World war Z (zombie survival)

Jason

He grabbed a baseball bat he always kept under the counter - he worked night shifts, which sometimes meant irritable customers - and vaulted the counter, grabbing Ballow by the shoulder and pulling him in his wake.

"Come on!" He shouted, "We'll go for the fire exit - they won't have been able to get into it from the outside!"

He smashed the bat into a zombie's legs, tripping it up. He heard bones shattering under the impact and allowed himself a brief feeling of satisfaction - that was one less zombie capable of doing much. His mind still raced, I'm going to need something a little better than this. A pistol at least, preferably something much bigger. Walmart's probably my best option, then.

William--

After making sure all the doors were locked, not that that would stop the zombies, but he would at least be warned by the breaking glass, he starts to gather dried food in backpacks and other supplies, bandages,

The shattering glass alerts him from a short nap, and he starts sneaking towards the door, he hears people whispering,

"I don't think anyone's here," said the first,

"The doors were locked, if there weren't anyone here, they wouldn't have locked the doors" said the second

"good point" says the first

Will turns around an aisle, with the shotgun raised at the intruders, who are obviously not zombies.

"If either of you move, you'll be dead before you can say 'stop, don't shoot me!'" Will says, and immediatly, one of them puts his hands up in the air, like its a stick up, the other just looks boredly at him.

"who are you? Will asks, "what do you want?"

--------------------------------

Peace all,
God.

Ryan

It took him a few moments to realize the man in front of him was in fact dead. He grabbed the knife from his belt and slice him at the neck. The body crumpled but the head seemed to stay alive, or as alive as possible. He kicked the head and then ran down through the wal-mart's halls. He was about to run through the door when suddenly he felt something grab him. His first thought was that it was a zombie and swung his knife barley missing the man holding him.

Name: Alexi Giovanni (female)

Age: 16

Occupation before infestation: Pizza Hut chef

Skill(s) or talents: can sing and is an exceptional cook

Physically: shoulder length, blond highlighted cappuccino, brown hair, tall, green eyes, wears a pair of dark washed jeans and an ACDC T-shirt and a white apron

Weapon of Choice: a butcher's knife and a spatula
____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Alexi awoke from her dreamless night's sleep. Hair plastered to her face and in her bright green eyes. Her alarm clock going off making its annoying buzzing sound. She slammed her fist down on the clock shutting it off and popping out one of the buttons.

"Shit," she murmured to herself as she picked up the broken button, eyeing it closely.

She got up and showered and dressed for the long day at work. Today was the day the owner would pick employee of the month and she wanted to make the impression that says, 'I deserve employee of the month'. She threw on her black ACDC T-shirt that was tight around her slender figure and her favorite pair of blue jeans that gave her a very feminine shape.

She ran downstairs to the kitchen and saw the thermometer reading at 75 degrees. Happy about the weather she ran out the door nearly forgetting her car keys.

The breeze tussled her hair as she drove to work in her 1980, cardinal red, Corvette, windows rolled half way down. She pulled up in front of the familiar white washed building with the same familiar sign that read in big white letters, 'Pizza Hut'.

Inside, the air conditioner had been turned on for the first time in three months. Because of this the air conditioner made horrid rumbling sounds.

Alexi rounded the corner after saying hi to the manager and grabbed her apron off the nail on the wall in the kitchen.


More Will Be Posted Later

Name: Anthony Baker
Age: 13
Occupation before invasion: None, lived in his rich father's mansion.
Skills/talents: Small and stealthy, a good scout.
Physically: Short, shaved head, Brown eyes, wears black or grey depending on the time of day and location.
Weapon of choice: Chopping knife or 9mm pistol


The group were waiting outside, and Anthony, as always, was first in. It was the dead of night, and he wore all black and was crouched down low, barely making a sound. He checked his gun, and worn out 9mm pistol, painted black. He actually had two, one for night and one fo day, because his job was camoflague. He had found them, along with a pair of clip on laser sights, in a police station, a fortnight after the invasion. Ammo was a pain, but they had found a whole bunch of guns once at an army supply depot. Anthony still shuddered when he thought about the first time he'd seen a zombie. He'd looked out of his huge mansion and seen them, twenty shuffling beasts on the lawn, dicing up the beutiful carved sculpters with sharp claws and bared fangs. He had run away into the night at his father's command, while he, his mother, his elder brother and the servents desperately tried to hold the door. Anthony ran, but came back the next day, hoping to find them alive. He had found himself in a zombie layer, and went straight for a chopping knife. He went for the heads, just like in films, but he was outnumbered. He still had a scar on his cheek from that fateful battle. The group, those wonderful people he had been with since then, saved him from death.

Now they were in Paris. They had decided to move just in case there was some place, far away, that had no zombies. There was Cat and Joe, the married martial artists, Bobby, who owned a pump action shotgun, Robbert, who was in charge of supplies and ammo, like a quartermaster, and Betty, or Bet as she liked to be called, who was there because she was there, like a mother and the leader, who brought us out to Paris. Anthony was the scout, twelve years old. It was his job to make sure that we were always in a safe building, whether that be a house to sleep in or a shop to loot. If there were zombies in there, he'd assess their number and strength and they'd either move on or attack. It was a terrible job, but one he had to do. Anthony depended on the group, and the group depended on him. All he wanted was peace and somewhere to live.

Alexi

Alexi rounded the corner after say 'hi ' to the manager and grabbed her apron off the nail in the kitchen. She grabbed her butcher's knife and spatula and waited for the first order..

Time pasted without any orders, but at about 2 o'clock an order came in. Alexi thought this was odd since order started to come in around 10:30 A.M. every other day.

Alexi heard the door open and she looked through the little kitchen window. She saw someone stagger in through the door.. The customer had apparently just been running from something. His hair was matted to his face and his eyes stared blankly into space.

Alexi

Alexi recognized this young man as her boyfriend. At first she smiled at the sight of him, but then her face fell as he collapsed to the floor. She dropped her spatula and knife, cutting a upper case 'C' on the back of her hand.

"Damn it," she whispered as she quickly wrapped it in on of the clean dish towls on the coner.

She ran out front to her lover's aid and skidded to a hault next to him. He was pale and sweaty. She bent down and brushed the thin blond hair out of his face.

"Call 911," the manager, Kevin, yelled to one of the waiters.

The waiter ran back to the office and picked up the navy blue phone and dialed the three numbers, hands shaking.

Back out front, Alexi's boyfriend, Austin Barlow, had been moved to one of the red leather booths. Alexi sat next to him teary eyed as he finally came to.

"Alexi," he said breathlessly as he took her good hand into his. His hand engulfed her as he squeezed it.

"I'm here," she said softly

Name: Larry Dromen
Age: 17
Occupation before infestation: high-schooler
Skill(s) or talent: not many when it comes to fighting zombies, but he's a quick learner so thinks he should be out mauling and dismembaring the un-dead very soon
Physically: although only of average height for his age, he is very thin, with light mousey-brown hair which explodes out of his head. When disaster struck he was wearing a faded green hoodie with a Hawk logo on it, very old jeans, a plain black t-shirt and some Etnies trainers (very thick and good for kicking things in the head with)
Weapon of choice: to quote the man himself "Anything that'll stop these freaks!"

im dropping out. I have too much school work and too many other storybooks. sorry.

*sorry, i sort of just posted that bio without really checking whether it was ok for me to join now....im gonna try a post as well now and just let me know if it's not ok for me to join later*

**also i am v sorry to hear ridersofdamar has left**

Larry Dromen

Larry woke up when he heard a crash outside in the corridor. After a seriously heavy night out the night before Larry had, with the aid of four other drunk mates, stumbled shabbily back to one of the mates' flats where he collapsed face down on the carpet in the "living room". He had stayed in this same position - throwing up occasionally through-out the night - until this mid-morning crash and, with the hang-over in full effect, it scared the s**t out of Larry. He fell about in his haste to get up, the first thought struggling into his bedraggled mind was that a bomb must have gone off - to his strained and tired ears it sounded that bad - before the only sober part of his brain plainly told him that if that had been the case he would have been dead now (something his drunk part wished had happened).
When he finally could stand up without leaning on the fag-covered coffee table, Larry very slowly and carefully made his way to the door to the flat.
Upon reaching it Larry foun the door wide open and a cupboard, up-ended - probably in somone's haste to get out, sober-Larry thought - lay nearby. It was then that, still in a half-asleep daze, Larry realised he was alone in the flat. All of a sudden Larry felt very cold. All across the country that day, in fact across the whole world, people felt that cold chill run through them and a lot of them, those more sober than Larry anyway, described it as what they thought death would feel like. This sudden cold was, luckily for Larry, very sobering, but he now proceded even slower than before on his way to peak around the door. What could be out in the corridor hat had caused all of his friends - even the owner of the flat - to leave so suddenly they knocked a cupboard over? And what if whatever/whoever it was still out there? But Larry's legs didn't seem to comprehend what his brain was saying as they continued their slow and shaky journey towards the corridor.
With the precision and speed of a snail making its way down a very narrow path, Larry leaned out of the flat door and inspected the contents of the corridor. The corridor was empty, in the direction Larry was looking. Suddenly inexplicably worried about what might be behind him, Larry pivoted round to face the other way down the corridor and there, half kneeled over in the semi-darkness of the grimy corridor was...
His mates' absurdly hot next door neighbour. Even better for Larry was that she was only wearing pyjamas. Unfortunately for her it seemed she'd had as rough a night out as Larry had, and still seemed to be getting over it: she was bent over, hands draping towards the floor, breathing heavily and something red and brown smudged all over her pyjamas. With a swiftness that made Larry jump, she snapped upright and stared at him. She looks like she's high, Larry thought. Her pupils were all dilated and her skin looked like it was beginning to peel and flake (and Larry hoped it was just green-tinged through her being sick). She started staggering towards Larry, much as he had done back in the flat mere moments before, arms outstretched and mouth wide open with drool and the same red/brown thing on her pyjamas dripping from it. Larry could already see how this day would be going - help her back inside, comfort her for a while and help her sober up a little and then...well who knows where they might end up? Larry thought this last part with a wry smile appearring on his face. Before he knew it the girl was at Larry and collapsed onto him; he only just managed to get over the shock in time to catch her. For a few very tense and awkward seconds they just stood there in the badly-lit corridor with her arms draped over his shoulders, and his arms under he arm-pits holding her up both breathing heavily - but for very different reasons.
The girl began to bring her head up so she could look into Larry's eyes but just as she came to eye level with his shoulder she paused, then did the last thing Larry expected her to do: She bit him hard in the shoulder. A thin trail of blood streaked up and splattered along the ceiling as Larry cried out in agony. With all thoughts of what might have been in her apartment wrenched from his mind, Larry ripped the woman off his shoulder and pushed her savagely back down the corridor before mindlessly turning and fleeing down the stairs. Not once did he think to use the elevator and so did not see it waiting on his floor, door half open, continually trying to close and continually being stopped by the three dead bodies lying half in and half out of it. Nor did he see one of them when it began to twitch.

Bleeding profusley and trying to apply pressure with his right hand as best he could, Larry made it out onto the street and paused to look around at the carnage. Cars were upturned, some on fire, dead cats were sprawled here and there - legs stuck rigidly up in the air like tiny, furry goal-posts - but not a single dead body could be seen. This didn't worry Larry too much at this point, and by the time he'd come to think back on this moment, he would know why there were no bodies, but right now Larry's only worry was where he could go to stop his shoulder bleeding. His friend lived in a different part of the city to him and so he had no idea where to go for help. Some instinct told him he should head into the centre of the city; maybe people would be there who could explain all this and give him directions to the hospital, and evern if that didn't happen at least he'd be in more familiar territory. Almost surpised by how calm he could be in such an obvious crisis, Larry quickly spied a sign for the city centre and set off, getting slower and weaker, but at the same time more determined than ever to sort this mess out; to find out what was wrong; to survive.


*just to check, my plan is larry finds some people - on their way to Wal-Mart perhaps? - and they explain whats happened and that he only has 24 hours to live and then he has to decide what to do...*

*please keep this going. i'll try to do shorter posts...*

skull3670 is my mates account and i was round his house and forgot to change profile :s

skull3670 is my mates account and i was round his house and forgot to change profile :s

Anthony stared around carefully, checking for zombies, holding his breath. It was pitch black, but until he'd cleared the building it would be stupid to use a light. Judging by how long it had been dark, Anthony could guess that it was about seven O'clock. After all the batteries kept running dry, the group stopped bothering to tell the time, using the sun the best they could. But Bet kept a calender, she said because she wanted to know what month it is, because of when it gets dark in the winter. But they all knew that she just wanted to celebrate birthdays whenever they came. But nobody else had any interest in birthdays, or at least their own. They were all like a family, but each and every one of them devoted to each other. Cat and Joe would lay down their lives for the others without a second thought, and Bob was ready to be pulled into oblivion by the hungry beasts should we need time to escape. Bet, of course, was there only for our feelings. It was a dangerous way to live, never caring for how you came out of it, whether it be finding shelter or fighting off zombies. Normally, as long as you were careful and had a gun or two, you were fine with zombies. They weren't the brightest of creatures, and never banded together, except through chance. It was only if they were to do that that they would be able to cause some real damage. That was why the group had left England. They were beginning to get orginised, with groups of up to ten or even, just the once, twenty. The group had decided that it might be safer overseas, and so decided to look for somewhere else, where they could be free.

Anthony heard and shuffle to his right, and whirled around, pulling the triggers on his pistols as fast as he could. There was a serious of huge bangs, and Anthony gritted his teeth. He stopped, letting the dust die down, and switching on his laser sights. The others burst in behind him, their weapons bristling.
"Where is it?" Bob shouted, swinging his shotgun around in search for targets.
"I didn't see it, I just heard it move." Anthony said. He pointed towards an inactive freezer.
"There, but it could be an animal." Bob moved forwards carefully, squinting into the gloom. Cat and Joe advanced beside him, and Bet took out a torch. She flicked it on to reveal a zombie on the floor, trying to stand up, but it's leg had been blown off. Bob thumped the trigger, and it's head was splattered in all directions with a loud pop.
"Okay, everybody do a quick sweep. They'll probably have come for us by now, but..." Bob ordered, and they split up and headed down the lines of shelves. Typical of Bob, to make sure that there was nothing. Even though there was no such thing as a zombie waiting in ambush, he would always double check. The group had learnt that the hard way in England. They had found another group of people, who were raiding a military base along with them. There had been conflict between the two groups as to how much each would have. The others suddenly pulled out guns and forced the group out. The group were just leaving in bitter anger when they heard screams from inside. They rushed in to find the poor people having their heads ripped off. They tried to help, but there were almost two dozen of thwm, and so the group had to flee. That was when they had decided to leave the country.
"All clear?" Bob shouted across the supermarket.
"Yep," Anthony shouted, echoing the others. Anthony yawned, despite the early hour. He had started having nightmares that kept him up each night since that day in England, when all those people had been slaughtered. It had been the first time he'd seen somebody die since his home had been attacked. Bet appeared by his shoulder.
"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" She asked, her face creased up in concern.
"Shut up," Anthony snapped, "I'm not in the mood."
"Anthony, you have to come to terms with-" She was interupted my a tiny noise.
"Did you hear that?" Anthony frowned. Bet slowly nodded, pointing towards a freezer. The both pulled out their weapons, the two pistols for Anthony and an uzi for Bet. Anthony slided forwards and tapped it with his gun, and there was a whimper of fear.
"A human?" Bet asked.
"Maybe..." Anthony put away one of his guns, his now free hand reaching towards it. He felt a shiver jostling his hand, and so he gripped the door handle to stop it. Anthony pulled at it, stepping away as he did, to reveal... A girl.
"What?" He blinked.
"Please don't shoot! I didn't take anything, I promise!" She cried.
"What do you mean?" Bet lowered her gun.
"You're not one of them?" She let her hands, which had covered her face, drop.
"I don't know what you're talkign about!" Bet exclaimed.
"Oh thank god! They said I couldn't have the food, but I was so hungry..." She sobbed.
"Who?" Anthony blurted out, and she stared at him, and he noticed that she was quite pretty.
"The zombies..."

By the way, for anybody who read my story, I just want to say now that they aren't real zombies, so there's no need to call me up on that. I won't say any more just in case anybody actually reads my posts.