Green Eyed Monster

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by maldon007 » Thu Nov 04, 2010 8:59 am

9

“Saaailing, takes me away, to where I always hmmm hmmmm… Damnit! Why can’t they play some decent music in here?” Alden Wilkins hustled down the towering, twenty foot high drink isle of Costco. His daughter trailed behind, arms crossed in boredom. “Samantha, could you go grab… rice?” Looking down at his list, he missed Samantha’s eyes roll. “How much?” she asked. “Uh… it’s over that way, call me when you get there and let me know what sizes they have.” Samantha headed for the dry goods isle, while Alden loaded a half ton block of bottled water onto the giant wheeled sled of a shopping cart. A fifty pound bag of dog food, a water filter pitcher, various canned soups and veggies, and a gigantic pack of batteries later, his phone rang. “The smallest they have is twenty pounds dad, so I got a cart… where are you?” “Well, get three bags then, ok?” “Dad, seriously, we need sixty pounds of rice… really?” Alden didn’t want to go into the reasons for stocking up, so he lied. “Sam, were having a party next month, Claudia is going to cook the meal… so we just need to be sure we have what she needs.” “That’s enough rice to feed… like five hundred people dad, who all’s coming to this party?” “Sweetie… dear…” he began, in his ‘you better stop arguing’ voice. “Meet me at the electronics counter in five minutes, so I can give you part of this list. No reason you should be bored in here… lots to do!” Alden thought he heard a huff, then the line went dead. He looked up to see a chubby woman smirking at him. He smiled a ‘mind your business’ smile at her, and continued compiling his skid of groceries.

Ten minutes later Alden was browsing gadgets, and waiting for Samantha. “What do we need satellite phones for?” Samantha was looking over his shoulder. He pretended she hadn’t startled the crap out of him, and pretended to be done looking at them. He moved down towards the camera section, as though he had been headded that way all the time. “Just waiting patiently for you dear.” He made a show of unfolding his list, and cleared his throat in a ‘let’s get down to business’ manner. “Ok, you can get uh… this… and these, and we need a big box of this…” Alden wrote out a separate list for her, trying to send her for the most innocuous items, ones they might normally get, but just not so much of. “You have your phone right?” he asked. “Dad, I just called you… did you think I was using one of those pay phone thingies?” “Yes yes dear, fine… please just get the things on your list & meet me at the front.”

Alden knew he was being a bit short with her, but trying to stock up & prepare for something unknown, but possibly ominous, was wearing him thin. Not to mention the person he would normally confide in for such matters (as if there had ever been such matters, ever before), was eight hundred miles away. “Honey!...” He yelled after her. “…if you see a book you like or something, grab it ok!” “Sure dad.”

Alden wondered back to the satellite phones, checking over his shoulder for his sneaky daughter, this time. The phone was tempting, he had wanted one for years, but the expense had never been justifiable. But now, with what his wife thought was an eminent threat… He started to look around for a sales person.

Fifteen minutes later Alden had completed his shopping, having gathered enough supplies to need the back row of seats folded down, to fit them all in their large GMC. He was waiting patiently near the checkout, figuring Samantha must have found something interesting, when his phone rang, it was her. “Where are you at?” he asked. “Dad, you want to see this… I mean, you don’t really… Just come here!” “Where? Where are you Sam?... What is it?” “Just get over here to the TV section.”

She had found something interesting, but not interesting good, it looked bad, very bad. Alden could not see the TV screens as he approached, since they faced away from him, but he could see the faces on the gathering crowd. Disbelief, sadness, fear, horror, parents held children against them, one older man was crying. Alden walked up to Samantha, he watched as she forced her eyes off of the screens to look at him. Her furrowed brow seemed to be asking him to tell her it wasn’t real, that it was just a bad movie. When he finally turned to look, he almost sighed in relief, it was a movie, only in movies are there fires that big. It looked like a mile of shore line, a bridge, and maybe a large ship… or two, all engulfed in bright orange and yellow flame, but it wasn’t a movie it was the news. The bridge wasn’t just on fire, all the cars on it were as well, maybe a hundred cars, all burning. Just then, one car popped like a firecracker, flying into the air and bouncing off the bridge support cables, finally landing half way on a semi. In the foreground a talking head from CNN was saying something, but the sound was too low. The ticker at the bottom of the screen railed on about possible terrorism and a death toll that may be in the thousands.

“Come on Sam, let’s go.” He took her hand, and started to lead her toward the exit, then he remembered the reason they were there, and how it might be more important than ever now. “Sam, grab your cart… lets pay for this stuff and go.” “Dad… did you watch a different channel than I did? Did you miss the fact that we’re under attack?” She was indignant, and pissed, he thought. He remembered a similar reaction when he had explained to her what had happened on 9/11 when she had asked a couple of years before.

“I know Sammy, I know… all the more reason to get this stuff home… Ok?” She seemed to shake it off some, though she still looked to be in mild shock. Alden hit his wife’s number and listened to dead air, as he pushed his cart toward the exit. Samantha was beside him, pushing hers, and staring blankly ahead, as if in a trance. They checked out quickly, not many people were left in the lines, and it seemed the checkout staff was unaware of what was happening. The door checker even commented on the amount of supplies they were carrying off on the two palate sized carts. “Preparing for the end of the world, are ya’?” She asked with a grin, as she checked their receipt against a couple of items. “Something like that.” Alden replied grimly.

An hour later, after a silent ride home, the groceries were finally unloaded. “You can’t get mom, can you?” “She’s fine honey, it’s just the phone systems… they get overloaded during disasters…” He wished he hadn’t used the word “disasters”, but it seemed there would be no placating Samantha on this, she would find out all the details sooner or later. So Alden did the best he could to explain what was going on, they even watched the news for a while, till the bridge fell, it was too much after that. By midnight he had gotten her to sleep, and could focus on getting in contact with Meresa. Finally, at one AM, the line began ringing, and even picked up, though only the answering service. A half hour later she called him, though not from her phone.
Last edited by maldon007 on Sat Nov 13, 2010 6:32 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Nancy1340 » Thu Nov 04, 2010 10:47 am

:shock:

I hope you are not going to keep us waiting so long for another chapter of this exciting story.

Thank you

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Bricona » Fri Nov 12, 2010 4:31 pm

Great story man, really periodic table specific
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by maldon007 » Thu Nov 18, 2010 3:51 am

10

“Al, can you hear me?” Meresa listened to crackles for a moment. “Meresa! Are you ok?” Alden sounded almost panicked. “Love, I’m fine, safe and sound… and missing you guys.” The line was quiet for a second, Thomas had warned her of delays when using the satellite phone. Even through the static filled delay, Meresa was sure she heard Alden whisper “Thank you.” It didn’t sound like it was directed at her, maybe to God, probably made some kind of deal with him, she smiled. “Where are you? The ID just said global star or something… are you with the governor?” She started to answer “All the flights…” Alden’s voice popped back on “Are you… oh, sorry.” She waited a second “Alden listen, Im on a satellite phone and this connection has a terrible delay, just keep it in mind. I’m still in Atlanta, we are at the Hilton, on Courtland Street… the phones are all messed up here, but the hotel number is 404-555-3769.”

“So when are you coming home? I know they have restricted air travel, but I assume you guys will get cleared…” “So sorry love… Homeland would only let the Governor take one person with him on the plane, and that had to be Director Rennels, they made him agree to stop in Indiana to drop off Governor Tillis, just to get clearance.” “Alright, I’m going to… we’re going to leave in the morning & come get you, give me the address…” Meresa cut in “No Alden, no… you two are safe there, I’m safe here. In between us is… questionable. If anything, I will come to you, I have Thomas with me remember? We will be safe.” “Damn it Meresa… you just had to go, now you’re stuck there, and we’re alone here. I’m going to kick Pat’s ass, he should have taken you…” “Come on love, it’s no more his fault than it is mine, bad things happen to good people sometimes. I will be home soon, one way or another. Pat said they will probably lift the travel ban soon, they just have to come up with a cover story for… I probably shouldn’t go into detail on this line.” She hoped he understood what she was implying. “Yeah, I assumed the one had to do with the other… but I wasn’t sure. Just seemed like too much of a coincidence. Poor Sam thinks we are under attack by terrorists, though maybe that is better than knowing…” “Alden!” She cut him off. “Listen, I know what you mean, enough said… But she’s tough, she can handle it if you think you need to tell her something… anything. Just make sure she knows I am coming home soon, because I am.”

Meresa did what she could to convince Alden everything would be ok, she knew he needed it. Since Samantha was born, she had not been away from him (or them) for more than a few days. If this situation dragged on for too long, she knew he would be climbing the walls. She also did her best to convey any new info she had. Through code, she had given him the hotspot locations to keep an eye on. Finally, she found out he had purchased a satellite phone and almost teared up a bit, she was not sure why, maybe just knowing that he was thinking of her… The fact that he was willing to spend four hundred dollars, just to talk to her, didn’t hurt.

When the call ended, Meresa knocked on Tom’s door. It opened a few inches and she looked up at the face peeking through the crack “Thanks Tom, signal is pretty good here, long delay though… at least to Decatur.” Thomas Mclaughlin was the Governors head of security, and a very large man, at least a head taller than Meresa, and she was five/nine, in flats. “Come on in…” he said, scanning the hall.

Once they were inside the room, he locked the door behind them, giving her the distinct impression he didn’t feel safe. She plopped into the fluffy, round-backed chair next to the dresser. Thom turned the volume up on the tv, and caught Meresa up on the ever evolving news out of new York. “The Army Corps of Engineers has already rolled out, probably because the ships crashed a thousand yards from their barracks, and their parade grounds are on fire. I can’t believe they hit a military base… I mean, I don’t think there is any damage to the actual base, but a friggin bridge almost fell right on top of it. Its crazy, first there was the thing with people going all psycho cannibal, and now this? There has to be a connection, know what I mean?” Meresa did know what he meant, even if he really didn’t. Tom was a good man, but not part of the ‘need to know’ group. She tried to steer the conversation away from the interconnection, of recen events.

“Yeah, it’s crazy. So… what’s the plan, Tom? I need to get home soon, we all do… is someone making arrangements?” “Kelly is supposed to be working it out with the others, should know by morning” Kelly Drake, Governor Gray’s personal assistant, had never shown herself to be of much assistance to anyone, in Meresa’s opinion. “You really think she can get everyone on the same page, and figure out travel, all by herself?” Tom lowered his big head & tilted it slightly, giving her that ‘don’t be unprofessional’ look, she ignored it & went on. “The Governor needs us back there quickly (playing on Thomas’s well known dedication to duty), we can’t pussyfoot around here waiting on Kelly… You know she will try to make everyone happy, instead of concentrating on getting our asses home quick. Let me handle the travel, I will get us a van first thing in the morning, and we will be on our way.” Thomas shook his head slowly, indicting his lack of comfort in going around Kelly, since she obviously had the Governor’s trust. “Ok, but check with Kelly first, make sure she didn’t already line something up, please?” “Sure Tom, I’m not trying to step on toes here… just get us home. By the way Tommy, what’s under the towel?”

Meresa gestured towards the small bistro chair, next to the bed. The chair had a bath towel conspicuously draped over the seat. “You’ve seen what I carry before, it’s the MP5… I was just double checking… Listen, get out of here and get us a car, will you?” “Sure Tom, just wanted to know what all you brought.” She shot him a disarming smile, and it worked. He grumbled to indicate his reluctance “I have that, a Glock 21, a little five shot .38, uh… a couple of flash-bangs, and a can of Duane Chapman approved bear mace, why?” Meresa had seen Tom’s mock defensiveness before, she knew damn well he like to show off his gear, but that he thought it more professional if the other person asks, or even insists. She thought it was cute. “Shit Tom, I just like to know what we have to work with… I’m packing a four inch blade, and my good looks. So if the shit hits the fan, you have extras, good to know.” She was waiting for a stern rebuke, but Tom slowly nodded. “I don’t expect us to need defending, especially without a prime target, like the Governor around. But Murphy is a bitch, so I always say, bring the umbrella and it won’t rain, leave it at home and it will pour down on your ass.”

Meresa spent the rest of her night placating the Governor’s flighty assistant, surfing the web to locate a big enough van for all of them, and figuring out the best route to get home. The whole time, she prayed that the flight ban would somehow be lifted in the morning. She had nothing against any of those in the entourage, but a full day (or more) of driving, while cramped up in a tight space with all of them… Sounded about as fun as the black plague.
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Mr. E. Monkey » Thu Nov 18, 2010 1:07 pm

Nice update. I like this Tom guy. :D
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by maldon007 » Thu Dec 16, 2010 2:55 am

11.

Dixon Correctional Center, home to over two thousand psychotics, sociopaths, kleptomaniacs, pyromaniacs, delusionally paranoid schizophrenics, and a few other varieties of the criminally insane. It was a diffuse complex of unmatching buildings, ringed by two concentric rectangles of sixteen foot high, heavy-duty chainlink. The top of the fence was curved over inward, making any attemted climb, a class 5.15. Mathew Klein, a CDC investigator of sixteen years, had just passed through the checkpoint on the second fence, when the blaring alarm sounded.

“What’s that about?” Mathew asked his escort. She was a short stocky woman with a buzz cut, who’s name he didn’t recall. “Not sure…” she stopped in mid stride, unclipping a two-way radio from her belt, then brought it up to listen. Mathew couldn’t make out many of the words, but there was yelling… maybe screaming. The chunky woman took off at her best speed, then stopped again, looking back at him. “Shit!... come with me.” She pushed him along, back the way they came. “Charlie, Mr. Klein here has to stay with you… till we sort this out.” She trotted off without waiting for an answer. Charlie the guard didn’t bother to turn around and acknowledge Mathew’s presence, but that was ok, Mathew was not particularly interested in prison guard banter.

Mathew stood at the window of the guard room, looking through the wire reinforced glass. Two guards ran by, heading toward one of the buildings in the sprawling prison complex. It was a wide, squat structure, maybe fifty yards to the left of the central building. As he watched guards file in through the single steel door, one of the second floor windows turned white. Mathew was trying to figure out why, when a low, rumbling thump shook the floor under his feet. Some kind of explosive he thought, must have shattered the window from the inside. Luckily whatever type of glass it was, had contained the blast, though obviously not without completely fracturing. “Can you tell me what’s going on over there?” The guard (Charlie, he thought the name was) seemed very distracted by whatever he was listening to in the little ear piece he wore. “Charlie!... what’s the deal?” The guard tuned, looking startled that there was someone else in the room. “Yeah, uh listen, we got some kinda’ riot in the medical center.” That made sense, he thought. “Is that where all those sick inmates were being held?” “Yes sir, had two more go in today, place is filled up over capacity. Now it seems like all kinda’ hell is breakin’ loose over there.”

That was pretty much all he needed to know, this had to be another outbreak. Mathew had been sent to check out the possibility of green disease, based on symptoms described by the prison physician. “Could you get the warden on the horn, Charlie?” “I can try, sir.” The only reason a full team wasn’t sent was, the patients lacked some of the standard markers. “No go, sir… Not answering, I assume he’s busy.” One contradiction was the large number of apparently affected patients, with none of them having bite wounds or any other obvious disease vectors. “Keep tying for me, ok Charlie?” “Ok sir” They also lacked any sign of outward ‘greening’ (as the CDC techs were calling the color change), these factors had led to some doubts as to whether the inmates were affected, or just had food poisoning from the prison cafeteria mystery meat. Mathew called his supervisor, letting him know a full response was in order, then listened for a minute to the chatter on his host’s two-way.

The guard had kindly removed the earpiece plug to let Mathew hear the goings on. “Yes… the (inaudible) have 10 or 12 hostages… at least (inaudible) dead or wounded.” “State police in route, eta fifteen minutes… we have (snaps/pops)…” “Their rushing us!... (pops, maybe small arms fire)” Mathew saw smoke start to rise from the left corner of the building, the corner closest to the broken window. Wait, hostages? He had not registered that when it was first heard, there had never been hostages before, not in any of the greenie encounters… They just were not that thoughtful. So maybe this was not a real outbreak after all, “oh well” he thought, the ball is rolling in any case. If it wasn’t a true outbreak, he could easily call off the dogs, at least for another half hour or so, the team would take that long to get in the air. He didn’t have to wait that long to find out.

The front doors to the smoking building burst open, and several guards ran out. Some were obviously wounded and bleeding. Within seconds, a horde of ‘greenies’ followed the guards outside, most of the greenies were blood covered as well, but definitely green. “Charlie, tell your men, shoot to kill… do it now!” “I can’t give that order, only the warden can, and he is incommunicado.” A loud bang came from somewhere above, then another. Mathew looked to the yeard, trying to see if the shots found their mark, but none of the creatures fell. “Rubber bullets, sir. Only the gate guards, like me, have lethal ammunition… Hector, up on the roof (Charlie the guard pointed straight up, toward the roof above them), has a shotgun with rubber shot. I’m pretty sure that’s what we’re hearing.” Another blast, this time Mathew was watching when the bullets hit the greenies, at least two or three of them flinched, as though a fly had buzzed into their faces. One of them veered off from chasing the guards, and began heading right for the gate house, Mathew backed up slowly. “That one’s heading right for us, do something!” The guard was shaking his head sadly “Don’t worry, they can’t get in here… but those guys… oh god.” Two of the running guards had just been caught, Mathew turned away from the horror.

Mathew was not an “advanced team” guy, he was more of a fact checker. He had not trained for any contact with greenies, though he was not sure if the training the “advanced team” guys received was really all that great. Having now confirmed the new outbreak & reported all pertinent facts, he felt fully justified in getting the fuck out of this crap hole of a prison.

“Well Charlie, looks like you guys have this in hand now… Our team will be here shortly to help mop up. Why don’t you buzz me on out of here, and I’ll get out of your hair.” Just then a large bald man smashed into the main window of the room. The huge bang nearly caused him to relieve himself in his pants. He stared, open mouthed, as the crazed monster pounded on the glass with his blood and tattoo covered fists. The prisoner’s transformation was almost complete, only a small patch of un-greened skin remained on the top of his head, coincidentally leaving the swastika tattooed there, ringed with shiny green iridescence. “I really would like to sir, but I can’t open that door until we come off riot alert… sorry” As he spoke, the guard pumped the front grip of a large rifle, and put it to his shoulder, aiming at the prisoner. The reinforced glass of the window was holding, though large white spider-web circles now appeared from the impacts. The creature stopped pounding after a minute or so, and stood there, looking around & breathing heavy. Mathew thought it was almost as if the thing was looking for another way in, as though it’s frontal lobes were somehow still in operation. Then something happened that Mathew Klein’s continence could not withstand. The thing squinted into the glass, trying to see through the two-way mirror, then it screamed “Ritter!!... I see you in there, I’m gonna pull your heart out, screw fuck!!!” Urine ran down Mathew’s leg as he backed into a file cabinet, and nearly fell. The beast was spitting on the glass as it yelled “…I’ll find your wife and kids too, Ritter!” It then quickly backed up a few yards, and ran at the window. It hit low on the glass, just above the sill, smashing the galss through and even snapping enough of the wire mesh to end up part way into the room. “Hey Ritter!” it taunted “Mind if I come in?... ha ha ha!” The bloody head and shoulders of the thing protruded through the now ruined window, like some Star Trek transporter accident. With no glass between them, Mathew could hear the strange tone of it’s voice. It reminded him of wind chimes in a way, but not happy ones… Strange and mixed up dissonant notes, jangling in unison with the words spoken by the creature, a creature that shouldn’t be able to speak.

“Fuck you, Kelly!!” The guard, who Mathew now assumed was acquainted with the prisoner/monster, fired his weapon. The “Kelly” thing screamed, the metallic clanging and popping sound of the scream, was almost louder than the gun blast. Mathew’s ears rang like a hearing test gone haywire, drowning out all other noise. The Kelly thing was writhed in agony, it’s right shoulder had been turned into a hamburger-like mass of disgustingness, leaking blood down the glass & wall. After a few seconds, the thing seemed to shake off the pain, and actually started wriggling further into the room “Oh Charles… that’s just the kind of shooting I expect from a piece of shit like you… Wait till I tell your wife what a crappy shot…” The guard cut him off in mid sentence, by putting the muzzle of the rifle against the thing’s forehead, just below the swastika, and pulling the trigger. The whole room exploded with red & grey, knocking the guard back, stumbling. The sound though, was only a muffled thump, barely audible over the din of Mathew’s damaged eardrums. He looked down, there was not one square inch of his grey suit jacket that didn’t have a bit of blood or gore on it. He knew that for him to have any chance of not turning into one of these things, he needed a level three scrub, within twenty minutes. Charlie the guard, on the other hand, was literally covered knees to head, dripping wet with brains, blood and bone. He would turn within hours, maybe sooner. At least the Kelly thing was dead, he looked at the body hanging half into the room. The head was much more intact that he thought it should be, having only a golf ball sized hole to indicated it’s contents might be missing.

The body lurched forward, breaking more of the window. Mathew could see shapes moving outside, through the nearly opaque, crazed glass. He realized the dead Kelly thing was being yanked around by the other greenies outside. They probably wanted in through the hole, but needed to extricate the body first. Mathew bolted for the other door, not caring at all about the prison’s security protocols, it was well past time to go. His spirits, already low, sank to the floor when he saw the push button lock. Only Charlie the guard could let him out, and he had already said, that was not going to happen any time soon. He looked out the window toward the first guardhouse, only fifty or so yards away, though it might as well have been a thousand miles. Trying to get the attention of the guards he saw there, he jumped and waved his arms. They looked busy shooting weapons towards the chain-link fence on either side of the shack he was in, but maybe if he... Then he remembered looking at the window as he walked in, it was mirrored one way, they couldn’t see him even if they were looking.

Mathew slumped to the floor, completely dejected and soaked in piss. Charlie the guard, was sticking the barrel of his rifle through gaps between the dead Kelly thing & the broken window, and shooting. Blood would spray on the outside of the window each time he fired, Mathew wondered how many bullets he had. He watched as Charlie the guard moved around to get a different angle, and saw a bloody hand smash through, just above the dead Kelly thing. The hand grabbed the guard’s right arm, and pulled it back through the hole, the shotgun clattered on the floor. Charlie the guard screamed “Help me! Get… get the shotgun!! Hurry!” Mathew stared at him, unable to move, or unwilling, he was not sure. Then he slowly started crawling toward the gun, trying to avoid the larger pools of blood & brain chunks, as he went.

Charlie the guard screamed again, he was twisting around & grabbing at his shoulder, his eyes bugged out. “Please…” he begged, looking close to passing out. Mathew reached the shotgun, slowly picked it up, and pulled the front grip back & forth, the way he had seen Charlie do it. “…Please… just aim, Ughhhh!... Just aim through the hole, next to my arm…” Mathew was not moving to help, he was backing toward the other door, staring wide eyed at the beleaguered guard. “What the fuck!... get back…” Charlie’s admonition was abbreviated by the greenies outside, as they flung him back and forth like a rag doll. Finally he ceased his flailing, and slid to the floor. A smear of bright red followed his shoulder down the wall, marking the trail his arm would have taken, if it had still been attached. He mouthed a few words, but no real sounds came out. Blood pooled under him, as his skin slowly turned a pale grey color. Mathew turned away and looked at the door, trying to ignore the sounds of cracking glass behind him. He aimed the rifle at the lock and pulled the trigger. The weapon jumped violently back toward him, banging into his mouth, he tasted blood & the hearing test whine was back. He thought it might have broken his finger as well, but no time for that now, he headed out through the now unlocked door.

As soon as he was outside, orders to “Stop!... drop your weapon!” came from the first gate. He didn’t stop, but tossed the gun aside & raised his ID badge, pointing at it frantically as he ran toward the gate house. The door had closed behind him automatically, but didn’t lock, since it couldn’t anymore. Only a little further he thought, wishing he had actually used that gym membership. Maybe it would take them a while to get through the glass and… The door banged open against the building wall behind him, he didn’t turn to look. The pops from the guards shooting & bullets whizzing right past him, let him know how close they must be on his tail. The gate house door in front of him opened, two guards appeared, one aiming past him, one waving him in. He stumbled into the building, completely out of breath, and was immediately grabbed by a guard and pushed over to a corner. Wheezing, he looked back and watched the two guards pushing the door closed, and fighting at least two greenies who wanted it open. These guards had no idea what they were dealing with, Mathew knew they would not contain this. H e took a last look at the struggle& headed straight for the main exit door, not stopping even when a guard ordered him to do so, and not caring that his legs were cramping. He yanked back the two sliding deadbolts, and ran out toward the parking lot, finally clear of danger.

Mathew called his boss on the way to his rental car. He was devastated to learn the team had been delayed by an exposure to infected blood. The whole team had to be tested, observed, probed and generally scrutinized, to limit infection and cross-contamination. They would be at least four more hours, but state police were on the way, as back up. Mathew informed his boss of his exposure, and his need for a level three decontamination. He was further devastated to learn that, not only were there no facilities of that type, within a hundred miles of the prison, but that the latest testing had determined a level three scrub was only effective in one-in-five cases, when exposures were similar to what Mathew had experienced. He was to report back to the prison, and be quarantined there.

He folded his phone and stared through the dirty windshield, at nothing in particular. Mathew Klein was a coward, he was well aware of that fact, but he was also smart enough to know there was nowhere left to run. He would either turn into one of those things, or if by some miracle, the exposure was incomplete, he would not. There was no going back to the prison though, he could see four distinct smoke columns, rising from some of the structures within the fence. That place was fucked. The best course of action he could think of, was to drive down the road a bit, in case the prison staff couldn’t contain the greenies, and wait for the cavalry to arrive. They could at least give him a full scrub, for what it would be worth at that point, and test him for contamination. That way he would at least know, but what then? His thoughts were interrupted as the door of the main gatehouse came crashing open, and five greenies spilled out of the doorway, like The Three Stooges plus two. A few fell down the short staircase, most were dressed in inmate garb though at least one looked to be in scrubs. All of them had extremities and faces covered in blood. He thought he shouldn’t wait any longer to head down the road a little ways.

The parking lot was seventy five yards or so, from the motley crew of psycho monsters. He wished he had parked farther out, but being a VIP, he had parked in a handicapped space, up front. Digging the keys out of his pocket, he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. He stuck the key into the ignition, and quickly pulled it back out, startled by the pinging “no seatbelt” alarm, maybe a sign to wait. Watching the greenies fan out in an apparent search for something new to kill, it reminded him of some raccoons he had seen raiding a campsite once. The creatures were not heading toward him, but they would be, if they heard the engine start, and driving out of the lot, that would bring him within fifty feet of them. A few more came stumbling out of the guard house, apparently nothing and no one inside was even slowing them down anymore. What to do, what to do… Stay put & avoid detection, though eventually one of them would head his way, or haul fucking ass out of there. Then he saw help arrive, in the form of an Illinois state trooper.

Wait, one state trooper? Maybe these guys were super badass, he thought. But no, that didn’t seem to be the case. The single officer pulled right up to the main guard house, just as another greenie cam running out. The trooper got right out and yelled something at the deranged beast, and held up his “stop” hand. The thing leapt from the top of the stairs, landing on the roof of the patrol car & sliding across it. The trooper tried to duck back into the car, but was grabbed by the ghoul, as it fell off the roof. They toppled over each other, landing in a heap on the driveway, two other nasties rushed to join the scuffle, which only lasted a few seconds. Mathew thought he heard one gunshot, but it was muffled, so he wasn’t sure. Not sure that is, until a bunch more greenies arrived, filing out through the guardhouse door like clowns from a clown car. They must have heard the shot, and figured it came from something good to eat. He stopped counting at twenty, well he hadn’t really counted, but it looked like more than twenty. Most of new arivals jumped on the meal already underway, trooper tartare. Some, headed off in search of new sources of protein, a few attacked other greenies, though these attacks were short lived, ending after only a few chomps. One of them was scanning the area, head slowly turning & stopping occasionally to study one thing or another. Then it looked right at Mathew, an unwavering stare, he would have peed his pants some more, but he was empty. “Shit shit shit… gotta get out of here!” He was losing it. He jammed the key at the ignition, missing a few times, but finally getting the car started. Looking back up from the dashboard, he saw the creepy smart one raise it’s hand and point his way, then it’s mouth popped open & a strange expression came to it’s face. It reminded him of a tattling school child, attempting to recruit his fellow classmates in group chastisement of some wrongdoing. An instant later the sound hit him. It was high pitched and metallic, and might have convinced him the engine was throwing a bearing, if he had not been looking right at the source of the noise. The closest thing he had ever heard to it was, the brakes of a passenger train, squealing as it struggled to stop… but mixed with large pieces of glass falling on maybe a metal floor? It was moving forward now, still pointing & screaming, though the scream had given way to actual words “Right… there… car, car!”

Mathew gunned the engine, then realized the car was still in park. Yanking the shifter into drive, he tried again, this time the front tires chirped and the car jumped forward, over the curb stop. Being in the front row of parked cars, he figured forward was a quicker way to get out of the lot and away from the greenies (now converging on his location). He was right, just ahead, on the other side of a grass median, was an access road that followed the prison fence. He could take that road around the prison & peel off at any of the adjoining side roads, to get away clean. He could have done that, except his rental was stuck, high-sided on the curb stop, front drive wheels inches off the ground, spinning pointlessly. He felt the blood leave his face, and sweat spring from his forehead. They were almost on him, a few were running pretty well, the “leader” was walking briskly & still saying things. Mathew couldn’t hear though, over the redlining engine. He let his foot up then, no reason to blow the engine, the car was not going anywhere, unless they gave him a push. He thought about running on foot, but after looking around, he realized they had more or less surrounded him, as they moved in.

“Oh my god!” he said, realizing he had not conveyed this new greenie behavior to the higher ups. He might be dead soon, at least he could let them know. It made him feel brave, to contemplate such a selfless act. He dug the phone out of his pocket & pulled up the number, but his boss didn’t answer, and the message memory, was full. “Crap!” taking a deep breath, he called CDC headquarters. As he waited for the extension menu, the first greenie reached the car. It ran headlong into the passenger window, cracking it immediately, Mathew tried to not look at it. He punched in his sector’s extension, and listened to it ring, as more greenies surrounded the car. Some stood there drooling & breathing heavy, staring at him through the glass, a few started pounding on the windows. “Don’t look… don’t look” he said, eyes closed. Natalie picked up, she was a cute brunette receptionist who worked in the main lobby of his section. “Natalie, find me director…” he stopped talking when he heard one of them yelling. “Move outta my way, fuckers!” Mathew opened his eyes to see the “leader” grab another greenie, pick him up by the belt and collar, then swing him like a battering ram, at the side window. The short stocky green inmate crashed into the car, bringing hundreds of glass shards with him. His head was split open, but he seemed unharmed otherwise, and smiled up at Mathew, before lunging at him, bloody mouth agape. “He’s mine” the leader growled, snatching the smaller greenie out of the car and throwing him unceremoniously onto the asphalt. Mathew knew he would be dead soon, last chance to be a hero. “They… they talk, these talk…” a trembling whisper into the phone, was all he could manage. “Hey fat boy, you gonna come out of there? Or do I gotta come in?” The smart one said, leaning over to look at him through the trashed window, and smiling evilly.

He was tall and rangy, almost gaunt, with shining green eyes sunken deep into a thin craggy face. “You’re coming in?... I thought you were still in Illinois?” Natalie answered, thinking she had heard Mathew speak. “Natalie! There are smart ones here… they can talk, some of these greenies can talk!” This time he had yelled into the phone. “Who are you talking to, meat bag?” The lanky former prisoner growled, reaching in and grabbing at his feet. He scooted over as far as he could & latched onto the door handle, but it was no use, the creature had him. “Let go boy!” The evil, but happy expression on the thing’s face had changed to rage. Mathew dropped the phone in the struggle to hold onto the door handle, he watched it flip closed as it hit the floor. “Shit! Let go you crazy fucker!” Mathew screamed, but the creature continued to pull him by his feet. “Ha ha! There you go tubby… put up a fight, you don’t wanna go out like a pussy.” He kicked wildly, feeling his heel connect with its grinning face, but it didn’t even slow the thing down. Sliding all the way out, he dropped and hit the pavement hard, blurring his vision for a moment. He swung his fists up at the creature, but it caught his wrists, and yanked him to his feet. “Settle down tubs, I’m not hungry at the moment, and I see cops coming down the road… So for now, you’re my fat little bargaining chip.” The thing held Mathew up by the collar, and had his jaw squeezed in with his other hand, staring at him from only inches away. “Are you gonna behave, fat boy? Or do I gotta break a leg or something to keep you from running?... Answer me you piece of shit!” It yelled into his face, bloody spittle accompanying most of the consonants. “Yes…I mean, no I won’t try to run, please…” “Good, now shut up.” He spun Mathew around and had a thin green arm circled tightly around his neck in an instant. Mathew watched two marked cruisers run up the main drive and hook a hard left, down the access road circling the fence. One pulled up only twenty yards from him and his new friends. The other stopped short, near the turn, maybe another twenty yards further from them. From the closest car, two troopers jumped out, both aiming weapons at the group of greenies (and their hostage). The officer nearest them slowly advanced, having some type of rifle leveled at the leader, who was out in front of the others. But this meant the gun was also pretty much aimed right at Mathew, couldn’t they see he was normal? He tried to call out & say he was not one of them, and not to shoot, but only funny choked noises escaped his clenched teeth. He really only then realized who much trouble he was having, tying to breathe. “You all drop down… get on the ground, face down!” the trooper said the command almost nonchalantly, and a bit to quiet, Mathew realized the man didn’t expect a response. He must have been briefed on the monsters, and “knew” they couldn’t talk. He probably had orders to double check, by giving them some simple order, of course expecting them to ignore it. That would green light any lethal action the troopers thought was needed. “Listen bacon, that was a cute little rhyme, but we’re not getting down on the ground, or doing so faced down, but there’s some sand you can pound!” The greenie leader chuckled quietly at his own joke.

The forward officer looked back over his shoulder at his partner, who had a rifle laid across the car roof. They exchanged surprised looks, and turned back toward the small mob of greenies, not looking so sure of what to do anymore. “You don’t want to accidentally pop this suit I have here, do ya?” The leader gave Mathew a good shake, as though proving his hostage was real, and not a cardboard cut-out. Mathew’s eyes watered, as he slapped and patted at the green arm crushing his windpipe, trying to let the thing know it’s hostage would soon expire, if the vice-like grip on his neck didn't let up. The world in front of him began to swim, as consciousness slipped away. The last thing Mathew remembered, was a trooper yelling something at them, but that didn’t matter, since more of the things had come out of the gate house, and were sneaking up on the troopers from behind. After that, only swirling blackness.
Last edited by maldon007 on Sat Jan 01, 2011 4:30 am, edited 10 times in total.
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by TastingAshes » Thu Dec 16, 2010 3:43 am

Damn you sir...damn you :lol:

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Trident » Sun Dec 26, 2010 8:18 pm

Creepy talking monsters! Ah......Please post moar, pretty please.

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Vanniek71 » Sun Dec 26, 2010 10:20 pm

Heh these are good, and addicting for sure!

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by maldon007 » Fri Jan 21, 2011 5:47 pm

12.
Loud barking woke Samantha Wilkins from her nightmare, it was something about fire, and little green ghouls. Relieved to be rid of the dream, she squinted at the alarm clock, almost ten thirty. Holy crap, how had she slept that late? Glasses, where had she left them? Then relief swept over her, as she realized it was Saturday & she was not late for school. The sound of rabid barking returned, it was Roxanne, stupid dog. She looked out her upstairs window just in time to see their neighbor to the rear, shooting a bow and arrow into some kind of white box. With the ‘twang’ of the bow, came a new round of barking, as her dog jumped against the fence, and ran back and forth in excitement. “Shut up mutt!” the man yelled through the six foot, shadow-box fence. She opened her door, and yelled down the stairs “Dad!... Let Roxanne in! The neighbor is shooting bows and arrows & making her go crazy.” “You papa had to go in today, Sammy!” came the Spanish accented response, crap. Dad had gone to work, on a Saturday, and Claudia was down stairs, probably with nothing to do, just there to babysit her, as usual. “Claudia, could you let the dog in?” “Right away, Sammy!”

All at once the news from the night before flooded into her head, and that her mom… was stranded somewhere? Dad had said she just had to work a few extra days, but Samantha watched the news. She knew air travel was all but halted, and no word of when it would be back up and running. So, mom was at least a day or two away by car, if she left for home today. The glee of realizing it was Saturday fell away, like dead leaves in autumn. All of a sudden her stomach felt cold, and kind of empty. She thought maybe it was fear, but no, just something like loneliness. She knew mom would be home soon though, no need for drama, she told herself. Dad would say ‘save the drama for your momma!’ So she would save it, and give it to mom when she got home. Yes, mom would certainly get some drama for this.

She got dressed and went down stairs to see Claudia trying to fit the quarter ton of canned goods into their pantry. She thought stacking the cans seven or eight high might be unsafe, but didn’t say anything. Claudia her own way of doing things, mom had tried on many occasions to get Claudia to do this thing or that thing, a certain way, and she would do it… till mom walked off. Then she would go back to doing it her way.

“Claudia, can I help?” Samantha didn’t really want to help, and knew Claudia would refuse the help anyway, but it was always nice to offer. “Yes Sammy, your father said to ask you if you could hook up the new phone he bought… It’s over there.” She pointed at a large white box with Qualcomm & Globalstar logos, sitting on the counter. “Oh… sure, I can give it a try.” Samantha did not think of herself as tech savvy in general, but compared to her dad, she was a geek squad pro. She had helped her dad before with phones, usually he couldn’t access his messages or contact list… or his own number.

An hour later she had the strange looking phone up and running, and being charged on big funny looking charger. The manual was over a hundred pages long, but the main gist of it was, it’s not all that different than a cell, except you have to go outside to make calls… unless you have the magnet thing mounted outside.

As she fiddled with the various features of the phone, and read up on it’s capabilities, it occurred to her that she couldn’t think of a reason to have it. They had a home phone, though it rarely rang. She had a cell phone, and her dad had two… or maybe three, and mom had a brand new Droid. In reading the manual, she had noticed “remote areas” mentioned, as being t where the satellite features would kick in. Decatur was not exactly a metropolitan center like Chicago, but it wasn’t Schuyler County either. Was dad planning on going somewhere remote? She thought maybe he was planning to go pick up mom, road trip! “Shit!” she sputtered, when it occurred to her he might go alone, leave her at home… But with who? Claudia had her own family to go home to at night, maybe Uncle Bill… but he was such a looser. This was unacceptable.

If her dad was going, she should go to. She was thirteen, almost a grownup, even did a lot of things by herself. Samantha’s dad was not exactly a pushover, but she was almost sure he could be persuaded. After all, he would be going after mom because he thought she might be in some kind of danger… but if he left his only daughter at home, without a dad to ‘protect’ her, that was no better!

Samantha’s strategizing was interrupted by loud banging from the direction of the garage. A quick glance that way, revealed the side door out to the garage was wide. More banging, someone was outside the roll-up outside door, and wanted attention. This time the banging was followed by a muffled voice. “Hey Al, it’s Lester Hynemin, the home owner’s guy!… I can hear you in there, no use in pretending not to be home… ha ha.” The admonition was intended to sound good natured, but the obvious annoyance trickled through the closed metal door. Nobody, except her mom, called her dad ‘Al’ either. Samantha looked around, Claudia was nowhere to be seen. She must have gone out into the garage to retrieve some more supplies from the main pile. Samantha headed toward the garage, hoping Claudia would know better than to open the door to the ‘home owner’s guy’, she thought… but she wasn’t sure. Samantha had never met ‘the homeowner’s guy’ but it was probably the guy her dad describe as ‘that ass hat Hynemin’.

“Just a minute!” came the response from Claudia. “Claudia!... wait…” Samantha called out, but it was too late, her words were buried beneath the whirring sound of the door motor and the squeaking of the garage door. She entered the garage to see Lester Hynemin stepping inside, uninvited and waving. “Hey neighbors!”

As soon Lester spoke, Samantha regretted not speaking louder… or quicker. “Wow, you guys are loaded for bear, huh?” The large bald man stared at the huge pile of supplies, with his hands on his hips, mock astonishment on his face. “Is your daddy around, little girl?” She noted uncomfortably that he ignored Claudia, even though she had moved closer to him, obviously in a gesture of greeting. Claudia spoke up anyway. “Mr. Wilkins may be…” Samantha cut her off in mid sentence, assuming she was going to say ‘…may be working very late’. “He may be home at any time, we’re getting ready for a party.” “A party huh?... With the mess up in Dixon, I’m surprised it’s still on… I guess my invite got lost in the mail, ha ha…” He laughed the uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, we’re having a meeting tomorrow night, so I hope your mom & dad can attend, its important, uh six o’clock… I hope that’s not when your party is.” He stood there, grinning. “Ok, mister Hynemin, I will let him know about the meeting.” Not moving to leave, he asked “So, when is the party?” Uncomfortable. Claudia stepped forward then “Thank you señor, we must return to work.” She then ushered the big man out. He followed, though with some hesitation. “Alright then, make sure you let your parents know about…” Samantha cut in “the meeting! Yes, I will, as soon as he gets back… bye bye!”

When the door was closed, Claudia turned to her. “Oh my, I’m so sorry Sammy… That man is loco, I thought he was a friend of Señor Alden…” “It’s ok Claudia, not your fault. Do you know what he was talking about? The ‘mess’ in Dixon, is that Dixon Illinois? I’ll check the news…” Before she could, her cell started blasting the opening motif of Beethoven’s Fifth, dad.

“Hey dad, where are you?” “On my way home, Sam… How is it going there?” He sounded nervous, even more nervous than the usual, lately. “Well… this guy came by, from the homeowners…” He didn’t let her finish. “But everything is ok? You and Claudia are inside, right? Make sure the house is locked up, ok? I’ll be home in a few minutes.” “Dad, what’s going on?” “I gotta go Sam, but I’m right around the corner, see you in a minute.” And he was gone.

Samantha sat on the couch, and turned on the TV, the news channels were all covering the same thing, the prison up in Dixon. How it had been taken over by the prisoners, and how there were hostages, and how Matt Drudge was reporting that most or all of the prisoners were infected with the ‘green disease’ (as some of the independent news agencies were calling it).

Her dad came in a few minutes later, telling Claudia she could go home. He stood behind the couch, watching the reports with her. “So, I guess you saw what’s going on.” “My god dad… that’s just up the road… past Bloomington. Seems like I’m always the last to know when the world is ending.” Samantha’s dad reached down, and hugged her. “That’s over a hundred miles away, Sam. The world is certainly not ending… they will get this straightened out, don’t worry” “I don’t know dad, I’m not sure what your seeing that makes you think ‘they’ have any idea what ‘they’ are doing. I think ‘they’ just as scarred as we are.” Her dad started to say something, but just patted here on the head.

“So dad, what’s the deal with these satellite radio phone things… why do we need these, are we going on a trip?”
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by maldon007 » Sat Jan 22, 2011 1:24 am

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Mr. E. Monkey » Sat Jan 22, 2011 1:55 pm

:lol: You win a million internets for that. :mrgreen:
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by kyleg » Sun Jan 23, 2011 1:32 am

Crap! I've been recalled. :cry: If I get orders for 29 I am going to Canada.

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Bearcat » Sun Feb 13, 2011 1:12 pm

I like this. You piqued my intrest when you asked about the hand cranks on triggers in the firearm section. Definitely gonna follow this one.
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by FrANkNstEin » Sun Feb 13, 2011 2:42 pm

i need moar!

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by maldon007 » Sun Feb 13, 2011 6:37 pm

13.
Maresa Looked over at Tom, he had just hung up with the governor’s office, but wasn’t saying anything. “Well?” She asked, after a minute or two of silence. “Well what?” was the pissy response. Tom Mclaughlin was not a political figure, he was not part of the Governor’s hierarchy at all. But in this situation, he was more or less in charge of the group, or at least what was left of it. Maresa knew she could have busted his balls for the bad attitude, and forced him to divulge any new info he might have gleaned from the call, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t gotten any. From listening to his side, it sounded like he was still getting the runaround from the main office. Oh well, let him be pissed

The sun shone down through patchy white clouds, the temperature was cool for late summer, and traffic was light. It was a beautiful morning for a road trip, except for the whole world falling apart thing... and the mutiny. Maresa looked back at the two rearmost bench seats in the extended van, they should have contained three state officials & the governor’s assistant.

Things started going downhill right after breakfast. The entire party had met downstairs in the hotel’s ‘Southern Elements’ restaurant. While they ate, a basic travel plan was hashed out & a departure time was established. All through the meal, Sec. Maddox was on her phone, making what seemed to be very important calls. A few times Maresa had overheard talk of ‘flights available’ and words like ‘VIP’ and ‘special circumstances’ being thrown around. It was fairly obvious to her, that Virginia Maddox (‘Gina’ to her friends, but Maresa called her Secretary Maddox) was trying to beg borrow or steal the group a flight out of Atlanta, or some other nearby airport. It was also painfully obvious that the woman, who was the rightly appointed transportation secretary of a US state, was using the influence of her office for pure personal gain. Maresa wanted to slap the phone out of her hand.

By the time they paid the bill, Sec. Maddox seemed sure she could get a flight from somewhere, though with no actual confirmation. Glen Dawson, the Secretary of State, bought into the idea right away, suggesting they stay one more day, in hopes of a flight. Kelly started jotting down anything Virginia said, if it had to do with airlines, flights, departure times. They thought somehow a few state officials were going to get around an air travel ban that had turned into full lock down, with only military & federal executive flights being allowed. It was not just the aversion to being stuffed into a van for hours that spurred the acceptance of this fantasy. Hell, nobody really liked the direction their journey would take, but the four mutineers were dead set against heading north by road, at all…

Maresa’s thoughts sprang back to the present, as the van swerved around something. “What was that?” she asked to nobody in particular. “A buzzard, trying to land on some road kill… I missed him.” Tom answered. Maresa hadn’t been watching the road, but now noticed a distinct lack of traffic, at least in the north bound lanes they were in. Not just ‘light’ anymore, but nonexistent. Across the wide grass median though, cars were stopped cold across all three lanes. “Is that traffic what I think it is?” Maresa asked, rhetorically. None of them answered, all of them knew. A mad exodus out of Nashville heading south was going on in earnest. Nashville was only ninety miles from the hell that was Atwood. Everyone wanted out, of course there was no traffic headed in.

The plan was to swing wide around Nashville (Nashville, normally being right on the way home), hitting Chattanooga, Knoxville, Lexington, then Cincinnati, before turning west at Indianapolis, en route to Decatur. This detour kept them far away from Nashville & the nearby ‘green zone’… Except the first leg, northwest out of Atlanta, toward Chattanooga, basically right towards Nashville. They would turn north a good half a state away from ‘Nastyville’ (as Tom was calling it now), but it just seemed like going the wrong way, into danger, not away. The alternative was finding poorly marked roads through the ‘Nantahala National Forest’ and getting lost, or going all the way around the NNF to the east, adding four hundred miles to the trip.

The GPS in the van worked fine, but the route they were taking didn’t seem to make much sense to the tiny British woman who lived in the little box, so she was of little help. Garry Ross, the Governor’s deputy chief of staff, sat in the front passenger seat, map unfolded on his lap. He was ably performing the duties of navigator, though so far, this had only consisted of- ‘go north on 75’. Two hours out of Atlanta, and they were only about eighty miles closer to home.

“What’s that, up ahead?” Jordan Parks, sitting in the seat in front of Maresa, saw the flashing lights first. “I see it, maybe an accident… I think I see a truck jackknifed.” Tom said. Maresa doubted it was an accident. “We are the only car for miles Tom, what are the odds some truck randomly wrecked, all by it’s self?... Right at an exit?” The truck and flashing lights were framed by the first overpass they had seen for miles. Garry located it on the map “Looks like the first exit for a town called… Calhoun.” As they got closer, it became apparent the activity was not an accident, but what looked to be a road block. Interstate 75 was closed.

The blockade consisted of one sheriff’s patrol car, and a full sized tractor/trailer angled across all three lanes & blocking the exit. People could be seen through the space under the trailer, standing behind the semi, just legs though. Tom slowed the van. “Let me do the talking, ok guys?” He veered slowly onto the left median, and began a u-turn, but stopped in the middle of the road about fifty feet from the parked cruiser. A big man in uniform (almost Tom’s size) walked out from behind the trailer, two more followed. A couple of good-ol’-boys by the looks of them, and though not in uniform, both were armed. One had a scoped hunting rifle, the other had a bulge under his flannel shirt that Maresa didn’t think was his manhood. The officer’s two companions stopped near the front of the truck and looked on as the officer continued on towards the van.

As the deputy approached, he looked at Tom and tipped his cowboy hat. Maresa saw he was just a kid, eighteen… maybe twenty, tops. “Where ya’ll headed to?” he had his hand lightly resting on the holstered pistol. “75, all the way to Cincinnati sir, what’s going on?” “Well… we got this road closed up to exit 320. Um… you could prolly head east, then north on 411… Only, I think Dalton has their section of 75 closed too… So you may just wanna stay on 411 to the Tennessee line…” The young man paused, looking off into space, searching for some tucked away bit of information. “Oh yeah, Cleveland… That’s Cleveland Tennessee, by the way, may have 411 closed through there… Lemmy check for ya. You’re the first vehicle in hours to come this way.” The deputy walked back to the cruiser & grabbed a radio handset from inside. Even from her second row seat, Maresa could hear the exchange. The woman (apparently named Sara) on the other end of the radio waves said, more or less, ‘They can’t get there from here’.

“I’m real sorry folks, looks like 411 is closed up ahead too… The only thing I can think of is head back south, get off at Cartersville & head west to 59, and take that up to Chattanooga. Either that, or head northeast from there to Knoxville, through the Chattahoochee forest.” Tom sighed, then asked the question we were all thinking. “So why do ya’ll have the road shut down?” Maresa noticed Tom’s adoption of a slight southern accent, or maybe just hearing the deputy talk, brought out Tom’s repressed true accent. “It’s all the green craziness goin’ on, that’s all. The Mayer decided we ought to shut down traffic except for locals… for a while.” Garry Ross spoke up “We noticed the traffic heading south… why is that side open?” “The feds wouldn’t let us close the southbound side, so we got all the exits locked up… it’s kind of an express . In fact, I heard they might just swing some of that traffic over to this side soon, fill up both sides with folks leaving the Nashville area.”

“Is there any way you could make an exception… for a couple of state officials? I’m transporting the Secretary of Military Affairs, and the governors Chief Of Staff.” Tom, played the VIP card. “Oh yeah? Why you taking them to Illinois?” Maresa quickly realized that out of state officials, might not get the same wink and nod from police, as their own Georgia officials would. “Well…” Tom began, before Maresa cut him off. “Tom, hold on, I don’t think the Governor wants our assignment made public… I’m sorry officer, all we can say is, it’s important for us to meet up… Well, to get to the State House, in Illinois.” Maresa tried to imply the officials on board were Georgia State officials, without exactly saying it. The young officer nodded slowly. “Wow, you guys work with governor Colburn, huh? I’ll have to check in and make sure, but it should be ok… Lemmy see some ID for your people, and I will see what I can do.” Maresa winced, didn’t see that coming. She had assumed the very young officer would not check ID’s, that he would be star struck and just send them on through. The problem was, the ID’s clearly said ‘of Illinois’ after the titles… Hopefully the goober couldn't read good.

Tom turned around in his seat, to face the passengers. “Mr. Ross, Mr. Parks, do you mind if the officer looks at your ID?” “No problem officer.” D.C. Ross gritted his teeth through a fake smile and handed his ID forward, as did D.M.A Parks. Officer Bartlow (or at least that’s what the small patch above his badge said), studied the plastic cards for a second, then slowly smiled. “Yall aint from round here, are ya?” “No sir.” Tom answered. “…Like I said, we are headed back to Illinois.” Tom tried to cover the deception with truth, but it was too late. “Listen folks, we don’t take too kindly to out of state big wigs, tryin to push their weight around… This road is closed, to everyone, so turn around & head back the way ya came. I should make you join the traffic right there…” He pointed across the median, at the snarl of cars. “…but I’ll give you a free one this time, for the sake of resy... resipr... recipri..." The young man gave up on the pronunciation. "...For the sake of state relations. Now head back in the emergency lane, stay under fifty, and get off at the first exit… Don’t let me see you round here again.” With that, he turned and walked back to his car.

Tom glared at Maresa in the rear view mirror. “I’m sorry… I was just trying to get us through there… You don’t think he would have let us go on through, if he’d known we were from Illinois right off the bat, do you?” Nobody answered, she looked back as the van lumbered south, one of the deputy's buddies was literally patting him on the back. They were receding from view to fast to make out faces, but Maresa pictured them having a ‘good ol’ belly laugh, at them dumbass northerners’.

They headed south for nearly half an hour before reaching the first exit. Cassville White Rd. was a shortcut east, to 411. Passing through a few small towns along the way, they noticed a distinct lack of people, and happily, a lack of roadblocks as well. Talk inside the van was terse, map checking, inquiries as to the time and comments on the lack of traffic were the only words between them. Quiet calls to home, when cell service was available, made up the few long conversations. It was during one of these, that Maresa learned of the nosey neighbor, the upcoming homeowner’s meeting and the little detail of Dixon being overrun & a total loss, right up the road from home.

They should have had the radio on, Tom had switched it on for a bit, then off, complaining about the “horrible country music”. After Maresa’s call, she convinced Tom to get a news channel on. Worst fears confirmed, the green disease was spreading. Fox news was openly calling it an epidemic. Glenn Beck was openly welcoming the end of times. Three countries in Africa were in full revolt… countries that had not been in revolt before the green plague spreading, that is. Eastern Europe was speckled with outbreaks, Hungary (her birth country) had not yet been brought up. “Tom, could you scan around… see if there is any more details on the outbreaks in Eastern Europe?” Maresa tried to sound mildly interested, not extremely nervous, as she was. This danger was already at her family’s doorstep in Illinois, and then to hear the same danger may be near her father & sick mother, in Hungary? “I have been… No mention of Hungary so far.” Tom tapped on the ear piece in his left ear, and opened his windbreaker, revealing a tiny radio clipped inside. “How long have you known about Dixon?” Maresa asked, accusingly. “Not long… nothing we can do from here anyway, except worry…” D.C. Ross cut in, “Tom, please don’t keep us in the dark… even if you think it’s for our own good. Anything else you’ve been holding out on?” Tom looked around grimly, “Sure you want to know?”
Last edited by maldon007 on Mon Feb 14, 2011 10:27 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Bearcat » Sun Feb 13, 2011 7:57 pm

Nice clifhangar, now update some moar.
Meat N' Taters wrote:Death rays, advanced technology or not, no creature wants to be stabbed in their hoo-hoo.
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by FrANkNstEin » Mon Feb 14, 2011 2:03 pm

:D

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Bearcat » Thu Feb 24, 2011 6:03 pm

Moar damn it!
Meat N' Taters wrote:Death rays, advanced technology or not, no creature wants to be stabbed in their hoo-hoo.
Jvandenhaus wrote:Zombie squad: If you aren't one of us, you wish you were.

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by GotMak » Sun Feb 27, 2011 8:56 pm

Just got caught up - nice cliffhanger!
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by maldon007 » Thu Mar 03, 2011 11:55 am

14.

“I already knew all that Leo, when are you going to bring some new information… something useful?” General Leland Drucker looked over his desk at his chief researcher, Leonard Fredrickson. “It’s just not like anything I’ve seen before. I don’t think anyone has seen anything like this, really. We think it’s… well, we don’t all agree on it yet, but it seems like it might be something like a…” The vague suppositions being reported to Leland Drucker, seemed to morph into a droning murmuration. The same old unproven, week old theories, a few new ones thrown in and a couple of old ones taken off the table, now shown to be wrong. Fredrickson was a full bird Colonel, but Leland had run out of patience.

“Are you people down there engaged in this?!!” Leland bellowed, snapping the colonel out of his ramblings. “…Sir, yes sir… we are trying…” The General cut him off, “Yes you are trying, trying my God damn patience! So far all your reports, observations and conclusions in this matter, have been about as useful as tits on a bull! You need to get your shit squared away double time, and at least figure out whether this damn thing is animal, vegetable or fucking mineral! Your people are supposed to be the cream of the crop in contagions…” Drucker paused, afraid he might actually hurt the colonel’s feelings if he went on. He closed his eyes to fume silently for a moment, and prepare for whatever pitiful excuse Frederickson was about to stammer out.

The stunned researcher stood mouth agape, eyes wide as saucers, staring at the general. The Leland Drucker sighed and asked, defeatedly. “Nothing to say, colonel? I was hoping to hear something like… ‘Sir, my next report will describe the physiology of this beastie, and detail methods of erasing it’s existence from the face of the earth’ or something to that effect.” Drucker thought the colonel might start crying, or possibly piss his pants, but instead he seemed to pull himself together. “Sir, we just received a new component for the Titan, it should let us… Sir, give me twenty four hours, we should… we will have something. If I can’t deliver, I will step down as chief.” “Nice try kid, get me some results, or I will have you up topside working on a response team. Now get out of here and find me something!” Fredrickson saluted & backed quickly out of the office.

The general sat back in his chair, and threw a few antacid tabs into his mouth. He looked at the four-way split screen monitor, which toggled between twenty or so cameras throughout the facility. These were not security cameras per se, there was a security office with a feed from over a hundred of those. The general could have tapped into that feed, but didn’t like micro management. Drucker requested the high-res cameras be installed to cover areas of his personal interest, and though some on base knew about them, they were concealed better than the standard “little black dome” of the security cameras.

The camera in the EMMR (electron microscope monitoring room) was a recent addition. The room was empty and the massive viewing station/control console of the ‘T 80-3’ (Titan 80-300 Atomic Electron Microscope) was sitting, unused. Through a window into the next room, Drucker could see a flurry of activity, at least what would be considered a “flurry of activity” for scientists. The commotion (two techs working, another watching with arms crossed) was centered around the specimen module for the T 80-3, which was separated from the viewing station to fully isolate the subject.

At least they were doing something, the General pondered. The bunch working in the jury rigged forensics lab had been plenty busy too, chopping up greenies and testing theories since they received the first sample. They had come up with some of the very same insights as the bio guys, those being none. “Whatever causes the greening, makes the bodies damn hard to cut, and causes extreme resistance to almost all forms of degradation… But otherwise, they seem like normal bodies.” That’s great, pretty much word for word as reported from the field… only it took eight autopsies, and ruined one of the level 4 iso chambers, to get confirmation on what they already knew.

One bright ray of hope was the single “sentient greenie” they held. It required most of a full wing of the facility to isolate the subject, but the studies had provided a wealth of new information. Barry Schmeck was quite coherent for being an escaped loon, with a condition that normally reduces a subject’s mental capacity to that of a one year old. He hadn’t been attacked or even in close proximity to other greenies, until after he had fully turned. He didn’t feel that different than before, except for the numbness to all touch sensations (not complete numbness, but estimated at a ninety percent level, or over), heaviness and tightness. The numbness seemed real enough, through tests, but like the “tightness” or lack of dexterity, it could be extremely subjective. The weight though, was not imagined. For all greenies, including Barry, the body weight seemed to be about fifteen percent above what it should be, for a given body size/build. Measured chunks of flesh, from greenies & non-effected corpse, also showed the weight discrepancy. Whatever coated… or protected the cells of these things, added substantial weight. Which brought Drucker back full circle, to his biotech guys. The thing is heavy, it’s green, it obviously multiplies very fast, why can’t they find it & describe it with some kind of certainty!

With that, he flipped over to the other isolation room. It was in the same wing as Barry’s room, but was not under study at the time. Nothing much left to learn from these guys. Three of them in there, snarling, snapping at each other, rushing towards any new stimulus… soulless monsters. Drucker could see it in their large, dark eyes, no souls left. They were like robots, with simple programs to attack whatever moves or makes a sound, evil fucking robots. They even attack each other, but seem to realize that is “wrong” as soon as they bite down. They obviously don’t remember this for any period of time though, since soon enough, they are trying it again. Drucker had the urge to order them gassed, if for no other (stated) reason, than to try a different poison. So far, every gaseous form poision they had tried, was useless… At least until the concentration was so high, it replaced much of the oxygen in the air, and basically suffocated them. They had to breath air anyway, maybe he should have one of them drowned… for science.
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Bearcat » Thu Mar 03, 2011 5:22 pm

Thanks for the moar.
Meat N' Taters wrote:Death rays, advanced technology or not, no creature wants to be stabbed in their hoo-hoo.
Jvandenhaus wrote:Zombie squad: If you aren't one of us, you wish you were.

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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by maldon007 » Sat Mar 05, 2011 12:06 pm

15.
Mathew Klein’s eyes fluttered open to see a dimly lit and dingy ceiling. Trying to look around and see where he was, pain shot through his neck… Then he remembered the reason for his unconsciousness, the choking. The Charlie Manson looking greenie, and the arm around the neck. Where the hell was that prick bastard. Mathew attempted to sit up, but realized he was tied to some kind of bed… or table. Despite the pain, he raised his head as far as he could. Looking around the large room, he saw a few other people. The majority looked to be prison guards. Some were in bad shape, some looked to be greenies in guard uniforms, all were tied up in some way or other, and for the most part, gagged. At the far end, a long wide hallway led out of the room. He dropped his head back to the table, exhausted from the effort. His head hit with a metallic ring, making him realize it was some sort of exam table he was strapped to. He tried to move each limb, what little movement he could manage, with the bindings, was hampered by stiff joints. He felt like he had been asleep for days.

A shuffle behind him brought the urgency needed to overcome his stiff neck. Mathew contorted his neck to see back over his shoulder. A figure had appeared in the hallway, walking toward the room Mathew was sequestered in. It was hard to make out the face, but It was a short stocky man, carrying a large rectangular object of some sort. A refrigerator door maybe? He stopped before reaching the room Mathew was in, right at a window. For some reason the greenie began hammering the large piece to the window frame. It was the strangest banging Mathew had ever heard. It resonated with a metallic cascade of dissonant harmonics, as though the hammer had glass bells hanging from it. As he pondered this, another figure came down the hall, stopping a moment at the hammering greenie. He could tell right away by the size & build, it was the Charles Manson greenie.

He played dead, relaxing his head to flop over on the table, as footsteps approached. “Hey tubs, I know your awake. Did you think Paul there couldn’t see you looking at him? This green shit doesn’t hurt your eye sight, dumbass.” Mathew heard the voice was very close, he expected to be attacked… though ‘Charlie’ sounded almost amused. Two quick light slaps to his face, followed. He opened his eyes, to see the drawn smiling face of the leader greenie looked down at him. His face was upside down, only inches away, as he bent over Mathew. The thing’s breath was surprisingly not nearly as disgusting as he assumed it would be. “How you feelin, suit?” Mathew shuddered with fear, but stammered out an answer. “Sore, I’m pretty sore all over…” “Hey, don’t worry, that’s only a temporary side effect, we think.” The glistening greenish face moved away, as the thing stood up. It looked almost ready to burst out laughing. Mathew didn’t see the humor. “Ok, I’ll bite… side effect of what?” A frightening thought hit him before the creature spoke, but he instantly pushed it aside. “You can’t feel it? I know your strapped down, but move your fingers… see what I mean?” Mathew wiggled his fingers, as though typing random keys. “It’s like a coating of hairspray on your skin, huh? But it doesn’t crack off… In fact it never comes off!” Then he did start laughing. The sound was like a tray of glassware spilling off and crashing to the floor… a floor made of tin roofing. Then Mathew realized, he had been hearing this tone since he woke up… in everything. All sounds were colored by the metali-glass crinkling, everything he heard. But it wasn’t the sounds at all, it was him. He shivered all the way to his core. “Ahhh! I can see the reality dawning on you! I’m glad I got to be here for that.” The monster chuckled.

“Am I… Did you infect me?” He tried to stay calm, but he noticed his heart was racing. “Infect you? If you mean, did I get some blood from five different inmates & inject it directly into your ass?... Than yes, I infected you.” He grinned a wide horrible grin. “But listen, you feel fine, right? No urge to eat brains or anything, right? Mind still clear? It’s not so bad really, the cool part is the toughness… you won’t get choked out anywhere near as easy now!” More laughing. “There’s even a boost in strength, pull on your straps as hard as you can.”

Mathew tugged at his bonds, they did seem to give a little, but didn’t break. “You’re not fuckin’ superman, you actually have to try, like really try. Pick one strap, put everything you have into it, and break the damn thing, ya’ pussy.” Pulling up his right forearm, Mathew felt the metal of the table give below his elbow, bending down. Finally something in the wrist strap started to tear, an instant later it separated fully from the table with a snap, his arm was free. He looked at the wide leather strap, surrounding a soft material lining, still buckled around his wrist. It was a standard hospital restraint, with a jagged hole where the attachment ring used to be. Then he noticed his skin, it was green.

“You know, we kept you for a reason tubs, you ready to get to work?” Mathew was trying to process all the information, while also trying to not have a full on nervous breakdown. “You listening fatty?” The Manson greenie gave him another slap. He pulled himself together as best he could. “My name is Mathew, not fatty, please. So… you’re not going to kill me? Or eat me, or anything?” “It’s funny you ask, a couple of the guys did seem to be interested in eating you… But it had nothing to do with the green stuff, just the way they are.” With some great effort, Mathew ripped off the rest of his bonds. He felt the tightness in his joints, the heaviness of his body. His clothes seemed to float above his body, as if suspended by strings. He could feel the material a little when it moved across his skin, but not it’s ‘presence’ so to speak. The air was missing too, the feel of it, as though he was in a vacuum. He could breathe, but he couldn’t feel the air moving on his skin. He felt insulated from everything, like he was on the moon.

“They call me Wize… But it’s Weisz, Russell Weisz. You, I will call Matt, cause Mathew sounds gay… and because if you screw up, I will step all over your ass like a floor mat. So let’s go Matt, we need you to negotiate for us, since you know these guys” “You want me to negotiate for… for what? With who?” “National Guard Matty, they kinda got the prison surrounded… And they’re sorta’ threatening to roll in here pretty soon and kill everyone, if we don’t give up. So you’re up to bat buddy!”
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Re: Green Eyed Monster

Post by Bearcat » Wed Mar 30, 2011 7:57 am

So am I ever gonna get to read about the crank mechanism you can install on triggers in this story?
Meat N' Taters wrote:Death rays, advanced technology or not, no creature wants to be stabbed in their hoo-hoo.
Jvandenhaus wrote:Zombie squad: If you aren't one of us, you wish you were.

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