Zombie Survival Day 2: don't treat me like potato

I timidly peeked out of my window to the zombies below. They were roaming en mass in the streets, occasionally chasing down the stray uninfected passerby. I stepped back and nearly knocked over a glass of water, but I caught it. That would've been bad. Zombies are attracted to noise, could've been my last mistake. I sighed in relief and made my way over to my pantry. Oh ♥♥♥♥, I'm almost out of yogurt. Stupid Zombie Apocalypse, killing my supply of yogurt.

...As I'm playing a good game of Time Crisis 3 (the only GOOD working game in the arcade), I hear someone enter the arcade. Not expecting anyone else to come in here, I snap around and fire my pistol at the ground, right next to the figure's foot. I didn't care whether it was a survivor or a zombie, I just wanted my alone time.

Four years earlier, I was awaiting my grandchild's arrival so I could spend a good quality week-end with him. Finally, when I heard the doorbell ring, I sprang up as giddy as a schoolboy and opened the door. I immediately picked up my boy and brought him inside. We sat down and played some board games, had lunch, and then he brought out his brand new Nintendo Wii that he had wanted for Christmas. He hooked it up to the TV set and brought up Wii Sports. We both had decided to play Tennis, since it was both of our favorite sports, and started up a match. After I had gotten beaten down a couple of times, my eye caught another game - Super Smash Bros. Brawl. Now, even though I'm as old as dust, I did have a N64 at one time, and Super Smash Bros. was one of my favorites. Pretending to not know squat about the game and its controls, I started up a match with my man Link.

...The game was over in 3 minutes. No deaths on my part. Booyah.

Just as we started a new match, this one only lasted 5 seconds when the power went out. Thinking it was just a small power outage, I took a lookout the window. People were screaming and there appeared to be these limp figures chasing them. I heard a crash in the living room, so I walked back there, and saw it.

My grandchild was getting eaten alive. I could hear him screaming, yelling for my help. Then silence fell, and all I could hear was flesh getting chewed between this monster's rotten teeth. The smell was so unbearable along with the sight and thought that I had to turn around. The thing stood up and began limping towards me. I snapped out of it and ran to my closet where I opened up my gun safe and pulled out my .45 magnum revolver. I spun around, aimed for the things eye, and splattered what wasleft of its brains against the wall. Then I saw it, my grandchild's corpse rising up. Having high hopes that he was still there, alive and well-well, half-eaten, I said quietly and shakily, "Ch-chase...?" The body charged at me. Putting the thoughts behind me, I knew what had to be done. Chase had been my favorite person in the world, and this wasn't Chase. This was hell in a mutilated body. I pulled up my arm and put my magnum's shot straight through Chase's head, and watched the bullet travel through the wall as his corpse fell to the ground.

...I shed a tear and look up at the person in the doorway. Relieved that it wasn't a zombie, I ask, "What's your name?". The man appeared to be eating a package of Peeps, and realized that it was the guy I fooled around with in the Wally World. Thinking he was just here because his eye caught hold of an old man walking into a place like this, I turn around and continue playing Time Crisis. After getting killed one too many times, my head just overflowed with memories of that one day with Chase. I fall to my knees and cry like I never have before. I reach into my pocket and pull out a blood-coated bullet.

The one I used to kill Chase's corpse. It was the only thing I had left of him.

...Not exactly the nicest memorabilia I have of him, but it was something.

As I'm walking down the road, the song on my iPhone shifts to "Better Than I Used to Be". Man, the first three songs that are pulled up today, and they're some of my favorite ones. Can this day get better? As I'm halfway across the street, I hear someone yelling to me. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just know that I won't survive on my own, but I still might be of help to you," they say. The voice really echoed in the abandoned street, so it was hard to miss even with my headphones on. I turn to my left and see a guy peaking around the corner in a James Bond style. I was considering leaving him behind, because I didn't know who he was. But the poor guy couldn't just be left here by himself, no matter what. Basically, I was okay with it as long as there wasn't flesh dripping from his teeth.

I'm walk toward the guy, not looking like I'm about to shoot him, but still have my Desert Eagle at a ready position of fire if needed. As I approach him, I can get a better look at him. He looks like someone worth keeping alive, he has a weapon, and (judging my how I looked in the mirror after my first kill) he has killed a nerd or two. I'm not cruel enough to use him as bait or anything, but I may drag him by me like a dog or something, to keep alive and have company. "You know, you can come along with me. Although there hasn't really been an established group where people stay, I think you can stay with me until you can fly. On the condition that you don't eat my face, you can stay."

I realize the cans I had stocked up were actually discount due to the fact that they expired 2 years ago. I pack my things and go look for somewhere with food to hang out in. I head towards the local mall (which had just been finished and had been open for a day before Z-day).

Thankfully, I find a backdoor open and head towards the Home Depot inside. COOL AS A CUCUMBER, I make a sign to hang in front of the mall that says "Survivors here, help will be given". After putting it up, I go to the gun shop and outfit myself with a handgun and a rifle. I prop open a lawn chair in the mall lobby and wait.

*BSHWIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!*

“HOLY HELL!” I yelled as a bullet grazed the ground next to my right foot. “WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALFRED HITCHCOCK DID YA DO THAT FOR?!”

That crazy old crackerjack I was following into the arcade just looked at me.

“WELL?!” I screeched, but he just kept on staring. I think he was lost in some sort of trance—maybe he’s got Alzheimer’s or somethin’. I decided to just forget the fact that he nearly killed me and get straight to the point:

“Look. I’m trying to find some Twinkies. I’ve satisfied my Peep craving and now, after having seen that Mexican fella drive off with his Twinkie truck, I’m wonderin’ if you have any?”

He kept staring—now I was gettin’ mad.

“Alright, I can appreciate your old, but this starin' thing is really creepin’ me out.”

He kept staring.

“Are ya hungry? Do want my last Peep?”

He kept on staring, but finally just turned and started playing the arcade game in front of him.

“Uh-huh…okay…well then…I’ll just leave this here for ya,” I said as I sat my box of Peeps, with my last Peep in it, on the pinball machine next to me. “I guess you don’t have any Twinkies, so I’ll just get goin’.”

But, as I turned to leave, the old guy pulled a bloody bullet from his pocket and started staring at it with the same stare he was givin’ me just a second ago.

“You probably shouldn’t be touchin’ that ya know,” I said, “That’s how the virus spreads—through blood.” He still didn’t seem to be paying attention to me. “Believe me, I should know. My company, you know, the Conman Research and Development Co.— the one in the big building across from the Wal-Mart down there, was hired by the government to study some of the Infected that they captured. Our biologists determined it was a virus located in their blood-stream…of course, we only found that out when our entire biology department got infected after a damn monkey they were testing on broke out and started bitin’ everybody. -_-…Damn dirty ape…Anywho, if you have got any cuts on your hand, and the blood on that bullet touches em’, then your about as screwed as a fruitcake on Christmas Day.”

The old guy still just ignored me as he kept staring at the bullet.

“Well, that’s just my advice—take it or leave it. The Peep’s still there if you want it…my grandfather always loved Peeps…I think that’s why I love’em too…they always remind me of him…after…after…” I couldn’t bring myself to talk about that day—about that damn accident…

“Anywho, I still want some Twinkies, so I’m gonna go check out the mall down the street. Feel free to come along if ya want. I’m not the handiest fella with a gun if we run into any of the Infected—but I can run like a son-of-a-♥♥♥♥♥!”

I laughed…he didn’t.

“Alrighty then, I guess I’ll see ya.” With that, I set out towards the main entrance of the mall down the road when I saw a sign about 'survivors' flappin' in the wind next to the door. “'Help will be given'?...I wonder if a Twinkie craving is something they can 'help' me with...”

The fatty had a point. The virus could already be inside of me just because I couldn't let a simple memory go. I throw the bullet to the side and join him.

"...You know that guy in the truck?"

The fatty stares at me as he stuffs another sugary treat in his yapper.

"...Well we should join up with him. He owns a gun shop, you could buy some actual things there, not these damned sweets. You could crash in the middle of a zombie attack if you eat too many of those, y'know. You tell me it's not wise to carry a bullet covered in zombie blood when you're easily taking 20 years of your life away stuffing your mouth with those expired pieces of ♥♥♥♥."

I pause for a moment and realize how stressed I am.

"I apologize. Old age gets to me, you know? My grandchild was eaten alive and transformed right in front of my eyes. There ain't much to live for anymore. Anyhow, we need to catch up with the man in the truck and hitch a ride. I heard there's a mall full of survivors there, and there are multiple shops there that could be a use for all of us - videogame store for me, gun store for us all, candy store for you and your flab, everything. Whaddya say, boy?"

I hold out my hand gesturing the acceptance or decline of a pact that would help resist the undead.

(This is geared towards CONMAN.)

I figure that with this guy following me around, my jog was done for the day. I start walking back to "the ol' fort", while this guy is walking right next to me. When we get back to the shop, I open up the shop and show him inside. I set up a spot for him to sleep in, made up of the extra bed in the shelter, which I moved above ground for him. "It's not the best," I admit to him "but beggars can't be choosers; especially in this hell hole."

I leave him to become situated as I ironically go to the shelter to nab two Twinkies. When I come back up, I open my wrapper and start eating mine. I throw him the other one and say "Got a life-time supply of these. Want one?"

"Sure, thanks. Y'know I've never had one of these before? I lived in Ireland and was on holiday here when the outbreak started and when they quarantined this place there was no way I was getting home. What I'm trying to say is: I've never had a twinkie because I lived in Ireland and they don't sell them there. Wow, that was a lot easier wasn't it? Peopl-"

I realised I'd started talking too much and so I shut the ♥♥♥♥ up.

There was a brief awkward pause when we hear a banging on the door of the shop this guy that took me in owns.

"Oh, I think I know who that is." Says the dude.

The old geezer held his hand out to me and, with a quick wipe of my hand against my suit jacket,—so as to brush off the loose sugar from the Peeps that had stuck to my hand—I grasped it into a firm shake.

“You got yourself a deal old man! Gran-pappy always said ‘You can make more money with four hands than you can with two!’…of course, grand-pappy also screwed his business partner Jeb Jones out of his half of the company—which is the main reason why it’s the Conman Research and Development Company and not the Conman & Jones Research and Development Company…so…well…I guess grand-pappy was a bit of a hypocrite when it comes right down to it…HA!”

The old guy didn’t seem as amused as I was.

“Anywho, that plan sounds just fine. I wouldn’t mind havin’ a pistol or two on my body in case one of the Infected pops up on us…and, of course, I wouldn’t mind a packet of Skittles either. Then again, maybe you’re right about my candy cravin’—I should probably stop. But, when you’re runnin’ a multi-billion dollar corporation, you need somethin’ to relax with, and sugar does just that with me. But, I suppose that with all this ‘end of the world’ junk goin’ on, my money ain’t gonna save me from a heart-attack or two! So, for my own sake, I suppose I’ll stop eatin’ it.”

With that, I threw the last of the Peeps I had on the ground and continued on towards the mall with the old guy.

“Eventually, we should probably go to the laboratories at my company’s office building back there. The reason we were tasked with studying the Infected was because we were already getting’ a butt-load of D o’ D money from the Fed to make biological weapons, so we might find somethin’ handy in the place. Regardless, I’m starting to get hungry again, so let’s see if there’s a Panda Express in the mall’s food-court once we get there!”

With that, I put my hand on the old geezer’s shoulder, which he didn’t seem too crazy about, and patted it once or twice.

“By the way, I’m Ernest, Ernest Conman III. And you know what?—I think this is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship!”

I observe the mall's entrance and see 2 men coming near. I make sure my pistol is cocked and ready in case anything happens. I open the door and yell:
"You been bitten, folks?"
I nervously look at the old man and he says:
"Nope, clean as a whistle!"
I then look towards the fat one, and ask:
"What about you, mate?"
He casually replies:
"Not if ya have any twinkies in there!"
They laugh. I contemplate letting them in.
"Come on inside, there might be one in the Target store"
They follow me inside and I close the door behind them.
"Can't be too safe, eh? With those things out there. Name's Johnson, Carge Johnson, what are y'all's names?"

"Louie Matoid. My ol' friends back in the army called me 'Cryo", 'cause I can be a bastard with retorts cold as ice. Better watch out, boy."

He glances at me with a dazed look, then waves his hand signaling us to come in. I walk inside and love the cold blast of the mall's remaining air conditioning. "Well, this is nice, but it sure as hell ain't gonna last long. Heard there were only three men left at the power plant. Once they go, the town's electricity's gonna go with it." I walk into an outdoor supplies shop and hear the man say to me, "You might not wanna go in there..." I shrug and continue in.

...Ten seconds later I run right back out.

"YOU KEEP ♥♥♥♥ING ZOMBIES IN THERE? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, BOY?"

The guy looks at me and says,

"Hey, in a war you can't just kill everybody. It's nice to keep some prisoners."

"We keep the prisoners so we can interrogate them! With these braindead things, you'll be interviewing a damned baby that just came out of its mother, if not before!"

The guy pauses, ignores my last line, and continues onwards with the morbidly obese landmass of a whale-man. I decide to follow them.

"Don't sweat it, they won't go anywhere. 'Sides, last I heard on the radio wad to try and keep some of those things locked for the CDC to take a look at 'em. Says it'll help with the cure."

I show them to the Target store and the snacks section.
"Y'know, every mall is outfitted with a generator... Maybe when the power fails we could try and see if it'll run."
"Have you checked all the rooms in this mall?"
"Can't say I have, but I never sleep anymore, so none of those things have ever caught me by surprise."
"When did you stop sleeping?"
"Let's see... Was about a week ago when this whole mess started. I locked myself at home until today when I realized my food was rotten."
"How long have you been camped here?"
"Just about 3-4 hours."
"And you have already set all this up?"
"I'm a carpenter, I don't dawdle."

"You do what you want, bat-boy. I'm gonna chill." I leave him to do whatever he's going to do with my door and walk into the bunker, locking the door behind me.

When I crash down, I turn on my radio and open a Twinkie packet. The thig that I love about Big I 107.9 is that they played an infinant loop for their country songs except for commercials every 30 minutes, probably iTunes DJ or something. But now that this started happening, there's no more commertials. I lay down to go to sleep as "Springsteen" by Eric Church plays softly throughout the bunker.

hey, guys... err... namely you, PK, please try to stop yourselves from making your role too obvious

subtle hints are great, but making it too obvious ruins the point of the game

('Kay, sorry about that.)

"So what do you think are our chances of gettin' attacked around this building?"

"Chances are around 5/10. Even then, I rarely get attacked. Zombies are dumber than rocks, so it's hard for them to merely climb up the stairs if not find us in this huge building anyways. When I do get attacked, I treat them like soldiers in a war like previously mentioned."

I shrug and bid my leave to do my own activities. I go to the local fitness shop and hop on a treadmill. After 30 minutes of some good sweating I head over to the games shop and pick up a board game for the other guys and me to play.

"What game is this, gramps?" The heap of skin and flab said to me sounding almost surprised that I would even touch something as entertaining as a game.

I mutter, "Mouse Trap." and sit down, opening the box. As I'm opening the box, I hear the skinmass say, "Oh s***... not this game. We'll get attacked by munchers before this game actually works all the way through."

I didn't know what he was talking about. I loved this game when playing it with Chase, no matter how it worked. And besides, this guy seems like a muncher himself, so why is he scared of getting attacked by one? The zombies will die of high cholesterol when they bite him.

I step into the mall, and see six of them: Zombies, laid out on the floor in a row. Some good Samaritan had the common courtesy to mop up the blood and arrange the corpses in an appealing pattern. This was the biggest breadcrumb of the trail I was following. I take out my Baretta and walk along the wall like I'm James Bond.

Before I know it, I've reached the encampment. It's a small fortification, maybe forty by forty feet. Four people are inside. Through my telescope, I check if they're alive. Yep. Real, bona fide human beings. I grab a large brick on the ground, and toss it over to the fort. Each of the people inside look at me, weapons raised. "Don't worry," I shout, "I'm a friendly."

After a few hours I've laid my stuff out in the fort and pitched a little tent. I make sure to my backpack by the door flap. Hopefully if a dead one comes in, he'll knock over the bag and wake me up. The head of this little gang is a guy named Carge Johnson. He's on the shorter side, but pleasant enough, and he managed to get this little operation running in no time. We pool all our weapons in the center of our encampment, for tonight. Even if we manage to lock the main hotel doors, the dead ones will get in. There's something about them. They can tell when life is nearby. You hide behind a steel door for a year, and the zombies will claw at the solid metal until it dies from exhaustion.

And that's not an uncommon sight. Zipping down the freeway two weeks ago, the infected were dropping like flies on the side of the road. One poor bastard could hardly walk, and was shambling like a hurt cockroach on his arms and legs. I stopped and capped him in the head to be nice. Letting anyone, be them a dead one or a real person, live in that kind of pain is just cruel.

A man, dressed all in black, walked up the cobblestone steps to the mall. He listened to the steady click of his shoes on the hard surface, and then took out a gun. It glinted in the sunlight, and he spent several seconds loading the "weapon" with ammo. He looked at the sign over the door that said, "Survivors here, help will be given".

Some help this is. The man looked up at the sky, watching birds fly by as clouds drifted lazily in the late summer wind. The day was rather hot, and the man began to sweat; it was rather humid. God help their souls. He fired.

A loud bang filled the air, and a bright light shot from the gun and into the air. One second... two... three... It hit it's highest point and fell a few feet, but then exploded in a bright flash of red and orange. Everyone who was still alive would see this thing. The man smiled and walked off, as if he were never there. In seconds he disappeared, and when he did people began to gather.



~ ~ ~

Okay everyone, the RP time is over. You guys have now gathered at the mall, whether your character was there in the first place or not.

Begin the arguing. Remember that voting is bold, etc., etc.

I vote to kill Kakariko Villager. He acts way too differently from the others.

I vote to kill Ty. He made a vote as a joke, but put it in the style of a real vote.

No, it was a real vote.
I don't have the attention span for RP, so I was trying to get the ball rolling.

But i'll change my vote from the previous one.

I'll vote for Kakariko Villager