Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Wcrp. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,071 Views)
Make-7-Up-Yours
Member Avatar
Is that so?
Any semblance of order had been lost when the door to the outside opened, and in the chaos, Glenda had lost sight Elaine. She would not say that she was not worried, as Glenda had a soft spot for Elaine and her daughter, but Elaine was also competent. At the very least, Elaine could keep herself and Kelsey safe.

When Glenda saw the boy turn and go deeper into the lodge, she followed him. She was not about to wander about aimlessly, she needed to do something. She was a woman of action, after all. And his heart was in the right place - she was not going to let that go to waste. She didn't need to say anything to him as she withdrew the knife from the rotter's skull. He knew that she had his back as he made his way forward.

**********

"George Patton? Who does he think I am...?" The general contractor mumbled under his breath.

Randall had never really been much of a speech giver. In fact, speeches in high school would terrify him beyond all rational capacity. Then again, that was 20 years ago. And their city, perhaps even the world, was a far different place than it had been back then. His fear of the walking dead now was far greater than talking to a small mob of people. Hell, it had been for a little over a month now.

At first, he didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He always let Roland handle motivating people. What could he say now? All he felt he could do was look out at everyone and read the fear and uncertainty in their eyes. They were lost. Even more lost than he was.

"I am able to do all things through Him who gives me strength. After everything we have been through, believing that there is still a God out there who cares for us is a tall order. We have people inside and, without God, it falls upon each and every one of us to help them. Our brothers, sisters, friends, and comrades are in there and they need us. I won't tell you to stay here and fight for a God that let's this happen to his people. Instead..." Randall fell silent briefly, and then placed a hand on his chest. "Stay here and fight for me. Stay here and fight for them! In this place, right now, we have a future that we don't have out there! And I will be DAMNED if I let a few walking corpses take not only my friends, but my FUTURE away from me as well!"

**********

Willow wrested her wrist free from Eli's grasp. After listening to Randall's speech, she didn't really feel like running anymore. She had never actually fought any of these things before... but whether she ran or not, she didn't have much of a choice anymore.

"Fine. I'll fight with you." She shouted.

Secretly, she hoped that her show of support would rally everyone else as well.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DoctorYerishi
Member Avatar
Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the talk of God. It wasn't exactly the speech he would have given, but then again, that's why Randall was speaking and not him. All that mattered is he got through to these people. Judging by the fact that they hadn't gone anywhere yet, Eli had to assume that he did.

"Stay away from their teeth and aim for their heads!" he yelled, adding some practical advice to Randall's motivational words.

He turned to Willow and nodded at her rifle. "And watch your friendly fire."

With that, he brandished the hefty chair leg, and steeled himself for the fight. He put aside his survival instincts and charged towards the club's front door.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Make-7-Up-Yours
Member Avatar
Is that so?
God.

Why did he talk about God?

Randall didn't know the reasons behind his speech, it just came out of him. As far as he was concerned, that must have also been the secret to the speech's success; the sincerity that came with it. He didn't think about it, he just let the words come. It may have been convoluted, but it did come from his heart. He wouldn't have thought that the masses could be calmed down enough to stop panicking, but now this hodgepodge band of terrified and scarcely armed survivors were charging back into the fray, their chair legs, screwdrivers, butter knives, and in Willow's case, rifle (although Randall had no idea how she got her hands on it again, that thing was supposed to be a community weapon; perhaps she had pilfered it for self defense during the chaos) held ready for a fight.

He was glad they weren't running. His wife and daughter were probably still holed up in the store. He wasn't going anywhere without them by his side. Their images were bright in his mind as he fell in line with the charge.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DoctorYerishi
Member Avatar
Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
CRACK! The chair leg splintered from the force Eli used to slam it into the side of a rotters head -- which caved in a with satisfying splat.

Eli had escaped the dangers of the lobby only a minute ago, and now he was back for more. He didn't let himself wonder what the hell he was doing. There would be time to beat himself up later, but first he had to live through this.

He was thankful, at least, that he didn't know any of these people -- not really, anyway. This probably would have been harder if he had.

He swung the leg again at the next rotter he could see. The weapon broke apart upon impact, and the rotter went down, but not for good.

He made a loud grunting sound as he brought his boot down on the same rotter. He grimaced as he flattened the dead thing's face, and got its gore all over his sole.

There were men on either side of him now, fighting with him against the zombies still in the lobby. Their grunts mixed with the moans of the zombies, creating an unpleasant cacophony of exertion noises.

"Hijo de puta!" Eli cried. He choked his hands up on the broken chair leg, now half the size it once was, and jabbed it forward, into the eye of the next rotter that dared to shamble up to him. He penetrated the skull, and the zombie fell backwards, but with the fragment of the chair leg still in his head. Eli had no choice but to let go.

He took a step back, letting a body -- Colin's, it seemed like -- shoulder past him. He reached into his pants, grasping the handle of the Supergrade. He reminded himself not to waste any ammo he didn't have to. He looked for a target that would be worth the spend.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Make-7-Up-Yours
Member Avatar
Is that so?
If this attack had happened at any other time... Randall cursed under his breath.

Even this smaller group of poorly armed people were able to accomplish a lot. The rotters were slow and uncoordinated, even with these simple instructions, the living were storming the gates hard. Even those that had never fought them before seemed to operate like machines with all the adrenaline and fear pumping through them. Screwdrivers and knives were impaling their heads, chair legs and other blunt objects were caving in their skulls; even Willow had decided to conserve ammo and use the butt of her rifle as a weapon instead. Not a bad choice at all; Randall wouldn't have felt sure firing off a rifle in this kind of chaos.

"Only five bullets left..." Randall remembered how many bullets remained in his final magazine.

With all the struggles taking place, it took him a moment before he could even find a lone rotter.

BANG!

Her name had been Lucy. A young 20-something year old receptionist. She handled a lot of the paperwork here in the earlier days before she had gotten sick. Randall had liked her. Smart, cute, charming, she had it all going for her. And he had just put a bullet between her eyes.

Four bullets left.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Strompy
Member Avatar
More posts, more Busey.
Even from the golf shop Brandon could hear the counter attack. So did the biters. Several stopped what they were doing and began making their way toward the bar and grill, following the sound of the living. He exchanged a look of uncertainty with Glenda. Should they continue to stay quiet or help the others? He tightened his grip on his screwdriver, a silent answer to the unspoken question. But how could he best help?

Doing a quick take of the room he estimated there were still maybe as many as a dozen in the shop. Too many for he and Glenda to take on. He didn't necessarily need to kill them to take them out of the fight though.

"I'm going to draw them outside and lead them along in a circle." he whispered.

He didn't have much fight left in him, but he had plenty of running left. He walked out from behind the counter and walked over to a feeding biter. This one was especially sad to look at, it reminded him of his grandmother. He kicked the sole of its foot. It turned to see the barrel of a shotgun. He regretted the mess his gun made, but you'd be hard pressed to find anything more effective and dignity in death was a luxury these days.

That very quickly got the attention of everything in the room, it even caught the atention of some in adjacent rooms gaining Brandon a larger following of fotters then he intended. He scrambled out the window, firing on another to ensure he retained the mobs atention. They soon began clambering out the windows and door in pursuit, with Brandon whistling and calling to them as he lead them away from the building.
Online Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DoctorYerishi
Member Avatar
Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli stayed focused and kept scanning the room. Finally, he saw a rotter stumble in from the right gallery, its arms outstretched. It headed for Randall, the closest target.

BLAM!

The shot was an almost-miss, but ultimately did the trick. It punched into the right of the zombie's skull, jerking its head back and collapsing it like a sack of flour.

The lobby was clear now. Eli lowered the Supergrade and briefly looked around at the devastation -- there was a pile of bodies on the floor now, and some of them looked completely mangled. The scene reminded him of New York.

At the same time, he was quietly impressed at the counter attack's quick progress. Maybe this plan wasn't completely foolhardy after all.

Okay, he thought, steadying himself. What's next?

He took a moment to listen for the telltale sounds. He could hear some coming from the kitchen, but more coming from the dining areas. The moans and growls from the dining areas weren't getting closer. They were getting farther away.

"General?" he nodded to Randall and gave him an uneasy smirk. He and the group were waiting for instructions.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Make-7-Up-Yours
Member Avatar
Is that so?
Randall took a deep breath and bit his tongue as he contemplated the next move for everyone.

"We'll take the dining halls next." He finally said after a few seconds. "Stay closer the walls so we don't get surrounded in these bigger rooms."
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DoctorYerishi
Member Avatar
Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli nodded his confirmation, then moved to lead the way. He raised his pistol and kicked open nearest door like he had seen TV cops do on a million different crime procedurals. It swung open and rebounded off the doorstop, swinging back to hit Eli in the shoulder as he made his way in.

"Shit," he said, but shrugged it off.

He looked around. A tall and wide pair of salloon-style doors separated the room from the bar and grill area, and the other adjoining doors were closed tight. In this area, there were exactly six rotters -- the same ones Eli had trapped in here on his way to Roland's office. They were pacing around the room, their attention divided.

A second later, Eli could hear why. Over the sounds of their guttural moans, there was whistling and hollering coming from outside. Clearly, some other survivors were up to something. That gave him a measure of hope.

Eli raised the Supergrade, ready to pick one of the biters off. His aim was disrupted though, by an overeager survivor pushing past him. He was a middle-aged man with a thick mustache over the rest of his scruff, and he was raising a 1-wood club screaming an indecipherable battle cry. Eli didn't know his name.

The man brought the club down on the top of the head of the nearest zombie, seemingly with all his might. The zombie stumbled, but the shaft of the club broke on impact. Eli could make out the alarm on the man's face, just before the second-nearest zombie lunged for him.

"No!" Eli cried, taking quick aim and firing twice.

BLAM! BLAM! His first shot went wide, but his second went through the zombie's ear like it was a bullseye. Too late, though. It had already clamped down on the man's shoulder. It took a chunk of his flesh with it as it fell.

Around him, the rest of the party surged forward. Eli gritted his teeth and moved for the injured man, who was now screaming in panic. He dragged him away from the melee, and set him down by the walls.

The man gripped his wound with both hands, trying to keep the blood in. His face registered his confusion and fear. Eli had seen that expression too many times now.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he lied. "Just -- just wait here."

He realized he wasn't equipped to deal with this, and tried to turn away and rejoin the fight. The man gripped his arm before he could. Eli turned back around to face him, frowning deeply.

"Kill me," the man said.

Panic gripped Eli's heart anew. He didn't know how to respond. He knew he couldn't do that, though. The memory of that dead soldier from last night haunted his thoughts more than the rotters did. All he could do was shake his head and turn away, leaving the man grasping for him.

He tucked his gun away, and moved unsteadily for the club the man had broken moments ago. He was feeling woozy, suddenly. His concentration was impaired. Around him, the remainder of the zombies were being put down swiftly by the superior surviving force.

He picked up one broken half of the club. It was the side with the handle, and it felt hefty enough. Still unsteady, he eyed a downed-but-not-out zombie, and lunged for it. He ended up on his knees, driving the broken handle through its eye. Once he penetrated it, there were no more undead moans in the room.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Make-7-Up-Yours
Member Avatar
Is that so?
"Dammit..."

Randall knew there would be casualties like this, but he hadn't really prepared himself to deal with them. He knew what he should do, and that was a bullet in the head. It was safer and it would end his suffering. But throughout this entire thing, killing someone who was still alive was something he had yet to do. And he hoped he wouldn't have to.

"Just kill me." The mustached man told him with a quivering voice.

"We'll figure something out. Just hang ti-"

BLAM!

A single shot echoed through the somber room; Randall saw the man's head get thrown to the side with a splatter of blood and his eyes go dull. He only felt two things; confusion and anger. He turned to the direction of the gunshot and met the shooter's eyes.

"What. The. Fuck!?" Randall snapped.

"He was begging to die!" Colin retorted, waving the handgun around like it was a party popper. "He was fucking bit! No one returns from that!"
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DoctorYerishi
Member Avatar
Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
"Hey!" Eli stood up suddenly, making his way to Colin in just two long steps, and getting in his face.

He was taller and bulkier than the kid and he stared angrily into his eyes. He was conflicted about what the kid had just done, and his anxiety was burning into anger.

"Not the time!" he insisted menacingly, and then turned to stare a dagger at Randall. "Every second counts here. We gotta go."

With that, he marched away, towards the saloon-style doors to the bar. His grip tightened on the half-broken club in his hand, and his mind was heavy with too many thoughts to process. He had to shut them out wholesale, or he wouldn't get through this.

Again, he kicked in the doors like he was a member of a SWAT team invading a drug-den. It was the kind of mood he was in.

When he stepped inside, he prepared to start swinging, but instead he came to a sudden stop. The room was lifeless. Tables were kicked over, chairs were splintered, and broken glass littered the floor. There were plenty of bodies, but none of them on their feet.

Eli scanned the room, his anger evaporating. Most of the faces of the dead betrayed wounds from screwdrivers and broken bottles and many other improvised weapons. He quickly identified one face that didn't however -- and it was a face he recognized.

"Shit," he said, closing his eyes for the brief respite from the carnage.

The face belonged to Aaron, he realized. The jock-type that he had met on the road with Randall, Colin and Glenda. He was laying dead on his back between two rotters. It didn't take a detective to figure out he died taking them down.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Make-7-Up-Yours
Member Avatar
Is that so?
Colin's hand was shaking. Tears welling up in his eyes, but he was forcing them to stay back. His heart was racing so quickly in his chest, it almost physically hurt. He wanted to get out of here, but he couldn't. He needed to get out. Killing everyone he knew, maybe the only people left alive on the planet.

There is nobody left. It's over. He was telling himself. It is over. Everyone becomes one of these things soon enough. There's no stopping it. That is what happened... we're already infected. That's gotta be it. I need to find Aaron and get out of here.

He glanced at the gun in his hand. He had murdered someone, and it weighed heavily on him. But it was the only choice he'd had. There was no saving him anymore. Jerry's gun. He found it on the officer; he was one of the dead in the room. If Jerry was dead, then Roland and Carlton were probably dead too.

As these thoughts possessed his mind, his eyes fell upon the broken body of Aaron. Deep down, he already knew the truth; but he wanted to believe otherwise. His racing heart suddenly stopped and sank into the pit of his stomach. His mouth became dry. He wanted to say something, but no words came to his mouth. The tears that he had been trying to suppress started to flow freely. His family was dead. His girlfriend was dead. Now the officers were dead. His best friend was dead. What did he have left?

"So this is how it is, Randall?" Colin's voice had become calm, but was unsteady as he spoke. "Would you just watch us die like that. Well, I'm not going to go out like that. I won't let it happen... not to me. If we're all gonna die anyway, then I'm doing it on my terms!"

Colin placed the gun on his temple and closed his eyes.

Randall barely had time too register what was going on. His mouth dropped; "NO!"

BLAM!
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DoctorYerishi
Member Avatar
Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli had begun a rapid searching the room before Colin started talking. He turned to listen to him, then turned away just in time to avoid seeing the brains spit from his skull.

"Fuck," he said under his breath.

He blinked hard, then shook his head. He decided he was too burnt out to process this right now. Besides which, the situation was hardly finished -- even if Colin was.

He took a few cautious steps towards a shell-shocked Randall, and placed a hand tentatively on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't know what else to add.

Eli glanced at the rest of the survivors -- they were all equally devastated. Some of them looked disheartened enough to quit. Eli glanced back at Randall and leaned in.

"But we're not done here," he said, low enough so that only Randall could hear. He had to hope that somehow, he was going to be able to rally from this.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Make-7-Up-Yours
Member Avatar
Is that so?
Randall visible recoiled as Colin pulled the trigger and pained the nearby wall a new shade of red.

"God dammit..." Were the only words he was able to muster in his shock.

Colin was a good man. Perhaps too good to handle this sort of shitstorm. Although it had been clear he was breaking, Randall never thought he would snap as violently as he did. His heart and body were both exhausted from today, but he couldn't dwell on this. Not right now. Not with a group of scared and demoralized people around him. But he didn't have any clever words this time.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck..." Willow was visibly shaking after the standoff, holding the rifle close to her body. Saying she looked like a deer in the headlights would have been an understatement. Randall wasn't even sure if she was consciously processing anything in front of her right now. And she wasn't the only one. But there was only one thing he could even think to say.

"We- we should keep going." Randall uncharacteristically stammered. "There were survivors in the golf store, we should go join up with them and figure out what to do next."

Randall took a few steps, and then remembered Aaron. The body was already beginning to shake and stir as it became reanimated. Maybe Colin was right. What sort of man would he be if he left someone to a fate like that? Even just watching the process made his stomach knot up. He couldn't leave Aaron like that. Not just for the safety of everyone, but for his sake as well. But he didn't have the strength or willpower to do anything more than point his own shaking gun at his deceased friend and pull the trigger.

BLAM!

Three bullets left.

He led the way to the golf store, which was just on the other side of the bar. The scenery was grisly, but in his tunnel vision, he could barely process any of it. His entire mind, body, and soul was set on the golf store tucked in the back of the lodge. Nothing else even mattered. Even though they had been talking, the fact that no one came out to investigate wasn't even on his mind. They had to be alive in there.

Randall gently pushed the ajar door fully open and was met with a scene that dug the knife even deeper into his already wounded heart. Merchandise, broken glass, books, golf clubs, bodies; all were strewn across the floor as if a tornado has just swept through town. For a brief moment, his heart stopped; despair threatened to make his legs crumble underneath him. But a quick observation gave him back his strength; his wife and daughter were not in here. And the back door had been opened.

Without waiting for a signal, Randall sprinted towards the door. They had to have run outside! He had to follow them! He needed to make sure they were still okay.

In his possessed state, he almost didn't notice the rotter waiting right outside the door; it lunged at him from the corner of his vision. He barely had enough time to grab the heavyset zombie by the throat and place a bullet through his head.

BLAM!

Two bullets left. Randall threw the rotter backwards, not even bothering to watch it's limp form hit the ground.

"ELAINE!" He called at the top of his lungs.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
DoctorYerishi
Member Avatar
Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli rushed after Randall, sparing only a passing glance at the wreckage of the golf shop. Like in the bar and grill, there had been a serious battle fought there, but it wasn't the time to focus on the aftermath. It was time to finish this.

While Randall went for the back door, Eli went for an open window at the back. As he stepped through it, he waved behind his back, hoping that some of the remaining survivors would get the hint and follow.

Outside, magic hour was upon them. The first rays of the sun illuminated the grassy field behind the lodge. It would have been beautiful if not for the line of rotters in the distance. Now that the lobby and the dining areas were clear, these would have to be most of the zombies left. They stumbling after two human figures Eli recognized.

Glenda was one of those figures. She was the last survivor of Randall's street team, and Eli was grateful to see her for that reason. He didn't want to think too far ahead, but whatever happened, this group would need capable people like her.

The other figure was Brandon, that shaggy-looking kid that lent Eli the razor. Again, Eli was happy for the semi-familiar sight. And he was glad to see they weren't running away, at least not really. After watching them for a few seconds, he realized they were only moving as fast as they had to. They were a distraction.

"They drew the fuckers outside," Eli said to the others who followed him out. "Smart. Now stay focused just a while longer, and lets make it worth their effort."

He started jogging after them, and tried not to make more noise than Brandon or Glenda. When he got close enough to one of the stragglers, he wrapped a thick arm around its neck, and drove the broken side of the club upwards into the back of its neck.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Create a free forum in seconds.
Learn More · Sign-up for Free
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Roleplaying · Next Topic »
Add Reply