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.
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...
Last edited by Shoe Daddy
on Tue Dec 20, 2011 9:55 am, edited 6 times in total.
I am 1911, Cake, Mosin-Nagant, AK/AR neutral
Read my ZPAW story, Life after Death here: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=28&t=38181