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Jeremiah wiped his mouth, scattering droplets of bile, then straightened up and turned at the same time. The man was gone. Jeremiah exhaled shakily, his whole body tembling. Jeremiah started as he heard a groan, then twisted around. What looked like half the street was shambling towards him, their bodies wasted and torn. Jeremiah stuttered as they approached, inoherently trying to speak. He cried out and dashed back into his house, and slammed the door. Locking it shut, Jeremiah backpeddaled up the hallway, nearly tripping over a ornate standing table that held a cordless phone on it's top. Snatching it up, Jeremiah dialed in the emergency number and pressed the phone to his ear. As the dialing tone echoed in his cavity, Jeremiah feverishly wandered about his house, locking the doors and shutting the windows. The pretentious female voice spoke to him loudly.

"I'm sorry, but this number is engaged. Please hang up and try again later." Then silence was all Jeremiah heard. Cursing fluently, he hammered the phone, then blinked. The door was shaking on it's hinges, visibly. He yelped and looked about him helplessley. He fled in to the living room, then grabbed hold of an armchair and struggled to push it from the living room into the hallway and across the front of the door. He then went back in the living room and grabbed a poker. The cool metal in his hand felt soothing, and as he took the back stairs two at a time, Jeremiah calmed down a little and began to think.

My house is surrounded by crazies, who are trying to break in, and I'm holding a poker. I could try ringing Lin, she might know what's up. Or Sam...Just what is going on? Jeremiah wondered, picking up his mobile from his bedside table and stuffing it in his pocket. From his bedroom, Jeremiah also shrugged on his coat and took his house keys. He knew it wasn't safe in the house, but flopped onto his matress, which jangled sibilantly, and tried to think what else he'd need. Jeremiah decided to take his lighter and penknife, along with a engineer's torch. Heading downstairs, he opened his kitched drawer and withdrew his penknife and light, then slammed it shut.

A window broke in the living room, flinging glass everywhere. Jeremiah jumped, then cautiously advanced inside. Sam was hanging by his stomach over the sill, groaning. Jeremiah slid past him, nearly crying in fear, and opened the door that led into his garage. It was dark, and the light switch was close to invisible. Jeremiah found it by luck and flipped it on, breathing deep. He hurried here and there, picking up the torch and batteries. He was tempted to drive his motorbike out of town, but he had to find out if anyone else was around. He pressed the automated release on the door, and as soon as it opened far enough, he ducked under it and began sprinting down the road, dodging the grasping, rotten hands of the ex-townspeople.

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"There's no such thing as an enemy in absolute terms. The enemies we fight are only enemies in relative terms, constantly changing with the times." Big Boss, MGS3

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"It's getting dark, we stay here for the night." He anounces to his comrade.[/QUOTE]
((it' already pitch black outside.))

Riley was in this man's house, the man that less than five minutes ago unloaded two round past Riley's nose. I must be going crazy like everyone else in this damn town. The man was well supplied, and handed Riley a bolt-action hunting rifle, he begins to explain to Riley how to operate it, but Riley interjects. "yeh yeh I know how to work a gun, sheesh." The son was just peeking it's way across the horizon, and a few sickly rays shown in from the window.

Riley was uneasy, "Is this place secure? Like, can those things get in here?"

((Read the OOC. Middletown's timezone is CST, GMT -6. Thus it is only noon.))

((oh crud, alright))

Hearing the shrill moans of the living dead, Mark scooped up his rifle and sailed down the stairs. With one more leap Mark lands to face the front door; bringing the rifle to his shoulder he steels himself for the onslaught. Within moments the first of the living dead begin banging on his door. Curseing himself for not blocking it off, he fires rounds through the mahogany door. Dashing back up the stairs Mark yells up to his companion; "It's time to leave!"

Gathering the carbine and C96, Mark tossed them to the man. After the man had got himself together, Mark sends him out the window and onto the roof. Following behind with the food and ammo, Mark pulls himself up and scans the area around the house. Finding the one clear spot, Mark sends his companion down and then drops down himself. "Alright, I gave you guns and I'm giving you half the food, it's time to part ways. " Giving him half the food in the bag, Mark goes on his way.

Stalking down the street with his rifle shouldered and ready, Mark keeps his eyes on the dark spots and his ears open. Moving to the door of a 2 story home, he kicks it in and clears the entryway. Knowing he shouldn't be going it alone during a house clearing operation; Mark makes sure he doesn't go anywere he might get cornered. Putting his right shoulder to the wall he gets ready to clear the room. Turning the corner he comes face to face with what looked to be a whole family...All of them zombies.

Without pausing he swings the rifle and smacks the first zombie with a devastating buttstroke to the temple. Cracking the skull with the blow, Mark felt it collapse with a sickening sucking sound accompanied by a meaty thunk. Already chambered for the next strike Mark brings the muzzle down onto the crown of the next zombies head. Feeling his arms and shoulders being jarred by the blow, Mark realizes to late his mistake. The zombie, haveing no sense of pain, was unfazed by the blow; reaching for his now exposed neck it advances with it's mouth agape and ready to tear at his flesh.

Using the downward momentum, Mark rams his shoulder into the creatures chest causing them both to tumble to the floor. Pulling the 1911 from it's holster he jams it into the eye of the zombie underneath him and pulls the trigger; with a loud pop, pink mist, and blood and barinmatter spattering the hardwood floor. Whipping his 1911 up he fires a slug through another zombies head. Sweeping the Colt to the side in an attempt to finish the last one, his arm is locked into it's grip, mouth moving to tear away the flesh.

Shooting his left hand out into an open-palm strike, Mark smashed the creatures nose back into it's brain; killing it instantly. Narrowly avoiding the monsters bite, Mark stands up and surveys the mess he had just made. Breathing heavly, Mark picks up his M1 and continues his room to room operation. Moving upstairs Mark kicks open the door to the master bedroom, ducking through the doorway Mark sweeps his rifle across the whole room. Finding the room is empty Mark begins to rummage through the homes contents. Finding nothing useful other then a hunting bow, Mark leaves the home in a sour mood. How the hell does a whole family end up like that? Mark wonders in amazement.

Marc had just gotten over the adrenalin rush of the fight, well if you could call it that, when the guy with the broken arm began to shiver, it started off as a sort of convulsive jump, like a back spasm, but it soon became more and more violent, Marc could only watch on in horror as the man jerked around like some marionette with the hiccups, he didnt know what to do or if he should try and restrain the guy.

After what seemed like an eternity, pink froth and a small amount of bile erupted from the man's lips, there wasnt a single sound, the man had not made a single noise, Marc looked at him and lowered his head, the man must have had a heart attack or something, Marc wasnt a doctor so he didnt know anything about that sort of thing.

"Where is the damn ambulance?"

He looked at the barmaid as he spoke, she just looked at him and shook her head.

"Now what the hell does shaking your head mean, is there an ambulance coming or not?"

She stammered out her reply, seemingly afraid of Marc's blunt question.

"I-I-I rang 911 and there was no answer, when I tried again it just said the number is busy please hang up and try again, that was at least ten minutes ago, I dont think there is any emergency services running."

Marc snorted, that was ridiculous, the emergency services not running, what a stupid notion, he looked at the barmaid, probably only just 21 and realised she wasnt lying.

"So we have loonies running around outside, a man dies of a broken arm, and no emergency services, and I thought England was bad"

He reached over the bar and pulled out another beer, he didnt care if he wasnt suppose to help himself, the manager wasnt here today and his shift was going to the dogs anyways.

"Well I guess somebody has to go out and find some answers"

Marc looked around at the people in the club, there must have been at least 20 others, he knew that they would have a chance of finding out something if they worked together, but not one of them volunteered to help.

"Guess it's just me then!, Fine! But dont drink all the damn beer whilst I am gone"

Shaking his head in disgust at the cowardice of these people, Marc downed the fresh beer and let out a belch, he picked his jacket up from the back of his stool, throwing it over his shoulder,he realised that he would be better off with some kind of weapon, just in case that pyscho was still outside.

He went out the back and into the store cupboard, he found a pry- bar they used to open the wine crates, it felt heavy, solid and reassuring in his hand, he walked back out into the room, the barmaid offered him a slight smile and a "good-luck", the others all were having hushed conversations of their own, no doubt talking about Marc insane need to cause damage, if only they knew how much of his own pain he had stored up, then they could talk.

Marc turned and walked out the bar, into the small entrance lobby, he checked out the window of the door before opening it, he didnt see anyone around, it was like they had all vanished, opening the door he walked out, the buzzing of the neon sign and a cray from some bird overhead was the only sound he heard.

If he had stayed at the bar a while longer he waould have seen the man's corpse twitch, then he would have seen the man rise, then he would have heard the screams.

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RP's I am currently in...

The Day Before Victory- Sir Aldren Briers

Faith was still a bit disturbed by what happened earlier, however it didn't bother her that much. She actually could care less; she's out of that damn hole. That's the only thing that mattered to her right now; her freedom.

Faith managed to escape without being noticed; she walked passed those things without a problem. She thought they must have been on some hard shit to be like that, they looked brain dead to her. Walking around aimlessly, grunting and moving toward anything that made a sound or moved. She stole one of the Prison guard handguns before she left, but she didn’t check how much rounds were left, nor did she think of taking another clip with her before she ran away along Main Street, heading north.

Faith knew what she wanted to do, get booze, get food and get laid! However that plan was altered when she walked passed by the Meg-o Mart. She looked down at her blatant orange prison clothes and decided it would be best if she’d get some other clothes. The bright orange was enough to alert anyone passing by, except those things…they didn’t seem to give a shit.

She used the butt of the handgun to break a window; thankfully all the police officers were still busy back at the prison. They’ll think it’s one of those things she thought to herself as she broke in the building, heading to the clothing department.

She happily stripped of her clothing and slipped on a pair of washed out jeans ripped at the knee. She grabbed a plain black wife beater that showed off her cleavage and slipped it over her head. She grabbed a studded belt with a skull for the buckle. She put on a thick studded bracelet on her left arm that matched her belt and finally a pair of biker boots to complete the outfit. She looked at herself in the mirror, pleased with the results. ‘’Badass.’’ She said out loud, placing the handgun in the waist band of her jeans, smirking at her reflection.

Hearing the sirens of a patrol car, she jerked her head in the direction of the sound, cursing under her breath. ‘’Dammit, stupid cops.’’ She ran in the supermarket, dashing through the aisles. She came to a halted stop, skidding across the floor. I tough they’d be busy with those retards she thought as she hid behind a counter, taking out the handgun.

She waited for the officer to pass by. If I take him down I can take his gun and his ride, damn I’m smart sometimes. She chuckled to herself, poking her out to see if the officer was nowhere near her. She saw the light from his flashlight passing over her head; she ducked quickly before he noticed her.

Unfortunately she wasn’t quick enough as he saw something move behind the counter. He took out his gun and walked slowly toward her, still pointing his flashlight in her direction. As he rounded the counter Faith sprang up, surprising him. They both shot at the same time; Faith was hit in the arm while he was hit in the head. End of the road for him she thought.

She put back the gun in the waist band of her jeans, holding her arm as she crouched down to grab his handgun, the flashlight and the key to his patrol car. She hissed in pain, the burning stopped as the bullet cooled down in her skin, the burned flesh was numb from the pain. She placed the other handgun beside the one currently residing in her pants, placing the flashlight in her mouth and pocketing the keys.

She walked outside, opening the door with some difficulty, dropping the flashlight on the ground, hearing it break. ‘’Aw fuck me!’’ She slipped in the car, starting the engine. She turned around as she started to back up, seeing a group of five zombies limping towards her. ‘’Fuck me sideways!’’

She slammed on the gas pedal, backing up on them, the force of the impact hurting her injured arm. However, the zombies did not stay down; they got up on their broken limps and started crawling ontop the car.

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Roleplays I'm in

Marc walked down the street, it was like a ghost town, there wasnt anyone around, cars had been left running, their doors wide open, he wondered if it would be easier to drive than to walk, his mind made up he approached an abandoned car, he didnt know the name of the model but it looked to be in good conditon, he checked around just in case somebody was playing a really stupid game on him, the last thing he needed was to be spotted by a cop.

Seeing nobody settled his mind, he slipped into the driver's seat and checked the gas gauge, the tank was half full so he didnt need to worry about the car stopping after five minutes of driving, he dropped the pry-bar into the passenger's seat and pulled the door shut, adjusting the seat a little he flipped on the radio, chuckling to himself as a old AC/DC song "Highway to hell" blared out through the car's speakers.

"Sounds about right to me"

He stepped on the gas and the car moved off, he was driving slowly so he could still keep an eye out for anyone, the streets were deserted, he wondered if there was some kind of bomb scare or something, shuddering as he did, the thought was not a pleasant one.

Marc drove a couple of blocks over, the club and bar a distant memory, he didnt like the fact that he was out here alone, especially when he was supposed to be working.

A siren from a police car nearly made him shit himself, the blaring noise was close by, it seemed to be coming from a mall of sorts, he decided to head towards the sound, for it would mean there would be people around.

Turning the car around the corner, Marc slammed on the breaks, there were several people alright, but they were clambering over the car, as if trying to get inside it, Marc couldnt see who or what they were after but he could see these people were all moving awkwardly, as if they were... It hit him like a ton of bricks, the people on the car were all dead, they were moving corpses, zombies.

"Now this has just got a whole lot more messed up"

It was then that he saw her, a young looking woman, she was trapped inside the car, the "zombies" climbing all over the car were trying to get inside, Marc was torn, did he try and help her or was it best to leave her and take advantage of the groups distraction.

"No, she has to be helped, maybe she knows what the hell is going on"

His mind made up he stepped on the gas, revving the car up as he did, he slammed his hand on the horn and drove towards the police car, he would have to ram the car to get them off, he just hoped that the woman wasnt angry at him for the rude entrance.

As he hit the police car, Marc's head hit the steering wheel, he cursed as it connected, already feeling blood trickle down his face, the zombies had been knocked off but were already climbing to their feet, one was crushed between the two car's but it was still clawing at the bonnet, as if it was trying to crawl up the hood and through the windscreen.

Marc wound the window down and stuck his head out, he made sure the side was clear and called out to the woman, hoping she was able to get out and over to him before the zombies decided that two meals on wheels were more appetising.

"Hey you in the police car, get your ass over NOW!"

He picked up the pry-bar, just in case, he didnt know how much good it would do him, but it was the only thing he had to use against them.

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RP's I am currently in...

The Day Before Victory- Sir Aldren Briers

Faith grabbed the shotgun situated between the driver and passenger seat. She aimed the barrel at the zombie that was sliding down the windshield of the stolen patrol car, head first. She lost her balance, dropping the shogun as another car rammed hers. ‘’What the hell you blind fuck!’’ She yelled behind her at the man in the car, holding her arm in pain. She was grateful he’d shaken up those things off of the car, but her arm still hurt like a fucker.

She kicked the driver’s door open, bashing a zombie in the face. Its head snapped back from the force of the impact, but it only stunned it for a minute or so before it got up again. Faith took the opportunity to step out of the patrol car, only to jump back in again when she realized she forgot the shotgun.

The zombie reached its hand out, gripping Faith’s leg tightly. She extended her hand to grab the shotgun, struggling for a minute before grabbing it. She then turned around and smacked the butt of the shotgun in its face repeatedly until it lost its grip on her. ‘’Goddamned thing.’’ She made a run for it as the creature was still stunned, cursing as every step she took sent a jolt of pain in her arm.

Faith opened the passenger door on the man’s car and jumped in quickly, slamming the door shut behind her. ‘’I don’t wanna seem like a bitch and all but DIRVE!’’ She urged as the zombies were slowly approaching the car.

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Roleplays I'm in

Marc was waiting for the woman, she seemed to be struggling to get something out of the patrol car, Marc didnt think it was such a good idea to be taking so long.

"Come on already, I dont want to die saving your ass"

he said it in a low voice, he didnt want her to hear him in case she didnt get to the car, he kept a grip on his pry-bar and looked out the wing mirror in case any more of the zombies showed up, the ones in front were already on the move.

Marc wished he had a gun, he wasnt that good a shot but he thought it would be better than the metal bar he currently held, looking up he saw his reflection in the mirror, he had a small cut on his forehead, he probably would need stitches, as he looked past the mirror to see if the woman was on her way, the passenger door flew open, Marc grab the bar in his hand, he almost lashed out with it, before realising that it was the woman who he had been attempting to help.

When she told him to drive, Marc wasnt about to argue, he looked at the guns she had with her, wondering if she was actually any good with them, otherwise had he just wasted his time with one more person to worry about.

Slamming the car into reverse, Marc told his passenger to hold on, as he spun the car round, they felt a bump and then another as the front tires ran something over.

Hearing someone yelling in the street, Marc slowed down, he saw a guy running awkwardly toward them, he was carrying a couple of guns, and using one with a vengeance as he cleared his way to them, Marc watched as he fell down, a look of severe pain on his face, Marc didnt want to risk leaving the relative safety of the car.

He saw the man get back up and was impressed when he managed to get into the car.

He yelled hit it, Marc didnt need to be told twice.

Driving for several minutes, intent on leaving the mob behind, Marc slowed as they turned down a side street, he was somewhat familiar with the place, but in his hurry he didnt have a clue where he had gotten too.

Pulling the car over he turned to look behind him, realising for the first time that the woman seemed to be favouring her arm.The guy obviously had a bad leg.

"You both alright, did one of those things hurt you, my name's Marc by the way."

He sat there, blood dripping into his eye, he needed a beer, or maybe a couple of shots, heck why not a couple of shots and a beer.

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RP's I am currently in...

The Day Before Victory- Sir Aldren Briers