World War Z IC

[Tzun]

I open the door to my studio apartment. The metal handle is cold to the touch. I hesitate before opening the door. But I do anyway, I realize that I'm going to die soon and there's no reason to try to deny it. It's an inevitable fate, I'd die like the rest of the country. It's only been three days and the entire world has gone to shit. Many times I had contemplated just offing myself here, while I still could. The outside of my apartment is black. The carpet floors are stained with blood. I close the door silently. There was no way that I was going to get out of here and make it. Some lunatic survivor would shoot me and feed me to his family, I just wanted to be with the things that I love while I still could, since I couldn't be with the ones that I loved, my material possessions would have to do.

-2 WEEKS LATER-

I wake up to the same noise every night now. The clawing at the door, or the screams of someone not lucky enough to escape deaths clutches. They get louder every night. Good thing I've covered the windows and nailed the door shut. I have plenty of food now. For at least another 6 days. I'll just stay here and loathe my being until I can escape death myself. Even though I can feel his icy fingers claw my back as I lay on my unwashed sheets. This is Hell now, and I can't stand the heat.

[BigPapaBelial]

Max picked his way through the ruins of the small town. He needed to find a place to stay for the night, or he'd have to find a try to climb into instead. He really didn't want to have to do that. He continued to look for a house that would protect him through the night, alot of them were burnt or partially collapsed. Heck there was even one with a semi-truck parked in it's living room. He was almost tempted to try and open the semi and see if he could stay there, but he'd seen some of the Zees rip doors off hinges to get at people hiding within. Max really didn't want to wake up to a zombie getting ready to tear into him.

So his search continues, making his way through the town, until he stops a garage. Metal siding, lock on the front, no holes anywhere that a Zee could sneak through, all he had to do was pop the lock, then jimmy it from within. Then he could have a fine place to spend the night, and not worry too much about the Zees at all. He brings his bolt cutters out of his backpack, then starts to work, there wouldn't be much longer, and some of the turned residents of the town could be anywhere and ready to wake up for all he knew.

[greysmith]

Kirk walked the streets aimlessly, his eyes lit up with both fear and the flames which had engulfed several vehicles parked on the side of the road. He doesn't know how. Perhaps a lunatic began spraying gasoline everywhere to get rid of the zombies or a zombie had gnawed on a gas pipe which was ignited easily by the cars. He would never know, but what he knew was that horror roamed the streets and no where was safe, even human populated areas. They are who he needs to watch out for; vile cannibals with rifles and grenades, but zombies however are 'easier' to deal with. They are slower and only bite and scratch, so Kirk could just run and hide.

Kirk followed the road until he met a crossroads. There were three roads he could choose from: a road leading to the country, where it was much safer than the virus infected suburbs and crowded cities, there was also one leading to a giant mall, where food would be in abundance but zombies and mindless killers would also roam there too, and lastly a small road that leads to a garage. He began walking towards the garage already thinking of what could be lurking there. He approached it carefully looking around for anything that could be used as a weapon. He found a small 18 inch gas pipe gripping it tightly in his palms. He tapped quietly on the garage door, letting out a small whisper, "hello?"

[spades0341]

"100... 125... 150... $164! Damn, I'm glad nobody's around to pay. This thing would break me in a week!" The young man replaced the deisel pump, keeping an eye and ear open for movement. Normally, a half track rumbling along atttracts all kinds of unwanted attention. Jack had already killed two while trying to find a station to fill up. He had only found the vehicle yesterday, but quickly learned it was a fortress on wheels. The doors were armored and the locks were very resilient. He woke this morning to find a walker trying his undead best to rip the door open. "No more sleeping in the truck" he thought while jumping into the driver's seat, and squashing the zee under tread.

Appearently, lady luck had some surprises for Jack. Directly across the street was a large gun shop. "Hot damn, time to reload!" He ran to the entrance, peeking inside. Nothing moved, and there was no sound coming from inside. Seeing no immediate threats, he opened the door and began quietly checking the interior. The counter and back room were clear. The workshop had some blood splatter along the walls. "Maybe they shot their way out." The shop looked empty, except for one bench in the corner. The young man smiled as he picked up an 1887 winchester 10ga lever action. And joy of joys, ammo to go with. Jack counted sixteen shells. He tried for another fortyfive minutes, but couldn,t turn up any .50 cal rounds for the setup on the back of the half track. Making his to the front, he stopped cold as he saw three walkers outside, shambling towards the door. He barely made it in time to throw the deadbolt as the began pounding, trying to get at their next meal. "Looks like I'm not getting back on the road, after all."

[Lucius Cypher]

Gunshots. Two dead Zeds. Missed the last one, but it didn't matter; she was just suppose to be the distraction. She hasn't been in town for long, but it didn't take a wolf to hear someone driving a big ass truck through town. Seeing that the person was pretty well off, Lucilia didn't feel that it was all that important to tail the driver. Still, when he stopped at the gas station, she watched him through the scope of her rifle. Bland guy, didn't seem like the harden soldier type, but then again, Lucilia hasn't been face-to-face with real people for, what, three months now (She hasn't been keeping track)? Her people reading skills were pretty bad. Still, something about him made her hopefully. On one had, she was jealous that he had such a nice ride; she really wanted it. But on the other hand, it's not like she deserves it. She once trailed a raiding band for three days; for the first two, things were good. They all seemed to be good friends and and worked well. Then one of them got their hands on a gun filched off a survivor, and things went really really bad for them.

Point is, Lucilia brought the attention of the zombies to herself. Or where she was; she wasn't the type to camp. Fire what she needed to and leave. In hindsight,m she also shouldn't be wasting her bullets like that, but hey, times are hard. The remaining Zed shambled over to the last place Lucilia fired her gun at, as well as a few other Zeds. But she had already moved across some roof tops, hidden in an unspecific location. Where ever she was, she could see the gun shop easily (never like those places; everyone would go in like a Zeds to a crying baby). She guessed the guy would like to get back to his truck, but with the Zeds making their way to the last palce Lucilia shot her rifle, it wasn't safe. Yet.