Short Stories

[Tobelade]

I think it would be really interesting for people to put short stories up here. Take a minute and fill up a lot, sure, but it could be worthwile.

[Rejistania]

The best ones I read so far were by Andreas Eschbach, but AFAIK not translated to English yet. I can also recommend Eric Brown's Kéthani short stories.

[Vojvodina-Nihon]

Short stories we wrote, or short stories written by other people?

The latter sounds somewhat illegal, but I'm not an expert.

[Karock]

I think it's talking about short stories taht we shouild happen to write.

[Tobelade]

Short stories we wrote, or short stories written by other people?

The latter sounds somewhat illegal, but I'm not an expert.

Whatever, it doesn't matter; its basically a conversation piece.

[Rutenberg]

you know what would be interesting? Role playing! A guy starts a thread about a story and others can join in the story as there characters! this is not common on any forum so it might be fun! C'mon start a story

[The Romulan Republic]

you know what would be interesting? Role playing! A guy starts a thread about a story and others can join in the story as there characters! this is not common on any forum so it might be fun! C'mon start a story

Wrong forum.

[Rutenberg]

lol sorry ^_^ sugar rush

[Pharyx]

hmm, I've written a couple, here's an old one, I generally write fantasy, but this one just sort of... came to be. It's kind of existential, kind of depressing, but i think it's pretty good, what do you think? Is there anything I could improve on?


Meaning


Life no longer holds any meaning for me. All my life I have lived connected to something, certain that my actions held purpose. That they held some sort of meaning. Now though… I am not so sure.
I remember when I was still in grade eleven… or sometime around there… my age, like everything else, doesn’t matter now. A boy died, and it was very sad. I was very affected by it and I was saddened by how suddenly life could be taken away. There was a mention on the announcements and everyone was sad for a week or so. Then the world moved on. About three months later, a very well known boy from my school died. It was a great tragedy too. But this boy was smart. He was going to become a doctor. He had a ninety something average. He was very well liked. They said his name on the announcements, just like the other boy. And then they held a mass for him, and then they let students go to his funeral, and then the teachers and principal and chaplain made reference to his death every day for the next month, and I was shocked. No one else was. I was upset at the difference with which the two deaths were treated. No one else was. I never saw the human race the same again.
As the years passed and I moved on and forgot how sad it was, I fell into the same thing everyone talks about concerning middle-life: monotony. Day in and day out. I woke up at the same time; I went to bed at the same time. I was single. I never dated on Friday nights. I went out Saturday to the same bar with the same friends. Nothing ever changed.
Sure there were things here and there. My mother died, my father came down with Alzheimer’s, and they changed my ritual. But, like a single fish in the ocean, those things were swept up in the tide of my life, and became part of the same growing and shrinking swell that was my entire existence. Nothing ever changed.
We are all selfish, truly. We claim difference in that, that all our actions are selfless, and that we never think about ourselves, but that is a lie. We are incapable of truly seeing things from another person’s point of view. We try, and that is what sets apart good from evil. Evil has no concept of another’s suffering. But, now that I think of it, is there even anything that is evil? No, of course not, perceptions and all that jazz, I’m sure the philosophers would agree. In our minds, the world revolves around us, even though we may be people who spend the majority of our time bettering the lives of others, still we exist in our own world, our own galaxies if you will. For the past few months, my world has stopped revolving, has ceased to independently function. Instead, now I revolve around the world. Seeing, but not partaking, observing, but not contributing. I have no meaning. What is the purpose of being in this world if I am simply revolving around it? What is the point to life if I can’t readily affect it? None. And thus my existence has no point.
Today is Saturday, December nineteenth, 1993 at approximately eight seventeen pm. None of that sentence matters. I have just awoken, I decided to sleep, I had nothing better to do. I sit up in my twin bed, in my single bedroom apartment on Duke Street in Kitchener, Ontario, in Canada, in North America, in a world that I aimlessly revolve around.
I let out a profound sigh.
Tonight may be the last I live.
I had thought about it a lot in the past couple weeks, suicide, that is. Why? I cannot say. Logic would tell me that just because life is pointless doesn’t mean I should kill myself. I am an atheist, it’s not like I want to kill myself because I want to meet God, or someone like that. It’s just… well, what is the point of living if every day is going to be like this? I have no use for life.
Every moment to me seems like something I have already done, an experience I have already had and now am bored with it. I spend all my days looking for something I haven’t done, but if it turns out to be something new, I don’t want to do it. It’s a vicious circle. So most of the time I become bored with searching and just lie down. I rarely sleep, I call it sleep because I am in bed, but my eyes hardly ever close, my mind too absorbed with thoughts of boredom.
I learned a new word the other day: apathy. It means something along the lines of “lack of interest in anything.” It is perhaps the best word to describe my present mindset. Apathy with people, apathy with the world around me, apathy with life itself.
The true danger of this depression is that first I become sad, then indifferent to why I am sad. I could probably find a reason to continue, but I just don’t care.
Care.
What a strange word. It applies to everything in my life. My effort is affected by how much I care, and in turn my happiness. Without caring, how can humanity exist?
But it does, and it exists in its own net of apathy and disconnectedness. People claim that they are empathetic; I know that to be wrong. No one is truly empathetic, they see people, they feel as though they know them. And yet even your best friend cannot see how you wallow in grief when you are alone.
People build so many façades, hide behind so many masks, fearing that to expose their inner weaknesses is to be… well, weak. I know this to be false as well. And yet I have not come close to telling anyone of my depression. It is the source and the ultimate failing of humanity. We know we need each other’s help, yet we will not deign to seek it. I know that, like the rest of existence, my case it detached from that logic. I know no one can help me out of this hole. I have already seen that. So why bother? Ah, the ultimate question of my life: Why bother?
I sit up in bed. I have made a decision. Why bother to continue struggling up the waterfall of life. It would be so much easier to fall back and drift down the river of death, letting the current decide where to deposit my body. Now I realize, there is no reason not to believe in an afterlife. I probably will wind up in some other world. But like my present life, that consideration doesn’t matter. I will die tonight; tomorrow will be empty for everyone else… not me.
I begin considering what I should do. Pills are risky, so are guns, unless I can get a shotgun… not likely. Electricity is even riskier than pills, so is asphyxiation.
Wait.
I stop for a moment, startled by my dispassion. I could have, in the same tone, been thinking about what to make for dinner. I laugh a hollow laugh as an image of a man ordering a knife and a plastic bag at a restaurant enters my mind. I shake my head and walk to my kitchen. Nothing here would be useful. I decide to go for a walk.
My last walk.
I grab a light jacket, but know, somewhere deep inside, that the cold will not affect me.
The night is cold and crisp. It has a deep, intimate feel, and the wind cuts against my face. It has no effect on me. I see the hanging ornaments and realize I have lost track of the date, it must be close to Christmas. I know City Hall will be swarmed with people of all ages: children skating on the ice, teen couples kissing in the dark shadows where they think no one will see, adults watching their children laugh and play, delighting in what they have created.
My throat tightens and my eyes burn. Shake my head clear and continue walking.
I want no human companionship, this is a trip I will take myself, but, for some reason, I find my path inexplicably drawn towards City Hall, with all its pretty lights and pretty families and fake hopes. I come around the corner and see all the people, less than last year, because, I believe, that the people have come to see the uselessness of the celebration.
I walk up the stairs towards the fountain-turned-ice-rink, I never did enjoy skating, it made my feet hurt. Not to mention that I look stupid doing it. I prefer running. My feet glide over the earth almost effortlessly, my breath coming in ragged gasps, but pushing and never slowing down. Its something about the wind rushing past me, almost like I am racing my problems and, for a brief spell of exhaustion, I escape them.
I sigh, and sit down on a bench. A woman, a very pretty woman I notice, walks to sit down beside me, but I look up and glare at her. She draws back, looking hurt, seeing, as non-empathetic people somehow do, the sorrow and anger in my eyes, my lack of want of company.
Empathy. What a stupid concept. People claim to have it, yet how many people think I am about to kill myself. None! That’s how many. People need to accept their inability to understand anyone but themselves.
I sit for a few minutes before seeing her approach another man, this one much more receptive. How fake, how pretentious the human race! Even her hurt face was a façade!
Everything about the human race is a lie, a protective lie other people seem to put up whenever they want something. God! Affection is such a disease!
My mind is spiralling out of control; I’m not even thinking coherent thoughts now. I sigh again and move to stand, when something catches my eye. A man, a man who greatly resembles my father. He sits on the bench across from me, watching what I presume to be his grandson skate across the ice. The boy turns suddenly and skates toward the old man, but trips over the side of the rink, landing on his chest and scraping his hands. He sees his hands are bleeding and begins to cry. As fast as the old man’s arthritis will carry him, he rushes to his grandson’s side, picking him up to his feet… or at least trying. The old man has not the strength to lift the boy. Before I turn away, three other people have rushed over to help the elderly man and his son.
I snort, realizing that they all had individual and equally selfish reasons for helping the boy. One probably hates the sound of children crying. Another has been abused and now seeks acceptance and praise from any who will give it, and the other… the other… he has his own reasons, I am sure.
I get up and leave. I walk all the way back to my tiny apartment, suddenly feeling the cold much more acutely. I realize I am sweating and the sweat on my back is freezing. By the time I get to my apartment, I am running, and by the time I get to my second story apartment, I am crying. I cry as I fumble with my house key, I cry as I throw my coat on the stove, I cry as I rush into my bathroom and grasp the largest bottle of pills I have: Advil Extra Strength. I am still crying when I twist the cap off and spill the pills all over the floor. I sink to the floor and sob great heaves of my chest.
I cry as I have not since my mother died, I cry for my father, my estranged uncle, my dead brother and for all the friends I am about to leave.
I do not know how long I have sat here. Hours, likely. I have cried out all the tears in my body, now they are just dry moans. I realize how pitiful I am.
Pull myself to my feet and walk to the window of my apartment. There I see a group of teens throwing snowballs at each other. They have such a simple life, I decide, then realize that everyone has a difficult life in their own mind, I laugh, a wet, emotionless laugh.
Empathy.
I shoot up straight, feeling as if someone had just hit me in the gut, or in my stupidity.
Of course true empathy does not exist! But connection does. Of course we are all selfish, but not always, each and every one of us has to make an occasional attempt at selflessness. We have to make an occasional attempt at empathy. Humanity walks a fine line, with each of our individual galaxies intertwined so closely, but with so little connection. But that connection is there, if only briefly, and if only rarely. The greatest failing, no, threat, to humanity’s tentative balance is apathy. With all the galaxies of all our people so closely interlocked, if one orbit of one planet of one galaxy becomes too apathetic, it might spiral out of control, destroying itself, and others in the process. Such is the metaphor of life.
Looking back on those teens now, I have come to realize the simplicity, the beauty of existence. That simplicity is found in all those actions humanity doesn’t acknowledge: friendship, conversation, feeding the father who can’t feed himself. The true joy of life is existing not as the singular mind, but as a community of galaxies, sharing in both the joys and sorrows of each other, and helping to restore each other in the face of the bad.
In the face of those teens, I begin to mend.
I go back to the bathroom to pick up the pills.

~Chris Rush

[Pharyx]

sorry for the lack of line breaks and paragraph format... for some reason it doesn't do that for moi

[The Romulan Republic]

I have a couple old short stories I wrote that I could post here, if I can find them. Otherwise I'll just have to write something new.

[Cirrus Azale]

This could be a great thread, if it got more posts. #ReviveShortStoriesThreadFrom2009.

[Chan Island]

Do we do gravedig threads in Arts and Fiction? We could still use this to discuss short stories, buuuuutt....

[Sanghyeok]

I can start a new thread.

[Cirrus Azale]

That’s be cool. I don’t quite know how many people would go back and look at some thread from 2009. But a new thread would be cool. I need more reading material.

[Destyntine]

This story is completely AI generated. The only impact I had was the input of the actions, sort of like a "choose your own adventure story".

You are Thomas, a survivor trying to survive in a world filled with infected zombies everywhere. You have a pistol and a backpack. You have managed to survive several months avoiding zombies and scavenging food. You cautiously enter a rundown store and hear muffled voices from the back room. you slowly creep closer and closer until you can make out the words.
You gently put your hand on the doorknob and turn it anti-clockwise.

> You peak inside.
You peak inside and see that it is some sort of office with a dozen or so desks. Most of the people are dead, but several still sit at their desks. A few look at you with dead eyes, but most just sit there quietly.

> You say "Hello?"
You quietly say "Hello."
There is silence for a moment and then one of the people walks over to their cupboard. They open it up and take out a canteen. Then they go to another desk and do the same thing.

> You say "What are you all doing?"
You say "What are all doing?"
One of the people turns and looks at you. They are middle-aged, bald, and wear a suit. They don't react any differently than if you weren't there.
They simply say "Working."

> You say "What about the zombies outside?"
You say "What about zombies outside?"
The man simply says "Zombies? Oh yes, we are quite safe here, the walls will keep the zombies out."

> You say "This place isn't safe, there dead people in here."
You say "This place isn't safe, there dead people in here."
The man simply continues working and doesn't acknowledge your presence. You are about to leave when you hear a slight rumbling outside.
The man looks at the door for a moment and then speaks to you.

> You hear him out.
You hear him out.
He begins to speak about how the military locked themselves in a silo with enough food to last a couple of years. How they pumped heavy metal into the walls to prevent the zombies from getting in. He says all the right things and it seems very convincing.

> You leave them be.
You leave them be.
That night you hear the rumble outside. Its not too loud, but you can hear it. It seems to be getting closer.

> You find out what the rumble is.
You find out what the rumble is.
You get up slowly and creep over to the window. Outside you see dead grass. The sun is setting though and the rumble seems to be coming from right in front of your eyes.
A horde of zombies is approaching the office. You stand perfectly still, but watch them through the window. They shamble towards the office, as if they can't believe what they are seeing. You watch as the last few walk past the building and out of site.

> You say "There are zombies outside of this office!"
You say "There are zombies outside of this office!"
The man simply says "Yes.", and goes back to writing on his notepad. You try to make conversation, but he isn't very talkative. Out of nowhere he asks "Why are you here?"

> You say "I'm trying to find a shelter."
You say "I'm trying to find a shelter."
He looks at you briefly and then goes back to his note taking. You try to make small talk, but he is just not interested. He finishes up his note taking and then simply gets up and walks away.
Zombies start breaking into the office. They don't enter the room itself, but they do start to look for things to get through the window. You watch as one finds a corner of the window to pick at until finally it succeeds in getting inside.
The man turns around and looks at you briefly.

> You say "What are you doing?"
You say "What are you doing?"
The man turns around, but doesn't make eye contact.
He simply says "I'm getting the hell out of here."
Zombies start climbing through the window as he walks away from it.

> You run like hell.
You run like hell.
After you get out of the building, you see a fuel truck, sitting all by its lonesome. The front doors are locked, but the side door is open. You run over to it and climb inside.

> You drive the hell away from here.
You are able to start the truck and it starts right up. You back down the road about a mile or so and then turn around and come back.
When you get back to the building, there are no zombies in site.

> You look for the office man.
You start to enter the building and look for the man.
You find him, he is standing in the middle of the floor with a gun in his hands and hissing at something. You don't know what it is. He is hissing like a cat.

> You say "Where did everyone else go?"
He says "I'm here now. Where did everyone else go?" He says this a little slower than normal.
You think and ask "What happened to them."
He looks at you and his eyes seem to focus on something behind you for a moment.

> You look behind.
As you do, the man looks back to you.
He says "They're gone." The man's face falls. His entire face changes and now he is looking very sad. You have never seen anything like this before.

> You say "You should have listened to me."
He says "I should have."
You think and ask "They are zombies?"
He looks at you and hisses. He points down at his eyes and makes a rolling motion with his hand. You think and ask "What do you mean?"

> You ask his name.
He hisses again. He starts to roll his head back and forth like a cat. he hisses some more and then finally starts to speak.

> You listen.
"I'm ... I'm .... I'm sorry"
He keeps hissing and rolling his eyes back in his head.
You ask "What are you sorry for?"
"Everything"
He begins to laugh and hiss at the same time. It's a horrible sound.

> You leave this psycho and get back in the truck.
You get inside the truck, but decide to keep your eyes on the man in the building.
Soon after you turn your back on him; he crawls out of the building. He makes a bee-line right for your truck!

> You drive out of town.
You are able to get away, but not without a few close calls. You avoid interacting with any other humans and eventually make it back to your little red house.
After you park the truck, you get out and notice a man standing near the driver's door. He is staring at you.

> You say "Who are you?"
He doesn't answer.
You think and ask "What do you want?"
"You. I want to eat you." He says this so simply, as if you were going to the grocery store instead of your own home.

> You draw your pistol.
He notices your pistol and says "I know what you got there, I'll take it from you."
He reaches out his arm, but you don't let go of the gun.

> You shoot him!
You end up shooting the man in his stomach. He clutches his belly and falls to the ground.
"Ahhhhh! You just made that much worse." He pulls out a walky talky and a map and starts communicating with someone on it.

> You finish him off.
He starts screaming at you "They're coming for you, all of them. You'll never get away."
He passes out from blood loss.

> You stab him in the head to prevent him from coming back.
You find his walkie talky and flip it on.

> You say "Your friend is dead. Don't fuck with me."
You wait for a response, but there is none.
You put the walkie talky in your pocket.
After everything that happened, you're able to rest easy again.
But then the nightmares start...

> You wake up from the nightmares.
You wake up and notice the sunlight coming through your window. The tears on your face say it all.
You sit up in bed with your pistol in your hands again. You need to sleep, but you're deathly afraid. You're alone, but you know others are coming soon.

> You look at the map the dead man had.
On this map, red=zombie, green=human, blue= friendly
Most of the zombies are in a giant circle around the city center. It's almost like they're waiting.

> You drive to the location on the map.
You can't sleep so you might as well get this over with.
You get out of bed, grab the map and walk outside.
You notice that the man was right. There are a lot of zombies in a half-circle around the stadium.

> You watch them from a distance.
You watch them for a while and notice some slight changes. There are two types of zombies, the shamblers and the fast ones. The shamblers are the normal, slow type that you usually encounter. The fast ones are almost like normal humans until they get into a sprinting loping mode.

> You listen in on the walkie talkie.
You hear "Base this is Crazy #1, do you see any enemies?"
"Affirmative, I see friendly forces."
"Good, support is on the way. You just continue to guard this position. Watch out for the freaks though, they are dangerous.
An 18-wheeler pulls up to the side of the city center. A large group of soldiers get out and begin unloading large crates from the truck. They must be your reinforcements.
You watch them for a while and realize that something is very wrong. The crates are marked as medical supplies, but there isn't any medical personnel here to unload them.

> You come to a realization that these are most likely stolen supplies.
You can't believe you didn't think of that. It's amazing that the man was able to get away with all this. You feel like such an idiot. You think back to the man and what he said before he died. "They are coming for you, all of them."

> You find a new place to live, your home isn't safe.
You didn't think your home was safe since you haven't been there in a long time, but you need to get a new place to live.
You pack up as much stuff as you can and get in the car. You hit the road with your newfound knowledge.
You arrive at a farmhouse, the lights are on inside. You don't want to get caught trespassing so you hide in the cornfield next to the front porch.
After some time has passed, a man arrives at the front door. He is holding a large bag of groceries.

> You say "Hey, I'm friendly!"
The man turns around and looks at you. He shows no signs of hostility. In fact he seems perfectly calm. "Well, this is a nice surprise!" he says with a bit of humor.
He sets down the bag and starts taking out different types of food.

> You say "What is your name?"
He says "Jack, and yours?"
"Thomas, I'm looking for a new place to live, there are a lot of things here that I don't recognize."
Jack starts putting together a meal for you. "Would you like to join me for dinner?

> You say "Absolutely! Who else is living here?"
Jack lived here by himself for a couple of years after his wife passed away. Now that he's back, there are plans to marry again in the future, but not for at least a few more years.
You join him for dinner and conversation.

> You say "You've been taking care of this farm by yourself?"
Jack nods. "I took a couple of years off after my wife died. it's good to be back. It'll be good to have help around the farm again."
Jack turns his attention to the food on the table. He picks up his fork and starts eating.

> You say "I'll be glad to help, did you know anybody around here?"
Jack shakes his head. "I didn't, this was just me and the farm. Glad to be back, but it's good to be alone once in a while."

> You say "Any kids?"
Jack's face becomes upset. "No, not anymore. It was just the two of us since the first years of our marriage. Then when Ann got sick, that was it. I tried for years to get her better, but nothing worked..."
His voice starts becoming soft and crackly.

> You say "Is this farm safe enough?"
"Oh yeah, it's very safe. We have good protection and lots of guns. The zombies can't get in."
The two of you talk until the sun comes up.

> You say "We should find some more people to help us out."
Jack nods. "You're right, that's what we'll do."

> You drive back into town with Jack to look for survivors.
Jack pulls into the parking lot of a gas station. "Let's see if we can find some more people."
You get out of the car and look around. There aren't many other vehicles in the parking lot, and it looks like nobody is around.

> You keep searching.
You walk around to the front of the store and open the glass door. Inside you see a little girl drawing on a display table.
There are no other customers in the store.

You look around and don't see anyone else in the store.

> You say "Are you okay?"
The little girl looks up and sticks her crayon into the paper to make a picture.
"Oh, your voice is lovely, I just drew a picture of a bird." The little girl says. "Would you like to see it?"
You nod.

> You say "Where are your parents?"
"They went to get the food." The little girl says. "Do you want something?"
You look around and read the labels on the shelves and see that they are full. "No thanks, I just came in to look around."
The girl thinks for a moment.

> You say "How long have you been here?"
"I've been here 1 month." She says with a smile. "Are you the first person to come in here?"
"Yes, sorry to bother you."
She waves her hand. "No, that's nice. It's nice to talk to new people.

> You say "What is your name?"
"Annah."
"It's nice to meet you, Annah."
She smiles. "You can call me Annie."
Annie walks behind the counter and disappears for a moment and then comes back with a bag of marshmellows.
"Do you want some?"

> You say "No thanks, but you should come back with us."
"Really? You want me to come back with you?"
"Yes, it would be nice to have someone to talk to."
She frowns a bit. "Alright."
You open the door and look around. There's still no one in sight.

> You say "Get in the truck."
She nods.
The two of you walk over to the truck and get in. There's a sudden jerk and you realize you're moving.
"Do you wanna eat the marshmellows first?"
"No, they're yours."

> You say "How old are you?"
"9."
"You seem more like a 7 or 8 to me." You say with a laugh.
She's quiet for a moment before replying. "I'm not sure. I think I'm turning 10 this month. For all I know I could be a little kid."

> You return to Jack's farm.
You get back in the truck and drive back to Jack's farm.
"Well, thanks for your help."
"Thank you for your help too." She says sweetly. "You're a nice person."
You smile. "Thanks.

> You get some rest.
You go back into the house. You find yourself waking up in the night and realize you had one of your nightmares again. Sleeping is definitely the best medicine.
You head upstairs and find a large chair by a lantern. You take off your shoes and fall into the chair.

> You check in how Annie is sleeping.
You put your head against the pillow and look over at Annie sleeping in her bed. She looks so innocent like that. It's really weird for you to see her like that when in actuality she is an incredibly strong and resilient person. You feel terrible that she was almost left behind to die.

> You go back to sleep until morning.
You decide to take a small cat nap. You wake up a few hours later.
The sun is just starting to rise.

> You prepare breakfast for Jack and Annie.
You walk into the kitchen and prepare some breakfast for Annie and Jack.
"Hello there." You say as Annie walks in. "I prepared some eggs, bacon and toast. Do you want tea or coffee with that?"
"Coffee please." Annie says.

> You say "How'd ya sleep, Jack?"
"I slept well. Thanks for asking." He replies.
"You're welcome."
You start cooking the eggs and soon have a large pan of them done to perfection.
"I don't know how you can do that." Annie says.

> You say "Magic!"
You laugh.
"Well, I don't know if you'd call it magic, but I'm definitely capable of a lot more than the average person."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah man, come on, I'll show you."

> You show Annie how to cook eggs.
Jack walks into the kitchen and watches Annie closely as she begins to show her how to properly cook eggs.
"So, where did you learn to do this?" He says.
"My aunt taught me while I was staying with her. She was a great cook.

> You say "Have you seen any zombies around the farm recently?"
"Nope, haven't seen any at all."
"Well that's definitely a plus." You say.
"How did you know where my house was?"
"Well, after I escaped the stadium I went in a complete circle. It ended up bringing me back here.

> You say "I killed a man, I took this walkie talkie from him and found where his group was staying."
"Really? Wow, that's pretty badass. Was he bad?"
"I'd say he was worse." You laugh.
"This is crazy, I can't even believe this is happening." Annie says.

> You say "It had to be done, he was a bad man."
"It was necessary." You say calmly, giving your most stone faced expression. (Or as stone faced as you can be anyway)
"Yeah, it was man." Jack agrees with your comment.
Annie finishes up and soon the three of you sit down and eat breakfast.
After eating you decide to leave Jack and Annie at the farm while you go look for more survivors.
"You sure you want to go alone?" Annie asks.
"I'm sure." You say still mulling over the moral dilemma you had just faced.
You walk a good half hour before you find another trapped house.

> You check out the country house.
You slowly approach the house and see a door wide open. You waste no time in hurrying inside.
You cautiously enter the house and it looks fairly normal. Lots of paintings on the walls, furniture, television, etc.
Then you hear a noise upstairs.

> You draw your pistol.
You grab your pistol and point it at the noise.
You slowly and quietly head up the staircase to the upper level of the house.
You slowly approach the door at the top of the stairs and point your pistol at it.
Then you hear a voice in German through the door.

> You say "Hello? I don't want to hurt you."
"Go away. The infected are all around. If you aren't here to kill us, then we must be dead already." The voice says.
"Can you open this?" You ask in German. "I need to come in."
There is silence for a moment.

> You say "Do you speak English?"
"A little."
You hear the lock turn in the door and the door opens slowly.
You see a man in his thirties wearing glasses and a suit enter.
"I am Professor Boisson. What do you want?" He asks.

> You say "I was out looking for people who might be interested in joining us."
"So you were passing by?"
"No. I was out looking for people who might be interested in joining us."
"And you found my home as a potential hideout? How?"
"I followed the sound of your voice. It was quite clear.

> You say "You're a teacher?"
"Yes. I'm a teacher at the local elementary."
"Ah, good." You say. "What time is it?"
"Nearly three."

> You say "We have room at our farm, want to come back and stay with us?"
"We just fled a house filled with dead people.
"Well, you're welcome to come back with us if you want. We're a big group, but we're happy to have you with us.
"OK. Thanks for the offer."

> You say "Is that a yes?"
"Yes, I'll come with you, but we should leave now."
"OK. Let's go then."
You and the Professor return to the farm.

> You say "Hey Jack, this is Professor Boisson."
"Hey, nice to meet you."
You show him around the farm until dinner time. He seems pretty happy there.
"This is really nice, thanks for letting me stay here, guys."
After dinner, it's time for you to get some sleep.
Two weeks pass and the same cycle continues. You recruit two more survivors, a couple from the town you once lived in. A young man, Mason, and a woman, Olivia. They seem pretty happy there. You're happy for them.
Then you trade with a trader, giving them food and supplies in exchange for fuel, the minimal required to run the generator.


> You say "This is not good."
It's been a week since the raiders attacked and chances are they're not gone. They most likely have regrouped, re-grouped, and are currently on the move again, looking for new prey. They're a serious threat, but you and your remaining friends can handle them.

> You say "We need everyone to be ready for when the raiders attack. Jack, how many bullets do we have?"
"We have enough ammo for a fair sized fight, but after that, we're running low.

> You say "Alright, what should Olivia and Mason do?"
"Olivia, grab your gun and get to the balcony. Mason, follow her up there and keep her company. We have a chance of taking one or two of them down if they come through the front door. If they try the balcony, then we're going to do something different."

> You say "Professor, what will you do?"
"I'll be in the bedroom."
You take half of your group through the front door and towards the lounge, leaving the other half in the kitchen. You were walking towards the kitchen when you heard a gunshot from the foyer.

> You say "Everyone, positions!"
You quickly move through the foyer, getting into a defensive position while your team-mates do the same. You hear a second gunshot, and glance over your shoulder. The gunmen have reached the dining room.

> You shoot the first one you see.
You raise your gun and shoot the first raider you see in the chest. Unfortunately, this was the leader, Walter, and he's been drinking from a bottle of wine.

> You shoot Walter again.
You try to shoot Walter through the chest a second time, but you miss and hit the wall.
"Thought you'd come around, smart guy." He grins. "Guess wrong again."
Jack fires a bullet into Walter's head.
"Alright, let's go. We need to stop these sons of bitches."
You enter the dining room, and find Olivia lying on the ground, a dark red pool forming around her. Mason is standing over her.

> You say "Oh shit, what happened?"
"She's dead. They killed her."
You kneel down beside Olivia, but Mason is already on his way to the balcony. "Come on, we need to go. They're probably coming through the front."
You stand up and follow him.

> You get everyone upstairs.
You quickly head upstairs and get everyone ready for battle. You're going to defend the safe house to the last.
You see three men outside, aiming their guns at the balcony.
"Everyone, drop to the floor!" you shout.
Gunshots hit the balcony. The men are wearing protective gear and are standing far enough away so that your bullets don't reach them.
"Oh for... Come on, we can do this manually."
You run over to the balusters and take aim at one of the men.

> You take the shot!
You take a shot... and miss. The man you were aiming for is already hunched over and crawling out of the line of fire.
You quickly reload and aim again...
"Drop your weapons, now!"
You ignore the orders.

> You keep shooting!
You immediately open fire, but the other two men have already responded to the order. One begins firing back, the other runs around to the side of the house and begins climbing up the side.

> You say "Jack, shoot the one climbing!"
"I'm trying!" He called back, but it's too late. The man has already reached the roof and got out of sight.
You climb up on the roof and go after him!
You manage to get up there before he does, and there's no way he's getting past you.
You draw your knife and rush at him, but he knocks you to the ground with one punch.
"Now you've done it!"

> You get back up and fight!
You manage to get back up and rush the man, but he catches you with another punch, followed by a kick to your stomach.
You spit out some teeth and feel blood pour down into your mouth.

> You throw him off the roof!
You charge back up to the roof and grab the man, but he fights back, taking a metal bar from the roof and smashing into your shin. You scream in pain and let go, but the man keeps coming at you, swinging the bar like a baseball bat.

> You disarm him!
You grab the bar and wrestle it out of his hands, then you grab an arm and heave on it. The man screams in pain and anger, but lets go of the bar, which you immediately grab again.

> You hit him with the bar!
You swing the bar and hit him in the temple with a sickening thud. As he falls to the ground, you think he's dead, but he's just unconscious. He's not dead, but his chances of waking up are significantly lower.

> You beat his brains in.
You kick the man in the head, shattering his skull and killing him instantly.
You walk over to the edge of the roof and check on the others. They're all fine. The enemy is dead, and nobody got hit during the fight.

> You get back to the balcony and keep fighting!
You walk back over to the balcony where the others are waiting.
"We good?" you say, and they nod.
"Good, let's go."
You walk outside and look around. The entire street is filled with dead humans and the occasional infected.

> You take cover behind the truck.
You take cover behind the truck and wait for the others to arrive.
They do, and you continue on as a team. After a few minutes, you begin hearing gunshots in the distance. It's getting worse. You need to do something, and fast.
"We need to hurry,"

> You say "Jack, hop in the truck and I'll get in the back."
"Got it", he says, and hops in the truck.
You run around to the other side and get in the bed of the truck, still covered by the tarp.
"What are you doing there?", Annie asks.
"Covering us."
"From what?"

> You say "We are going to ambush them."
"What?"
"Annie, we need to kill those guys. I'll explain later, just stay quiet and cover for us."
"Sure thing", she says, and covers you.
You wait patiently, and soon, you begin hearing gunshots in the distance.
Jack drives the truck toward the raiders, you pop out from the bed and start shooting as he drives.
Soon, you're in a good position for an ambush. The truck stops right in front of them, and they're all suddenly right there in front of you.
You raise your gun and fire. You hit some of them, but unfortunately you don't kill any of them.
Jack keeps driving, you keep shooting. You miss some of them, others you don't. You're out of bullets.
You drop your pistol and pull out your knife, which you use to attack and kill one of the raiders. The others quickly run away.
"Let's go!", you yell.

> You pick up a raider's gun.
You grab a gun from one of the dead raiders and keep moving. You don't have many bullets for it, but it's better than your knife.
You walk down the street, as the gunshots fade behind you. Finally, you decide to stop and think for a minute.

> You say "We did it, they're all dead."
"We sure did. Let's keep going."
You put the gun under your shirt and continue moving. After another minute or two, you finally consider checking to see how your friends are doing.
You walk back and peek over your truck.

> You say "Annie, Jack, Professor, Mason.. Is everyone okay?"
"Y-Yeah.", they say in unison.
"Everyone okay?", you say.
"Yeah, we're good.", says Annie.

> You say "We have a lot of work to do."
"What do you mean?", asks Annie.

> You say "We need to rebuild this farm."
"Yeah, I agree."
You walk over to the farmhouse and begin looking around for wood. You find a good stack right next to the front door.
"Well, I'll start the fire, you gather more wood.", you tell Annie.
"Sure thing", she replies.

> You say "We need to clean out the bodies."
"Yeah, we need to do that.", Annie responds.
You and Annie drag the dead bodies to the woods and throw them in there. Then, you and her drag the bodies of the two alive raiders to the woods and burn them as well.
A couple months pass. Everything has settled down. You and your friends have formed a strong community, and everyone's doing their part.

> You say "So what ever happened to the group at the stadium?"
"I dunno, I think they moved on after a few weeks. Everything was quiet for a while after that."
You don't think much of it, and just keep working.
A year passes...
You're sitting by the fire, thinking about the past year.

> You enjoy the farm life.
You enjoy the simple life. You help around the farm, doing whatever is needed. You spend most of your free time with Annie and the others.
However, you often think about your previous life in the city. You wonder what became of your family? Your sister? Your friends?

> You know you have to move on.
You have to move on. The past is the past. You can't change it.
While you're trying not to think about the outside world, your friends are doing everything they can to keep you from boredom.

[Kaltovar]

VOIDOPS - Operation: Underground Ambition

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