Zombie Story: Threads of a Tire p2

zeru wrote:

guess nuking is the main way of mass killing zeds now shame

"I think you missed something... Arizona was bombed before the Zombie outbreak."

I turn to Nic again.

"Are you kidding me?!"

=I continue writing=

"I have already regaled you with the tale of the beginning many times over. I can not and will not do that once more. Let me tell you of a different story that I had experienced. It was during my quest through the United States going for the east coast"

=I sigh and look up. Night had begun to befall the death filled place=

"I left Indiana and moved my way to Illinois first. Why? I'll tell you. It was because of this girl. As I sit and write this my heart sinks and I am sad for her. I didnt find much from there, not even the girl that I had liked. It is a sad thing to walk through an undead city. I never thought I would have to. After Illinois I crossed back to Indiana to check on others."

Garth wrote:

I turn to Nic again.

"Are you kidding me?!"

I looked at Garth, my face serious. "Arizona wasn't the only. Nevada, California, Utah, New Mexico, Idaho, Oregon, Washington, Nebraska, Texas, and a few others. All bombed. I don't know to what extent the others were bombed, it's word amongst caravans."

Nyan Voodoo wrote:

=I heard a snarl coming from the floor, I looked down and about 5 feet away was a zombie with no legs, probably a survivor of my grenade. I laughed and stood up, drawing my pistol.
I realized too late that the people I was following were probably within eyes distance by now, after I executed the thing, I holstered my weapon and looked for the golf cart and moped. I find them, they look quite close=

well, I was going to introduce myself eventually...

=I place my canteen in my pack and step out onto the road.=

I see someone up ahead. I slow the cart down.

=I should have said more. I wanted to yell at Nick, hit him even. Yeah, he wasn't the one that dropped the bombs. Yeah, him not telling me my home was destroyed, didn't warrant him being blamed. I just needed someone to blame, someone to vent all my rage at=

I sigh.

"And people wonder why I wanted to leave the US. It's because of shit like that."

I look up ahead and see the person.

"Lone one. Either a new traveler, a Wolf, or a trap. Which do you think?"

=I retire into the room where I had been taking refuge. Turning on only a small light source. A small coleman lantern. I take the journal and pencil and I continue writing=

"I found most of my loved ones already gone. Many friends fending off the hordes. I had stayed in my home for a few years however. Mostly for the practice of killing these creatures. I used many of my fathers weapons. Once depleted of all resources I quitted my home and went East for a hopeful salvation"

=I shake my head=

It never came...

I look at Takeya.

"Wasn't asking you."

I look back to Nic and Alex.

"What do you guys think?"

=Garth's question jogged me back into the real world, which sucked even more now=

Hell if I know man. I say, stop at a safe distance, and shout. If they friendly, then we're good. If not......well, we'll get to that later?

I look back to Nic.

"New foot, Wolf, or trap?"

I was remembering more and more about the Traveler culture as I spent more time away from my home. New foot meant a new traveler, someone who had a place but is now roaming. Wolf meant a lone traveler, someone who stayed on their own. Caravan was for groups in a form of vehicle, and a cloud meant those with motorized engines. I never knew why they were called that, but they were.

"I left for Boston Harbour. There were some ships leaving to and from Europe. I moved on through the states, filling my transport with as much as each place could offer. My travels left my emaciated beyond belief. However fortune struck as I entered New York. There was a stash of supplies that could have lasted weeks. I stayed there for a long time. Getting acquainted with the destroyed city. I moved to a shack and would later burn it to the ground. I set off once more after hearing the East Coast was a dead zone"

I regard the kid in front of us silently.

"I think he's harmless."

"Okay. I'll go check him out."

I hope out of the cart and grab the riot shield from the back before walking forward towards the person. I stop a bit of a ways away and call out to him.

"Hey! You friendly? You a wolf?"

If he answered yes, I'd ask him about his count, or, kill count. Most wolfs kept track of this thing, probably out of a need to stay sane from the loneliness. The count gives you a good indication of how skilled they are at surviving, as well as how violent they are. The count has two parts, the live kills, and the dead kills. Live kills are those on people, dead kills on zombies. It didn't help if the person was a sociopath and wanted to hide it, but it wasn't really what they said, more of how they said it.

=I jerked my head up from the dog tags I was looking at=

shit! Pay more attention next time! Idiot!

= I dropped the dog tags into a pouch on my belt. I found myself instinctively raising my rifle, but I stopped myself. =
If they wanted to shoot, they'd have done it...

=I kept my hand on my rifle though, just in case.=


My voice was kinda muffled by the balaclava so I walked forwards, cautiously obviously. But after the grenade, I was wary of zombies appearing, I about halved the distance before speaking.

"It depends what you mean by friendly, if you mean am I thinking of the fastest to kill you, then no, I'm not friendly. If you're asking will I kill you, then the answer's yeah, Friendly. And yeah, I'm a lone."

=I knew a little of the language from a guy I met along the road. He told me the stuff in exchange for a bullet. Poor bastard had been bitten. I'd grudgingly obliged. It was one thing to kill an insurgent in Afghanistan or a zombie in the heart of a town, but a middle aged man begging to have his life ended? Different story.=

"What's your count?"

The way he said it, made it seem like he was new, not really understanding the words and phrases and meanings. Still, he hadn't shot me, so made any motion to shoot me, so I kept asking.

"As for dead, I don't keep count. Living?"

=I counted the dog tags in my head=

Dowel, Davies, Urwin, Richardson...

=The total came to 10=

"Living kills: 10. 7 mercy kills and a gang of robbers who wanted my weapons."

I nod.

"Where you headed?

=I shrug=

"Dunno, Probably back home, if it's still there, Where you headed, If you don't mind me askin'?"

"We're headed down the road to wherever we get. After that, maybe England."

=I nod=

"Mind If I come along? May 'swell seeing as that's where I'll end up, but I guess I'll introduce m'self. Lance Corporal Ethan Tighe, 22nd SAS."

"Garth Hood."

I wave Nic up.

"I don't have a problem with you coming along, but I don't trust you yet. The others probably even less"

=I nod again=

"Personally, If you trusted me, I'd think you're an idiot."

=I flicked the safety on my rifle.=

"Glad to know we both aren't idiots."

"Idiots tend to... expire... pretty fast in the apocalypse. There's plenty more though, they're either too trusting or not trusting enough."

"Yeap."

I didn't want to say too much. I had no idea what kind of person he was.

I drive the cart up to Garth. "How much ammo do you have?" I ask, unwarily.

=I quickly pat myself down.=

"5 Carbine mags, 3 sniper mags and 6 pistol."

=I "forgot" to mention the combat knife currently strapped near my thigh, it's always nice having a surprise if things go bad.=

"How long have you been out here?"

"I've been in Ireland about a month an' a half. Defending a "safe" zone."

"Why'd you leave the safe zone?" I say, eyeing up the soldier.

"Turns out if someone doesn't announce a bite, things get outta hand fast the next day."

"Have you heard any news from the caravans? the travelers?" I continue to question him.

=I shake my head=

"I rarely see anyone, and when I do, they don't see me unless I introduce myself, like now, or when I shoot them, even then they'd be lucky."

Nyan Voodoo wrote:

=I shake my head=

"I rarely see anyone, and when I do, they don't see me unless I introduce myself, like now, or when I shoot them, even then they'd be lucky."

"You've been following us for a good seven hundred meters, ever since you saw us through your scope." I say passively.

"Well, aren't we the observant one? It's rare for me to make a mistake... Where' you guys from?"

"America."

=I nod slowly=

"I heard about the bombings, how bad were they?"

"Well placed." I said.

I stayed silent and hopped into the cart, this time getting into the back seat, keeping the riot shield on me.

@the new guy what kind or sniper rounds you got

=I look at the guy=

"They're ordinary 8.59mm rounds, There isn't much use for special ammunition right now, plus, it's pretty rare to find it."

=I said nothing as the new guy joined us. Just watched. Hey, spend five years in hell you learn that watching can save your life. Watch for signs of danger, or lies, those kinds of things. So far, the guy seemed legit=

"The West Coast would be my next goal. I had a... a... well... not a very well thought out plan. Get to Los Angeles and hopefully find a boat that I could take to Japan. Dock off there and leave for China. As I moved I began to think of this plan. The more I thought of it the more I would refute it. I shrugged everything off though. I had never travelled through the U.S. I had always wanted to."

=I checked all the safeties on my weapons, making sure they were "On", it wouldn't help if I accidentally shot someone, before sitting in the cart.=

"You have my sympathy, for what it's worth, which probably isn't much... We just got recalled from an Op in Afghanistan... Someone high up knew about this, but then again, they always do."

I said nothing, I simply put my foot on the gas and drove forward.
I knew why part of the United States was bombed, and I knew who did. Fucking Americans and their wars....

=I shut the book with a sigh and put it away. Time had passed on and it was still only one in the morning. I stand and take one of my quivers. I take my crossbow and head out the door. I move through the apartment complex. Firing on the occaisonal walker that had broken in. It was a regular run, well as regular as it could be in this time period=