat of my hammer against the nails, but I could sense Max was about to say something, and already felt annoyed.

"Do you have a name?" She asked. I grunted, not looking away from the nails.

“Thank you for saving my life. You didn’t have to. I wasn’t the most... Friendly.” She trailed off. I still kept my eyes glued to the wall fortifications.

“You’re damn right I didn’t. And I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t have Jasmine with me.” I retorted, although it wasn't entirely true, in the heat of the moment, I don't believe that it was the presence of Jasmine that brought me to pick her up, but the thought of her. I wasn't about to tell Max that though.

“Makes sense... So… Your name?” She tried once more. I sighed silently and rolled my eyes, moving to the next window.

"Dante." I grumbled, picking up another plank to put on the window.

"“Okay. As I’m sure you heard, I’m Max.” I heard Jasmine in the other room moving around. “How did her Mother die?" She asked suddenly. My hand froze, still holding up the wooden plank to the window.

"If you don’t mind telling me.” She added quickly. I remembered the final moment I'd had with Rachel. Literally dragging Jasmine, as she screamed and tears streamed from her eyes. The monitor beside Rachel's bed beginning a long, high beep, as people in medical scrubs rushed into the room. Tears rolled from my cheeks as I tried to calm down Jasmine outside of the room, as she desperately tried to escape my grasp, and go back to her mother's side. Jaz had cried herself to sleep in my lap, half an hour later, and a sorrow doctor walked out of the room, shaking his head slightly, apologizing. I shook myself from the dreadful memory, and squeezed the plank in my hand.

"I do mind. Don't ask again." I ordered, barely able to keep my voice steady. There was a moment of silence, and then I heard her begin again.

"No need to be rude. You should take a page from Jasmine’s book.” I heard her mumble. I slammed the hammer into the nail, the wooden plank cracking.

"Watch it, girl." I snapped, glaring at her with a ferocious look.

"You wouldn't know." I growled, grabbing more nails. And then I remembered what she said at the beach, that she'd lost her parents at the start of the undead. I held the plank still and bit my lip. I couldn't apologize yet. I needed to cool-down for a moment. I'd get there though. She mumbled something in a low, deep voice. I sighed for a second and looked back at her.

"What?" I said gently, afraid I'd shaken her. She looked up at me, confused.

"I didn't say anything." She told me, as Jasmine entered the room with an antiseptic bandage. Whilst watching them both, I heard the growl again, this time a little louder, and a bit more of a groan. It was outside. I peered through the barricade slightly, and after a moment of my eyes adjusting, I saw the noise. The undead followed us. All the undead followed us.
 

Dr. J

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Did I say "my hands shake", plural, in my last post? Well I do sometimes still feel them both. So much turmoil going on in my mind, sometimes it's only when I go to use my left I realise it's missing. Occasionally I pause and stare at the stump on my left hand for a while. That's when I get the flashbacks.

Breakfast time. Dan and John retire to an upper room having reset the traps. Cold fare once more. But we don't know what's outside and unwelcome attention is something we want to avoid. Some stale biscuits, a can of what might have been some kind of stew. All washed down with a little water that might not be at it's best. Brings to mind the time over 30 years ago when I went to university, and my mother would insist on a telephone call at least twice a week. I had to go to a public call box to do that, when she would ask what I'd eaten, the response was normally "It was food, and we ate it".

The light is getting better, so time to venture out. We pack up all our gear, but the traps will stay for the moment in case we need to retreat here. Looking out through the broken windows, a mist is drifting in through the nearby treeline. How does mist affect zombies? Is it like daylight or night time for them? Will they be more passive or active? I guess we'll soon find out.

A final weapons check on our revolvers before we creep down the stairs.
 

Darkstar 影

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Did I say "my hands shake", plural, in my last post? Well I do sometimes still feel them both. So much turmoil going on in my mind, sometimes it's only when I go to use my left I realise it's missing. Occasionally I pause and stare at the stump on my left hand for a while. That's when I get the flashbacks.

Breakfast time. Dan and John retire to an upper room having reset the traps. Cold fare once more. But we don't know what's outside and unwelcome attention is something we want to avoid. Some stale biscuits, a can of what might have been some kind of stew. All washed down with a little water that might not be at it's best. Brings to mind the time over 30 years ago when I went to university, and my mother would insist on a telephone call at least twice a week. I had to go to a public call box to do that, when she would ask what I'd eaten, the response was normally "It was food, and we ate it".

The light is getting better, so time to venture out. We pack up all our gear, but the traps will stay for the moment in case we need to retreat here. Looking out through the broken windows, a mist is drifting in through the nearby treeline. How does mist affect zombies? Is it like daylight or night time for them? Will they be more passive or active? I guess we'll soon find out.

A final weapons check on our revolvers before we creep down the stairs.
Truly well done, I'm not sure why it is that I like the lore so much, but I only seem to love it more and more as characters get developed and stories roll out; and yours is by far one of my favorites. Hopefully when my writing buddy gets a bit less busy(And myself lol) we can start uploading a bit more frequently.
 

Dr. J

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Dan and John are as ready as they will ever be to move out. Everything is packed back up. The traps are all reset in the building on the most Northern point of the little compound to the East of the main compound on what we now call Hoffnung Island. That's the old Black Rock prison island, before we re-christened it as our island of Hope.

We've had to perform some basic ablutions this morning, but daren't use any possibly available water. At least the smell isn't as bad as decaying zombies. With luck, there smell is worse than ours, and we don't attract them to it.

The plan is to check the truck we came here in, and then search the other four buildings.

We move cautiously out of our night time refuge, pausing to look out of what's left of the ground floor windows. Looking for any movement. Despite the hour (it's about 10:00 by my watch now), the mist from the forest seems to be thickening. Must be some local phenomenon, I'd expect it to be clearing by now. No movement visible. Dan leads out through what was left of the front door, while John covers him as best he can from a ground floor window.

No sounds, no signs of movement.

The truck had been parked close by, pointing back towards the main compound towards the West. Dan reaches it without incident, and waves John on to follow. I follow on cautiously (despite the fact I now trust Dan) and cover him the best I can as he checks the vehicle. After the other nights wildfire action, there's a couple more bullet holes in it, but only through bodywork in the rear. Nothing to worry about.

Dan want's to check it still runs, John is against the idea. The mist is still thickening, and neither of us know how zombies react in these conditions. In the end, John wins this one. Well, while the mist lasts. There is the problem. Of the four other buildings, only two can be properly be made out from where we are. The other two just look like shapes.

There could be zombies lurking or hiding anywhere, and with the reduced visibility and deadened sound, we might not get enough notice of their approach to defend ourselves. Sometimes the weather conditions really work against you!

Scouting time ... the first building next to 'base camp'. It looks like it might once have been a mess hall. Like the other four buildings, just a single story structure.
 

Darkstar 影

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*Disclaimer, This is not Dante/Jasmine/Max, I will get to them asap I promise, this is a story that will later tie-in with those characters*

"Don't come any closer." I warned dangerously. I stood atop the strong wooden walls of the settlement, my JayTee 1100 Shotgun aimed at the stranger. He had a long black beard and held a long sharpened wooden branch of sorts, although it resembled a piece of bamboo. He was alone, and had nothing but a backpack and a briefcase in one hand, the staff in the other.
"I'm willing to trade." I heard him offer. I paused for a moment, and looked into the settlement at the people below.
"A merchant?" I hissed to the people below, I knew that Doc had to be down there somewhere, this is usually the type of thing he deals with, as the group leader.
"Is he armed?" I heard Doc retort. I glanced back at the man, looking at the briefcase.
"Potentially?" I said with a shrug. Doc gave a slight nod and stepped back so we could open the gates. I pulled on the massive lever, and the man walked through the huge wooden gates.
"Hello!" The man said with a smile as he saw the group of seven people, including myself, greet him at the entrance.
"Welcome to Crestwood." Doc said simply.
"I've got much for sale!" The man added happily, looking at all of us. I didn't like this, somethings wrong. One look at Doc told me he thought the same.
"I've got food, water, ammunition, traps, even sniper rifles!" The man said with a laugh. He was much too happy.
"Where are you keeping all of these goods? You can't carry a single rifle in that backpack." Doc said cautiously, stroking his chin.
"Yeah, sorry about that, I left 'em back there." The man said with another grin, pointing his thumb back the way he came, towards the forest. There was a slight pause for a moment, and then I realized his hand. He'd dropped the briefcase, and opened his palm.
"S**t." I muttered beneath my breath, as I dove to the left, grabbing the nearest person I could.
As expected, bullets stormed from the forest, through the open gates, and I watched as several people in Crestwood fell to the ground, bloodied. I saw the man take the spear from his back and shove it into Doc's neck. Doc struggled to breath for a moment, and then fell to the ground, blood pouring from his neck. I watched to the left and right as people fell to the ground, bullets flew overhead, and then I felt one give purchase to my foot, going right through the ball of my left foot. I screamed out in pain, as I watched undead begin shambling into the walls of Crestwood. I don't know exactly what happened, but all went black, as pain raged through my skull, and all sound was drowned from my head, replaced with a loud screeching noise.
 

Dr. J

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@Darkstar 影 - more of the above please (as well as the other story lines!) ... perhaps a little backstory on how Crestwood was set up? I could feel the tension in your narrative :)
 

Darkstar 影

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@Darkstar 影 - more of the above please (as well as the other story lines!) ... perhaps a little backstory on how Crestwood was set up? I could feel the tension in your narrative :)
Thanks man :D I just heard back from the one I'm writing with, and she might be a few weeks sadly due to computer problems. But it's no big deal, until then I think I'll continue this new character, which I've got a pretty rough idea of who I want it to be and where I want them to go, but It'll have to start with taking back Crestwood.
 

Darkstar 影

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-=Crestwood POV again, not Dante/Jaz/Max Also a WARNING This post is very violent and dark in nature, if you find yourself easily offended, or are rather squeamish, please do, click away=-

I blinked awake to see that I was in a line of people, all of us on our knees, hands zip-tied behind our backs. We were all lying on the dirt of Crestwood. Bullet-holes lined the massive log walls surrounding our buildings inside the settlement, most of which had shattered glass from the windows covering them, and some even had small pillars of smoke rising from the insides. I shook my head, my blood-stained dirty blonde hair sticking to my forehead. The people beside me seemed to have had similar treatment, blood stained and disoriented.
"Well, well, well." A man said, walking towards the line of us, holding a machete with a vibrant red handle.
"So this is Crestwood. I hear the leader's already been dealt with, that's standard procedure for us, so no hard feelings. The name's Kurt, by the way." The man continued, still moving slowly towards us.
"We are the Resistance, we are going to be the ones that ride this out. But we aren't the bad guys, so we'll give you a chance." The man crouched down to be at eye-level with all of us.
"There's exactly fifteen of you still alive in Crestwood," Kurt began. My eyes widened, 15?! There were at least two dozen of us before, they've reduced us to fifteen? I felt my heart begin beating quickly, hearing it thumping in my head.
"Since we'll be taxing you as we normally do, we need to make sure you will abide by our rules. This means you need to know that we are serious, no jokes." He said with a smile.
"Therefore, a dozen of you exactly will live." He finished, standing up and shaking the handle of the machete. My heart began beating extremely fast. 'A dozen? He's going to murder three of us?' My eyes darted between myself and all of the others, all fifteen of us sat in horror, watching Kurt's devilish smile. There was a slight pause, and then Kurt exclaimed.
"...So, any volunteers?" He laughed. I looked at the men and women that made up what was left of Crestwood, and looked up at Kurt.
"Me." I said with an exhale, sweat and blood beading down my head.
"Me too." Coleman said to my right somewhere down the line, not long after I said it. He was a good man, a fighter, extremely quick and agile with a massive heart. I wasn't even slightly surprised at his saying.
"And me." Katrina finished. She too was a fighter, out of the Army and one crack shot with a gun, but I was slightly surprised, didn't seem like her. She was beside me to the left, and I nodded thanks to her.
"That's three of us, please just get this over with." I pleaded to the man, he looked into his reflection on the shined machete. I could feel the others in line let out a slight sigh of relief, but all of us still felt slightly dizzy and our heart-rates through the roof.
"Good, alright, so that's three that are willing to die for the cause, good." Kurt smiled, I knew something was wrong with what he'd said, just the way he phrased it, but I couldn't put my finger on it, nor was I with the energy to try.
"So, let's get to it huh?" He said, approaching me with the machete readied. I sense the tears of people in the lineup, some were visibly quivering, others almost in shock. Kurt raised the machete high above his head, and I looked up at the blade as he was about to bring it down on me. He held it above his head for a moment, and then I saw a half-smile, as he brought it down with extreme force. For half a second I inhaled sharply, ready for this to be my final moment, almost with a sense of honor, for not allowing the others to die in my place. But all of that shattered as Kurt brought the machete down at an angle, whizzing over my head and digging into another person on my right. I heard screams of fear and anger as the machete found purchase in Dale's brain, and blood sprayed across mine and Coleman's faces. Time seemed to slow as I shouted out in anger, Why, I shouted, Why not me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as he yanked the machete from Dale's head, and dug it into Charlotte's immediately after. Blood flooded the dirt, pooling with tears and sweat as people cried out and desperately tried to resist. Kurt seemed unscathed, enjoying the bloodbath as he ripped it from Charlotte's skull, and scanned for his next target. He'd just killed Dale and Charlotte, they were husband and wife, he just murdered what was left of that family, and was still looking for another.
"Woo!" Kurt exclaimed, slicing the machete through the air, blood and chunks of gore flying at the remainder of us. I couldn't find myself able to scream anymore than I already had, I just watched in silence and horror as he looked for his next prey. My head was rose red, sweat, blood and dirt dotted my face, my throat feeling as if it were torn to shreds from the screaming. Everything seemed to be double, getting hazy and all sound beginning to get drowned out, but I still got to see as Kurt found his next victim, and with a toothy grin, sliced the machete across Albert's face, a dark-skinned man who was previously a father of four, his wife and all his children taken from him. Kurt didn't know, but he'd taken what was left of two separate families, and three lives, from the world.
"We'll be back expecting a payment of food, water, and ammunition in three days. Until then." Kurt finally ended, dropping the completely blood red machete at my knees and walking towards an armored van. I saw vague movement as uniformed soldiers seemed to draw out of the gates of Crestwood, screams and cries in my ears, as all faded to black once more.
 
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