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Old 01-15-2014, 03:17 PM
Elicitone Elicitone is offline
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Default Sample of a new story, need your thoughts

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As I have been trying to punch out the last couple of chapters of Ties That Bind I started plugging in a few lines of a new story. It will be a zombie'esq apocolypse novel set in the undefined near future. I am going to try and meld some religious and mythilogical refference into it as well. Would like to hear some of your thoughts and if there would be any interest in some zombie PAW?

The working title so far is The Coming of Artemus

Chapter 1

The rain was coming down in sheets, soaking Diana to the very core of her being. She felt as if she had been running for an eternity. But, run and hide was the only tactic for her now. There were far too many of them to fight. The sounds of the gunshots had drawn them in from all around the small town.Who was shooting; don’t they know better?

Driven by their unearthly hunger, they chased her. If not for the extra weight she could easily outrun them. They moved at a pace no better than a fast shamble. Their minds long scorched clean of any shred of humanity by the fever. For all intent and purpose they were dead. Nothing remained of who they were. Only the most primal part of their brain still worked and even then, just enough to get them up and walking. And once up, all they wanted to do was eat.

Each time she would start to make distance on the shambling horde Diana wanted to stop and fight. To slowly whittle them down, until their numbers were manageable, so she could finish them. So she could rest. But she knew she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t take the chance. The backpack was far too cumbersome to have on during a prolonged fight and the baby was far too vulnerable to be put down; even if she was able to stop long enough to get the pack off before they were on her. With no other choices, she continued to run.

Diana weaved through the mess of wrecked and abandoned cars then darted in between two of the small suburban homes. She jumped over a small section of decorative cast iron fence and rounded the corner into the back yard. Knowing the small fence would slow her pursuers Diana slowed her pace slightly and began to look up high for her escape. As tenacious as these walking shells are they are clumsy and incapable of rational thought. The rain would help her to hide. What The Forgotten; that’s what they had been called for as long as Diana could remember lacked in cognitive brain power they made up for in other ways. Their sense of smell was far superior to a normal person. Their visual acuity shifted allowing them to see in near complete darkness like cats but unlike felines their pupils lacked the ability to dilate so their vision in the day was heavily compromised. But by far the most dangerous evolution brought on by the virus was their lack of sentience. With their minds melted away by the fever they were more like robots. The lack of input to the brain from the body meant that they didn’t feel any pain, with no fear of injury or death they always kept coming, and they never got tired.

Although not impossible, killing them was tough. Destroying the brain was the fastest and most reliable way. Second best was destroying the heart, but you had to be sure to finish the job. Last way is massive blood loss. A few bullet holes won’t do it either. Their blood seems to clot quickly, so anything short of a hole big enough to pass a softball through is useless. And even with a massive wound they just keep going until the last drops of are pumped out and they are a dried up heap. These were lessons that she had learned long ago. Although she didn’t remember when or from who.

Diana lost focus for a split second as she looked for an escape route and collided full speed into the undead remains of middle aged man. He was held in place by a length of chain link fencing that was caught in the heavy straps of his overalls. A hollow growl escaped his mouth as he gnashed his teeth together in a feeble attempt to bite at her. Diana scrambled to her feet, clenched tightly in her one hand was a stout Wakizashi sword. For as long as she could remember she had either her Wakizashi or her Katana in her hands and many times both. Each of them so comfortable in her grip they felt almost like natural extensions of her arms.
Any other time she would have run on, not paying a moments further attention to him once she knew he wasn’t a threat. But there was something about him, something that stopped her, made her take pity on his poor wretched soul. In that moment she stared at him she wondered about his story. What was he before the virus took him. All around the yard of the small home lay the corpses of the infected. All but one seemed to have been felled by gunfire. That remaining one a filthy husk of a man lay only feet from the man. His skull collapsed on one side, beside his remains lay the bloodied fencing plyers that dealt those final deathly blows. The back door of the home left open, blood smeared through the interior of the home for as far as Diana’s vision allowed her to see.

She envisioned the small war that must have gone on here: The man having been outside shoring up the fencing to help protect his home while his wife provided cover from the doorway. Had she run out of ammo or been taken by surprise during a reload. Either way, without cover the man was a sitting duck. Had he been in a panic to get back to help his wife and that was how he found himself tangled in the fencing.

She had to stop herself, each time she allowed herself to think of these things as the people they once were, it made it a little harder to finish them. It was with a twang of sorrow that with a single well aimed stab she plunged the blade of her sword into his right eye and then with a flick of her wrist spun the blade ninety degrees inside his skull finishing the job that the virus had started.

She had to move quicker, the mob was closing on her. She ran quickly across the open yard and to the rear deck of the small home. Beside the rear door was a large wooden deck box, she used it as a jump point. Planting one foot firmly on the lid she lept smoothly to the roof of the suburban bungalow barely breaking her stride. A few of the Forgotten had seen her enter the yard and were now shuffling across the lawn following the slight remains of her scent before the rain washed it away. Once on the back deck they were lost. The smell was there but she wasn’t. Their fever ravished minds unable put the puzzle together. Slowly their numbers grew until the yard was teaming with them.

Just as Diana thought she was about to drift off to sleep she was snapped back to the real world by the loud report of a distant series of gunshots. It took her a few minutes to shake of the haze of the dream state and realize that she was alone. She wasn’t in a small suburb, or on the rooftop of small bungalo. And there was no baby. She was dreaming about her past. Only in her dream her role was switched. In reality it had been her in the baby carrier. Her step father Joseph was the one who was carrying her. He had been the one who had gotten her through those early days when it all started.

Diana was laying alone in her small tent. She had been staying on the roof of the small building for several days now, waiting for a sign. A sign of where she needed to go next. She took a long drink from her canteen as she walked to edge of the building and looked over the side. Below here were hundreds of Forgotten souls all slowly shuffling about. With no new stimulus they seemed to just halt in their tracks. They had followed her to the base of the building several nights earlier and had just stayed their. She had to put down three of them since making it to the roof. She had watched as they had tried repeatedly to operate the door and get into the building. It was almost as if they still had a little bit of cognitive power left. Maybe they were recently infected or maybe it was just a fluke and her own paranoia was getting the better of her. But never the less she had used loose bricks she found on the rooftop and simply dropped them onto the heads of the lurkers below. The seven storey drop was more than enough distance to allow the bricks to gather enough speed to instantly fatal upon impact.

Diana sat back gently into the weather beaten lawn chair she found on the roof when she arrived. Filling her GI cup from her canteen and dropping the used tea bag into the water she lit a cigarette and waited for the tea to steep. She didn’t smoke very often but every so often she would find herself wanting one and so was sure to keep a good supply with her. They were always good to use as an icebreaker or a trade iteml. She leaned back taking a long pull on the stale Marlboro savouring the strong arcidic taste in her mouth and the burning in her lungs as she held the breath an extra few seconds before exhaling. As it often did in times like this, her mind began to wander. Diana had no memory of the day this all began; she had heard the official government version of course. Everyone had; the so called “free” media had swung into full propaganda mode at the request of their government handlers and had said it so many times even they started to believe it. The earliest memories she had were of her life on the run. She could remember being a toddler and seeing those reports on TV, and listening Joseph and the others as they discussed the depth of the lies and evil that was being perpetuated by the worlds leaders. Mostly her memories were terrifying flashes; Images of unimaginable gore and suffering.

It was during the summer Diana was born that the world started to unravel. The government with the aid of the mainstream media had managed to hide the virus for months. It wasn’t clear if those men and women thought they were doing the right thing or they were complicit in a greater plan. They had been convinced that a cure was just on the horizon and that by keeping the information suppressed they were preventing a mass panic and saving enumerable lives. But instead, what they were doing was creating the perfect environment for the virus to take hold. People were woefully unprepared for what was to come.
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Old 01-16-2014, 01:22 PM
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Hard Hittin 54r Hard Hittin 54r is offline
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Good job so far. Has a fairly fast pace as all zombie stories should have. Your main character has stated out well not only in the plot line but with her development. Looking forward to more of her past.

I see the potential for several different kinds of undead. Our heroine could be in trouble if they get smarter along the way...

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Old 01-16-2014, 10:24 PM
Art An Neart Art An Neart is offline
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Good story telling style. One of my favorite authors hands details out like gifts, so I try to remind myself that the more imagination engaged by the reader, the tighter they're bound to the plot. All we do is provide a little rudder, and they'll fill their own sails. I'm looking forward to the rest of this story!
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Old 01-17-2014, 04:15 AM
Elicitone Elicitone is offline
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If there is enough people that would want to read a story along these lines I will give it a go.

Writing Family Tree was a breeeze. Ties That Bind is taking a lot more out of me, but is almost done. Maybe this story will be a nice break. Mix it up with some zombies!
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Old 01-17-2014, 05:35 AM
FreshPotatoes FreshPotatoes is offline
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Sounds very interesting. I would love to
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Old 01-17-2014, 09:19 AM
rextex rextex is offline
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You've done an excellent job with the start of this story, something we've come to expect from you! Thank you for sharing, hope you decide to finish it.
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Old 01-17-2014, 04:48 PM
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airdrop airdrop is offline
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Sword action Mmmmm bring it on
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Old 01-23-2014, 12:41 AM
MSTA57 MSTA57 is offline
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I'm liking it so far. I don't mind the zombie stories as a difference compared to the usual survival stories
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