Last One Alive, Lock The Door ~ A Zombie RPG

"Yeah, yeah,"

Dirk smiled as he pulled his hood and hat over his face and took a nap of his own. He was used to this. This was nothing new for him. In all his travels, the trips to his destination were spent in slumber.

 

"Let's hope so," Ms. Jacobs said.

Fitz expected her to say more, but there was only silence, even as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. She hastily brushed it away and he knew that was his queue to pretend it never happened.

"This is a nice car," he said, trying to change the subject. "I had a Chevy, too. A '91 Firebird with a t-top. I was driving south after the zombie outbreak. Stupid decision, I guess, but this was back before everybody knew about the situation up north." He sighed. "I really liked that car, but I guess the Arizona heat was too much for the old girl. She overheated a few miles north of Phoenix, I pulled over, and I've been here ever since," he said, lazily looking out the window.

"Do you know what it's like having a whole neighborhood to yourself, with no one else to keep you company?" he asked. "The only friends I had were the zombies, the corpses, and any inanimate object I could talk to. But I found ways to pass the time. I'd pretend to be the police officer, writing tickets to dead guys. I'd pretend to be the postman, or the fireman, or the school teacher. Technically, I'm a doctor too, among other things."

He sat back in his seat, suddenly realizing he was getting riled up over nothing. "The only thing I never did was cry," he said, laughing to himself. "I just can't see the fun in that. No fun at all."

 

Sarah blinked in surprise as she listened in silence to Gerald's story, fighting back more tears. Yes, she had lost everything, but she hadn't been forced to deal with being alone for that long. Under those circumstances, she doubted she would be able to hold onto her own sanity. Gerald was, at the very least, scarred.

She bit her lip, trying to fight back the lump in her throat. How many more stories like this would she have to hear? She suspected that, from here on, she'd never stop hearing them.

What could she say to him? Nothing came to her mind.

 

Jerry listened and nodded, not sure what to feel.
"I wasn't alone. At least, not in the beginning. My relatives had been..." He paused, not wanting to admit it to himself. He had seen the blood on the walls, and knew that they were gone, yet he still couldn't bring himself to say it. "Well, they weren't there. I had hooked up with some survivors outside of town."
Jerry thought back to those first couple of weeks. He could still remember the screams from outside their makeshift bunker that had kept him up. Hearing the screams of those who he couldn't save. Who no one could save.
"We kept moving towards Phoenix, not a good plan in retrospect. Every night we had run ins with zombies. Sometimes it was only a few of them. Other times..." He paused again, remembering the seas of faces with dead eyes and gaping mouths coming for him.
"We had a high mortality rate. We kept getting picked off, sometimes several at a time, until it was just me and...and..." It hadn't been that long ago, but he had already forgotten her. He absentmindedly ran his finger down the length of the hatchet and continued. "And one other woman. She got infected one night during an attack, and...and she had asked me to, when she turned, to end it." Jerry had left her there to become one of the undead, unable to kill her, even though she would have done the same.
"I'm not sure what would be worse. To be with others, but have to watch them die one by one or to never be with anyone to begin with." Jerry stopped, feeling dejected. He had never been the one to discuss serious matters or to be the one who tried to lead others. He had just been the guy that could make you laugh everytime. But now, there wasn't much left to laugh about. All there was to do was survive, and that's not something to laugh about.

 

"How did you all get here? I was in Philly, living and working in a gun shop. Obviously, when the sh*t hit the fan, I was fine. I shot my way out of Philly, against gangsters and undead. I had relatives in Phoenix. My cousin was a school teacher." Jason couldn't continue. He had found her, dead, on the rooftop when he first arrived at the school. He killed most of the zombies in the area out of hatred, and then decided to kill any that entered.

 

Kaeila gently rubbed her fingers, old wounds that never heal. She slipped again into slumber, this time without dreams. This time, she slept.

It was the sound of her growling stomach that finally woke her. She opened her eyes to dawn drawing near. Stretching herself further awake, she looked out the window.

Jason saw her wake.

"How did you all get here? I was in Philly, living and working in a gun shop. Obviously, when the sh*t hit the fan, I was fine. I shot my way out of Philly, against gangsters and undead. I had relatives in Phoenix. My cousin was a school teacher."

He’d driven through the night, and for that she was thankful.

“We came up from Mexico…” she wondered how much further she should go. How much would Dirk want to reveal? How much did he even remember? She glanced over. He was sleeping anyway. He could sleep through anything.

“Just keep moving, that’s all we do. Don’t stay still too long. Don’t give ourselves time to think, just go.”

She stared out the window. Vague, she thought, vague as usual Kaeila.

 

I didn't really know what to do. I didn't feel like sharing my tale so I just relaxed and enjoyed the ride thinking for most of the time. "You know, we can't just head north and hope the winter gets them. What happens if they just un freeze? If we head east instead towards Florida at least we know the humidity will rot them quickly and you can grow food all year round." I said to whoever cared to listen.

 

"Like all the pretzels they have wars when the planet blows up...I for one is not going to pregret the one and forever," Grell said.
He was with Gritze and some woman, and some guy. He didn't know her name, he didn't know his name. Or maybe it was that he had forgotten his name and didn't know her name.
He stared at the her in the car.
"Here....hi," he said handing her his card.

 

'Well, let's think about it. Would you rather live in humid Florida or frozen Alaska?" he said.

 

"Or would you rather have zombies attack once a year for the rest of your lives or deal with them for a year while all the florida rain, heat and stuffyness distroys them." I countered, besides I liked Florida orange juice.

 

Dirk was having a nightmare. It was them, the flesh eaters at their most gruesome. He could smell the body rot, and feel the roughness to their skin. There were so many of them.

He had been captured and there was nothing left but the consumption of his being between the congregation of undead. Dirk's last supper, if you will. In layman's terms, he was f*cked.

His real life body tossed and turned as his dream gave him the vision of three zombies taking him over. One was gnawing at his arm, and another at his opposite side on his leg. The third held him down so he couldn't kick or scream, and there were many more coming to feed.

"No... I said NO! GET OFF ME!!!"

He kicked as he woke up in a cold sweat. His heart was racing, and he just couldn't stop panting.

 

The serious moment passed as Dirk awoke suddenly looking horrified. I couldn't blame him, I hsd started sleeping very lightly myself. "Its ok man, just a dream."

 

Staring out the window, she barely noticed as Dirk tossed and turned in the seat beside her.

"No... I said NO! GET OFF ME!!!"

"Hey," she said, taking his arm to calm his flailing. "Hey, it's okay. It's just a dream," she added.

 

"Tell your buddy to calm down. I'm trying to drive here, okay?" Jason said.
Dirk's little episode caused him to swerve a little bit. It was fine, but he wanted to instill that he was in charge.

"We're getting close to Flagstaff, and the sun's coming up." he said.

 

She could see the city ahead, and the freeway was littered with cars, abandoned or wrecked, many still in the road. Sarah and Jason navigated the best they could, but they would surely run out of luck soon.

Kaeila tucked her feet beneath her in the seat, still staring out the window. The going was slow. Suddenly, they stopped altogether.

“What’s the hold up?” she asked absently.

The road is completely blocked by cars. One car has its blinkers on and is merely stuck behind other wrecked and abandoned vehicles. There is one man alive in the driver’s seat, but when they get closer, it becomes obvious to them that he has been bitten.

 

Kaeila held his arm. Before he came to, he assumed that was the zombie's handy work. Her and Jake calming him down.

"We're getting close to Flagstaff, and the sun's coming up." he said.

He looked at the driver. It was army dude. What was his name? It was off the tip of his tongue. He can almost picture the introduction perfectly. Damn. And Dirk is usually good with names. His breathing was still heavy.

"Yo..."

He tried to calm down. He stopped kicking, but he felt his flesh being eaten. That was some real sh*t.

He got up and adjusted his sweats.

"We're about to stop for a minute right? I gotta pull the big guy out and let it go."

“What’s the hold up?” she asked absently.

Dirk looked up.

"Sh*t."

 

Name: Lorraine Winfield

Age: 19

Sex: Female

Appearance: Caramel skin, eyes brown, mix of auburn and brown curly hair pass the shoulder. Im average. My outfit- blue, skinny, form fitted jeans with a black vest and black military boots. a miniture tatoo the size of a pinky located on my neck: grey wings with a cross between each one. (think rocker)

Weapon(s): A machete strapped against my thigh and a silver 45 caliber handgun semiautomatic pistol in my hand.

Background: I was crashing my mothers dinner party. My dad was an ex military general so he carried weapons in the house. I sat there telling doctors, lawyers and many of mom and dads friends how the world was going to end. how i sat up in my room and plotted my death. of course lying life was a drag; thats when i heard the screams from outside. the guest ran to the window to see what was happening.
Next thing. the window breaks and a zombie comes through the window. my first instinct is to find dads caliber; i notice the machete. once i retrieve the weapons i run back and see that most of the guest are on the floor, but still moving, i run and keep running to find any survivors that may have survived these zombie attacks.

 

Jerry slept a dreamless sleep in the car, lulled to sleep by the sound of the tires on yhe pavement. It was quite a change from his normal nightmare filled sleep pattern.
He woke with a violent snort as the car began to roll to a stop.
"Huh--wha?" he said as they stopped. The sun had just started rising and he squinted in the light. "Are we there yet?"
As his eyes adjusted, he began to see the extent of the damage on the road. It looked like several cars had been in a pile-up, making the road impassable.
Jerry opened the door and got out, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.
"Jesus Christ..."
Movement from one of the vehicles caught his eyes. A man was struggling in the drivers seat of one of the cars. Jerry walked towards him slowly, looking about for zombies. As he got closer he realized the man was in a state of severe dementia, one of the final stages of infection.
"Uhhh, guys?" Jerry called out, not taking his eyes off the man in the car. "I think he's infected." He began backing away.

 

But an infected man was the least of their worries. Looking farther out was a land mind of zombies. And strapped onto their backs were small canteen propane tanks.
Their target was them, coming down as a massive horde.

 

I ran with the assumption that I was being chased. I was too afraid to look back and see whether or not that one of those flesh eating zombies was after me.

I saw a motorcycle at the corner of a cross road an decided to ride it, luckily for me my brother Rob had taught me how to drive before he left for school, now I wondered if he was even alive.

I jumped onto the Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14 and raced off through the cars, missing each one by a half-second. I saw the now leaving Flagstaff sign as I pushed on the break; the streaking sound made a loud yelp, I paused as I looked closely, shocked by what I saw.

I saw him walk toward a car that had a man yelling for help, he started to back away. I began to speed over to him and saw that the man was on his last stage of Dementia.

The Kawasaki Ninja came to an abrupt stop as I jumped off the bike, while sliding my machete out my knife holder; I chopped the pre-zombies head off.
It fell outside the window. I stepped on his head; his guts smeared to the concrete.

I became overwhelmed as I saw a sign of human life. Finally there were –Survivors!
I looked up to the boy with a smile on my face “One down about a million to go”

 

As Jerry walked backwards, he heard the sound of a revving engine.
Someone atop a motor cycle came barreling down the street, threading their way between the cars skewed about the freeway. The rider twisted the handlebars sharply, causing the motorcycle to fall on it's side. It skid under a jack-knifed semi, the rider getting ready to jump off. As the motorcycle cleared the semi, the rider launched off towards the zombie-to-be, withdrawing a machete from its sheath. The machete swiped down in a flash of reflected sunlight, cleanly beheading the man in the car.
As the rider landed, the helmet came off in a flurry of long, auburn hair. Jerry realized the rider was a woman. She flashed him a smile and said, "One down." She put a foot on the severed head and said, "About a million to go."
Her smile suddenly faded as her foot slipped off of the head. She stumbled and fell to the ground. [That's whatcha get for calling a 32-year-old a boy. Now I'm sad...]
'Oh, god dammit. Another showoff,' Jerry thought.
"Um."
Jerry looked out through a gap in the crashed vehicles in the road and stared, dumbfounded.
There beyond the wreckage on the freeway was a field of zombies, slowly shambling towards them.
"We need to get out of here, guys!" Jerry shouted. He turned to the newcomer and asked, "Do you know of anywhere safe? Anywhere defensible?"

 

The boy pointed up behind me with the look of horror on his face.
I turned my head quickly noticing a herd of zombies with propane tanks on their backs.

I almost froze in my stance waiting.. I was unaware on what to do.
I turned back to the boy looking for the answer.

 

Fitz watched on as the zombie horde approached. The horde was still far off; they could all pile into the cars be out of here before it became an issue. But instead, Jerry and new girl looked on, dumbfounded.

Slightly annoyed, Fitz opened the car door and stepped out. He strode over to the awestruck onlookers with a carefree swagger, coming upon them from behind. They were utterly captivated by the approaching mob.

"When zombies approach, there are only two options: kill them or run," he said, calmly retrieving his spyglass from his coat pocket to get a better look. "Your sedentary stance gives me the impression you want to stay and fight. If that's the case, allow me to assess the situation," he said, surveying the crowd. "Hmmm... they seem to be outfitted with crude explosive devices of some sort. That simplifies the matter."

He put away the telescope and turned to Jerry and the new girl. "Introductions will have to wait," he said. "I know my aim is no good. And this fellow here isn't much better," he added with a nod to Jerry. "The solution is simple: shoot one, kill them all. Would you do the honors?" he said, pointing to the gun in her hand.

 

Kaeila jumped out of the truck, standing beside it while a new girl came on a motorbike. The man in the car ahead looked sick, his eyes were dark, and Kaeila remembered the way someone looks after they've been bitten. She grabbed the rifle she'd commandeered earlier, but the other girl was faster. The girl chopped off the man's head, for no doubt good reason.

"When zombies approach, there are only two options: kill them or run," he said, calmly retrieving his spyglass from his coat pocket to get a better look. "Your sedentary stance gives me the impression you want to stay and fight. If that's the case, allow me to assess the situation," he said, surveying the crowd. "Hmmm... they seem to be outfitted with crude explosive devices of some sort. That simplifies the matter."

Kaeila climbed on top of the truck to better see. Indeed they were crawling among the cars heading straight for them, with bombs on their backs. Kaeila looked around at all the cars, wondering how the explosion by one might create a chain reaction. She had to take that risk.

"The solution is simple: shoot one, kill them all. Would you do the honors?" Though he pointed at the girl's gun, the rifle was better suited for the job.

"Get back!" she shouted, jumping off the truck and running forward to where Jerry, Fitz and the new girl stood next to the decapitated head. "Back up the cars, so that we don't get caught in a fireball ourselves!"

She climbed onto the pre-zombie's car and laid on top of it to better steady her gun. In her sights, she found one of the not-as-slow-as-usual monsters. She pulled the trigger, but it missed.

Got to take wind into account, she told herself. She hadn't done much long range shooting, but her aim had always been spot on. She again looked through the scope, but hesitated, looking back to see if anyone had obeyed her instructions.

Kaeila caught one in her sights, the zombie stumbling forward on broken legs, a propane tank loose across his arm and back. She steadied her hand, breathed deep, and pulled the trigger.

This time, the bullet hit the target.

 

The bullet from Kaeila's gun whizzed by overhead, elliciting a flinch from Jerry. It flew towards the leading zombie and punctured the prpane tank. Jerry heard the bullet richochet inside the tank several times before it sparked. The gas escaping the tank burned up before the tank itself exploded, sending the zombies head and limbs flying outward while the torso flew back in a mass of flaming flesh. Shrapnel from the tank decapitated and dismembered several zombies. Several other tanks near the first zombie were punctured by shrapnel, where the whole process repeared over and over again.
Jerry ducked as the heat from the first blast washed over him. He looked up and watched as explosions within the zombie armada decimated them.
When the chain reaction had finished, few of the original zombies remained.
"Well, that was int--"
Jerry halted as movement in the field caught his eye. The partially apart zombies were still alive. Only a few had been hit through the brain. The rest were just in peices, but still very much alive, for lack of a better term. They had essentially turned the minefield into a different type of minefield.
"We should stay on the freeway for the time being," he said, pointing to the wriggling mass of body parts. "At least until we're past them."