Hey readers.
I have been overwhelmed by your support. Most of you have commented on more than one chapter, and you've voted in the poll. You're helping me fix grammar and spelling, syntax, and pointing out flaws and such that I've missed. You've offered up suggestions, plot points, and been very encouraging.
That's just 13k in! I still have a long way to go (need to try and get to 20k by the end of the weekend). Just wanted to let you know I appreciate what you've given me so far, and I'm pretty determined to finish this on time and tell a decent story.
The hardest part so far is pacing myself. I don't want to finish early. I also have problems writing in third person when the main character is me. Also, I hate dialogue structure.
I heard somebody was so eager to read they printed off the chapter when they had to leave for class. ! That was awesome.
Steven and Brant (the ones in the story) are considering writing some alternate point-of-view fiction to go with this, and I'm pretty excited about it.
One last thing - I may be writing some chapters out of order sometime soon to add drama and words to the story. Please pay close attention to the chapter numbers to stay on top of it all.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Chapter 10 - Dirty Jobs
June 6th, 2008
3:25pm
Upstairs Headquarters
Ryan continued to delegate the many tasks at hand. "Kamikaze, I need you to fill every available container, including the sinks and bathtubs with water. Leave one out, actually, and mark it clearly as our toilet bucket in case the plumbing stops working. When you're done with that, go ahead and get to that rope ladder."
"Sure thing, cap'n," she replied got to work.
"Angel Hair and Rubble, your next job is to get me an inventory list of everything we have. I know this one sucks, but before we plan rations, I need to know how many Pop-Tarts we have. Before we can plan any sort of offense, I need to know what weapons and how many bullets we have. If it ends up taking forever, I'll either add somebody to the task or switch you guys out. Again, I'm not trying to sick you guys with the crap job, but I think you two know the supplies best, having hauled most of it yourself," he apologized.
They both nodded happily. "Don't worry so much, T. Rex," said Angel Hair. "It's really not that big of a deal."
"Yeah," Rubble added. "We know you're trying your best to be fair. I'd rather help out here than have to deal with the monsters out there by myself." They produced a pen and pad of paper and began with the nearest duffel.
Ryan nodded. "Thanks guys, that helps. I just don't want to be a dictator. Anyway, Peace and Cowboy, you keep working on that roof hatch. I know there's a bag of tools around here somewhere that you can use, but try not to do too much damage without thinking it through. Basically I'd suggest a lot of duct tape."
They retreated to the rear bedroom, leaving just T.Rex and Beard without duties.
"Okay, Beard. Next we gotta give everybody's phone the right message. Go ahead and power up your phone and access your voice mail," said T.Rex. As Beard did so, he continued. "Okay, now I need you to record something like this.
"You've reached Beard, and right now Fools are at Ryan's trying to survive the zombpocalypse. Survivors are currently Ryan, Renee, Andrew, Eric, John, Brant, and Steve as of June 6th. Phones are off to conserve power, so please leave a message and try the other Fools. We'll continue to check at regular intervals until the batteries are dead. Please notify the authorities and send help."
Beard nodded acknowledgment and walked to the back right bedroom to record. A minute later he emerged.
"Good," Ryan said. "Now I need you to go around and make sure everybody's phone is like that, including mine." He handed over his own phone. "My arm is killing me, so I'm gonna go take care of that." He grabbed a first aid kit from the pile of equipment in the living room and headed to the kitchen.
He walked around the corner and nearly tripped over one of the dozens of buckets and bowls on the floor filled with water. "Wow, Renee. Mind surrendering the sink for a bit and helping me with this arm wound real fast?"
"Of course not, you big dweeb. Come over here." She motioned him over and gingerly tried to untie the stained curtain around his arm. It wouldn't budge, so she pulled a pair of scissors from the kit and snipped the fabric away without hesitation. This caused the bleeding to resume, and Ryan looked away, slightly woozy.
She grabbed his free hand and clamped it over his arm near the elbow. "Hold this," she commanded. Looking away, Ryan held on tightly and tried to think of anything else.
Renee ran warm soapy water and washed the arm. There was a small bottle of iodine in the kit, and she poured a small amount onto a cotton ball. "This is gonna hurt," she warned before viciously scrubbing the cut up and down his forearm.
"Fuckbeans!! Jeez, that hurts!" he yelled, still refusing to look at his own arm.
"Everything okay in there, T.Rex?" Angel Hair shouted.
"Just FINE," he shouted back, as another cotton ball was swabbed.
Kamikaze finished the treatment by placing a long, sterile gauze over the wound and wrapping it tightly with medical tape from the first aid kit. "There, all done," she said, cheerily. He stood there, awkwardly.
"You can quit holding your arm now," she pointed out. Ryan let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and slowly released the tension on his arm. He cautiously looked over at his left arm, as if a good stare would cause it to bleed again.
"Thanks, Renee. Want some help with the water?" he offered.
"No thanks, I think I got it." She continued filling buckets from the sink and stacking them in efficient overlapping piles in the kitchen, filling empty cupboards and the pantry first. She also emptied gallon containers of milk from the downstairs refrigerator and filled them with water as well.
Ryan gently nursed his arm as he checked on the other Fools at work. Cowboy and Peace had removed the closet doors and used the room to push in a dresser. This allowed them to reach the attic without a ladder and they'd marked out an approximate area to make the roof hatch. They kept having trouble with the heat inside, so Ryan asked them to take a water break before continuing.
Angel Hair and Rubble were quickly cataloging all the items. They'd quarantined the middle bedroom, and emptied it first. Only after listing an item did they move it back in, attempting to stack everything in an easily accessible and visible manner. Ryan was quite impressed.
Beard had completed the cell phone instructions, and together with T.Rex they began to work out duty and ration schedules. They figured with seven Fools, each night would have three night watch shifts of two people for three hours apiece, with a night off for the seventh person rotating amongst them. This would last from 9 pm to 6am, covering the darkest parts of the evening. Starting with an alphabetical list, the first two would take the first shift, second two the second shift, and third pair the final shift, and the odd Fool out had the night off. The next night, the list shifted one name down. This would ensure fairness, and a regular change of pace for all duties.
Thus the first night was Andrew and Brant from 9pm to midnight, Eric and John from midnight to 3am, Renee and Ryan from 3am to 6am, and Steve had the night off.
They would try for 3 liters of drinking water per day per person once the fresh water supply stopped. For now, the water wasn't a problem, but it remained to be seen how long their stores could last them. Beard and T.Rex also wouldn't restrict showers or the toilet as long as they worked, but showers were a low priority and they'd make deal with a bucket at some point. They decided the northwest corner of the house was the dumping point for trash and waste.
Water was plentiful (for now), but food had to be rationed immediately. This was especially important as Ryan's stomach started to growl. He'd not eaten at all that day and had been busy moving and thieving. The final inventory was still being tabulated, but T.Rex estimated that from what food he'd gathered and seen brought over, the seven of them would not last more than two weeks on minimum rations. Not to mention that they'd be sustaining themselves on mostly sugary packaged foods. He was slightly worried, but tried to remain optimistic. Hopefully they wouldn't need to hold out that long. Thoughts of food consumed all of his thoughts.
As the evening crept closer, Ryan pulled the Fools from their duties to share their first meal together as a band of survivors. Beard carefully doled out conservative portions of granola bars and fruit snacks, with glasses of water all around.
Nobody complained about the food, Ryan thought. This time.
As they stuffed the wrappers into a trash bag, T.Rex fetched a black case and gave a short lecture about rule number five.
"Guys, I can't stress this enough. If something should happen, a thing to keep in mind is rule five. That's ideal protection is tight clothes and short hair. That means keep your shoelaces tied, don't get sloppy, and pay attention to your appearance. I'd love to give you all armor and such, but even if we didn't worry about mobility, weight, and sound, we'd all die of heat in this weather. I think our best bet is to stay quiet, light, and nimble."
He had no indication so far that his friends were anything but loyal and willing to accept his leadership. Still, he was unsure of how the following days or even weeks would play out. He had doubts in his head about his own leadership skills, and felt the gesture he was about to make was leading by example. That it would help keep up the esprit de corps of the group, even if it wasn't in danger -yet.
T.Rex had Peace spread out a garbage bag onto the living room floor. Removing scissors and an electric razor from the black case, he let the Fools take turns shaving his head. They giggled as each one removed a stripe of curls from his head. The razor had a sufficient charge that they all took a turn shortening each other's hair. Beard kept his eponymous facial feature, and Kamikaze removed her hip-length ponytail almost entirely.
After they cleaned up the mess, it was time for bed. Together they placed five sleeping bags in a Tetris-esque arrangement on the living room floor. It was crowded, but they managed. As the rest of the Fools turned in and attempted to fall asleep, Peace and Rubble kept first watch. The roof hatch wasn't completed yet, so they set up shop in the back right bedroom.
As the excitement of the first day died down, and the last bit of chatter stopped, a brief moment of silence crept through the apartment before the night watch spoke up.
"Guys," Peace said nervously from the back room. "I can see dozens of them."
Current Word Count: 13,165
3:25pm
Upstairs Headquarters
Ryan continued to delegate the many tasks at hand. "Kamikaze, I need you to fill every available container, including the sinks and bathtubs with water. Leave one out, actually, and mark it clearly as our toilet bucket in case the plumbing stops working. When you're done with that, go ahead and get to that rope ladder."
"Sure thing, cap'n," she replied got to work.
"Angel Hair and Rubble, your next job is to get me an inventory list of everything we have. I know this one sucks, but before we plan rations, I need to know how many Pop-Tarts we have. Before we can plan any sort of offense, I need to know what weapons and how many bullets we have. If it ends up taking forever, I'll either add somebody to the task or switch you guys out. Again, I'm not trying to sick you guys with the crap job, but I think you two know the supplies best, having hauled most of it yourself," he apologized.
They both nodded happily. "Don't worry so much, T. Rex," said Angel Hair. "It's really not that big of a deal."
"Yeah," Rubble added. "We know you're trying your best to be fair. I'd rather help out here than have to deal with the monsters out there by myself." They produced a pen and pad of paper and began with the nearest duffel.
Ryan nodded. "Thanks guys, that helps. I just don't want to be a dictator. Anyway, Peace and Cowboy, you keep working on that roof hatch. I know there's a bag of tools around here somewhere that you can use, but try not to do too much damage without thinking it through. Basically I'd suggest a lot of duct tape."
They retreated to the rear bedroom, leaving just T.Rex and Beard without duties.
"Okay, Beard. Next we gotta give everybody's phone the right message. Go ahead and power up your phone and access your voice mail," said T.Rex. As Beard did so, he continued. "Okay, now I need you to record something like this.
"You've reached Beard, and right now Fools are at Ryan's trying to survive the zombpocalypse. Survivors are currently Ryan, Renee, Andrew, Eric, John, Brant, and Steve as of June 6th. Phones are off to conserve power, so please leave a message and try the other Fools. We'll continue to check at regular intervals until the batteries are dead. Please notify the authorities and send help."
Beard nodded acknowledgment and walked to the back right bedroom to record. A minute later he emerged.
"Good," Ryan said. "Now I need you to go around and make sure everybody's phone is like that, including mine." He handed over his own phone. "My arm is killing me, so I'm gonna go take care of that." He grabbed a first aid kit from the pile of equipment in the living room and headed to the kitchen.
He walked around the corner and nearly tripped over one of the dozens of buckets and bowls on the floor filled with water. "Wow, Renee. Mind surrendering the sink for a bit and helping me with this arm wound real fast?"
"Of course not, you big dweeb. Come over here." She motioned him over and gingerly tried to untie the stained curtain around his arm. It wouldn't budge, so she pulled a pair of scissors from the kit and snipped the fabric away without hesitation. This caused the bleeding to resume, and Ryan looked away, slightly woozy.
She grabbed his free hand and clamped it over his arm near the elbow. "Hold this," she commanded. Looking away, Ryan held on tightly and tried to think of anything else.
Renee ran warm soapy water and washed the arm. There was a small bottle of iodine in the kit, and she poured a small amount onto a cotton ball. "This is gonna hurt," she warned before viciously scrubbing the cut up and down his forearm.
"Fuckbeans!! Jeez, that hurts!" he yelled, still refusing to look at his own arm.
"Everything okay in there, T.Rex?" Angel Hair shouted.
"Just FINE," he shouted back, as another cotton ball was swabbed.
Kamikaze finished the treatment by placing a long, sterile gauze over the wound and wrapping it tightly with medical tape from the first aid kit. "There, all done," she said, cheerily. He stood there, awkwardly.
"You can quit holding your arm now," she pointed out. Ryan let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and slowly released the tension on his arm. He cautiously looked over at his left arm, as if a good stare would cause it to bleed again.
"Thanks, Renee. Want some help with the water?" he offered.
"No thanks, I think I got it." She continued filling buckets from the sink and stacking them in efficient overlapping piles in the kitchen, filling empty cupboards and the pantry first. She also emptied gallon containers of milk from the downstairs refrigerator and filled them with water as well.
Ryan gently nursed his arm as he checked on the other Fools at work. Cowboy and Peace had removed the closet doors and used the room to push in a dresser. This allowed them to reach the attic without a ladder and they'd marked out an approximate area to make the roof hatch. They kept having trouble with the heat inside, so Ryan asked them to take a water break before continuing.
Angel Hair and Rubble were quickly cataloging all the items. They'd quarantined the middle bedroom, and emptied it first. Only after listing an item did they move it back in, attempting to stack everything in an easily accessible and visible manner. Ryan was quite impressed.
Beard had completed the cell phone instructions, and together with T.Rex they began to work out duty and ration schedules. They figured with seven Fools, each night would have three night watch shifts of two people for three hours apiece, with a night off for the seventh person rotating amongst them. This would last from 9 pm to 6am, covering the darkest parts of the evening. Starting with an alphabetical list, the first two would take the first shift, second two the second shift, and third pair the final shift, and the odd Fool out had the night off. The next night, the list shifted one name down. This would ensure fairness, and a regular change of pace for all duties.
Thus the first night was Andrew and Brant from 9pm to midnight, Eric and John from midnight to 3am, Renee and Ryan from 3am to 6am, and Steve had the night off.
They would try for 3 liters of drinking water per day per person once the fresh water supply stopped. For now, the water wasn't a problem, but it remained to be seen how long their stores could last them. Beard and T.Rex also wouldn't restrict showers or the toilet as long as they worked, but showers were a low priority and they'd make deal with a bucket at some point. They decided the northwest corner of the house was the dumping point for trash and waste.
Water was plentiful (for now), but food had to be rationed immediately. This was especially important as Ryan's stomach started to growl. He'd not eaten at all that day and had been busy moving and thieving. The final inventory was still being tabulated, but T.Rex estimated that from what food he'd gathered and seen brought over, the seven of them would not last more than two weeks on minimum rations. Not to mention that they'd be sustaining themselves on mostly sugary packaged foods. He was slightly worried, but tried to remain optimistic. Hopefully they wouldn't need to hold out that long. Thoughts of food consumed all of his thoughts.
As the evening crept closer, Ryan pulled the Fools from their duties to share their first meal together as a band of survivors. Beard carefully doled out conservative portions of granola bars and fruit snacks, with glasses of water all around.
Nobody complained about the food, Ryan thought. This time.
As they stuffed the wrappers into a trash bag, T.Rex fetched a black case and gave a short lecture about rule number five.
"Guys, I can't stress this enough. If something should happen, a thing to keep in mind is rule five. That's ideal protection is tight clothes and short hair. That means keep your shoelaces tied, don't get sloppy, and pay attention to your appearance. I'd love to give you all armor and such, but even if we didn't worry about mobility, weight, and sound, we'd all die of heat in this weather. I think our best bet is to stay quiet, light, and nimble."
He had no indication so far that his friends were anything but loyal and willing to accept his leadership. Still, he was unsure of how the following days or even weeks would play out. He had doubts in his head about his own leadership skills, and felt the gesture he was about to make was leading by example. That it would help keep up the esprit de corps of the group, even if it wasn't in danger -yet.
T.Rex had Peace spread out a garbage bag onto the living room floor. Removing scissors and an electric razor from the black case, he let the Fools take turns shaving his head. They giggled as each one removed a stripe of curls from his head. The razor had a sufficient charge that they all took a turn shortening each other's hair. Beard kept his eponymous facial feature, and Kamikaze removed her hip-length ponytail almost entirely.
After they cleaned up the mess, it was time for bed. Together they placed five sleeping bags in a Tetris-esque arrangement on the living room floor. It was crowded, but they managed. As the rest of the Fools turned in and attempted to fall asleep, Peace and Rubble kept first watch. The roof hatch wasn't completed yet, so they set up shop in the back right bedroom.
As the excitement of the first day died down, and the last bit of chatter stopped, a brief moment of silence crept through the apartment before the night watch spoke up.
"Guys," Peace said nervously from the back room. "I can see dozens of them."
Current Word Count: 13,165
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Chapter 9 - House Rules
June 6th, 2008
1:08pm
Upstairs Apartment
Peace was literally bouncing up and down with excitement.
"I take it you got in okay?" Ryan said, calmly.
"Yeah! I was all like-" Peace wiggled his hands as he spoke, miming picking a lock. "Then the lock was all like- bam," he twisted his fingers violently and made a grinding noise, followed by a teeth-clicking snap. He grinned proudly.
"Well done, Peace," Ryan patted him on the shoulder. "Now let's go see what you've discovered. Cowboy, follow me. We're through in here and I've got your next job."
T.Rex, Cowboy, and Peace exited the kitchen and walked through the living room. They each grabbed an armful of supplies to help Rubble and Angel Hair as they made their way out the door. As they stepped into the harsh humid air, they saw Kamikaze hard at work destroying the stairs.
She stood up at the sound of the door opening and leaned on the stair rails. "Howdy there, Captain. I'm taking out every other plank for now so the stairs are still somewhat usable. I also think we should make a rope ladder, as a backup that can be moved around as needed."
"Excellent," Ryan said. "When we get some downtime, I want you to make it happen."
She helped the three of them upstairs with their supplies, and they piled everything in the middle bedroom (above Ryan's room). Peace excitedly hurried them through the desolate, echoing apartment to the rear bedroom. The only items that remained in the upstairs apartment was furniture owned by the rental company, including a few mattresses and dressers, and kitchen appliances.
The back left bedroom was nondescript. Peace led them in and opened the second closet door, and pointed up as Cowboy and T.Rex looked on in confusion.
"There!" Peace exclaimed. "I found a way to get into the attic."
T.Rex stepped forward and leaned into the closet. Inside, on the ceiling, was a panel that rested on a frame.
"Most excellent. Can you two give me a boost up there and I'll have a look around, Lion King style?" Ryan grinned.
Peace and Cowboy crouched to let T.Rex climb onto their shoulders. They slowly raised him up and shuffled single file into the closet, making sure he ducked to clear the frame. Once inside, he gingerly pushed the panel up and slid it into the attic space. They heaved on a count of three, and Ryan found purchase on the lip of the frame. He pulled himself up as the other two pushed his legs upward, and his waist cleared the rim. Flopping forward onto his stomach, he scrambled forward until he was clear.
"Somebody get me a flashlight up here, will ya?" Ryan shouted down below. He crouched and waited a few minutes before Peace ran over and Cowboy relayed one up. T.Rex clicked on the flashlight and peered slowly around. The attic space wasn't luxurious, but a short person such as himself only needed to bend slightly to walk around anywhere but the tallest point. He walked to the end and back before the dust and stifling heat were too much to bear. Standing near the rim of access, he made sure it was clear in the closet before hopping down.
Back on the floor once more, he tapped Peace on the chest with the flashlight. "You and Cowboy have to figure out how to get up there reliably. Once you've got that down, find a way to punch through the ceiling."
"Wait just a second," Cowboy interrupted. "You want us to make a hole in the roof?" he moved his hands as he spoke, one passing by the other as if launching a missile.
"Well, don't start until you can figure out a way to keep the elements out, at least mostly. But yeah, we're gonna need roof access before long," Ryan said a matter of factly. "If/when it rains, we'll collect fresh rainwater, we can see further in every direction for recon, gives us chances for signaling, and it will give us a vantage point for sniper attacks if we can spare the ammunition. Plus, it's a backup escape route. Just make sure it's facing the west side of the house."
Peace and Cowboy stared blankly at each other as T.Rex walked out of the room to check on the other preparations, not quite sure of what to make of the last set of orders. Ryan walked briskly to the other end of the apartment, out the door, and leaned over the stairway railing.
"Almost finished down there, guys?" he shouted down to the Fools working below.
"Just a few more trips, T.Rex," Rubble noted from the downstairs living room.
"Let's finish up here, then," said Ryan. "Renee, go ahead and remove the rest of the stairs - we'll use the ladder from now on." She nodded affirmative and quickly dismantled the rest of the slats, joining Rubble and Angel Hair hauling the equipment up the ladder.
"Anybody heard back from Beard, yet?" Ryan shouted to the crew.
As if on cue, the bearded, mud-caked sentry emerged from the bushes nearby. "Survey complete, T.Rex. I'm headed up now."
"Alrighty, let's close it up," Ryan said loud enough for everybody to hear. "Everybody in the living room in 10 minutes."
The last of the supplies were moved up, the stairway was rendered useless, and everybody moved upstairs. Ryan made one last head count - Kamikaze, Peace & Beard, Rubble & Angel Hair, Cowboy, and himself, before pulling up the ladder. He closed and locked the door and made sure all the windows were shut, locked, and had blinds down and closed.
The Fools trickled into the living room and took up positions on the floor in a semicircle.
"Okay, everybody," Ryan began. "Let's lay out some rules. First off, we're gonna stick with the buddy system. I don't want anybody to leave the apartment without somebody to watch your back." He looked at Beard and amended "Beard here has the exception. He's got extensive fieldcraft expertise, and he'll be acting as our freelance scout, so he may be going solo from time to time.
"That brings me to my next point. Nobody should be leaving. I don't want to risk leaving this safe haven unless it is absolutely necessary. Reasons for that include," he ticked off his fingers as he continued "if we decide as a group that there's a better place to go, we run out of supplies or need information, there's a greater danger such as fire, or a legitimate authority has the area secure."
Beard raised a hand. "I'd like to emphasize rule number 9 - no place is safe, only safer. Our master plan dictates that we stay here for now since it's our best bet, but it is by no means impregnable or foolproof. Heh, Fools. Anyway, stay sharp and we won't have any problems."
Ryan nodded in agreement. "Good point. Anyway, if for some reason somebody does need to leave, make sure you tell another Fool. I don't want anybody unaccounted for, and I especially don't want to play guessing games. Well, unless it's improv, but that's another story.
"So, until further notice, we're under house arrest. I also am asking you all to practice sound discipline. That means everybody keep your voice low, and any electronics should be muted or blanketed. Nobody should be shouting or screaming unless there's an emergency, and if the power should come back, we run appliances sparingly when absolutely needed. I don't want to attract attention to this apartment from the living dead, or any survivors that think we might be an easy target to be taken advantage of.
"Similarly, no lights between dusk and dawn. Zombies have excellent low light vision, and any source of light could attract them. Or, once again, people can be drawn to the lights and I'd like to avoid that if we can," he said as a warning.
Peace grinned. "It's like we're in London during WWII and the Luftwaffe is conducting night raids!"
Ryan couldn't resist a chuckle. "Good thought, Peace. I've got some more things you're not gonna love, so thinking of it as a game or a scene can help with morale. Beard and I will work up duty schedules in a bit. That includes pretty stringent food and water rationing, weapons and tactical training, and a rotating sets of night watch responsibilities.
"Oh, speaking of, everybody turn off your phones, right now. Power is something we'll ration as well, and we will check for messages at regular intervals." All of the Fools scrambled for their pockets and a small symphony of beeps followed.
"Okay, Fools. I've got more jobs that need to be taken care of before nighttime, I just wanted to spell out the basics before we got any further."
Ryan ran his hands through his hair with a hint of exhaustion. "Tonight, we take care of rule number 5."
Current Word Count: 11,433
1:08pm
Upstairs Apartment
Peace was literally bouncing up and down with excitement.
"I take it you got in okay?" Ryan said, calmly.
"Yeah! I was all like-" Peace wiggled his hands as he spoke, miming picking a lock. "Then the lock was all like- bam," he twisted his fingers violently and made a grinding noise, followed by a teeth-clicking snap. He grinned proudly.
"Well done, Peace," Ryan patted him on the shoulder. "Now let's go see what you've discovered. Cowboy, follow me. We're through in here and I've got your next job."
T.Rex, Cowboy, and Peace exited the kitchen and walked through the living room. They each grabbed an armful of supplies to help Rubble and Angel Hair as they made their way out the door. As they stepped into the harsh humid air, they saw Kamikaze hard at work destroying the stairs.
She stood up at the sound of the door opening and leaned on the stair rails. "Howdy there, Captain. I'm taking out every other plank for now so the stairs are still somewhat usable. I also think we should make a rope ladder, as a backup that can be moved around as needed."
"Excellent," Ryan said. "When we get some downtime, I want you to make it happen."
She helped the three of them upstairs with their supplies, and they piled everything in the middle bedroom (above Ryan's room). Peace excitedly hurried them through the desolate, echoing apartment to the rear bedroom. The only items that remained in the upstairs apartment was furniture owned by the rental company, including a few mattresses and dressers, and kitchen appliances.
The back left bedroom was nondescript. Peace led them in and opened the second closet door, and pointed up as Cowboy and T.Rex looked on in confusion.
"There!" Peace exclaimed. "I found a way to get into the attic."
T.Rex stepped forward and leaned into the closet. Inside, on the ceiling, was a panel that rested on a frame.
"Most excellent. Can you two give me a boost up there and I'll have a look around, Lion King style?" Ryan grinned.
Peace and Cowboy crouched to let T.Rex climb onto their shoulders. They slowly raised him up and shuffled single file into the closet, making sure he ducked to clear the frame. Once inside, he gingerly pushed the panel up and slid it into the attic space. They heaved on a count of three, and Ryan found purchase on the lip of the frame. He pulled himself up as the other two pushed his legs upward, and his waist cleared the rim. Flopping forward onto his stomach, he scrambled forward until he was clear.
"Somebody get me a flashlight up here, will ya?" Ryan shouted down below. He crouched and waited a few minutes before Peace ran over and Cowboy relayed one up. T.Rex clicked on the flashlight and peered slowly around. The attic space wasn't luxurious, but a short person such as himself only needed to bend slightly to walk around anywhere but the tallest point. He walked to the end and back before the dust and stifling heat were too much to bear. Standing near the rim of access, he made sure it was clear in the closet before hopping down.
Back on the floor once more, he tapped Peace on the chest with the flashlight. "You and Cowboy have to figure out how to get up there reliably. Once you've got that down, find a way to punch through the ceiling."
"Wait just a second," Cowboy interrupted. "You want us to make a hole in the roof?" he moved his hands as he spoke, one passing by the other as if launching a missile.
"Well, don't start until you can figure out a way to keep the elements out, at least mostly. But yeah, we're gonna need roof access before long," Ryan said a matter of factly. "If/when it rains, we'll collect fresh rainwater, we can see further in every direction for recon, gives us chances for signaling, and it will give us a vantage point for sniper attacks if we can spare the ammunition. Plus, it's a backup escape route. Just make sure it's facing the west side of the house."
Peace and Cowboy stared blankly at each other as T.Rex walked out of the room to check on the other preparations, not quite sure of what to make of the last set of orders. Ryan walked briskly to the other end of the apartment, out the door, and leaned over the stairway railing.
"Almost finished down there, guys?" he shouted down to the Fools working below.
"Just a few more trips, T.Rex," Rubble noted from the downstairs living room.
"Let's finish up here, then," said Ryan. "Renee, go ahead and remove the rest of the stairs - we'll use the ladder from now on." She nodded affirmative and quickly dismantled the rest of the slats, joining Rubble and Angel Hair hauling the equipment up the ladder.
"Anybody heard back from Beard, yet?" Ryan shouted to the crew.
As if on cue, the bearded, mud-caked sentry emerged from the bushes nearby. "Survey complete, T.Rex. I'm headed up now."
"Alrighty, let's close it up," Ryan said loud enough for everybody to hear. "Everybody in the living room in 10 minutes."
The last of the supplies were moved up, the stairway was rendered useless, and everybody moved upstairs. Ryan made one last head count - Kamikaze, Peace & Beard, Rubble & Angel Hair, Cowboy, and himself, before pulling up the ladder. He closed and locked the door and made sure all the windows were shut, locked, and had blinds down and closed.
The Fools trickled into the living room and took up positions on the floor in a semicircle.
"Okay, everybody," Ryan began. "Let's lay out some rules. First off, we're gonna stick with the buddy system. I don't want anybody to leave the apartment without somebody to watch your back." He looked at Beard and amended "Beard here has the exception. He's got extensive fieldcraft expertise, and he'll be acting as our freelance scout, so he may be going solo from time to time.
"That brings me to my next point. Nobody should be leaving. I don't want to risk leaving this safe haven unless it is absolutely necessary. Reasons for that include," he ticked off his fingers as he continued "if we decide as a group that there's a better place to go, we run out of supplies or need information, there's a greater danger such as fire, or a legitimate authority has the area secure."
Beard raised a hand. "I'd like to emphasize rule number 9 - no place is safe, only safer. Our master plan dictates that we stay here for now since it's our best bet, but it is by no means impregnable or foolproof. Heh, Fools. Anyway, stay sharp and we won't have any problems."
Ryan nodded in agreement. "Good point. Anyway, if for some reason somebody does need to leave, make sure you tell another Fool. I don't want anybody unaccounted for, and I especially don't want to play guessing games. Well, unless it's improv, but that's another story.
"So, until further notice, we're under house arrest. I also am asking you all to practice sound discipline. That means everybody keep your voice low, and any electronics should be muted or blanketed. Nobody should be shouting or screaming unless there's an emergency, and if the power should come back, we run appliances sparingly when absolutely needed. I don't want to attract attention to this apartment from the living dead, or any survivors that think we might be an easy target to be taken advantage of.
"Similarly, no lights between dusk and dawn. Zombies have excellent low light vision, and any source of light could attract them. Or, once again, people can be drawn to the lights and I'd like to avoid that if we can," he said as a warning.
Peace grinned. "It's like we're in London during WWII and the Luftwaffe is conducting night raids!"
Ryan couldn't resist a chuckle. "Good thought, Peace. I've got some more things you're not gonna love, so thinking of it as a game or a scene can help with morale. Beard and I will work up duty schedules in a bit. That includes pretty stringent food and water rationing, weapons and tactical training, and a rotating sets of night watch responsibilities.
"Oh, speaking of, everybody turn off your phones, right now. Power is something we'll ration as well, and we will check for messages at regular intervals." All of the Fools scrambled for their pockets and a small symphony of beeps followed.
"Okay, Fools. I've got more jobs that need to be taken care of before nighttime, I just wanted to spell out the basics before we got any further."
Ryan ran his hands through his hair with a hint of exhaustion. "Tonight, we take care of rule number 5."
Current Word Count: 11,433
Chapter 8 - Preparations Begin
June 6th, 2008
12:22pm
Ryan's Apartment
Ryan had just finished his speech, and nobody moved. He glanced slowly around the room, making eye contact with each Fool in turn, and met a grim and determined face from nearly all of them.
He continued. "Alright then, excellent. I'll give you more information later, but for now, your assignments. Peace, how are your lock picking skills these days?"
Peace replied smartly as he stood up. "Sharp as tacks, sir."
"Excellent. Rule number six. I want you to go outside, upstairs, and get us into the apartment above us." Peace nodded and rummaged through is bookbag before bolting out the door.
"Wait," Cowboy spoke up. "Rule six?"
Beard filled in the information as he drew a weathered book from his duffel. "Rule number six from the Zombie Survival Guide - Get up the staircase, then destroy it."
"Bingo," Ryan confirmed. "We'll have a much better chance of survival once we can get into the apartment above us. That'll be our base of operations from here on out. Kamikaze?"
"Yes, Captain!" she saluted with her response.
"You're on staircase duty. I'll help you find some tools, and then I want you to start dismantling the staircase to the apartment above. I've got a ladder, so that'll be our access once the stairs are gone. That'll keep most things at bay. Try and save what wood you can, we may need it later for cooking if the power doesn't come back." She raised her hand.
"Yes, Kamikaze?"
"What about your arm?"
"Oh. Oh this?" He raised his arm with the red stained bandage. "This is nothing. We'll worry about this later."
She walked over. "We'll worry about this as soon as we are upstairs, okay? I want to make sure we clean and bandage it properly."
Kamikaze checked his bandage briefly before heading outside. Ryan took a moment to regain his thoughts, caught off guard by how adamant she was.
"Beard. Go ahead and move to Phase Three of the Emergency Zed Plan, as you see fit. Snowsuit up, buddy." Beard nodded, slung a bag over his shoulder, and headed out the door.
Rubble looked hesitant. "If there's zombies about, should we be worried about being outside, undefended?" he asked, nervously.
Ryan grinned. "Got it under control. Phase Three is to secure the perimeter. Beard is on scout patrol while we're putting things in order. He'll be roaming the nearby area looking for defensible positions, choke points, and any stragglers that may wander by."
Rubble nodded. "Nicely done."
"That's why we have the Plan. Rubble and Angel Hair, you two are porters. I set things in a pile in the living room, you two make it go upstairs by stairway and then ladder. Got it?"
They groaned in unison. Ryan shrugged, unapologetic. "Sorry guys, there's gonna be a lot of stuff, and some of it can get kinda heavy. I'm counting on you two working together to get it done. Think of it as your hazing." High fives exchanged hands as they set to work gathering up supplies.
Everybody had left to work on their individual assignments except Cowboy, who sat looking at Ryan expectantly. "Just us, right T.Rex?" he asked, excited. "Betcha you've got a special job lined up just for us Billy Badasses."
Ryan looked at his feet before responding. "Well buddy, you and I have the very important job of gathering useful supplies from this downstairs apartment and piling them in the living room for Rubble and Angel Hair to move."
"Weaksauce," Cowboy replied.
They set out scouring the apartment for anything they thought might be useful against what Ryan hoped would be a short siege. They found more batteries, rope, matches, and made sure to grab Ryan's Mag-Lite flashlight.
"Just make sure you don't get anything too heavy, or that needs power, Cowboy, because we can't be sure the power will come back in time." Ryan warned, as they piled a long torchiere in the living room.
"Wait, how long is 'in time', exactly?" Cowboy asked, seeming worried.
"Couldn't say for sure. I hope no more than a day or two, but I can't even get a hold of the Purdue Police," Ryan admitted. "Power is out, and I found evidence of several attacks all on my own. I have no way of knowing for sure how far it may have spread without my computer. The best we can do is prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. I'm guessing that we can hole up upstairs and stay low for a few days before the authorities get their heads out of their asses, and put together a plan to clear out the campus. Unless something gets out of control, we don't have to resort to a Redeker strategy."
"Ryan, what the hell is a Redeker strategy? Is that gonna go on my inappropriate references counter?" Cowboy seemed almost annoyed and held out his hands as a warning.
"Sorry. It's from the Zombie Survival Guide again. I'll go over more of the details when we get settled upstairs."
"I hope that's soon, because it's really freakin' hot in here."
"I know, Cowboy. I know."
Together they gathered some low tech entertainment - playing cards, a few books and a board game. Alex's room had some candles that Stephanie had given him, and those were confiscated towards the war effort. Almost all of the electronics were left behind, but not before being emptied of batteries. Ryan grabbed his cell phone charger in case they ever got power back. They took the ski poles from under Ryan's bed, bleach, toilet paper, and soap from the bathroom, and every inch of duct tape they could find. They grabbed any clean towels and Ryan's personal grooming kit.
"Are you really worried about growing some stubble?" Cowboy joked, as they ransacked the bathroom.
"Rule number five." Ryan replied, before remembering not everybody had memorized the list. "Ideal protection is tight clothes and short hair."
"You mean you're gonna cut your hair?" Cowboy asked, incredulous.
"It's gone as soon as we get some time tonight." Ryan replied, brushing the curls from his forehead.
A first aid kit from the linen closet and two sleeping bags joined the pile of goods being transported upstairs before Cowboy and T.Rex moved to the kitchen. They piled any non-perishable food into trash bags, leaving the cabinets bare. As Ryan wrapped the steak knife set in a hand towel, he wondered how long they might last with the food at hand, especially without power.
The food in the refrigerator had been without power for a few hours, and it was uncertain when it might come back. They opened the fridge door and quickly emptied it of anything that could be taken upstairs without worry of spoilage - including cans of soda.
Just then, Peace ran into the kitchen and skidded to a stop. "T.Rex!" he shouted. "You gotta come see this."
Current Word Count: 9,928
12:22pm
Ryan's Apartment
Ryan had just finished his speech, and nobody moved. He glanced slowly around the room, making eye contact with each Fool in turn, and met a grim and determined face from nearly all of them.
He continued. "Alright then, excellent. I'll give you more information later, but for now, your assignments. Peace, how are your lock picking skills these days?"
Peace replied smartly as he stood up. "Sharp as tacks, sir."
"Excellent. Rule number six. I want you to go outside, upstairs, and get us into the apartment above us." Peace nodded and rummaged through is bookbag before bolting out the door.
"Wait," Cowboy spoke up. "Rule six?"
Beard filled in the information as he drew a weathered book from his duffel. "Rule number six from the Zombie Survival Guide - Get up the staircase, then destroy it."
"Bingo," Ryan confirmed. "We'll have a much better chance of survival once we can get into the apartment above us. That'll be our base of operations from here on out. Kamikaze?"
"Yes, Captain!" she saluted with her response.
"You're on staircase duty. I'll help you find some tools, and then I want you to start dismantling the staircase to the apartment above. I've got a ladder, so that'll be our access once the stairs are gone. That'll keep most things at bay. Try and save what wood you can, we may need it later for cooking if the power doesn't come back." She raised her hand.
"Yes, Kamikaze?"
"What about your arm?"
"Oh. Oh this?" He raised his arm with the red stained bandage. "This is nothing. We'll worry about this later."
She walked over. "We'll worry about this as soon as we are upstairs, okay? I want to make sure we clean and bandage it properly."
Kamikaze checked his bandage briefly before heading outside. Ryan took a moment to regain his thoughts, caught off guard by how adamant she was.
"Beard. Go ahead and move to Phase Three of the Emergency Zed Plan, as you see fit. Snowsuit up, buddy." Beard nodded, slung a bag over his shoulder, and headed out the door.
Rubble looked hesitant. "If there's zombies about, should we be worried about being outside, undefended?" he asked, nervously.
Ryan grinned. "Got it under control. Phase Three is to secure the perimeter. Beard is on scout patrol while we're putting things in order. He'll be roaming the nearby area looking for defensible positions, choke points, and any stragglers that may wander by."
Rubble nodded. "Nicely done."
"That's why we have the Plan. Rubble and Angel Hair, you two are porters. I set things in a pile in the living room, you two make it go upstairs by stairway and then ladder. Got it?"
They groaned in unison. Ryan shrugged, unapologetic. "Sorry guys, there's gonna be a lot of stuff, and some of it can get kinda heavy. I'm counting on you two working together to get it done. Think of it as your hazing." High fives exchanged hands as they set to work gathering up supplies.
Everybody had left to work on their individual assignments except Cowboy, who sat looking at Ryan expectantly. "Just us, right T.Rex?" he asked, excited. "Betcha you've got a special job lined up just for us Billy Badasses."
Ryan looked at his feet before responding. "Well buddy, you and I have the very important job of gathering useful supplies from this downstairs apartment and piling them in the living room for Rubble and Angel Hair to move."
"Weaksauce," Cowboy replied.
They set out scouring the apartment for anything they thought might be useful against what Ryan hoped would be a short siege. They found more batteries, rope, matches, and made sure to grab Ryan's Mag-Lite flashlight.
"Just make sure you don't get anything too heavy, or that needs power, Cowboy, because we can't be sure the power will come back in time." Ryan warned, as they piled a long torchiere in the living room.
"Wait, how long is 'in time', exactly?" Cowboy asked, seeming worried.
"Couldn't say for sure. I hope no more than a day or two, but I can't even get a hold of the Purdue Police," Ryan admitted. "Power is out, and I found evidence of several attacks all on my own. I have no way of knowing for sure how far it may have spread without my computer. The best we can do is prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. I'm guessing that we can hole up upstairs and stay low for a few days before the authorities get their heads out of their asses, and put together a plan to clear out the campus. Unless something gets out of control, we don't have to resort to a Redeker strategy."
"Ryan, what the hell is a Redeker strategy? Is that gonna go on my inappropriate references counter?" Cowboy seemed almost annoyed and held out his hands as a warning.
"Sorry. It's from the Zombie Survival Guide again. I'll go over more of the details when we get settled upstairs."
"I hope that's soon, because it's really freakin' hot in here."
"I know, Cowboy. I know."
Together they gathered some low tech entertainment - playing cards, a few books and a board game. Alex's room had some candles that Stephanie had given him, and those were confiscated towards the war effort. Almost all of the electronics were left behind, but not before being emptied of batteries. Ryan grabbed his cell phone charger in case they ever got power back. They took the ski poles from under Ryan's bed, bleach, toilet paper, and soap from the bathroom, and every inch of duct tape they could find. They grabbed any clean towels and Ryan's personal grooming kit.
"Are you really worried about growing some stubble?" Cowboy joked, as they ransacked the bathroom.
"Rule number five." Ryan replied, before remembering not everybody had memorized the list. "Ideal protection is tight clothes and short hair."
"You mean you're gonna cut your hair?" Cowboy asked, incredulous.
"It's gone as soon as we get some time tonight." Ryan replied, brushing the curls from his forehead.
A first aid kit from the linen closet and two sleeping bags joined the pile of goods being transported upstairs before Cowboy and T.Rex moved to the kitchen. They piled any non-perishable food into trash bags, leaving the cabinets bare. As Ryan wrapped the steak knife set in a hand towel, he wondered how long they might last with the food at hand, especially without power.
The food in the refrigerator had been without power for a few hours, and it was uncertain when it might come back. They opened the fridge door and quickly emptied it of anything that could be taken upstairs without worry of spoilage - including cans of soda.
Just then, Peace ran into the kitchen and skidded to a stop. "T.Rex!" he shouted. "You gotta come see this."
Current Word Count: 9,928
Chapter 7 - Prevention
June 6th, 2008
11:48am
Ryan's Neighbor's Apartment
"What isss it?" the second voice asked, with greater difficulty. There was a pause.
Ryan's pulse was pounding in his head. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and waited.
The first voice spoke, confused. "Oh, I just got a weird text message from my girlfriend. Apparently she wants me to 'come and protect her'?" Ryan noticed a micro-pause around the words that seemed to fit air-quotes. "Better not be that ex-boyfriend of hers snooping around. I gotta go."
Trapped under the bed, Ryan nervously opened one eye to see the only visible shoes turn and exit the room. He slowly let out his breath as quietly as possible. He heard the distinctive noise of feet shuffling down a flight of stairs, and the door opening and slamming shut. Ryan waited nervously for a few moments, silently thanking the universe for giving him a pass on the past 10 minutes.
The body above him no longer made any noise. Gingerly pushing the plastic case ahead of him, Ryan army-crawled his way out from under the bed, wincing every time he put his weight on his left forearm. Once out from under the bed, he stood up and dusted himself off. He surveyed the man laying on the bed in front of him.
I really, really hope this man is not on his way to becoming a zed, Ryan thought grimly, though he was fairly certain what was about to happen to this man. He decided it was worth the risk to find out more. Setting the case down, he picked up the baseball bat and used it to move aside the cover.
The man's arm had two distinct sets of teeth marks on his right arm, and several scratches on his neck and face. Ryan shuddered involuntarily. He noticed the man was breathing very slowly, and very shallow at that. He grabbed the edge of the sheet and heaved, so the man rolled onto his side.
That'll help in case he get sick, thought Ryan, but I can't just leave him here. What if he's on his way out, ready to come back a zed next door from my apartment? He quickly scanned the room. The desk drawers had nothing of use. He was about to give up and leave before he decided to check the nightstand drawer.
Inside there were several condoms, a Playboy, and a pair of handcuffs. Kinky, Ryan thought. He grabbed the handcuffs and very delicately clicked one of the silver bands around the man's ankle and anchored the other to the bed frame. If he wakes up, he'll think it was his roommate pulling a prank. If he dies and reanimates, well, then at least his roommates might have a chance.
Ryan stood at the foot of the bed for several moments, gripping the bat tightly in his hand. He wondered if it was right, to pre-emptively stop what he was fairly certain was a zombie waiting to happen. What if he was wrong? He'd be condemning an innocent man a violent and blunt death - tethered to the bed, no less - on circumstantial evidence.
I can't do it, he admitted to himself. He grabbed the rifle case and carried the bat into the hallway, shutting the door behind him somberly. As he carried the items downstairs to his pile of supplies, he hoped he'd done the right thing.
Grimly, he took a few trips walking the items across the walkway to his own apartment. The last things he took from the neighbor's house before leaving were a crowbar, shovel, and ladder, all found in the garage.
He set about collecting some items in his own house, similar to the raid just conducted the next house over. A few minutes later there was a loud knock at the door. Ryan grabbed the crowbar, and crept to his own door. He went up on his tiptoes and peered through the peephole.
Outside the doors stood the Fools. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, unlocked the door, and ushered in Beard, Peace, Angel Hair, Rubble, Cowboy, and Kamikaze. They all carried bookbags, duffel bags, and other luggage.
"Have a seat, guys, I've got a few things to talk about." Ryan explained as they filed in. The Fools found spots in the living room amongst stuffed trash bags and piles of weapons. He grabbed Beard by the sleeve and pulled him aside near the doorway.
"It's worse than I thought." Ryan whispered.
Beard frowned. "How bad?"
"I'm pretty sure we're already at a Class 2 outbreak, but I've not heard much from the outside. It could be even worse."
"Well I got here as fast as I could, with what I could."
"I know, I know. You did a great job. Any problems with the plan so far?"
"None."
"Great. I'll take over from here." Beard sat down next to Peace and waited for Ryan to speak.
Ryan cleared his throat.
"Fools, I'm going to make this short and sweet. I'm not sure what Beard has already told you, but I have strong reason to believe that right here at Purdue, right now as we speak, we may be in great danger. I'm gonna do my best to turn this apartment into a fortress and defend this patch of land against the living dead, and if it comes to it, the threat of the zombpocalypse itself.
I know it's a lot to take in. Sacrifices must be made, and the coming days and possibly more are gonna get a lot worse before they get better. You're welcome to stay and help, and I hope that you do. If you stay, I'm in command and we follow the Emergency Zed Plan. If that doesn't work for you, now's the time to leave."
Current Word Count: 8,763
11:48am
Ryan's Neighbor's Apartment
"What isss it?" the second voice asked, with greater difficulty. There was a pause.
Ryan's pulse was pounding in his head. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and waited.
The first voice spoke, confused. "Oh, I just got a weird text message from my girlfriend. Apparently she wants me to 'come and protect her'?" Ryan noticed a micro-pause around the words that seemed to fit air-quotes. "Better not be that ex-boyfriend of hers snooping around. I gotta go."
Trapped under the bed, Ryan nervously opened one eye to see the only visible shoes turn and exit the room. He slowly let out his breath as quietly as possible. He heard the distinctive noise of feet shuffling down a flight of stairs, and the door opening and slamming shut. Ryan waited nervously for a few moments, silently thanking the universe for giving him a pass on the past 10 minutes.
The body above him no longer made any noise. Gingerly pushing the plastic case ahead of him, Ryan army-crawled his way out from under the bed, wincing every time he put his weight on his left forearm. Once out from under the bed, he stood up and dusted himself off. He surveyed the man laying on the bed in front of him.
I really, really hope this man is not on his way to becoming a zed, Ryan thought grimly, though he was fairly certain what was about to happen to this man. He decided it was worth the risk to find out more. Setting the case down, he picked up the baseball bat and used it to move aside the cover.
The man's arm had two distinct sets of teeth marks on his right arm, and several scratches on his neck and face. Ryan shuddered involuntarily. He noticed the man was breathing very slowly, and very shallow at that. He grabbed the edge of the sheet and heaved, so the man rolled onto his side.
That'll help in case he get sick, thought Ryan, but I can't just leave him here. What if he's on his way out, ready to come back a zed next door from my apartment? He quickly scanned the room. The desk drawers had nothing of use. He was about to give up and leave before he decided to check the nightstand drawer.
Inside there were several condoms, a Playboy, and a pair of handcuffs. Kinky, Ryan thought. He grabbed the handcuffs and very delicately clicked one of the silver bands around the man's ankle and anchored the other to the bed frame. If he wakes up, he'll think it was his roommate pulling a prank. If he dies and reanimates, well, then at least his roommates might have a chance.
Ryan stood at the foot of the bed for several moments, gripping the bat tightly in his hand. He wondered if it was right, to pre-emptively stop what he was fairly certain was a zombie waiting to happen. What if he was wrong? He'd be condemning an innocent man a violent and blunt death - tethered to the bed, no less - on circumstantial evidence.
I can't do it, he admitted to himself. He grabbed the rifle case and carried the bat into the hallway, shutting the door behind him somberly. As he carried the items downstairs to his pile of supplies, he hoped he'd done the right thing.
Grimly, he took a few trips walking the items across the walkway to his own apartment. The last things he took from the neighbor's house before leaving were a crowbar, shovel, and ladder, all found in the garage.
He set about collecting some items in his own house, similar to the raid just conducted the next house over. A few minutes later there was a loud knock at the door. Ryan grabbed the crowbar, and crept to his own door. He went up on his tiptoes and peered through the peephole.
Outside the doors stood the Fools. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, unlocked the door, and ushered in Beard, Peace, Angel Hair, Rubble, Cowboy, and Kamikaze. They all carried bookbags, duffel bags, and other luggage.
"Have a seat, guys, I've got a few things to talk about." Ryan explained as they filed in. The Fools found spots in the living room amongst stuffed trash bags and piles of weapons. He grabbed Beard by the sleeve and pulled him aside near the doorway.
"It's worse than I thought." Ryan whispered.
Beard frowned. "How bad?"
"I'm pretty sure we're already at a Class 2 outbreak, but I've not heard much from the outside. It could be even worse."
"Well I got here as fast as I could, with what I could."
"I know, I know. You did a great job. Any problems with the plan so far?"
"None."
"Great. I'll take over from here." Beard sat down next to Peace and waited for Ryan to speak.
Ryan cleared his throat.
"Fools, I'm going to make this short and sweet. I'm not sure what Beard has already told you, but I have strong reason to believe that right here at Purdue, right now as we speak, we may be in great danger. I'm gonna do my best to turn this apartment into a fortress and defend this patch of land against the living dead, and if it comes to it, the threat of the zombpocalypse itself.
I know it's a lot to take in. Sacrifices must be made, and the coming days and possibly more are gonna get a lot worse before they get better. You're welcome to stay and help, and I hope that you do. If you stay, I'm in command and we follow the Emergency Zed Plan. If that doesn't work for you, now's the time to leave."
Current Word Count: 8,763
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Chapter 6 - Infiltration
June 6th, 2008
10:24am
South Grant Street
"Is this a drill?" Eric asked, calmly.
"Not a drill. Repeat, not a drill. One confirmed attack, several suspected. One confirmed video sighting, as well." Ryan said in a hushed voice.
"Balls! I'm on it. Beard out." There was a click, and the entire conversation ended.
It was over in a matter of seconds, but that was all it took. They'd talked many times before about strategy and tactics, discussed hypothetical scenarios ranging from a simple local outbreak to worldwide catastrophe. It had all been in good fun, a harmless thought exercise, but now their very existence could very well depend on how fast and how accurately they could bring their plan to bear.
Hundreds of variables need to be accounted for, Ryan thought, starting at home. He raced back to his apartment knowing every second counted. To start, he quickly checked every window in the house, making sure they were locked with blinds shut. Not that blinds would do anything to slow down any number of zombies, but making sure that this apartment and anybody inside of it drew no unnecessary attention to itself was paramount. He also noted that the power was still out, and wondered when - if it might be restored.
Ryan knew the next item of business was going to be unpleasant. It was dangerous. It was illegal, but he wasn't about to let a little thing like "the law" keep him from improving his chances of survival against the living dead.
He stealthily exited the apartment, taking extra care to lock behind him. He wasn't planning on being gone long, nor was his destination far, but now more than ever security of his perimeter could mean the difference between life and a fate worse than death.
A quick look around confirmed there were neither creatures nor prying eyes around. He snuck next door and listened at the window for any sounds emanating from inside. There were none, at least that he could hear. He crept to the side door and carefully slid his arm through a broken pane of glass. The glass that hadn't been repaired in over a year after a particularly raucous party. Taking great care to avoid the shards still clinging to the frame, he extended his short arm as far as it would go and very gently unlocked the door.
Just then, there was a rustle in the bushes nearby and it broke Ryan's delicate concentration. Startled, he reflexively withdrew his arm and in doing so dragged the inside of his forearm against the sharp glass, opening a deep laceration and narrowly missing an artery.
"Fuckin' hell!" he hissed, dragging the rest of his arm gingerly away from the glass and clutching it tightly. It was too late to turn back now, so he rushed inside his neighbor's door and closed it behind him, hoping the rustle was benign and his wound wasn't serious. He ripped the curtain from the nearest window and tied it tightly around his arm. The blood quickly began to stain the white fabric. Ryan tried to block the sight from his mind and instead focus on the task at hand.
He crept forward through the house, keeping low to avoid being seen through the windows. First, he stopped in the living room. He grabbed all four pool cues and the bridge and stacked them by the back door. Moving onto the kitchen, he found their booze fridge and brushed aside bottles alcohol until he found the purest, which happened to be a bottle of Everclear. He set that next to the cues and searched around for a container.
Man, I wish I had my bookbag he thought as he opened cabinets at random, until at last he found a pile of garbage bags. He extracted two from the box and shook them open, forming a double layered sack. The cabinets were then ransacked in order, with any non-perishable food being tossed inside the bags. Pop-Tarts, granola bars, canned goods, chips, peanut butter, mini-muffins, cereal and more found their way into his stash until the cupboards were bare. Ryan felt like a more desperate version of The Grinch as he piled the food bag near the door. Just as he was sneaking out of the kitchen to head the second floor, he spied a case of bottled water resting against the refrigerator. He dragged it over to the pile and raced upstairs.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, he listened once more for any sounds, but heard none. He darted in and out of the upstairs bedrooms in turn, desperate for any useful item. In the first bedroom, he found batteries and matches in the desk drawers, but nothing else. He stuffed the small items into his pockets and kept moving. He even checked under the bed and behind the door. The lock on the trunk at the foot of the bed was tempting, but every moment he spent inside the house was another moment he could get caught.
The second bedroom seemed fruitless at first glance. Opening the closet released a cascade of sports equipment, and the noise was deafening as tennis balls, a soccer ball, and several footballs clattered to the floor. Ryan stood amidst the pile tense, ready to be confronted, but nothing came. After a few moments, he grabbed a baseball bat and ran to the final bedroom, making sure to shut the door behind him.
Ryan opened the door and found himself staring directly at a gigantic stereo system. He paused for a moment to admire the quadruple speaker towers, the enormous subwoofer, and the hundreds of buttons on the front panel. So that's how they manage to keep me awake past 1am. What a shame! Such terrible music comes from these gorgeous speakers! I'm not here to vandalize, but boy would I love to relocate this to my apartment and rock out properly. Perhaps some Judas Priest or Scorpions, shaking the walls... okay, so I'm sort of vandalizing he admitted to himself. But I have to! It's for my own survival. Besides, I could never carry it myself, there's no power, and the sound would only attract attention, he said to himself as a sort of justification.
He shook away the thoughts of outright theft and searched the room. The stereo dominated the room, but when he opened the closet and saw what it contained, the baseball bat in his hand clattered to the floor. Hanging directly in front of him was a camouflage hunter's jumpsuit. Above that was a black plastic case that barely cleared the width of the closet.
Ryan excitedly pulled the case out of the closet and set it on the hardwood floor next to the bed. He said a silent "thank you" that there were no locks and clicked open the case. Inside was a gorgeous rifle, with boxes of shining gold tipped ammunition nestled alongside it.
Ryan grinned. Yes, he thought. This will do quite nicely.
Just then there was a muffled pair of voices nearby. From downstairs, there was a noise at the door as the doorknob was tried, and then a jiggle of keys.
Shit! he thought, panicking slightly. Ryan slammed the plastic lid down and clicked the snaps shut. He grabbed the case and headed for the hallway before he heard the front door creak open.
"...can't believe you, man!" came the voice of a clearly annoyed male.
"Whaaat? I ttold you I jussst needed your help, dude." the second voice spoke, slurred.
"I'm on my fucking lunch break. I'm gonna be late because of your stupid ass."
"Sssorry bro. I got kinda schwasted last night and ended up sssleeping with this girl at a paaarrty. Shhhe got really kinky and I woke up with the mother of all hangggovers."
Oh no, Ryan thought. Please tell me he didn't get bitten last night, thinking it was a drunken hookup.
There was a strange mixture of sounds as one pair of footsteps ascended the stairs, the other one clearly being dragged. Ryan was running out of options. He ran back into the third bedroom and rolled under the bed, dragging the case with him.
Wonderful, Ryan. You're in the clear now, what with the multiple escape routes and such, he said to himself sarcastically.
The steps and dragging noises got louder until a pair of legs appeared in Ryan's vision from under the bed.
No! No no no no. Other bedroom. Why? Why does he have to sleep in this bedroom? Ryan thought to himself, trying desperately to lie silently without moving.
Ryan held his breath as the legs being dragged disappeared from sight and the bed above him depressed uncomfortably into his back. He noticed that the blood from his arm wound had begun to pool on the wooden floor, but he feared any movement would betray his position. He closed his eyes, and waited nervously.
"I hope you can sleep this off" said the first voice. "You're lucky I owe you rent money or I would've left you at that house. How many times are you going to do this to me? My boss already thinks I'm a screwup."
"I'm sssorry, dude. Can you take me tt-to the hossspital when you get off work?" said the second voice, sounding very apologetic.
"Maybe. Just let me-" the voice cut off abruptly. Ryan opened his eyes in fright. Had the blood pooled enough to be seen?
"What. The. Hell?" said the first voice.
Current Word Count: 7,770
10:24am
South Grant Street
"Is this a drill?" Eric asked, calmly.
"Not a drill. Repeat, not a drill. One confirmed attack, several suspected. One confirmed video sighting, as well." Ryan said in a hushed voice.
"Balls! I'm on it. Beard out." There was a click, and the entire conversation ended.
It was over in a matter of seconds, but that was all it took. They'd talked many times before about strategy and tactics, discussed hypothetical scenarios ranging from a simple local outbreak to worldwide catastrophe. It had all been in good fun, a harmless thought exercise, but now their very existence could very well depend on how fast and how accurately they could bring their plan to bear.
Hundreds of variables need to be accounted for, Ryan thought, starting at home. He raced back to his apartment knowing every second counted. To start, he quickly checked every window in the house, making sure they were locked with blinds shut. Not that blinds would do anything to slow down any number of zombies, but making sure that this apartment and anybody inside of it drew no unnecessary attention to itself was paramount. He also noted that the power was still out, and wondered when - if it might be restored.
Ryan knew the next item of business was going to be unpleasant. It was dangerous. It was illegal, but he wasn't about to let a little thing like "the law" keep him from improving his chances of survival against the living dead.
He stealthily exited the apartment, taking extra care to lock behind him. He wasn't planning on being gone long, nor was his destination far, but now more than ever security of his perimeter could mean the difference between life and a fate worse than death.
A quick look around confirmed there were neither creatures nor prying eyes around. He snuck next door and listened at the window for any sounds emanating from inside. There were none, at least that he could hear. He crept to the side door and carefully slid his arm through a broken pane of glass. The glass that hadn't been repaired in over a year after a particularly raucous party. Taking great care to avoid the shards still clinging to the frame, he extended his short arm as far as it would go and very gently unlocked the door.
Just then, there was a rustle in the bushes nearby and it broke Ryan's delicate concentration. Startled, he reflexively withdrew his arm and in doing so dragged the inside of his forearm against the sharp glass, opening a deep laceration and narrowly missing an artery.
"Fuckin' hell!" he hissed, dragging the rest of his arm gingerly away from the glass and clutching it tightly. It was too late to turn back now, so he rushed inside his neighbor's door and closed it behind him, hoping the rustle was benign and his wound wasn't serious. He ripped the curtain from the nearest window and tied it tightly around his arm. The blood quickly began to stain the white fabric. Ryan tried to block the sight from his mind and instead focus on the task at hand.
He crept forward through the house, keeping low to avoid being seen through the windows. First, he stopped in the living room. He grabbed all four pool cues and the bridge and stacked them by the back door. Moving onto the kitchen, he found their booze fridge and brushed aside bottles alcohol until he found the purest, which happened to be a bottle of Everclear. He set that next to the cues and searched around for a container.
Man, I wish I had my bookbag he thought as he opened cabinets at random, until at last he found a pile of garbage bags. He extracted two from the box and shook them open, forming a double layered sack. The cabinets were then ransacked in order, with any non-perishable food being tossed inside the bags. Pop-Tarts, granola bars, canned goods, chips, peanut butter, mini-muffins, cereal and more found their way into his stash until the cupboards were bare. Ryan felt like a more desperate version of The Grinch as he piled the food bag near the door. Just as he was sneaking out of the kitchen to head the second floor, he spied a case of bottled water resting against the refrigerator. He dragged it over to the pile and raced upstairs.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, he listened once more for any sounds, but heard none. He darted in and out of the upstairs bedrooms in turn, desperate for any useful item. In the first bedroom, he found batteries and matches in the desk drawers, but nothing else. He stuffed the small items into his pockets and kept moving. He even checked under the bed and behind the door. The lock on the trunk at the foot of the bed was tempting, but every moment he spent inside the house was another moment he could get caught.
The second bedroom seemed fruitless at first glance. Opening the closet released a cascade of sports equipment, and the noise was deafening as tennis balls, a soccer ball, and several footballs clattered to the floor. Ryan stood amidst the pile tense, ready to be confronted, but nothing came. After a few moments, he grabbed a baseball bat and ran to the final bedroom, making sure to shut the door behind him.
Ryan opened the door and found himself staring directly at a gigantic stereo system. He paused for a moment to admire the quadruple speaker towers, the enormous subwoofer, and the hundreds of buttons on the front panel. So that's how they manage to keep me awake past 1am. What a shame! Such terrible music comes from these gorgeous speakers! I'm not here to vandalize, but boy would I love to relocate this to my apartment and rock out properly. Perhaps some Judas Priest or Scorpions, shaking the walls... okay, so I'm sort of vandalizing he admitted to himself. But I have to! It's for my own survival. Besides, I could never carry it myself, there's no power, and the sound would only attract attention, he said to himself as a sort of justification.
He shook away the thoughts of outright theft and searched the room. The stereo dominated the room, but when he opened the closet and saw what it contained, the baseball bat in his hand clattered to the floor. Hanging directly in front of him was a camouflage hunter's jumpsuit. Above that was a black plastic case that barely cleared the width of the closet.
Ryan excitedly pulled the case out of the closet and set it on the hardwood floor next to the bed. He said a silent "thank you" that there were no locks and clicked open the case. Inside was a gorgeous rifle, with boxes of shining gold tipped ammunition nestled alongside it.
Ryan grinned. Yes, he thought. This will do quite nicely.
Just then there was a muffled pair of voices nearby. From downstairs, there was a noise at the door as the doorknob was tried, and then a jiggle of keys.
Shit! he thought, panicking slightly. Ryan slammed the plastic lid down and clicked the snaps shut. He grabbed the case and headed for the hallway before he heard the front door creak open.
"...can't believe you, man!" came the voice of a clearly annoyed male.
"Whaaat? I ttold you I jussst needed your help, dude." the second voice spoke, slurred.
"I'm on my fucking lunch break. I'm gonna be late because of your stupid ass."
"Sssorry bro. I got kinda schwasted last night and ended up sssleeping with this girl at a paaarrty. Shhhe got really kinky and I woke up with the mother of all hangggovers."
Oh no, Ryan thought. Please tell me he didn't get bitten last night, thinking it was a drunken hookup.
There was a strange mixture of sounds as one pair of footsteps ascended the stairs, the other one clearly being dragged. Ryan was running out of options. He ran back into the third bedroom and rolled under the bed, dragging the case with him.
Wonderful, Ryan. You're in the clear now, what with the multiple escape routes and such, he said to himself sarcastically.
The steps and dragging noises got louder until a pair of legs appeared in Ryan's vision from under the bed.
No! No no no no. Other bedroom. Why? Why does he have to sleep in this bedroom? Ryan thought to himself, trying desperately to lie silently without moving.
Ryan held his breath as the legs being dragged disappeared from sight and the bed above him depressed uncomfortably into his back. He noticed that the blood from his arm wound had begun to pool on the wooden floor, but he feared any movement would betray his position. He closed his eyes, and waited nervously.
"I hope you can sleep this off" said the first voice. "You're lucky I owe you rent money or I would've left you at that house. How many times are you going to do this to me? My boss already thinks I'm a screwup."
"I'm sssorry, dude. Can you take me tt-to the hossspital when you get off work?" said the second voice, sounding very apologetic.
"Maybe. Just let me-" the voice cut off abruptly. Ryan opened his eyes in fright. Had the blood pooled enough to be seen?
"What. The. Hell?" said the first voice.
Current Word Count: 7,770
Monday, November 5, 2007
Chapter 5 - Puzzle Pieces
June 6th, 2008
9:01am
Ryan's Apartment
Shit. I'm late for class, was Ryan's first thought upon waking up the next morning. He sat upright on the couch, as the momentary panic that accompanies such an epiphany quickly reached its peak. Class started at 8:30. By the time I get there, it'll be over anyway. Looks like I'm gonna have to chalk that one up as a loss, he thought. Just as quickly, the panic faded as a sort of resigned relief washed over him. It was out of his hands now.
He chastised himself for not setting an alarm, and then remembered that his phone had borne the brunt of his nervous frustration the night before. Now free of his morning obligations, Ryan took his time getting ready for the day. He was rinsing the shampoo from his hair before he remembered fully the ordeal of the night before. He was more upset at the loss of his bookbag than anything else, and wondered if there was any hope of recovering it. This thought quickly gave way to the worry that the creature was still out there, hunting him. He exited the shower, got dressed, and gathered his things before sitting down to his computer.
As the computer booted up, Ryan pondered the situation. Something doesn't feel right about all of this. The thing that attacked me last night never asked for any money, never even said anything. Didn't seem to have much in the way of motor skills, either. Drunk? High? Looking to pick a fight? Not to mention there's been some weird stuff happening on campus lately, too.
Just then, the screen went blank and the entire apartment fell silent. A power outage left every appliance in the house without life.
"Come on!" he shouted in frustration. He decided to resume his sleuthing on campus, where hopefully a computer lab had a reliable connection. He had to risk a confrontation with the creature to find out more.
Walking to campus was a paranoid affair. Every few steps he paused to look around, listening intently for a sign of another attack. Mundane sounds like bike tires or idle cars seemed to hang in the humid air, each threatening to turn into the distinctive moan. It was with great relief that he opened the door to the Stewart Center unscathed. He made a beeline for the computer lab, pausing only to grab a copy of The Exponent.
Time seemed to drag on as the scripts for the campus computer terminal processed Ryan's requests to log in. He drummed his fingers on the desk nervously and thought c'mon, c'mon, faster, faster... before seeing the worried glances of the students sitting next to him. He forced himself to sit patiently. As he waited for Windows to start, he flipped through the student paper for any notice of a pedestrian injury near Wood St. There was no mention of any accident of any kind.
He opened Firefox and searched the Purdue website for any indication of any abnormal news. Hillenbrand, he noted, had a last-minute cancellation of a conference. This was the same conference that was supposed to be occupying Jenny's building, which meant that she would probably have an empty building for the time being.
The paper offered no more insight. The graduate student mentioned yesterday was still missing. A construction injury. More visitors to the student health center. He also noticed that more record hot weather had been predicted.
Great, he thought more power outages at the apartment. Just what I need right now.
A small icon popped up at the bottom right of his screen. He had several new messages. Opening up his e-mail inbox, he quickly skimmed over the messages. One came directly from Purdue Physical Facilities. Ryan knew it was fairly common for construction work to take place during the summer, as less students would be affected. Most students who stayed over the summer received these messages informing them of road closings, building services shut down, or other problems.
This particular message was a simple warning of a two lane road near Mackey being reduced to one lane starting next week until July. Playing a hunch, Ryan followed the link at the end of the message to the Facilities website. There he found a link there to a webcam that showed the progress of a new parking garage being built. He searched through the archives for a clip of the basement level that was under construction, dated last night.
There, on the screen, was a shadowy figure with an unmistakable gait.
The same gait, the same silhouette of the attacking figure from last night. He couldn't believe his eyes. It all made more sense now - the news, the "accidents", the strange beings on campus.
Fighting back a panic, he calmly logged off of his computer and resisted the urge to sprint for home. He stood up, pushed in his chair and briskly walked out of the room. As he left the Stewart Center, he took one last look of the students in the computer lab, unaware of the danger that now loomed large over Purdue. Run! he mentally urged them. Flee for your lives!
Ryan jogged back to his apartment nervously. He desperately hoped he was wrong, but the evidence was staring him right in the face. With his options dwindling and knowing full well every minute counted, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket.
Damn. Not much charge left, he noted. He dialed the number for Eric, and waited impatiently for him to pick up.
"Hello?" Eric answered.
"Beard - there's not much time, so listen carefully. Initiate the Emergency Zed Plan."
Current Word Count: 6,195
9:01am
Ryan's Apartment
Shit. I'm late for class, was Ryan's first thought upon waking up the next morning. He sat upright on the couch, as the momentary panic that accompanies such an epiphany quickly reached its peak. Class started at 8:30. By the time I get there, it'll be over anyway. Looks like I'm gonna have to chalk that one up as a loss, he thought. Just as quickly, the panic faded as a sort of resigned relief washed over him. It was out of his hands now.
He chastised himself for not setting an alarm, and then remembered that his phone had borne the brunt of his nervous frustration the night before. Now free of his morning obligations, Ryan took his time getting ready for the day. He was rinsing the shampoo from his hair before he remembered fully the ordeal of the night before. He was more upset at the loss of his bookbag than anything else, and wondered if there was any hope of recovering it. This thought quickly gave way to the worry that the creature was still out there, hunting him. He exited the shower, got dressed, and gathered his things before sitting down to his computer.
As the computer booted up, Ryan pondered the situation. Something doesn't feel right about all of this. The thing that attacked me last night never asked for any money, never even said anything. Didn't seem to have much in the way of motor skills, either. Drunk? High? Looking to pick a fight? Not to mention there's been some weird stuff happening on campus lately, too.
Just then, the screen went blank and the entire apartment fell silent. A power outage left every appliance in the house without life.
"Come on!" he shouted in frustration. He decided to resume his sleuthing on campus, where hopefully a computer lab had a reliable connection. He had to risk a confrontation with the creature to find out more.
Walking to campus was a paranoid affair. Every few steps he paused to look around, listening intently for a sign of another attack. Mundane sounds like bike tires or idle cars seemed to hang in the humid air, each threatening to turn into the distinctive moan. It was with great relief that he opened the door to the Stewart Center unscathed. He made a beeline for the computer lab, pausing only to grab a copy of The Exponent.
Time seemed to drag on as the scripts for the campus computer terminal processed Ryan's requests to log in. He drummed his fingers on the desk nervously and thought c'mon, c'mon, faster, faster... before seeing the worried glances of the students sitting next to him. He forced himself to sit patiently. As he waited for Windows to start, he flipped through the student paper for any notice of a pedestrian injury near Wood St. There was no mention of any accident of any kind.
He opened Firefox and searched the Purdue website for any indication of any abnormal news. Hillenbrand, he noted, had a last-minute cancellation of a conference. This was the same conference that was supposed to be occupying Jenny's building, which meant that she would probably have an empty building for the time being.
The paper offered no more insight. The graduate student mentioned yesterday was still missing. A construction injury. More visitors to the student health center. He also noticed that more record hot weather had been predicted.
Great, he thought more power outages at the apartment. Just what I need right now.
A small icon popped up at the bottom right of his screen. He had several new messages. Opening up his e-mail inbox, he quickly skimmed over the messages. One came directly from Purdue Physical Facilities. Ryan knew it was fairly common for construction work to take place during the summer, as less students would be affected. Most students who stayed over the summer received these messages informing them of road closings, building services shut down, or other problems.
This particular message was a simple warning of a two lane road near Mackey being reduced to one lane starting next week until July. Playing a hunch, Ryan followed the link at the end of the message to the Facilities website. There he found a link there to a webcam that showed the progress of a new parking garage being built. He searched through the archives for a clip of the basement level that was under construction, dated last night.
There, on the screen, was a shadowy figure with an unmistakable gait.
The same gait, the same silhouette of the attacking figure from last night. He couldn't believe his eyes. It all made more sense now - the news, the "accidents", the strange beings on campus.
Fighting back a panic, he calmly logged off of his computer and resisted the urge to sprint for home. He stood up, pushed in his chair and briskly walked out of the room. As he left the Stewart Center, he took one last look of the students in the computer lab, unaware of the danger that now loomed large over Purdue. Run! he mentally urged them. Flee for your lives!
Ryan jogged back to his apartment nervously. He desperately hoped he was wrong, but the evidence was staring him right in the face. With his options dwindling and knowing full well every minute counted, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket.
Damn. Not much charge left, he noted. He dialed the number for Eric, and waited impatiently for him to pick up.
"Hello?" Eric answered.
"Beard - there's not much time, so listen carefully. Initiate the Emergency Zed Plan."
Current Word Count: 6,195
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