Life after Death: A Story of Survival 12/20/2011 UPDATE

[Shoe Daddy]

Ok guys and gals, I decided to write my very own story and would be very interested in seeing what everyone thought. If you like it, more will follow, if not, none follows. Rough draft and everything, so we'll call this chapters 1 & 2. This story HAS BEEN COPYRIGHTED.

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The bolt of my Browning Buckmark pistol locked back as the last cartridge was extracted from the chamber. A long, silver CCI stinger casing flew through the air and landed with a quite *tink* as it bounced on the concrete sidewalk and rolled into the grass. The shambling undead ahead of me seemed unaffected by the impact of the hollow point .22LR to the lower neck.

“…..Damn” I whisper to no one in particular since I happen to be the only one left alive on the 140 acres of farmland that was left to me by my late grandfather. I guess it would have went to my Mom and Uncle, but they are no longer able to accept anything or feel anything or understand anything. It is a very difficult moment to have to kill your Mother, Uncle, and neighbors before they try to rip your fucking throat out and devour you for lunch. Sorry, this fat kid can run when he has to.

Reaching for the belt pouch attached to my right hip, I slide another magazine free and thumb the release for the Browning and watch as the single stack mag falls free and lands in the grass. I know I should pick it up, but there are other pressing matters at hand, like my neighbor slowly walking towards me from behind the garage and tripping over the nub that used to be his right foot. Sliding the fresh mag home, I hit the release and chambered the first round and lined up the front sight on my former neighbors nose. Slowly and deliberately I squeeze the trigger and watch in horror and fascination as the tiny .22 enters his head just above the bridge of the nose and sprays blood from the back of his head.

I lower the pistol and immediately vomit in the grass. Shit, you would think I would be used to the sight and stench by now after almost 3 weeks, but I guess not. I slowly lean back up and look down only to see my only spare magazine for this pistol covered in fucking puke…..
After the unpleasant task of fishing the mag out of the puke puddle and washing it off, I head inside after making a quick run of the perimeter of the house to see how many more of the damn things have shown up, none…..yet, a small blessing and nice break from the almost constant killing.

Once inside, I dead bolt the door and open the blinds to let some light in since the power has been out for almost a week. I found the cause of the outage actually; seems when you try to run after being bitten and turn while in your car, you lose control of it and slam into power poles. So much for calling Ameren to come out and fix it. I’m sure they would be happy to if anyone was left alive to do it.

Anyway, you are probably wondering what has happened since I’m reduced to walking around the 2.5 acre lot my humble home sits on 10 times a day to check for zombies. Yup, that would be a good place to start, with those bastards. Apparently, several months ago when a strain of Bovine Spongiform Encephalitis or Mad Cow Disease was found, a new experimental vaccine was tried with great success, or so everyone though. The infected cattle immediately recovered and the entire world thought the threat of tainted meat from BSE was over, until the poor bastards ate the vaccinated meat. While the vaccine helped the bovine body rebuild the damaged tissue of the brain, it suppressed higher brain functions in other animals – humans mainly. And since BSE is passed through ingestion of infected meat or other bodily fluids, it wasn’t hard to figure out how it happened. Just for the record, there were no zombie cows, just zombie humans. That would have sucked…a 2000lb zombie bull running after you; for that matter, zombie calves…yeah fuck that. Back to the outbreak, just a few short weeks prior to the outbreak, the USDA mandated that everyone who owned beef or dairy cattle, vaccinate their herd to destroy the risk the infection. Well it worked…on the damn cows. Too bad there are 500 million beef and dairy animals out there now that are completely unusable, unless you WANT to become one of those blood-thirsty, decaying corpses out there.

The onset of the virus came rather quickly, within 3 days of eating the meat you were sick with food poisoning, within 5, you went into a coma, within 7, well…you can figure out what happened. The major metropolitan centers were overrun with a day, entire cities were gone within a few weeks. Complete chaos and breakdown of civilization as we know it.

And you might find yourself asking, “How is he still alive after eating beef?” well that answer is very simple. Our small hobby farm consists of 100 acres of tillable land for crops, 40 acres of timber and pasture for our cattle. My grandfather was never one to keep with current industry and therefore did not take the time or effort to vaccinate our cattle, much to my annoyance. It was this annoyance that saved my life. With the cattle being unvaccinated, completely healthy, and safe to eat; I have a reliable source of food that is just a rifle shot away.
The only reason that I am able to do what I have been doing is my disaster preparedness frame of mind, courtesy to none other than Zombie Squad. While I always thought zombies were cool, I knew that it would never happen. The preparedness part is what I was interested in. So I started stockpiling ammo, food, water, blah, blah, blah. I did have an understanding with several of my buddies that were something to happen they were to come straight here with what they could carry in terms of food, ammo, and guns. So far, no one has showed up yet. I hope they are still alive and are trying to get here.

I remove the Browning Buckmark from my belt holster and lay it down next to the few meager guns that I do happen to have: A Remington 870 Express Magnum 12 gauge with about 80 rounds, a handful of .22 rifles ranging from excellent target weapons to a cheap piece of shit that couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn from inside, a .22 H&R 939 revolver that I thankfully got much needed parts for before the world went to hell in a handbasket and about 4000 rounds of .22LR from Wal-Mart, a Stevens 200 bolt action .308 rifle and a whole whopping 30 rounds for it. And 2 16 gauge shotguns complete with 125 rounds, one being a Ithaca M37 and the other a LeFever Nitro Arms Double Barrel. A another Ithaca 37 in 20 gauge with 50 rounds. And a 1891/30 Mosin with 140 rounds. I think I can safely say that I should be prepared for damn near anything that comes my way, but I’ll need to make an ammo/gun run in the near future. This stuff won’t last forever and the Stevens 200 is the only rifle with a scope on it…

The Sparta wal-mart isn’t but 20 minutes away and I do have a full tank of gas in both my truck and our farm truck, a big ole Chevy 1500. Maybe if I stick to the back roads I can make it. Maybe, just maybe. I grab my BOB, a box of .22, my Browning, and the Mosin and head for my Nissan Frontier parked under a camo tarp next to the garage.


Damn word documents...

[Dr Jekell]

MOAR!

[Kathy in FL]

Hey, I like it. The thing about the Mad Cow Disease was nifty. I can't imagine trying to survive on my lonesome .... I'd get tired of my company real quick. I'd get tired period and that could lead to being zombie feed.

Keep it up ... its no fun reading only my own stuff all the time.

[Raydarkhorse]

Damn I'm glad I'm laid off and can't afford beef right now.

[Shoe Daddy]

I'll work on getting moar up tonight. Don't quite know what direction I'm going with it yet so it might be choppy and strung out to that point.

[SimonZayne]

Love the story, keep up the good work.

Yet another reason to eat grass fed, organic.
No BSE for me

[Shoe Daddy]

Chapter 3

You know what I miss the most so far? Coffee. I really miss that morning cup of black coffee, just to get the day going, I thought as I barreled along at the breakneck speed of 25mph. Not due to the weather or other objects in my way, but to just observe what has happened since my 3 week lock down inside my house. I keep expecting to meet cars and the occasional tractor, but there is NOTHING! Not a damn thing on the road or in the houses that I pass. No lights, no movement. It’s like I have been sucked through a portal and plopped into a world that I know, just minus people.

During the short drive from my home to the state highway, I decided to take the main route to see what has happened since I was last in town. I drive past the vehicle that wiped out the power pole and watch its undead occupant struggle to free itself from the mangled mass of metal. Even though the driver side door is hanging wide open, the zombie cannot move due to the steering wheel that is partially shoved through its chest. “Fuck him, let him stay like that until winter” I say out loud. The sound of my own voice startles me, it was then that I realize that I haven’t spoken for almost a month now, which shocks me even more since I was always the guy who wouldn’t shut up.

Upon reaching Coulterville, a small town of 1500 people 6 miles to the south of my house, I notice the overall lack of zombies. Yeah there are several stumbling around the road, but I would have expected more to be around. Instead of taking the right to get on highway 13, I make a left and drive through town, it’s a mess… Several of the houses on the main drag are burnt completely to the ground, the Dairy Queen is gutted out, and the car wash is in very large pieces. However I do notice something interesting, the gas pump lights are still on at the Casey’s across the road from DQ. Too bad I don’t have anything to put the damn gas in. Against my better judgment and hope to find someone else alive in this damn town, I decide to try and find my friends and family, or what’s left of them. I don’t know if I can take having to kill another friend or family member in this lifetime. After turning to get back onto highway 153 at the junction, it is just a quick 5 block drive to one of my grandpa’s friends house, no lights on and despite calling and pounding on the door, no one is home.

I walk across the street, Browning pistol out and leading to my friends uncles' house, the very man that encouraged my love of shooting sports and firearms. I hope I can find the elderly man and his wife alive and well, but I’m not getting my hopes up. I knock, wait, and then knock again…nothing not a damn thing. I hear the shuffling of gravel and spin around, dropping to one knee and am greeted with the sight of not one or two or three zombies, but five. WHERE IN THE FUCK DID THEY COME FROM?! Adrenalin pumps through my body as I sight in on the first zombie’s head and squeeze the trigger and am greeted with the horrible sound of a click instead of a bang. Cursing under my breath I drop the magazine and rack the slide on the small pistol and begin to pray that it was just a primer, otherwise I’m a dead man since the Mosin was left in my little pick-up. Sliding the fresh mag into place and racking the slide once again to chamber a fresh round, I pull the trigger and get yet another click…”Well fuck me…”

My options are extremely limited at this point, I can either jump off the balcony and possibly break my left making a run for my truck or break down the damn door to the house I’m standing in front of. Time to make that choice...




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Well what should he do?

[Garith]

Well a couple of quick questions, are they slow or fast. How far up is the balcony and what type of door.

If they are slow I might try a run by or try clearing the dud round and try once more. Breaking down the door could be bad. His friend who did get him into shooring could be just fine and shoot him as he breakes down the door, or he could be running into a house with an unknowen number of zombies. Plus no working firearm equals bad, real bad.

Jumping could get him hurt but if they are slow then he could dangle then drop a bit safer. Make it back to the truck and get the other firearm, deal and recover his mag.

There are so many options. What is on the balcony? If there are some useful item (large pot, rod iron furnature, etc.) they have to come up the stairs so bash them one by one until he can get clear.

If they are fast, well then he just been screwed. Or will have to work faster and fight harder to make it.

By the way I like it more please.

[Kathy in FL]

All right ... now who is trying to do the cliffhanger thing?!

[Shoe Daddy]

The balcony is about 4-5 feet off the ground with an iron railing to get over. The zombies move fast or slow depending on the stage of decay they are in. These happen to be somewhat quick (slow walk, but they are close). The balcony has 2 chairs made of wicker and a small grill. There is a major malfunction with the pistol, but is unknown as to what it is yet since the mag was dropped and a fresh one was inserted with no avail.

I'm leaving it up to the readers as to what I do next, I can't decide and have a good idea of what I want to do for both. All I ask is a show of hands...er...voice

[Kathy in FL]

I haven't got the foggiest ide which would be the best ... someone with more tactical sense should decide.

[phoenixmastm]

How the hell am I not involved in this story somehow? Ya bastard.



I almost got the nerve up over the week to ask ya if you wanted to do a collaborative story, but you go and jump the gun on me.

Have to admit, I love it so far though.

[Shoe Daddy]

Don't worry phoenix, your time is coming.

[Shoe Daddy]

I'll get more posted in the morning. Had too damn much to do tonight.

[Shoe Daddy]

Hello again everyone. I will be sure to post what I have finished tomorrow before I leave my apartment for winter break. Posts will be random and far between in the time I am gone so I apologize for that, however I believe phoenixmastm will also be posting in this story to give you back story as to what happened in Chicago.

[Garith]

"The balcony is about 4-5 feet off the ground with an iron railing to get over. The zombies move fast or slow depending on the stage of decay they are in. These happen to be somewhat quick (slow walk, but they are close). The balcony has 2 chairs made of wicker and a small grill. There is a major malfunction with the pistol, but is unknown as to what it is yet since the mag was dropped and a fresh one was inserted with no avail."

Grab the grill and yank off one of the legs with my manly strength. Wrap the leg in phone cord. With the death phone corded leg of death beat them into death a second time.

More likley toss the chairs down the stairs to slow them down and hop the railing, rolling with the impact if it feels wrong. Make my way back to the truck and re-arm.

Looking forward to seeing more of the story.

[phoenixmastm]

Hello again everyone. I will be sure to post what I have finished tomorrow before I leave my apartment for winter break. Posts will be random and far between in the time I am gone so I apologize for that, however I believe phoenixmastm will also be posting in this story to give you back story as to what happened in Chicago.

Yeah, that may also take awhile.


Sorry folks, I'm kinda re-writing most of what I had for a draft, would appreciate it if some of the other authors in this section wouldn't mind taking a looksee at what I've got and giving me some feedback before I post it.

I'm kinda worried about how bad my writing is gonna suck.

[supraneurotoxin]

hmmm...
I vote break down the door, all the while screaming "I'm not a zombie!". If they're alive inside, they may not answer the door when someone knocks. I know I wouldn't.
and even if they didn't make it, there may be guns available there, since you mentioned this guy got the main character into shooting to begin with.

[Kathy in FL]

Hello again everyone. I will be sure to post what I have finished tomorrow before I leave my apartment for winter break. Posts will be random and far between in the time I am gone so I apologize for that, however I believe phoenixmastm will also be posting in this story to give you back story as to what happened in Chicago.

Yeah, that may also take awhile.


Sorry folks, I'm kinda re-writing most of what I had for a draft, would appreciate it if some of the other authors in this section wouldn't mind taking a looksee at what I've got and giving me some feedback before I post it.

I'm kinda worried about how bad my writing is gonna suck.

Honey, there isn't a writer that has the adoration of everyone who reads his/her stuff. I've had my tail feathers singed ... no biggie. Just do it and you might find that the fun outweighs the criticism.

[phoenixmastm]

I dont think he'll mind me posting for him, but Shoe is gonna go ahead and do the jump.



As for my end, I'll have it done by Friday. Trying to cut down the chattyness and work more on my char getting out of Chicago in one piece.

If you're all good I'll give ya half of it Wednesday night and post the rest when I'm done.

[phoenixmastm]

At long last, the fabled 2nd char arrives!





All I can hear is the faint sound of leaves moving in the wind, of the slow crunch of gravel under the tires, and of my panicked breathing. I would like to hear the low growl of the 3L V6 in my pickup, but the alternator died and took the battery with it shortly after I saw the "Mt Vernon, 2 miles" sign. Now I have to hoof it the next 30+ miles to Carbondale and hook up with my buddy, who owns a farm about an hours drive outside of town.


This all started about three weeks ago, when a rather nasty strain of Mad Cow Disease ripped through the world's cattle industry. A vaccine was developed and administered, much to everyone's relief, but little did they know of what that vaccine did to the new MCD strain. The formerly infected meat was still infected, and now it found it's way into the McDonald's and Burger Kings of the world, consumed by the unsuspecting and slowly working it's way inside. The first side effects made it look like a simple case of stomach poisoning or flu, but it was the later effects that were of the greatest threat. About 5 days after eating the meat, and puking it back out in violent fits, you went into a coma; about 7 days and you got back up, only to start attacking everyone within reach and passing on the disease through biting others. The new disease was impossible to study, about 15 minutes outside of the confines of the body and it would wither and die, regardless of temperature, humidity, or food. The new disease rendered all higher brain functions inoperative, and increased the instinctual and primal urges into greater height. They only cared about one thing, spreading the disease, and the only way to do that - eat anyone you saw. That pretty much gave them the appearance of zombies, and since they shrugged off all but headshots, they pretty much fit the bill enough where people started referring to them as such.

At first, there were only a few outbreaks, mostly in the city where food poisoning is hardly a major story, but after the attacks begun the media began taking an interest. After a few days, the infections spread to outside the hospitals, and enough people began attacking others to warrant the police quarantining small sections of the city in hopes to contain it. Little did they know that the disease had rapidly spread to every corner of the world, albeit the areas where beef was not consumed readily or at all. I was trapped inside my 2 bedroom apartment in a 16 block section of the city, freaking the hell out cause I couldn't leave. Zombies, I can handle, trapped in a city with only death as a way out, not good for my mental health. I ended up just staying in my apartment and locking the door, then proceeded to curl up on my bed and wait the days out until the infected idiots managed to knock on the door hard enough to get in.

Turns out, that was a good thing, as while I was curled up I was unnoticed by those things. The rest of the city, however, went apeshit and started losing it. The quarantine zones started to get bigger and bigger; mine in particular extended from 16 blocks, to 32 in the course of a day, and eventually to several towns after about 3. Eventually, the governor requested that the National Guard be sent in to help out the already spread thin police force. Little good that did, the NG was about as effective at containing this as a wet paper bag. After about two weeks of quarantining, and the zones getting bigger, they started sending in "sanitizing" teams to try and control the spread. Pffft, those guys weren't sanitizing shit. They were grabbing what they could from Best Buy and whatnot and handing a small percentage off to their superiors. Though they did have orders to shoot anyone they saw, since it was assumed that those left in the zones were either a zed, or soon to be one.

After two and a half weeks, the barricades around Chicago finally snapped, and those that weren't overrun with zombies were either abandoned or the forces that were stationed there left them so they could get some more loot. I waited another few days after the collapse, to give the zeds more time to move on, and to give the NG time to get what they wanted and get the hell out.




More on what exactly transpired for my guy tomorrow.

[phoenixmastm]

Ok, the rest of my section may be a little late. Suffering through a mild case of stomach flu at the moment.


However, I see that quite a few people are reading this, so I'm asking for feedback. Things that are good, things that are bad, things that confuse the heck outta ya. Let us know so we can work on it, otherwise we'll just keep going and hope you don't get left behind.

[Wrecking Ball]

in response to shoe daddy....break the door down! I have considered both options and it seems the house is the best place, even if there maybe some zombies inside. I don't want to say why, in case you already plan to use it, but considering the description you gave of the uncle, I just think the house would be a good zombie hold up area.

[nimdabew]

I agree. I bet it is one of those old timer holdouts with about 10k rounds of 5.56 and a bazooka. "I think I just felt my dick move"