Last One Alive, Lock The Door ~ A Zombie RPG

Fitz marched down the deserted suburban streets, toting his homemade katana over his shoulder. The rusty steel blade, which he'd hammered and grinded himself, made quick work of soft zombie flesh. Unfortunately, he hadn't found anything to test it on today. With the sun setting, he knew fun would ensue soon enough. It was only a matter of time.

"G'day, sir," he said to a rotting corpse in the street. "Lovely weather we're having, don't you agree?" He tipped his top hat and paused to wait for a response. "Take your time. I can wait," he said, taking a seat on the hot pavement. "No, I don't think it looks like rain. There isn't a cloud in the sky." Pause. "Yes, I've heard about the zombies. It's a shame really." Pause. "I agree. The whole town has gone down the drain since they showed up. It's absolutely dreadful."

The sudden sound of a speeding truck interrupted his conversation. "What's this? Speeders?" He sprang to his feet. "They may hit someone! We can't have that." He ran off in the direction of the sound, his red trench coat billowing in the wind.

 

"Uh oh, go 'head, gangsta. I knew I hired the right one.”

Kaeila shushed him, concentrating on the lock. It clicked open, and she turned the handle.

“Pick that sh*t. PICK... THAT... SH*T!!!"

She tackled him, brought him into the house and pushed him against the inside wall. “Shut up!” she said through clenched teeth. Kaeila peeked outside, but the dimming light made it hard to see anything. Not seeing any movement, she calmed.

Kaeila shut the door and turned the deadbolt. Confident they were out of any immediate danger, she walked to the kitchen to find something to eat.

 

He smiled at her when she pushed him up against the wall. As well as she had known him by now, she can't possibly be surprised with his sometimes juvenile antics.

“Shut up!” she said through clenched teeth.

One side of his mouth curled up. She reached over him to peek out and check on things.

"I like the rough stuff, too, boo," he joked.

Once she locked up, she walked to the kitchen.

"What are you doin'?"

 

Fitz leapt over a fence, dashed across a lawn, and emerged on another deserted street. "That's new," he whispered to himself, spying a black SUV parked a few houses down. he knew every car in this neighborhood. It seemed to be unoccupied. "They're very crafty," he said to himself. "I'll catch you, you sly fox."

Staying low, he ran from house to house, ducking among the porches. Taking cover behind a lawn gnome across the street, he took out his spy glass to get a closer look at the SUV and the house it was parked in front of. There was a kid peeking out of the front window, but he disappeared after a few seconds.

"There's no way he's old enough to be driving," Fitz said to himself, putting away the spyglass and taking out a pen and paper. He scribbled a lousy speeding ticket -- a $6 billion fine for going 500 mph in a residential district -- and slapped it on the windshield of the SUV. Then he approached the house, dragging his sword behind him, and knocked on the door.

 

She’d heard him alright, but didn’t dignify it with an answer. She searched the cabinets, but they’d been all but cleaned out. She found a candy bar behind a Tupperware full of flour. Hard as a rock, but at least it was something. She split the candy bar and handed half to Dirk.

Kaeila sat, laid her machete covered in dried blood on the table. She was exhausted, but didn’t dare close her eyes.

 

Dirk took the half a candy bar and realized he was a little hungry. As soon as he took a bite of it, he felt he had cracked a tooth.

"Damn," he said, trying to pick the hard peanut out that was wedged in his teeth.

He sat at the table Kaeila just sat her machete on. He looked around at some of the antiquities in the house. Seconds later, he let out a squeaky, almost giggly laugh. He tried to cover his mouth and stop laughing, but that just made him laugh harder.

"Look at THAT," he said, motioning to an ugly porcelain droopy-eyed dog.

 

Judging by what he could see of the sky from a small peephole in the ceiling of the attic, light was almost gone. And then, the zombies would spread, searching for food. It always seems like they found Seth, too. Yet luckily for him, they weren't smart enough to locate his exact position in the house, and he kept quite quiet.
This is what Seth was doing now. All until the voices sounded over one set of foot-steps. Yet, there were two voices... the other must be treading softly. A male and... yes, a female.
'What the hell are they doing... damn it, damn it...'
Taking one brief glance back up at the sky, he swore, and listened intently to the activities going on downstairs, trying to discern whether or not to reveal himself.

 

A knock on the door. Kaeila grabbed her machete in her left hand and pulled out her gun with the other, approaching the door carefully.

Zombies didn’t knock, not that she knew about anyway. She stood close to the door, listening for more.

She heard another noise from above. Somewhere in the house. She cursed herself for not following protocol, not clearing the house.

 

"Take your time, I can wait," Fitz said, glancing around. There weren't any zombies about... yet. "I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. It's not often we get new residents around here. Of course, when I say 'we' I mean 'me, myself, and I.'"

 

Who would be knocking at the door in this time of crisis? And more importantly, what the hell would they want? Seeing his bodyguard inch closer to the door made the youngster a little nervous.

"Whattya see?" he asked her.

She suddenly looked up. He tried to look up and hear what she heard, but it was no use. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are you high or something? Or do you need to be high or something? You trippin' me out, Kae," he said in a surprisingly calm tone.

 

She raised a finger to hush Dirk. He always seemed to be running his mouth, and that certainly hadn’t changed with the zombie invasion.

"Take your time, I can wait," said the voice from outside. "I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. It's not often we get new residents around here."

“What do you really want?” Kaeila said. “There’s no food here.”

She looked to Dirk as if to ask whether he approved of inviting a stranger in. It was his choice to see or not see people after all, even now.

 

He wasn't a schmuck. He's just really cautious. He doesn't believe anyone knows he's in the house, but still, it's weird someone's knocking on the door trying to be neighborly. He walked over to the door and looked through the peephole, only there wasn't one. He shook his head and looked at Kaeila.

"Alright, let 'em in. I doubt it's one of them," he said.

He stood behind Kaeila to keep safe from whoever it was.

 

"Alright, let 'em in. I doubt it's one of them," he said.

Kaeila nodded. She didn't put her weapons away to open the door.

Her eyebrows raised somewhat involuntarily at the man behind the door. Dressed head to toe in red, he certainly couldn't be missed walking down the street. A zombie magnet, surely, she thought. This was probably a bad idea...

"Who are you?" she asked.

 

Sarah had rushed almost blindly from the house, her fascination outweighed by her fear. It was the first time she had came so close to death...the first time she had been so close to living death.

She clutched the rifle close to her as she ran. All of her debates in favor of gun legislation and control falling instantly away, making room for gratitude that this one citizen had took up his right to keep and bear arms. It was a hunting rifle. The exact make and model, she had no clue. It had been a miracle she was even able to load the thing. But she had, and out of desperation she had killed that which was already dead. The sound of the report still rang in her ears. The bullet had gone in clean, and tore out roughly, showering the contents of the creature's head against one of the residence's white walls. More had started to come, and she had dashed through the house, nearly breaking through the screen door as she fled.

The back yard was small and fenced with wooden slats, and a gate opened onto the alley. She heard the sound of glass shattering within the house she had just fled. There were more coming. She opened the wooden gate and waited, bringing the heavy rifle up and setting it tightly into her shoulder. She closed one eye as she looked into the scope. The crosshair wobbled annoyingly as she shook.

The zombies were still close enough to be easy targets, though. She squeezed the trigger and the rifle barked. The round hit the first in the shoulder, turning him slightly. She worked the bolt and fired again, hitting him in the head this time. He fell. A second and third emerged, and she fired almost blindly, giving up any chance of aiming in favor of the utter panic and desperation she felt.

Somehow, when it was finished, and the empty silence descended again on the street, three of the creatures lay dead, their bodies holding that old screen door open. Sarah let out a ragged breath, lowering the gun. It was all she could do to resist breaking down and bursting into tears right here. But no. Now wasn't the time. She had to move. Had to get out of here.

Hefting the rifle, she proceeded to walk down the backstreets, her mind still trying to cope with the horrors she had seen and the life she had lost.

 

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am the Great Fitzgerald McGee. Local hellraiser and peacemaker," he said, tipping his hat. It had been a while since he had a living audience. "You must not be from around here, or you would've heard of me. I'm pretty much legend status aound here." He nodded to Dirk. "And kids love me."

The sound of a distant gunshot interrupted him. Everyone turned to the opened door. "Probably a good idea to lock up for the night," he said.

 

Dirk gave the man a once over. He just couldn't get over the red get-up. It was ridiculous. He smirked at the kid comment.

"That's funny, dawg... cuz kids love me, too," he said still behind Kaeila. "Mainly girls."

Dirk once again thought about Kaeila hearing something that seemed to be in the house.

The sound of a distant gunshot interrupted him. Everyone turned to the opened door. "Probably a good idea to lock up for the night," he said.

"Right... and what side of this door are YOU tryna be on?"

 

Seth was breathing very evenly, or at least trying to. The gunshot had disturbed him from his eavesdropping, and he was sure he had bumped the floor loud enough to be heard in fright. Gathering his wits, he had judged it's distance, and discerned that it didn't come from below, and nobody below was dead obviously by the lack of screams.
He brought his knife up in his face, looking at it with wonderment, as if surprised it was still there. 'Still undecided,' he thought, 'But if they attract a horde, that'll be bad. They might climb up here and rip through the walls if it was a large enough horde that could smell me...'

 

"That's funny, dawg... cuz kids love me, too," he said still behind Kaeila. "Mainly girls."

"I was just bulls**tin' you. I ain't seen a live person in months," Fitz said, stepping inside. The chick with the gun didn't seem to object, though she looked really pissed at him.

"Right... and what side of this door are YOU tryna be on?"

He shut the door, locked it, and flopped down on the couch. "Goodnight," he said, curling up to go to sleep. He'd crashed on plenty of couches, but this was the first time he'd done it with other people in the house. It was so much more cozy this way. "Holla at me if some zombies roll through," he said, cuddling with his sword.

 

Dick van-Dyke hobbled for his life. the local night life was a little more active tonight than they have been in a long time....they are hungry. the population of this suburb from what he could tell was him + the dead.
he spun 360 while still moving forward, let off two shots, two kills. his leg hurt bad as it had been quite a while he had to run for his life. he cocked his shotgun and the shells sprung out of it, diving into his ammo pouch he got two more and loaded. he spun around and fired twice and got another two kills. a third shot. someone with the motor skills to fire a rifle was somewhere close. there where several more rifle shots, then nothing but the zombies after him. making the quick rational decision that two guns where better than one. he hobbled at high speed and hoped the one with the gun was still alive.
well someone used to have the motor skills to fire a rifle....

 

Oh dear

Jerry couldn't believe the mess he was in. Granted, he had been in it for the past few months and thought often about how unbelievable his situation was.
'Zombies,' he thought. 'And in America, no less.' He shook his head disapprovingly, as though the country should have known better than to let this happen. He was sitting in a dairy cooler in the back of a grocery store. The smell of sour milk and milk by-products filled the air. Still, the fact that he was in a heavy, metal box with a heavy, metal door with a heavy, metal latch on it was a good incentive to stay. After witnessing the carnage of his grandparents house, he had entered a state of detachment, making the events of his journey seem blurry and unreal.
He shifted and felt the weight of the hatchet in his belt settle against him. He had gotten it from one of the ragtag groups of survivors that had formed after the outbreak had began. The girl was barely older than 20, yet she was already on the verge of death. She had asked him to finish her off before she could turn, and he had agreed. But as the last bit of life faded from her eyes and her hand fell limply from his, he realized he couldn't do it. He walked away, with the quiet growls slowly fading behind him.
He was suddenly snapped from his pensive musing by a gunshot.
He sat up, his expression hopeful. It had been weeks since his last contact with a human--well, a living one, anyways. He slowly opened the door and poked his head out. Another shot rang out, though louder this time due to the not-heavy-metalness of air. He latched the door and sat for a moment in the dark. He weighed his options carefully. While staying in a zombie free area (a.k.a. not out there) was a comforting thought, his need for human contact was stronger. He grabbed his backpack and began filling it with long lasting snacks like nuts and chips. When he had arrived in the store, he had found it almost completely ransacked, with most of everything still edible gone. He had stockpiled whatever he could find in the cooler. after stuffing the pack as full as he could, he took a deep breath and opened the door. He withdrew his hatchet and began walking in the direction he had heard the shot coming from.

 

edited

 

The man in red plopped down on the couch. "Holla at me if some zombies roll through," he said.

One down, she thought. Now for the noise-maker upstairs.

Kaeila put her machete in her belt, held her gun in front of her, and checked the few remaining rooms downstairs before heading up. “Come on,” she said to Dirk. Kaeila never left him alone, especially not in the company of crazy sword-wielding men.

There were three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, and after clearing all, she knew exactly where to look. The string hung down for the pull-away stairs leading up to the attic.

She motioned for Dirk to stand behind and pull down the string for the stairs. The noise would certainly alert whoever was there, and she would be ready if it was hostile.

 

The sun was setting as I walked slowly around, as if in a daze. A stolen hatchet in one hand, my massive hand cannon in the other. Resently I'd become extremely happy of the purchase. I heard a noise and spun around, gun raised.
A cat looked indignantly up at me. I couldn't help but smile. Still, I needed a place to sleep or I would die tonight. I walked down the road wondering which house I should try out. Then movement. I was sure of it. I walked towards the house I had seen it comeing from, towards the window.
A man with a sword curled up on a couch. He looked alive, which would make him the first person I've seen all day. I look around carefully and then tap on the window hoping to get his attention, better than getting shot through a door, if he tried to shoot me here I could at least shoot back. The last guy I saw wasn't to friendly.

 

A light tapping awoke Fitz from his slumber. He'd only been down a few minutes. Months of sleeping in strange places taught him to rest quickly and sleep lightly.

"What's this?" he asked. "Something rapping, tapping, at my chamber door?" He sprang to his feet and found a young man standing at the window, knocking on the glass. "Ah, another traveler. When it rains it pours, I suppose," he said, pointing the newcomer to the front door. He opened it wide and gestured for the young man to come inside. "Hurry, hurry. 'Tis the feeding hour. Something wicked this way comes."

 

He woke and said something, apparently to his self and then motioned me to meet him at the door. I stood gun lowered but ready when it opened. Then the man spoke, I cocked an eye, but was desprate for some human interaction so I walked past him into the house so he could lock the door. "Thanks man, last guy I found tried to blow my head off." I said nurviously, giving him a short smile. I set my gun on a stand and the ax next to it. "The name is Jake." I said removing my leather jacket to reveal the silk shirt beneath it. I straightened the collar.