Jump to content
Sign in to follow this  
Vinny

The Living Dead

Recommended Posts

A little while later...

The raucous clamor of the ringing telephone pulls Wesley from his drug aided sleep into the unwelcome world of consciousness. As much as he'd like to ignore it whoever is calling seems to want to talk to him bad. On the 6th ring he finally picks the receiver up off the bedside stand, glancing at the caller ID screen, it shows P.B MunciArpt. Oh great, work.

"Hello" he answers groggily.

"Wesley is that you?" a voice asks.

"Yeah, who's this?"

"It's John Simmons, the dayshift supervisor. I know this is your time off but I'm totally screwed for mechanics today, can you come in?"

Hell no I don't want to come in... but I COULD use the overtime. "Yeah, I'll come in. Give me awhile to get myself up and around." Wesley replies.

"No problem. And don't worry about working tonight, I got an email from the Operations Manager this morning. It was a pain in the butt to decipher, a bunch of typos and stuff, anyway, she said that we are scaling back operations until this flu thing works itself out. Apparently everyone in Operations is out with this crap as well."

Great, so much for my overtime.

"One more thing, can you pick up Larry Garnder? He's the only other guy I managed to get a hold of this morning but his truck is in the shop and he needs a ride."

"No problem, he's still on 6th Ave off the 70 right?" Wesley asks as he climbs out of bed.

"Yeah he sure is. Thanks again Wesley. I'll call him and let him know you are on the way. Gotta run, someone is banging at the front door like there's no tomorrow. Probably another moron Facilities Maintenance guy, anyway, I'll see you in a bit."

"Yeah see you." Wesley replies to the dial tone.

Twenty minutes later he walks out of his apartment, showered, fed and still somewhat hung over from the night before. Normally at this time of day his apartment complex parking lot is empty accept for his yellow RX-7 and the maintenance guy's rust box clunker. Looks like a Sunday morning around here he thinks this flu thing must be pretty bad, it's going to suck big time if I catch it. A few minutes later he merges onto the nearly empty 70 Interstate. The normal radio programs are all off the air, replaced by the local emergency broadcast system or static.

Cool by me Wesley thinks as he pushes the accelerator to the floor and a wide grin spreads across his face, the less the merrier when it comes to the 70!

In record time he is at his exit and heading west on 6th Ave. Slowing to wait for a red light he marvels at the empty neighborhoods. A car passes by him heading in the opposite direction, weaving slightly from side to side.

I sure as hell wouldn’t be driving if I felt that bad he marvels, watching the car weaving away in his rear view mirror.

Seconds later his light turns green, unfortunately the car in front of him doesn't move. Get a move on moron! Wesley fumes as he taps his horn. Still no response.

Wesley rolls down his window, "Hey up there! The lights green pal! Let's go!"

The car sits there unmoving.

Wesley gets ready to go around the block when the other vehicle jerks forward a few feet, stalls and the horn begins to blare.

"What the hell?" Wesley asks out loud...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Vincent was almost running, twice hopping on one foot as he tried to put his shoes on... and tie them... on the move. He muttered, chuckled, cursed, and laughed (loudly, in a sputtering guffaw) to himself over the flu, the lack of people, and/or the eary silence. Occasionally, he did at least two of the above at the same time.

 

"Haha... Goddamn flu." he said, rounding a corner towards the post-office.

 

"Why y'all walkin'? Didn't ya hear the radio?" he shouted randomly to some pedestrian, despite the fact that he too was walking.

 

"Don't wanna to get sick now, haha."

 

The postman pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and a match stick. Absentmindedly putting the match between his lips, he scrapped the cigarette sharply against the passing brick wall, hopping it would catch on fire.

 

"Motherf-..." Vincent cursed as he failed to get a light...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Shaun finished gearing up his pack and stowed it the backseat of the cab of his pick-up, a Blue F-250 4x4 Super Duty Crew Cab. Sure the thing sucks down gas like nobody's business and was utterly impractical for city life, but when winter comes and all those poor bastiches are stuck, then who's laughing? Shaun toggled the power to see how much gas he still had. The dial shifted to 3/4 full. Toggling the display controls, he saw that gave him about 350 miles. About 270 realistically because he'd be doing a bit of power work and driving in 4WD a bit. Best to top off the tank just to be safe. Shaun checked his tires pressure, oil and battery charge to confirm everything was running smoothly. Never leave solo without making sure every variable that can be controlled is accounted for he thought.

 

Surveying the streets, Shaun was surprised by how empty they were. Sure the streets were often empty by late morning because everyone was off to work, but there was inevitably some movement. It was eerily quiet. Shaun shrugged in his coat pulling the collar up over his neck and zipped up. "This is like The Freaking Stand", he thought. "Though if I see Randall Flagg, I'm running like hell. Captain Freakin Tripps." Shaun grinned and chuckled to himself. "King's probably needing a clean pair of shorts with this one."

 

Shaun ran back up to his apartment and closed the place down, turning off the water and running the lines empty, unplugging everything, making sure all his windows were locked and barred. Last thing he would need is some jackarse breaking into his place while he was gone. Always a possibility in this neighborhood.

 

Shaun hopped into the cab and gunned the motor to life. The deep throaty growl of it's V-10 startling a few crows nearby, who cawed at the truck angrily for being disturbed. Putting the truck in gear, he pulled off the curb, heading toward's a buddy's garage/filling station, hoping they had a backup generator to run the pumps so he didn't have to pay the crazy prices by the highway, besides Paul was always dependable. If anyone would have a way to stay working in this blackout, he would. Shaun whistled thoughtfully as he passed empty street after empty street. This place is a ghost town. No one's out at all. Anyone that is, looks like they're walking half in the bag. I guess this thing is worse then everyone said. Shaun spied a few people that didn't seem to be ill effected, but of the people out, the sick clearly outnumbered the well. Shaun turned into his buddy's garage, hoping he had his generator running, or at least a manual option on the pumps...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Dave gets out of his crappy little SAAB and takes a look around. The street is almost deserted, which is why he was able to park in the fron today, instead of having to navigate the minefield of potholes that is the alley leading to the rear parking lot. He takes a look at the storefront which was once a grocery store in the long, long ago, and now houses Hollis Survey Services, owned by the esteemed Richard F. Hollis, III. His crew chief, Artie, had once told him that Hollis was descended from some lord back in England. Dave suspected that old Artie was full of crap, along with the fifth of booze he consumed every day, but Dick Hollis sure did act like he thought he was a lord sometimes.

 

None of this is on Dave's mind at the moment, though. Right now, he's more concerned with the drawn shades and the 'Closed' sign still hanging in the front window. Well, I guess I'm the first one here. I believe that qualifies as a miracle. He reaches in the passenger's side of his car and retrieves his bushaxe, which he takes home with him every night to assure that he has it the next day. Theivery runs rampant in the Surveying business.

 

He has to let himself in the front door with his key. His concern deepens when he closes the door and is assaulted by darkness. Mr. Hollis is usually at the office by 6:00, and hadn't missed a day in daves three years of employment. He flips on the lights, and takes in the scene. The whole place is a mess, files scattered, instruments broken, drafting table overturned, chaos. Burglars, most likely.

 

"Hello? Anybody here?", he calls as he makes his way through the office, looking for any sign of another person. "Mr. Hollis? Artie?"

 

He stops, thinking that he hears something. He listens for about a minute, and just when he thinks his ears have gone wonky, he hears it again. A groan. Coming from the direction of Hollis' office.

 

He makes his way cautiously toward the door, trying not to make any more noise than is possible. It is slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of darkness. The groan comes a third time, giving Dave a slight case of the creeps. Holding the bushaxe in one hand, he pushes the door the rest of the way open, peering into the dark for any sign of his boss. "Hello? Boss? You in here?"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
As you walk inside the building, two very sick looking guys shuffle toward you.

 

Giving the shuffling guys a very wide berth, Zach can't keep himself from covering his nose and mouth with the lapel of his sportcoat and quickens his pace to the front door. Why can't these idiots just stay home if they're this sick??? Do they want everybody to catch whatever it is that they have?

 

He takes the steps two and a time and tries to put as much space as possible between himself and the poor sick bastards behind him.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

As you walk inside the building, two very sick looking guys shuffle toward you.

 

Giving the shuffling guys a very wide berth, Zach can't keep himself from covering his nose and mouth with the lapel of his sportcoat and quickens his pace to the front door. Why can't these idiots just stay home if they're this sick??? Do they want everybody to catch whatever it is that they have?

 

He takes the steps two and a time and tries to put as much space as possible between himself and the poor sick bastards behind him.

 

 

 

"Sir"? One of the uniformed State Patrolman says. "I need to see your identification please."

 

"Hey up there! The lights green pal! Let's go!"

The car sits there unmoving.

Wesley gets ready to go around the block when the other vehicle jerks forward a few feet, stalls and the horn begins to blare.

"What the hell?" Wesley asks out loud...

 

 

I-70 runs right through downtown. When you get off the interstate you're about three blocks from the capital. You're at the first light after you turn west towards downtown.

 

 

 

Uh.. the horn keeps blowing.

:huh:

 

The postman pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and a match stick. Absentmindedly putting the match between his lips, he scrapped the cigarette sharply against the passing brick wall, hopping it would catch on fire.

 

"Motherf-..." Vincent cursed as he failed to get a light...

 

 

Yeah, you can't light a match with a cigarette.

::P:

 

Shaun turned into his buddy's garage, hoping he had his generator running, or at least a manual option on the pumps...

 

 

No one seems to be at the station but the "open" sign is on.

 

 

He makes his way cautiously toward the door, trying not to make any more noise than is possible. It is slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of darkness. The groan comes a third time, giving Dave a slight case of the creeps. Holding the bushaxe in one hand, he pushes the door the rest of the way open, peering into the dark for any sign of his boss. "Hello? Boss? You in here?"

 

A soft, gurgly moaning comes from behind the desk.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
I-70 runs right through downtown. When you get off the interstate you're about three blocks from the capital. You're at the first light after you turn west towards downtown.

 

 

 

Uh.. the horn keeps blowing.

:huh:

 

(oops, last part of that didn't post... weird. :mellow: )

 

Wesley opens climbs out of his car and walks towards the stalled vehicle in front of him....

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Zach removes the jacket from his face and fishes out his wallet. Leafing through it looking for his id, he asks, "What's going on, I've never had to show id before? Have any of my students shown up, we were holding class here today?"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Zach removes the jacket from his face and fishes out his wallet. Leafing through it looking for his id, he asks, "What's going on, I've never had to show id before? Have any of my students shown up, we were holding class here today?"

 

*COUGH COUGH HACKKK COUGH* "We've been asking for ID's since 9/11 sir".. Takes your ID and looks at it then hands it back. *COUGH COUGHHHHHHHHH HACK*

 

"I'll have to check but I don't believe any students have arrived sir."

 

He turns and tiredly shuffles back to the small desk near the front door. His partner slumps in a chair looking pale and wan. As you watch his mouth slowly droops open and his eyes focus somewhere past the ceiling. The first officer raises his head.

 

"No *COUGHCOUGHGURGLE* sir.. no students have arrived here in the capital this morning."

 

Slowly his partner leans forward in the chair and bites him hard on the upper thigh. The first officer screams in pain and lurches away from him toppling backward over the table, upsetting it. The biter slowly raises his head and looks at you.......

 

 

I-70 runs right through downtown. When you get off the interstate you're about three blocks from the capital. You're at the first light after you turn west towards downtown.

 

 

 

Uh.. the horn keeps blowing.

:huh:

 

(oops, last part of that didn't post... weird. :mellow: )

 

Wesley opens climbs out of his car and walks towards the stalled vehicle in front of him....

 

 

The driver is slumped forward on the steering wheel. The horn blares loudly and becomes more annoying as you get closer.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
A guy shuffles toward you making really disgusting, phlegmy sounds as you pull on the door and find it still locked.

 

Crap, Trevor thinks. He punches the door hith teh meaty part of his fist in frustration. He turns to the suffling guy.

"Hey, if your sick or something you need to stay away. I don't need some cough, bad enough I can't get something from this place. Looks like I'll be changing services."

Trevor starts back to his car.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
*COUGH COUGH HACKKK COUGH* "We've been asking for ID's since 9/11 sir".. Takes your ID and looks at it then hands it back. *COUGH COUGHHHHHHHHH HACK*

 

"I'll have to check but I don't believe any students have arrived sir."

 

Jerking back reflexively at all of the coughing, Zach hopes that this doesn't take too long.

 

He turns and tiredly shuffles back to the small desk near the front door. His partner slumps in a chair looking pale and wan. As you watch his mouth slowly droops open and his eyes focus somewhere past the ceiling. The first officer raises his head.

 

"No *COUGHCOUGHGURGLE* sir.. no students have arrived here in the capital this morning."

 

"Well, that's good I guess," Zach replies. "At least I beat them all here, if they're even gonna show. Can you direct them to the John Brown mural when they come in. I'd like to start cl....

 

Slowly his partner leans forward in the chair and bites him hard on the upper thigh. The first officer screams in pain and lurches away from him toppling backward over the table, upsetting it.

 

"Oh, my god!!" Zach exclaims trying to grab the guard as he falls but failing miserably. Looking up at the other guard, whose face is now covered in blood, Zach continues. "What the hell is wrong with you??"

 

The biter slowly raises his head and looks at you.......

 

The look in the guards eye as he raises his head broadcasts his intentions better than if he had announced them with a bullhorn. A deep fear rises up out of the pit of Zach's stomach and he feels around for something...anything... to use to defend himself, not daring to take his eyes off of the psychopath who is now slowly getting up from the desk, pushing himself unsteadily with both hands. Zach's hand finally comes into contact with something solid and he latches on tightly, swinging the wooden haft around in a defensive position in front of his body. He sees the Kansas State flag draped off of the end of the long wooden pole in his hands and beyond that a sharp, decorative stainless steel point glinting in the harsh lights of the foyer.

 

"Stay away, buddy. I'm warning you!" Zach says, a firm resolve settling into his voice.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
No one seems to be at the station but the "open" sign is on.

 

Shaun pulled his truck in front of the last pump and killed the ignition. Hopping out of the cab he walked over, opened the tank and flipped the lever for the pump. Sticking the nozzle into the tank, Shaun put the trigger lock in so he wouldn't have to stay outside in the cool weather.

 

Looking around, the neighborhood was still as quiet as a tomb. Not surprising since everyone was probably home sick, but still a little unsettling. Looked like business was a little slow for Paul too, no noise was coming from the garage bays, which meant, no work. The bay doors were down, but again, with the bit of chill in the air, not surprising. Nothing sucks worse than working on an engine with cold hands. If there was no work, Paul was probably in the office on the computer playing World of Warcraft or downloading porn, probably the latter since no one was out.

 

[Not sure if the pumps are actually working - if they are, great, he'll wait in the cab to fill the tank before going in to BS, if not, well, he'll be going inside anyways to say hi to Paul and will flip the switch to start them from there, since the Open sign is on, I am presuming there is some source of power here]

 

Regardless of the status of the pump, eventually:

 

Shaun walked quickly across the parking lot and called before getting to the door, "Hey Paul you stupid sumb***h, I hope you have some friggen coffee on in there." Reaching the door, Shaun pulled it open and...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

 

He makes his way cautiously toward the door, trying not to make any more noise than is possible. It is slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of darkness. The groan comes a third time, giving Dave a slight case of the creeps. Holding the bushaxe in one hand, he pushes the door the rest of the way open, peering into the dark for any sign of his boss. "Hello? Boss? You in here?"

 

A soft, gurgly moaning comes from behind the desk.

 

 

Oh, crap, the burglars hurt the boss. The thought of his boss being injured would normally give Dave a slight happy feeling, but it sounds like the man is hurt badly. "Mr. Hollis? How badly are you hurt, sir?", he says as he switches on the light and enters the office.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Vincent gave up, throwing away the cigarette but, strangely, putting the match behind his ears. His mind was almost completely unaware of the situation around him, occupied by thoughts of a vacation cruise to Alaska complete with Hawaiin shirts and pineapple cocktails... with the tiny umbrellas, of course.

 

He went to the post office for another day of delivery, fixing the button of his blue uniform as he did so.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

Sign in to follow this  

×
×
  • Create New...