[bootlegga]

$1:

Jeff and Eileen Sanders sat in the darkened theatre. The movie, a horror film called 28 Months Later, was the third in a series of British horror movies. Normally, Eileen wouldn’t watch a movie like this, but as a couple, they had decided early on that each of them would get to choose a movie by turns. Seeing as how she had inflicted such pain and suffering with her last choice (a chick flick starring Jennifer Anniston), Jeff got to pick tonight. With the summer having ended, most of the new flicks in the theatres were second rate material, as studios always opened the summer blockbusters in May or June and the big winter movies right before Christmas.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff saw the door to the theatre open and someone wander in. He dismissed it as noise, like everyone does in a theatre. Turning his attention back onscreen, a zombie was tearing into a victim. Screams sounded from the speakers and Eileen jumped as if shocked.

The scene reverted to the survivors of the attack huddled in a room, looking for a means of escape. A scream sounded again, but it didn’t match what was happening on screen. Just then, the ozone scent of blood reached Jeff’s nostrils. They flared at the smell and his eyes widened. He slowly turned his head towards the directions of the scream. Someone or something was bent over a chair and was biting one of the moviegoers, a fat loner sitting in the back row.

Jeff watched life imitate art, as the zombie gorged itself on its victim. He sat there frozen, transfixed by the horror happening only 20 feet away. The door opened and light poured into the theatre. Several more zombies shambled in, looking for other victims. The light woke him from his trance and he shook his wife, “It’s time to go!”

“But it just started.” Eileen replied.

“Look behind you.” Jeff said.

She turned in her seat and after a second or two, let out a bloodcurdling scream that would make any B movie actress jealous. Two zombies glanced their way and headed towards them. Jeff and Eileen grabbed their jackets and ran to the end of the aisle and down the stairs to the emergency exit. Several other patrons glanced in wonderment at them as they fled.

Jeff hammered the door open and they raced to their car. Outside, the Toronto night was rife with sirens and cars racing to and fro. They moved with purpose to their car. When they neared, they saw that Jeff had left the headlights on. Jeff hit the button on his key fob that unlocked his doors. They both piled in and Jeff tried to start the car. The engine whirred and whimpered, refusing to start.

Glancing up, Eileen saw that the two zombies had followed them out of the theatre. They moved towards the stranded couple. Jeff turned off the lights.

“We have to wait for a few seconds.” Said Jeff.

“Why? Just get us out of here!” Eileen screamed hysterically.

The seconds ticked by and the pair of zombies moved inexorably closer, stumbling slowly but surely.

“Jeff, let’s go!” Eileen shrieked.

“If I try it again and it doesn’t start, it might kill the battery. Let’s wait 15 more seconds.” Jeff replied.

The zombies got closer and closer. 40 feet. 30 feet. 20 feet.

“Ok let’s try it.” Jeff mumbled. Eileen sat beside him praying to God. Jeff turned the key and the engine caught. He gave it some gas and the engine revved. He shifted from park to 1st and the car started moving. One of the zombies had made it to the side of the car and pounded on the window as the car moved past. The window shattered onto Eileen and she yelped as the glass shards cut her skin in a dozen places. Jeff shifted into 2nd and then 3rd, leaving the horror behind them. The radio was crackling with news of the dead coming to life and attacking anyone near them.

Jeff neared an intersection and slowed, then stopped as the light turned red. Jeff was focused on the traffic and never noticed the zombie lurking in the bushes. He leapt at Eileen through the open window and his teeth sank into Eileen’s arm. She cried out in pain and Jeff reacted, flooring it through the intersection. His car was almost immediately hit by a bus moving north through the intersection. The zombie was crushed instantly and the right side of the car crumpled. His airbag deployed and his head bounced off the back of his seat. Jeff blacked out for an instant.

When he came to, he had a huge headache and blood was dripping from his head. He looked over at Eileen. She was pinned in her seat and was badly hurt. Fluids were leaking from her arm and she was bawling in pain. Jeff ran his hand through her hair and said, “It’s going to be alright.”

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 and was surprised by the busy signal. He hung up and tried again. Still busy. The third time was a charm and he got through. He gave the operator the location and asked for an ambulance right away. The operator muttered something indistinct and hung up on him.

He looked back at Eileen. Her eyelids were drooping and she was becoming quieter and quieter.

“Honey, stay awake! You have to stay awake.” Jeff pleaded.

Eileen let out a long sigh and slowly died. Jeff buried his head in his hands and began sobbing. Soon, his whole body was wracked by them. The minutes ticked by, Jeff still in disbelief at what had just happened.

Eileen’s head slowly raised and she grinned lopsidedly. Jeff slowly shook out of his sorrow as he realized she wasn’t dead after all. He reached out to her to comfort her. She let out a low growl and bit down hard on his arm, tearing off a huge chunk. Jeff screamed and struggled to escape, but his seat belt held him fast. He thrashed about, trying to unlock his seat belt with his left hand. She chewed on his flesh and just as Jeff got his seat belt undone, she tore off another chunk of meat from his arm. He ripped what remained of his arm away from Eileen and pulled himself out of the wreckage. Eileen growled and moaned at being left behind.

Onlookers sitting on the bus had seen all that had just transpired and were horrified by what they saw. Jeff went to the trunk of the car and opened it. With his left arm, he dug around until he found what he was looking for, his handgun. A Beretta 92-F, he had bought it years ago and used it for occasional target practice and not much else. He jammed a clip into the gun and put several others into his pocket, and then moved back to the open car door.

He leaned in and emptied the pistol into the horror that once was his wife. She flailed about under the fire and stopped moving. Jeff sighed to himself. Then Eileen started growling again. She started trying to get her seatbelt off so she could get another bite. Jeff jammed his second clip into the gun and took aim carefully. The bullet entered through Eileen’s eye and tore out the back of her head. She slumped back into her seat. Jeff remained wary. Still she didn’t move.

Satisfied she was finally dead, Jeff stumbled off in to the night. He joined the growing legions of undead in Toronto several hours later.

What do you think? Anything I should improve? Change?

[Chumley]

Hey! That's just like MY zombie story!
I'm suing.

[bootlegga]

Too bad, mine was 'published' first.

I own the worldwide exclusive rights!

[Scape]

I like it so far. It's better than most zombie flicks i've seen anyway.

[bootlegga]

Another chunk of my zombie book - here's how I envision troops fighting a war against zombies;

$1:

Master Corporal William Stone stood in the makeshift wooden guard tower, cradling binoculars in his hands. His eyes scanned the trees across the road from the base for movement. The base’s fence line ran east to west on 195th Avenue. When the base had been Canadian Forces Base Namao, the fence line had been less than two metres from 195th Avenue, with one metre of that consisting of a drainage ditch. However, after 9/11, security concerns dictated that the fence line be moved farther away from the road and the drainage ditch left closer to the road. Now the fence line was almost eight metres from the road and the drainage ditch. The drainage ditch had been converted into a massive trench, fully three metres deep and three wide. South of 195th Avenue, the base had a small strip of land used for training troops, which most of the time was planted with hay by a farmer who lived nearby. South of that was a large copse of trees and a fence which delineated the southern edge of CFB Edmonton. South of that was more fields and the Anthony Henday, Edmonton’s ring road. Occasionally, he put the binoculars down and took a swig of coffee from the thermos nearby. A rifle leaned in the corner, safety on.

The wind, animals, both wild and domestic, and people disturbed the woods regularly. Just this morning, an uninfected person had scrambled through and been met at the gate by both soldiers and doctors. She had been medically cleared in short order and sent to quarantine like all refugees. Several infected that had emerged a few minutes later and all were dealt with appropriately.

Master Corporal Stone felt lucky. The tower he was in was far better than the jerry-rigged firing platforms most other soldiers had to make do with. The ice cold wind blowing out of the west was particularly nasty this morning, dropping the temperature to just above freezing. The brigade owned about fifty large shipping containers, used to ship heavy equipment and supplies when it deployed overseas on missions. The engineers had simply dropped one every few hundred metres around the entire perimeter of the base. They were about half a metre taller than the fence and offered little shelter from the elements. Most units kept a two man team posted on top while the rest of the squad hunkered down in a tent behind it. In contrast, his tower had waist high walls and a roof, which minimized the wind and the rain. And the little battery powered space heater kept him from freezing his ass off.

The sun had risen about thirty minutes ago and nothing moved in the quiet September morning. He scanned the bushes and noticed movement. He zoomed in and saw several infected shamble out.

He picked up his radio. “We’ve got several infected approaching from the south in Bravo sector, in pursuit of a civilian. Requesting permission to open fire.”

The radio crackled. “Permission granted.”

He put down his binoculars and picked up his sniper rifle. As one of the best shots in his company, he had been awarded one of the base’s sniper rifles to use. The battalion had a sniper unit, but it was far too small to man every tower the base had erected, and so those with the best marksmanship scores had been issued them as well. He aimed, drawing the crosshairs on one of the infected, slowed his breathing, then just before he squeezed the trigger, held it for a fraction of a second. A 7.62 round crossed the short distance and the bullet impacted even before Stone heard the whip crack of the high velocity round. It entered the infected man’s head just above the right eye, splattering black brain matter on the bushes behind it. It flopped the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. His counterpart in a nearby tower did the same and another dropped to the ground. Stone aimed and fired again, dropping the last one.

Master Corporal Stone watched the woods. They shifted in several places, and this time, a dozen stumbled out. They were followed momentarily by several more groups of three or four. Within moments, about fifty zombies had appeared out of nowhere. As the seconds ticked by, more and more infected appeared. Soon, the trees were no longer visible through the mass of infected.

“We’ve got a large number of infected approaching the south fence line in Bravo sector, requesting reinforcements,” Stone said. Soon his radio began crackling, reporting action at other sections of the fence, with every platoon on the south fence line requesting reinforcements. Unfortunately, there was only a single company to reinforce all of them.

Much like Edmonton’s police, soldiers had the authority to protect themselves, but had been ‘asked’ not to kill infected by the federal government, if at all possible. Raine’s solution had been brutally simple: let the infected fall into the anti-vehicle trench surrounding the base and just ignore them. Given that the elements didn’t bother them, it seemed like a brilliant solution to a difficult problem. Only when there was imminent danger to a soldier or a civilian did the troops actually open fire and deal with the infected. Right now, dozens shuffled back and forth in the trench, seeking escape, but it was too deep for them to climb out.
Of course, as hundreds, maybe even thousands of infected shambled towards the base, it was totally unworkable. If the trench filled up, it might allow the infected to reach the fence line. While Raines expected it to hold, there was no point to risk a breach, so he ordered his troops to open fire when they got into range.

At first, the rifle fire was very disciplined; well-aimed shots and the infected began dropping like marionettes with their strings cut.

Fire lashed out from the base into the horde of approaching infected. Mortar bombs exploded over the infected heads, sending dozens of sharp razor-like fragments down into the skulls of the infected. In some cases, it killed them, in others, it was nothing more than a mosquito bite. The handful of heavy machine guns opened fire, spraying hundreds of rounds of lead into the group, each round tearing off the limb of an infected person in the front, then continuing on into the infected behind it and tearing off one of their limbs, too. The heavy machine guns were so powerful that the rounds likely went through a half dozen or more infected before finally stopping. Stone thought back to his heavy weapons course eons ago and what his instructor had told him about the heavy machine gun the Canadian Forces used.

“If you lined up six cars side by side and fired this gun, the round would go through the first eleven doors with ease and finally come to a rest inside the twelfth door. It will also go right through cinder blocks and concrete thinner than six inches.”
He winced as he watched them fire, mowing down rows of infected. They fell below the massed fire like wheat before a scythe. Thank god he had never been on the receiving end of one of those monsters, he thought to himself. The only problem with the weapon was that they would go through their ammo in a minute or two, and then would need several minutes to refill their ammo hoppers. Sure enough, well before the horde was gone, the machine guns stopped firing. Their crews scrambled to reload as fast as possible.

Once the mortars and heavy weapons opened up, many soldiers began firing far more rapidly and, unfortunately, far more inaccurately. While the heavy weapons were unlikely to kill many infected outright, it tore them apart and knocked them down, or otherwise disabled them so that snipers could finish them off later.

Meanwhile, Master Corporal Stone and the other marksmen continued their steady, methodical slaughter of the infected. Below him, troops at the fence had shoved their barrels through the chain links and were firing indiscriminately into the horde. The horde was huge and their bodies lay in heaps everywhere, but they kept coming like some elemental force such as the tide.

Stone had engaged the first infected at more than five hundred metres. Now, ten minutes later, the horde was about three hundred metres away and still closing. Stone kept firing, reloading and firing until his shoulder was sore. He hadn’t fired this much in a long time. A thundering roar came from behind him and Stone glanced backwards.

Two of the base’s Griffon helicopters had lifted off and were racing to assist the troops at the perimeter. As they did, the mortars shifted fire to the flanks of the horde and the helos flew over the fence and dropped to only fifteen feet above the ground. Both then turned broadside to the horde, and the door gunner opened fire with their miniguns, firing hundreds of rounds per minute into the horde. The miniguns fired so fast and with such ferocity that rows of infected literally melted before its onslaught, leaving gaping holes in the horde. As soon as one minigun fell silent, the pilot swiveled the chopper around 180 degrees and the other door gunner opened fire. Despite the metal rain pouring down on the horde, it never once faltered.

To Master Corporal Stone, the horde reminded him of the ocean, uncaring and relentless in its effort to wear down the beach in front of it. Methodically, he and his fellow soldiers kept pouring fire into the faceless horde bearing down on the base.

Soon the horde was at the anti-vehicle ditch, and one by one they toppled into it like lemmings diving over a cliff. The first few hundred crumpled into heaps of broken flesh and bone when they hit the bottom of the trench. They were unable to stand back up, but soon other infected were landing on top of those already in the trench, and they were able to stand up, clawing and reaching for a way out.

“The infected have reached the trench!” Stone shouted into his radio.

“Continue firing, as per plan Foxtrot.” His radio crackled back.

Plan Foxtrot? Stone thought to himself. What the fuck is plan Foxtrot? He hefted his rifle again and resumed firing, without giving it another thought.

Hours ago, he had noticed the half dozen fuel tanker trucks parked by the fence, but had never really paid any attention to them or the crews manning them. Hoses from each of the trucks had been hung over the fence and drooped down again into the trench. Suddenly, torrents of gasoline began to spray from each of the hoses, dousing the infected nearby. In less than a minute, there were pools of gasoline everywhere.
Master Corporal Stone quickly understood what Plan Foxtrot was.

Then he heard the order over the radio, “Foxtrot units, fire the trench!”

Several men opened fire with C-9 squad automatic weapons, sending bursts of fire walking up and down the length of the trench. Within seconds, most of the infected in the trench were burning. As each burning one stumbled around, it touched others, and ignited them, too. In less than two minutes, every infected in the trench was on fire, and an evil, black smoke soared skyward. The sickening stench of burning and rotting flesh filled the air. Up and down the line soldiers vomited, while those with stronger constitutions simply turned green and held their breath. Stone’s constitution was no stronger than most and he too vomited, spilling out a vile mixture of coffee and sandwiches over the side of the tower and onto the ground below.
The fire in the trench was so hot that it consumed the infected rapidly, burning their legs out from underneath them, and plunging their torsos into a massive puddle of burning flesh, which burned even hotter as the fat in the chest cavities was incinerated by the intense heat.

Above the trench, troops kept firing into the oncoming horde, never wavering in their efforts to prevent the infected from breaching the base perimeter. The infected were oblivious to what was occurring to those in the trench, and all kept marching lemming-style into the flames in a vain effort to reach the base. Eventually, the numbers of infected began to thin and within an hour, the only infected near the base consisted of those being roasted in the trench.

Master Corporal Stone looked out over the expanse at the mounds of corpses, some still twitching and moving occasionally. Aimed sniper fire began to dispatch those who had survived the onslaught above ground. The fire in the trench burned for hours, and smoke poured into the sky for a day after that, as the remains smoldered.

In the end, only the profligate consumption of ammunition and desperate use of precious fuel had saved the thousands of people at Canadian Forces Base Edmonton.

[stratos]

One thing that gets me is in most, not all but most of the Zombie books/movies never explain why Zombies do not eat animals. I always think well heck why is that dog still alive when it's been around Zombies for months? You would think one of the Zombies would get the munchies and see the dog as a snack. This goes for deer, horses, cats, cows, basicly any domesticated and or good sized animal would also be on the menue.

[BartSimpson]

bootlegga bootlegga:

What do you think? Anything I should improve? Change?

Yes. Have the couple leave the theatre and then go to their car where Jeff THEN gets his pistol from the trunk of the car. Then when the zombie busts in Eileen's window Jeff pops the f*cker with a headshot, apologizes to Eileen, and keeps driving. Then when the next zombie springs out from the bushes near the intersection Jeff again pops the f*cker and saves Eileen once again.

Seems to me that anyone smart enough to have a pistol in their car is going to be smart enough to use it. It's one of the things I always hate about horror stories is that people leave all sorts of weapons laying around when they really, really need one. Then I find myself cheering for the zombies when they kill off the stupid people.

It's this or just skip the part about the pistol. But having someone with a pistol and then not using it when they really need it is not terribly plausible to me. Make them unarmed and stick with the story or have them armed and surviving.

My $.02

Edit: The battle at the Edmonton base was excellent.

[stratos]

"Master Corporal Stone felt lucky. The tower he was in was far better than the jerry-rigged firing platforms most other soldiers had to make do with."

EXACTLY how I would feel in the same situation. Steady platform, above the clawing and biteing undead. Hell yeah great spot IMO.


You might want to add a line about how the undead smell when burning. There is a very distinct stench that happens when the human body is burned. In a pit like you discribe the stench would defenately carry.

[BartSimpson]

stratos stratos:

You might want to add a line about how the undead smell when burning. There is a very distinct stench that happens when the human body is burned. In a pit like you discribe the stench would defenately carry.

True. The smell is quite memorable.

[bootlegga]

stratos stratos:

"Master Corporal Stone felt lucky. The tower he was in was far better than the jerry-rigged firing platforms most other soldiers had to make do with."

EXACTLY how I would feel in the same situation. Steady platform, above the clawing and biteing undead. Hell yeah great spot IMO.


You might want to add a line about how the undead smell when burning. There is a very distinct stench that happens when the human body is burned. In a pit like you discribe the stench would defenately carry.

$1:

The sickening stench of burning and rotting flesh filled the air. Up and down the line soldiers vomited, while those with stronger constitutions simply turned green and held their breath. Stone’s constitution was no stronger than most and he too vomited, spilling out a vile mixture of coffee and sandwiches over the side of the tower and onto the ground below.

Isn't that graphic enough?

[BartSimpson]

Adding a comment about the unique qualities of the smell of burning human flesh adds a touch of authenticity for those who know what that really smells like. It's just a realistic detail.

[Canadian_Mind]

BartSimpson BartSimpson:

Adding a comment about the unique qualities of the smell of burning human flesh adds a touch of authenticity for those who know what that really smells like. It's just a realistic detail.

One I'd rather not think about or be reminded of too be honest. Some things are better left to the imagination. But that's just my opinion.

I'm looking forward to the finished product!

[ShepherdsDog]

what makes the burning smell so 'repugnant' is that it is similar to BBQ pork...the smell of decomposing human bodies, now that's a smell that takes awhile to get rid of.

[2Cdo]

ShepherdsDog ShepherdsDog:

what makes the burning smell so 'repugnant' is that it is similar to BBQ pork...the smell of decomposing human bodies, now that's a smell that takes awhile to get rid of.

The smell of burning flesh really isn't "that" bad when compared to the smell of bodies that have been in the ground for 3-5 months that get a lot of rain.

[Tyler_1]

stratos stratos:

One thing that gets me is in most, not all but most of the Zombie books/movies never explain why Zombies do not eat animals. I always think well heck why is that dog still alive when it's been around Zombies for months? You would think one of the Zombies would get the munchies and see the dog as a snack. This goes for deer, horses, cats, cows, basicly any domesticated and or good sized animal would also be on the menue.

I would want my big doggie with me, he likes to eat rotten meat.