Zombie Story: Threads of a Tire p2

You may want to watch these in full screen, otherwise it'll be hard to see.
(As you can see, our only two vehicle routes are cut off, as Zombies are currently coming down them. So escape is futile, unless you want to ride through a small horde of Zombies.)

The first Video shows you where we are exactly, our precise spot. The second shows us where we started from, where the safe zone was and where the "Nobles" were. The second one also shows the route we took from that area to where we are now. The second one also shows distances and approximate times (if you were in an actual car and not a cart). So pay attention or be ridiculed. (possibly removed from ZRP IF you are with the group who NEEDS to see this)

"You look like a coward AND you act like one? You are as predictable as the silicate concentration in sand."
I said as I stretched my blade arms preparing to behead the zombies heading our way. "That hunk of junk you have is a Moped, that runs on gas, you might as well attache a fog-horn to it for all the attention it brings."

"I think you should just junk that horrible piece of garbage and walk everywhere. Builds up the mooslehs and everything."

I fired off another shot, this one hitting in the chest of a Zombie. It stumbled a bit, but didn't kill it.

"Fuck!"

you call someone a coward based solely on appearance, reminds me of raiders

=pulls out his ak-47 and fires small bursts into each zombie's head=


wonder why that guy who was following us isn't helping?

=I kept firing rounds into the stenches, but they just kept coming. I pulled out one of the alcohol bottles, stuffed a rag inside, lit it, and threw it into a large group of them. the bottle burst, and flames engulfed many of them=

I size up this follower, he was already on my bad side so my level of dislike for him was high...and biased. "On appearance? You want to run away, fine, we're staying here to fight."




I looked back where we had come from, zombies were slow moving, I let Alex and Garth deal with the northwestern assault, I handled the southeastern with my Machetes in hand. I charged at my stumbling foe. The creeping death would meet my uncensored, raw, and terribly cold rage. My rage was at absolute zero. Frozen. Unrelenting. I was the slow moving eisberg, my body frozen, hard, uncaring. What you see, is only a fraction of my being. Like the eisberg, there was the hidden and potential danger that lie beneath. I was the eisberg. It was a perfect metaphor. I slowly walked toward the oncoming zombie horde. My mind set on the onslaught of my foes. I walked toward my foes, concentrating my rage. Concentrating. Focusing. Honing. The dead would be put to rest. I would be the Harbinger of their peace. I was a warrior of death. Sating the angles need for dead. I approached the first zombie and beheaded it. Doublade sliced through the mortified flesh with ease, coming in contact with the third vertebrae from the atlas. It cut through the bone and severed the spinal cord. The zombie dropped dead, once more, and I yanked the blade out from it's lodged position. I looked up and beheld some zombies charging me. They appeared to be angered by my removal of their dead compatriot to the undead army. I continued on towards them, they were limited to the road, as the sides were walled in and there was hill on my now left side. They moaned and they screeched and some ran and some walked. I impaled the head of another zombie, I turned and slashed, with force, beheading another. I kicked the dead zombie to the ground, removing the Impaler from it's head. I was a marauder, marauding the dead, returning them to their rightful place. Sanctifying these lands with the dead bodies of those who lived on them. I was a priest of death, converting these undead to the light and holiness of the dead they should be. I moved forward, grace in my step, severing the spinal cords of my foes, one undead zombie at a time. It started with two, then it was three and four. The fifth died on the ground, when I kicked it down and impaled it's cranium. My heart was pumping, the world was moving in slow motion, and then I saw the shimmer of a scope, a lens from a monocular. He was watching us. I kicked down another zombie, number six, and impaled it through the vocal orifice. I continued on my spree, cutting down zombie after zombie, like I trained myself to do since arriving in this land of ire, the land of rolling green hills, where no land was flat. I left a trail of bodies in my wake. In this sea of death the tide flowed only one way, and that way was the receding tide of zombies. I walked fifty meters, nearly returning to the town when the runners came, the zombies that could run, I dubbed them runners, I didn't know what the others called them. I poised myself in such a manner as to be expected from a trained killer when affronted by a relentless killer. Killers, in this case. They ran at me, I set down the Doublade and ran at them with the Impaler in hand. I jumped and kicked one in the face, my boot meeting its face and it's body meeting the ground, our mother earth. I stood atop it's fallen body, preventing it from moving, analyzing the situation, 5 runners, one down, six total. They felt no pain and would not be able to be approached by standard fighting techniques, I side stepped one, kicking the pelvis of another swinging with two hands beheading a third. I used the momentum to go into a roundhouse kick sending one zombie to the ground, I followed up with a chop of the machete. Severely damaging the spinal cord, and disabling the zombie, it could still bite, however, so I would come back to finish it off. The fifth and sixth zombie met me at the same time, I hit one with the pommel of the Impaler on the sternum, pushing it back and spinning around the second, whilst behind the second I put my hand on it's shoulder and impaled it's neck, silencing it forever. I threw the body down and sued the momentum to jump in a spinning fashion and lodge the Impaler into the skull of the remaining zombie. I was invigorated. I returned and killed the disabled zombie. This whole endeavor took me ten minutes. I looked back at my comrades.

"Hey, uh, Mr. Derp, you do know that we're SURROUNDED right? Do you really think we can run? I mean, if you want to run into the zombies that's fine with me, but I'd rather we didn't."

I shot off anotber round. This zombie must've had steel or something in it's head, as the bullet hit, knocked it backwards, but didn't kill.

"Ahh FUCK YOU!"

I shot it again, this time aiming for the other side of the head. Now it fell, dead again, as a large hole in it's head opened up and spilled it's rotting brain and rancid blood onto the paved asphalt and grime of a once beautiful land.

i meant when we first heard them but well aware from last time

=pulls out his katana and ninjato and cuts down some zeds that got close before sheathing them=


so what are we going to do about ammo

"What about it?"

I aimed at another Zombie and blew it's lower jaw off. On the brightside of that missed shot, it stumbled into some other zombies and caused them to fall as well. I managed to get a few more shots off on that small group and killed them all.

we gotta be low

=fires at a few stragglers killing them=

=Xazhi and his friends were sitting around the fire, sharing a few laughs, when he heard a strange noise. It was faint, but obvious. He looked up, and saw a military jet flying high overhead. He thought for a moment about what it could be doing here. Then he remembered that most of Canada was a totally zom-packed. He had multiple ideas of what was to happen next, and none of them were good. Then, he heard the sound of two more, much more low-flying planes coming towards them. He got up and yelled to the others to take cover in the small caves in a hill nearby. Xazhi ducked inside of one behind a rock just in time to see what was happening, and it was much worse than he imagined. It was a napalm strike. Before he knew how to react, the entire forest went up in flames. He threw a wet rag over his face, hoping it would help, even if only a little bit, and got up out of the cave. The heat was unbearable, and the rag provided little comfort against it. He and the rest of the tribe ran as fast as they could away from the inferno, some going in different directions, but most staying together. Xazhi could barely hear over the screaming and the sound of the raging fire. His vision became blurred as he sprinted desperately towards the river, hoping that he could be safe underwater untill he reached the other side. His lungs felt like they were burning, and his sight was slowly going. He just reached the edge of the river before everything went silent, cold, and black=

=Why in the name of God, Garth and the Moped guy were arguing, while being surrounded by stenches, I had no idea. I would have screamed at them, but I had to focus on firing, and by the way, I was starting to run low on bullets. Oh joy=

"Well, then cut em. Derp."

I fired again, and again, downing another two Zombies. One crept up behind me, and I pushed it back before blowing part of it's head off with a well placed shot.

=pulls out his blades and starts cutting down and zombies that come too close=

Spoiler:

I could hear the sound of gunfire, but to me, it was a world away. I was focused on removing a plague. I was a crusader of the living: slaying the undead left and right. Reanimated corpses stood little chance against my blades. With every thrust, a shiver of pleasure at the slow extinction of an unholy scourge. With each shiver a secondary and then tertiary movement, create a treppe of movements and a treppe of shivers causing a positive feedback loop. I continued to move with grace, dancing in my zombie gore. The visage would have been disturbing to any onlooker without the state of mind of one such as mine at the time of executions. It was swordplay, not like that of a fencer, but that have a killer, a slayer, a warrior of Death. My mind a slate inscribed with the ways of death. The Art of Killing. The Sacrifices of a Killer.

With every step, a body returned to eternal peace. With every step, a mind returned to ease. With every step of horrifying grace the dead fell dead once more. 'Twas a Dance of Death, and death reclaimed those who had succumbed to the hunger of an unknown viral infection. I ignored, for now, the feeling of a monocular looking at my moves as I danced in this way.

"Focus fire on one area, make a hole. Their only strengths are numbers and surrounding. Makes so it's nothing more than a group coming from one direction and we're good. Well, better.

I tossed my rifle onto cart and drew the riot shield. I beat back a few of the Zeds in time to open the melee chest and pull out a metal tonfa. It was heavy enough to smash skulls, but light enough to be used one handed. I kinda turned into a police officer at this point, only I wasn't trying to subdue, I was trying to kill. Well, re-kill. I crouched behind the shield and shoved back a Zed before smashing it's jaw and skull=

I jabbed the end of the tonfa into the face of one of the few remaining Zombies, it's face crumpled and broke in like a bag of glass. I knew I didn't do that on my own, someone else must've hit it before, fractured the bones. Either way it fell. I put the Riot Shield against another one and shoulder slammed it against the wall. I heard bones crack, and I knew they weren't mine. I flipped the tonfa over and used it like a hammer to smash the skull in. I looked over and saw that each person had their own Zombie to take care of, and then that was it.

=Okay, I'll admit, I didn't really help that much. All I did was shoot heads, and throw maybe the one molotov. Nick was the one in the thick of it all, or so I learned once things had settled down. I was quiet though, the whole time. Hey, I had been on my own, for nearly five years, with no humane contact, and only now did I find people, including my old friends. I dare you, I double dog dare you, to break the cycle of silence I endured=

=sheathes the blades after he see no zeds near him=


that was fast

I looked around, and relaxed slightly. I sat on the end of the cart, and waited. I didn't put the weapons back, not yet. I had something I wanted to take care of, first. I managed to keep my face neutral, keeping my emotions hidden.

=I felt that I should break my silence=

Was anyone bit?

=I didn't turn to look at anyone, my eyes trained on our surroundings, the barrel of the P90 sweeping everywhere I looked=

I did a quick search over my person, and then called out the Fraveler clean word.

"Living."

Oka-- wait, does that mean you weren't bit? You can be alive now, but, well, you know.........

"Traveler safe word. Means clean. You ever meet anyone in your travels, Alex?"

Uh, I met people that tried to kill me. Hell, one occasion, I think I heard they wanted eat me. I swear, end of the world, and people are still worse than ever.

"What I thought. You need to be updated on Traveler speak. Living means not bit, clean. If someone is dead, it means they're bitten. I'll tell you the rest later."

I made my way back, silently. Not alerting any of them. I was peculiarly clean for someone who just butchered the undead and turned them into headless necrotic mounds of flesh. As silent as ever I approached them from out of sight.

"We need to move the bodies." I said, my voice quiet.

I turned my head to Nic and nodded.

"One thing first, though. You."

I pointed my tonfa at the person who had the moped.

"What the fuck were you thinking driving the possibly loudest fucking vehicle on the fucking island? The thing is gas powered, and I don't know if your just deaf or just fucking stupid but these things are attracted to sound. Gas makes little explosions in your vehicle, thus producing sound. So unless you want your face to be eaten by a random zombie and are just trying to not seem suicidal to everyone else, you must be fucking kidding me that you would drive that piece of shit. There is no piece on a moped other than an engine that would produce that amount of noise, so please, don't waste me time by trying to tell me it was a loose something or other."

I put my riot shield and tonfa away in their respective places on the cart and walked off, going to help move the bodies from the road.

I stopped for a second and looked at him.

"You honestly think I'm doing this just because I feel like it? You think I enjoy roasting the hell out of someone just because I can? You nearly got me and my friends killed, you half-brained monkey. While you may or may not have used it before and it wasn't loud then, maybe that just lends credit to my idea that you're totally fucking deaf. I don't know. Or it could be that there were no zombies around you at the time. How am I to know? What I do know is that it was way too fucking loud to be safe in this instance. Because you chose to ride around on something designed to be loud, you put all our lives and pseudo-lives in danger just because you were too lazy to find something useful and safe, or to walk. Now, bear in mind, I have nothing against, you, well, didn't. Now I do. Putting aside the obvious safety hazard that fucking little monstrosity is, you have now decided to try and hide from your mistakes and went to insult me. Now, I really just don't like you. So, please, kindly shut the fuck up and help us move these bodies as a nice proper way to help any future man who comes down this particular road."

I went back to moving the bodies. Trying not to look at the person.

I ignored the events that transposed and began moving the dead from the road, flipping them over the small wall, or the other side of the dirt mound.

=starts moving the bodies to one side clearing that section of road=

you wanna know why i haven't got rid of or replaced it yet it's cause sentimental value that clunker trash as you call it was given to me by someone i cared about to escape a zombie swarm while they held them off and detonated several explosives to stop them i'd take care of the noise but i don't got the tools to do that do you?

=I'd been following these people from a distance for a while now, they hadn't noticed me, thankfully. They seemed like they were sane. Well as sane as one could be in this situation. I watched through the scope of my L115A3 Sniper as they argued over something, I didn't know what as I was out of hearing range. They had been piling up bodies of the Zed they had killed. I'd Stayed out of this one for fear of being shot on sight. After a few minutes I lowered my rifle, to stop the Scopes glint giving me away.=

I better get moving to a new position...

= I crawled backwards, My C8 Carbine jamming uncomfortably into my thigh, I lowered my self away from the fence I'd been using as a support. =

I looked at the guy, I didn't know his name, and pointed to the ocean after he said something about tools to fix his moped. Then I went back to silently dragging the dead from the road.

I didn't stop my work this time.

"The tools you would need don't exist, as it is illegal to manufacture a muffler for a moped, therefore, you're stuck with your bright shining beacon to the zombies until you give up your emotions to the more survival oriented version of yourself which is going to be the part that is going to help you survive, as hinted at in it's name. If I had an air horn that was given to me by my mom, I wouldn't go around fucking blowing it every three inches, now would I? I'm not saying get rid of the thing, it's your fucking scrap heap, but at least use common sense to use the fucking pedals next time."

=I straightened up into a crouch once I was away from the fence and moved a little faster. I was thinking about what to do next, when I saw a little movement in the corner of my eye. It was enough to send all my reactions into overdrive.
I turned and saw a huge zombie impact into my left side.
By the time I hit the floor I had drawn my browning and fired into its head. I fired twice more to be certain, then pushed the bastard off. I got up and prepared for whatever was about to come next.=

=I look out over the walls of the Military Outpost and see a few zombies in the distance, no threat=

I am glad those bloody wankers are way out there...

=The guy next to me agrees with me and I hop down from the Tower and head to the weapons locker=

After the little battle in Italy. Geoffrey had just found the port he was looking for. He was looking for vacation on the sea, to get away from zombies for awhile. He had packed enough food from several grocery stores and a near by farm. He had been looking for survivors, anywhere. They. Had either been hard to find, or dead. It was driving him insane, not to mention the zombies nearly killing him everytime they find him. So anyway back to the port. He found several empty boats as he cautiously walks by. His sword out, waiting for that zombie that would be hiding for him. And after a while he did find one,easily killed. He continues boat shopping, until he heard alot of sound, it sounds like a lot of.........what did it sound like? That question nagged at him. He looks around some more, wearily finding it. "YES! Finally I found my boat! Hays in your face you ugly pieces of-" Several dozen zombies moan and groan. Now realizing he shouldn't have shouted, Geoffrey jumps into the boat. "This better work". It started, he pushes off and is now speeding through the ocean.



Geoffrey had planned this trip, he had gasoline,food,water and a camera. To take pictures of the now completely over run landmarks. He has a M40A1 sniper rifle, a custom family sword, A M9 pistol (now only about 20 bullets), Ak-47 (with no ammo) flint stone and 3 matches.

He feels the cool ocean breeze, the wind in his hair. "This is what I was looking for."

"Or, you know, you could just dump the thing, or use it in a much more practical manner."

I shake my head and go back to moving the last few bodies.

Geoffrey is now entering the the Bay of Biscay, looking for the The Eiffel Tower.

"The weapons cache was a slavers trap, is a slavers trap." I said quietly as I returned to the cart. "Every time I take it down, or destroy it, they build a new one and spread more rumours." I had already put my things away, I was unarmed. I sat back in the drivers seat.

so it's still happening huh,the names takeya btw

=sits on the moped=

wonder what things'd be like with the zombies but nothing we can do but keep moving forward

"Never stopped." I started the electric motor. "Nor will it." I didn't hit the accelerator. "Takeya. I don't like your name." I hit the accelerator and started moving forward.

I ran over and hopped on the golf cart as it started moving. I sat down in the seat next to Nic, while Alex got in one of the back seats. I leaned in closer to Nic and whispered.

"I don't like this guy. He's going to get us killed soon, I think."

=I holstered my Browning and raised my Carbine, searching for anything that would kill me.
I saw three zombies shuffling towards me, thankfully these ones had their legs damaged. But I hated leaving a job half finished. I raised my rifle, switched it to single fire, and put a bullet through each of the zombies heads.=

Could have been worse... There could have been more of 'em...

=I saw movement where the "Humans" were standing. I scoped them again and saw them moving out on a golf cart.=

Maybe I should introduce myself...

=I began to jog, cutting across the fields, staying near-ish to the road so that I could carry on following these people.=

=I open the door for a soldier who is to run out and retrieve ammo from a soldier who was unfortunately deceased=

Upham! Hurry the fuck up!