OUTBREAK: A Survival RP (IC/ENDED)

by **Wallenburg** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 11:05 am

President Ed Markey || Boston, Massachusetts: State House || Day 31

The President shuddered as the Canadian ambassador described his plan.

"Mr. Ambassador, I'm afraid that is out of the question. An invasion of New England! You would only get thousands killed on both sides. No, diplomacy is more important than ever. The virus has made it hard to survive. There is no reason to compound the problem with a war."

Markey stared at the man in disbelief. What has this outbreak done to civilization, to the concrete foundations of humanity? First the Remnants, now the Canadians want war. Oh, Lord, wherefore art peace a thing of the past?

"However," he added, "I am certain that the United States would be more than grateful if you were to help us eradicate the infected in Maine. I could imagine you being rewarded with settlement rights. Either way, we should wait for a federal diplomat. He should be arriving soon."

by **Wallenburg** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 11:30 am

Lauren Clark || Worcester, Massachusetts || Day 31

"No, turn left!"

Lauren swerved the car off of the highway as a reaver barreled towards them. Rushing down an exit ramp, they burst through a herd of infected that were cannabalizing one another. The reaver followed, dismembering any freak in its way.

"We can't dodge it forever," shouted Hugh. "The infected are too densly packed here."

Lauren gripped the wheel tightly, skidding into a parking structure and twisting the car around the ramps towards the top floor. On the roof, they got out their weapons and prepared to fight.

"Remember, only blades and point blank gunfire seem to do the trick on these things."

Hugh heard something over to his right. Gunfire. He looked over to observe but only saw the tops of abandoned buildings. His train of thought derailed as a howl echoed across the city. The reaver scrambled up to the roof, smiling hungrily.

The group drew their knives as the brute darted at them. It went straight for Hugh, who slid under it as it tried to pounce on him. He sunk his knife into the creature as it soared over his head. Whimpering in pain but furious, it started to run at him again when Rebecca and Lauren fired on it. Grunting, it turned its attention to Rebecca and leapt at her. It grabbed her and pinned her down. Lauren jumped onto the freak's mutated back and stabbed it repeatedly. Howling, it slashed across Rebecca's chest and pushed Lauren off. Lauren hit the asphalt and laid unconscious. Turning back to Rebecca, it found a rifle pointed directly into its face.

"You get to die too, motherfucker," choked Rebecca through her agony, squeezing the trigger and letting a stream of bullets tear apart the reaver's skull. The reaver dropped dead next to Rebecca, who started to moan as the adrenaline petered out.

"Oh, God," cried Lauren, who ran over to Rebecca and grabbed her hand. The sound of helicopter blades was growing in the distance, but Rebecca took priority. "I'm so sorry." Lauren started to cry.

by **Wallenburg** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 11:32 am

Rebecca smiled. "It's okay. I'm going to see Chase again. It's okay." She started coughing as Lauren tried to bandage the wounds, holding onto some sliver of hope that Rebecca was immune.

The helicopter was close now, and Hugh had to turn away from his friend. He saw a Chinook flying low over the buildings, heading straight for them. Raising his rifle, he prepared to fight.

The Chinook set down on the parking structure, the concrete cracking under the tremendous weight. A team of four soldiers stepped out and ran to the survivors.

"She's hurt. What happened?" asked a man in a navy comat uniform.

"Clawed at by a reaver," wept Lauren. Hugh, trying to hide his emotions, nodded quickly.

"Get her in the chopper."

Hugh, along with the rest of the group, was confused. "What?"

"Do you want her to die?"

"No!"

"Then get in. Now."

Lauren and Hugh lifted Rebecca off of the ground and carried her into the Chinook. They lifted Lamar by his hands and the helicopter started to rise.

"What about our supplies?" shouted Hugh over the noise of the blades.

"What?" shouted the navy man.

"Our supplies! We had supplies in the car!"

"Later! Your friend needs help now!"

The Chinook was racing across the sky now, punching east across the Massachusetts countryside.

"Where are we going?" asked Lauren.

"A large settlement on the coast. It won't be long. We're pushing this bird to the limit."

Hugh pulled out a small map and reviewed the map. Judging by the sun, they were heading almost due east from Worcester. He got the navy man's attention and asked, "Are we going to Boston?"

The man smiled, "Some call it that. We call it the new United States of America."

by **The United Federation of Terrans** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 12:03 pm

Beiarusia wrote:New Evanston

Pain: that was the first thing to greet the girl.

It had happened so fast, the chaos of the attack. Sam had saw the coming panic from her spot beneath the tree and had only just made it to the dormitory when the blast shook through the compound, tossing her aside like paper caught in the breeze, the wall closest to the source crumbling away in the billowing heat. The girl had been lucky, so close to being crushed by the debris of her former home, escaping immediate death with only scratches to mar her flesh. Her breathing was heavy as she pushed herself up, blood dripping from her nose and mouth to pool beneath her, a tooth lying in the center, a white island in a sea of red.

She stood, slowly, head spinning, the pain feeling worse than it actually was. No bones were broken and, despite a possible slight concussion, Sam was surprisingly okay. Moving on tepid steps, she made her way down the ruined staircase, the twisted skeleton of the building protesting the abuse. Some structural element gave way as the staircase lurched violently, the girl falling the last few steps and landing hard on her knees, pain biting away from the impact. Gritting her teeth, she continued, finding the main floor no better than those above.

Laying near what had once been the front door of the dormitory was Akiyama, back to the wall, blood seeping from a leg wound, fatigues torn and shredded from some unknown trauma. One hand held tightly to the utility bag as if the khaki fabric were a lifebuoy, the other manhandling a small radio as she yelled into it.

“Does anyone read? This is Akiyama! Intel is… fuck. Did anyone make it out?!” The woman cursed out loud as she tossed the radio as far as she could, shattering it against the floor some feet away. The ASF unit had been preparing for an emergency exfil when everything went south. No response from her men: likely KIA, and she would most probably be joining them soon enough. “Fuck my life. Damn it all!”

Rubble shifted nearby as someone approached. Akiyama had her sidearm drawn and raised in half a second, drawing a bead before allowing it to drop, Sam standing before her with terrified eyes.

Moments later the two were departing, the injured woman leaning against the young girl, pushing pass the rubble and stepping out into the ruins of the compound. The bomb had caused complete devastation, gutting the armory and leveling Vincent’s house, the dormitory barely standing as it was. No living person greeted them, the dead being all that remained, those caught too close to the blast be little more than twisted limbs and stains in the dirt. Akiyama took in the destruction with cold eyes; Sam averted her gaze.

Vincent.

Luke.

Did they make it out? Or were they…

There was silence as the two crossed the yard, the sound of gunfire dying away to that of primal howling in the distance. Infected, drawn to the compound like vultures to a battlefield, intent on feasting on those who were lucky enough to avoid one brush with death only to walk into another.

“We find a car,” Akiyama said, more to herself than to Sam, knowing of the girl’s disability but finding that speaking aloud was more definitive than merely thinking it. “We find one, and head towards Detroit. Meet up with oh-six.”

Picking through the ruined gate, they were greeted by a man lying prone against the grass, injured but most certainly alive. Sam stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing him, her heart skipping in a beat. She recognized the face. One that she had not known long but a familiar face all the same.

It was Foley.

“You,” muttered Akiyama upon seeing the wounded man before her, the Atlas vest he wore standing out like a beacon in the darkness. He was not one her own. “You’re one of them. The ambush. This is your fault. Grimm died because…” Her weapon was raised now. “You killed him!”

She opened fire.

Round after round tore into the dirt beside the man, missing their mark as Sam pushed herself into the woman, faltering her aim upon seeing what was about to transpire. Both fell to the ground, Sam atop of Akiyama, hands pressed down upon her shoulders, her look pleading. The woman tried to get up but was held down by the girl. The soldier brought back her hand, driving the fist into Sam’s side and knocking the girl off of herself. Akiyama scrambled to her feet, limping forward, struggling so that she could stand above the man and put a bullet through his head.

Sam tackled Akiyama, barreling into her and bringing them both down once more. There was a struggle to disentangle themselves from one another which ended with Sam frozen in place, the barrel of the weapon pressed against her throat, the grey eyes of Akiyama drilling in her with mix look of pain and fury. For a long moment all was still, the soldier so close to breaking in her steadfast devotion of mission first, ready to deliver some meager vengeance knowing full well that she wouldn’t survive this ordeal

A sound drew her attention.

Foley, against all odds, was on his feet now.

Akiyama didn’t hesitate, swinging the weapon to take aim, intent on killing the man. Sam fell onto her, pinning the woman’s arm with her full weight as she grasped at the kevlar vest, fingers brushing against the handle of a knife. It slid free of its sheath with a ragged pull. Akiyama brought the gun up to fire into the girl, faster than she was and capable of killing her three times over. But she didn’t. She hesitated.

Grimm.

Her entire unit.

All had died believing in the mission, sacrificing themselves for a greater cause than their own, and who was she to derail that belief now. To make their deaths meaningless. The desire to belong to a cause was much more than that of self preservation, a thought that no matter how brief was enough for all the difference to be made.

The knife missed the kevlar entirely, driving into flesh just above the clavicle, the blade burying itself into a fatal blow. Akiyama went limp, all strength leaving her as blood flowed freely. Grey eyes, hard as stone, cracking now along the edges as she gazed up to the girl sitting atop her, tears streaming down a filthy face, one that held a look of determination that far outweighed the horror of it all.

But there was no masking the pain behind those eyes.

Akiyama knew that the girl could not hear her, but speaking made the coming darkness not as bleak as she had feared it to be. Perhaps some good to come now to those disaster of a mission. Maybe she won’t have died in vain. In dying breaths she told the girl her final message. “Take the bag. Keep… it safe. And don’t… don’t die.” A long pause, breath ragged and failing. “I… I’m sorry that… we never found him.”

The woman passed moments later, Sam atop her, the determination that she had held onto with shaking hands giving way, the girl breaking down in lamentous sorrow. Sorrow for world. Sorrow for her friends. Sorrow for her father.

She could only weep as Foley watched on.

With each step Foley took his muscles screamed as his breaths which were ragged burned in his lungs as Foley made his to the dead soldier and the girl who wore his clothing. Foley could see that the girl was crying over the soldier that she had killed. Killed for me. Foley reminded himself as he collapsed onto his knees next to the body as his muscles gave out and his body failed him. His breaths were even more sporadic now as he tried to reach for the red and white first aid kit that hung prominently on the soldier's belt as the howls of delighted infected sounded off in the distance. Has he pathetically reached for the kit with his left hand he reached for his sidearm with his right and felt it's familiar wight strapped securely to his upper leg as his wounds caused him to lose consciousness with the last thing he heard were the sobs of a girl alone in world gone to shit.

"Why did you leave me?" Parker asked as he approached Foley in the remains of their field hospital. Bodies of marines and infected were strewn about the once green grass now stained red. "I went back for you"

"Get back" Foley said as he shot the approaching long dead marine and in an instant it was replaced with Sam who went wide eyed as the round struck her between the eyes as her eyes rolled back. "No!!!"

Suddenly he wasn't in the field hospital, he was moving down the streets of Afghanistan firing into fleeing civilians with his SAW as their bodies jerked under his onslaught, before he felt a round punch him in the back and he went down clutching his wound above the waist as the marine who shot him loomed over him.

"No one talks about what happened here." Another marine said as he surveyed the corpses around the bazaar.

Next he was in the room with Bullwhip pas the colonel lit his cigarette.

"Why do you keep fighting, sergeant? What is your purpose? Why do you keep killing?" Foley couldn't answer him as he suddenly felt the heat of an RPG blast and the pain of shrapnel tearing into his left arm and cheek. Foley lay there besides the burning humvee as the faces of Bullwhip, Parker and the Seekers loomed over head in a circle while Bullwhip crouched down to the prone and wounded Foley. "Why do you live sergeant when everyone else dies. Why do you deserve it?"

Then it went to black.

by **The Union of Courland** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 12:13 pm

Wallenburg wrote:President Ed Markey || Boston, Massachusetts: State House || Day 31

The President shuddered as the Canadian ambassador described his plan.

"Mr. Ambassador, I'm afraid that is out of the question. An invasion of New England! You would only get thousands killed on both sides. No, diplomacy is more important than ever. The virus has made it hard to survive. There is no reason to compound the problem with a war."

Markey stared at the man in disbelief. What has this outbreak done to civilization, to the concrete foundations of humanity? First the Remnants, now the Canadians want war. Oh, Lord, wherefore art peace a thing of the past?

"However," he added, "I am certain that the United States would be more than grateful if you were to help us eradicate the infected in Maine. I could imagine you being rewarded with settlement rights. Either way, we should wait for a federal diplomat. He should be arriving soon."

Boston, Massachusetts:
The Ambassador chuckled. "No, you misunderstand. I said we invade the Remnants when the time is right. Maine is just the first step. First, we take Maine. Then, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Massachusetts will be cleared. Boston will be taken when the time is right, and. New England will be under your control. This is when Canada declares war on the Remnants. We help you take back America, you help us kick those fascists back to the hell they crawled out of."

by **Wallenburg** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 1:08 pm

President Ed Markey || Boston, Massachusetts: State
House || Day 31

Hamilton stifled a laugh when the ambassador unveiled his invasion plan. The President, on the other hand, was stone-faced. He leaned over his desk and spoke softly to the Canadian. "I don't believe you appreciate the gravity of the outbreak. The United States has gone dark. We are doing the best we can, but even with a fighting force of several thousand we cannot cleanse much outside the walls. The low population of your nation has left you overconfident in your capacity to fight. You have seen herds, I am sure. But have you seen an entire city inundated in a sea of death, entire armies of infected mowing down survivors, unhindered by gunfire as infected trample over their fallen comrades? There are millions of infected in New England alone. Your troops would inevitably die before you could even challenge the remnants. And then you would be defenseless."

Sighing, he continued, "I agree with you that the fascists must be defeated. However, this would be better achieved by an acute strike at their heart. I am planning to send a diplomatic team to the Remnant center to mend relations. When they finally trust us, we will surgically eliminate their higher echelons. Their command structure will topple and we will reassert our independence, offering any troops uncomfortable with their corrupt government a democratic alternative: to join the true United States government, its capital here in Boston.

"You see, Ambassador, things don't work out when you rely on brute force. If we want to remove the fascists from power, we must be careful about it." He stood up, checking his watch. "I must go now. I have more business to attend to. Mr. Hamilton may continue our talks."

Markey quickly walked out, preparing to report the daily news to the city. Hamilton sat down in the President's chair, shifting the typewriter into a more comfortable position. "Anything you want to talk about?"

by **Deramen** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 1:41 pm

Jenkins was walking down the road whistling happily until he noticed a lady.He stopped and crouched behind a bush checking the situation out.He was planning in his head.That Woman is walking with a child.Female couldn't be older then five.That kid had brown pigtails and and blue eyes and is holding some sort of doll.That Woman has long blond hair and blue eyes.Blue Eyes?I remember blue eyes.But Who?...Ada"Jenkins broke.He started crying and weeping.He didn't care anymore,He couldn't go on.He cried for awhile until he felt something.It wasn't a bug or a zombie that he was pretty sure.He turned around to see that little child he saw earlier.It started giggling and hugging him.At this point he needed a hug after all that shit he went through.He smiled and hugged back.The child looked at him .He weakly smiled."Poor child probably doesn't know about the outbreak.The less she knows the better."Jenkins was caught in thought but broken out of it by hearing a name being called by a female.Mary."Holy Shit!"He realized what was happening and dashed out the bush holding the child.Jill screamed in surprise but then noticed Jenkins putting her child down.She yelled at him."Are you crazy?! Huh?!"Jenkins took out his backpack and took the note out.At this Jill was confused.He un-crumpled it and gave it to her."What is this!"Jenkins responded with "Just read it."She looked at him with a eyebrow raised but she read it.Immediately she started tearing up and looked at Jenkins."Th-thank you! I di-dnt know where Dan went and I was sc-scared for both of us."She went for a hug and Jenkins let it happen.It was nice for him to finally be the good guy for once instead of the murderer.Once the hug was done Jenkins looked in his bag and told the lady."Jill take my gun.You and Mary will need it more then I will."He pulled out the gun dusted it off and gave it to her.She smiled and told Jenkins "Thank You.For everything you've done."Jenkins nodded and started walking down the road.Jill called out to him "Wait! I don't know your name!"Jenkins smiled and said "Jenkins.Jenkins McGall."With that he walked off,Eventually into the city where he knew that if anything happened,He still did good.

by **The Union of Courland** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 2:35 pm

Wallenburg wrote:President Ed Markey || Boston, Massachusetts: State
House || Day 31

Hamilton stifled a laugh when the ambassador unveiled his invasion plan. The President, on the other hand, was stone-faced. He leaned over his desk and spoke softly to the Canadian. "I don't believe you appreciate the gravity of the outbreak. The United States has gone dark. We are doing the best we can, but even with a fighting force of several thousand we cannot cleanse much outside the walls. The low population of your nation has left you overconfident in your capacity to fight. You have seen herds, I am sure. But have you seen an entire city inundated in a sea of death, entire armies of infected mowing down survivors, unhindered by gunfire as infected trample over their fallen comrades? There are millions of infected in New England alone. Your troops would inevitably die before you could even challenge the remnants. And then you would be defenseless."

Sighing, he continued, "I agree with you that the fascists must be defeated. However, this would be better achieved by an acute strike at their heart. I am planning to send a diplomatic team to the Remnant center to mend relations. When they finally trust us, we will surgically eliminate their higher echelons. Their command structure will topple and we will reassert our independence, offering any troops uncomfortable with their corrupt government a democratic alternative: to join the true United States government, its capital here in Boston.

"You see, Ambassador, things don't work out when you rely on brute force. If we want to remove the fascists from power, we must be careful about it." He stood up, checking his watch. "I must go now. I have more business to attend to. Mr. Hamilton may continue our talks."

Markey quickly walked out, preparing to report the daily news to the city. Hamilton sat down in the President's chair, shifting the typewriter into a more comfortable position. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Boston, Massachusetts:
The Ambassador was shocked. He got up and went to a radio station, sending a message to Canadian High Command.

"The President is uncooperative. Stay away from New England until authorization is given. Launch Operation: Reclamation."

New Brunswick, Canada:
The northern beaches of New Brunswick were alive with motion, as the Canadian Armed Forces thundered onto the beach, setting up a staging point for an invasion. With shouts off "FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY!" And "FOR CANADA!" the brave troops of Canada surged into New Brunswick, eager and willing to lay down their lives to reclaim their homeland.

by **Wallenburg** » Mon Jul 13, 2015 12:12 am

Hugh Garmany || West of Boston, Massachusetts || Day 31

The helicopter vibrated as it neared the coast, small silver shapes forming out at sea. Rebecca moaned in agony, begging her friends to kill her. A soldier was performing first aid, stopping the bleeding and making sure her internal organs were not damaged.

"Why did you bring her?" asked Hugh. "What can you do but stretch out her death into one of brutal suffering and sadness?"

"We may be able to save her." The man performing first aid didn't look up as he spoke. "The city has a treatment center. Depending on the severity of the wounds and the time between infection and treatment, the bitten may live."

"What's the probability of success?"

"I told you, it varies by the case," snapped the soldier nervously.

"Well estimate!"

The soldier told his friend to continue helping Rebecca as he stepped aside, his fingers red with her blood. "It is best you don't know. We find estimates either give too much hope or cause unnecessary grief."

Hugh looked over to Rebecca, who was weakly weeping, her head laying down on the metal floor as she was bandaged and given antiviral medicine. Lauren sat against the side of the aircraft, gripping her head with what very likely could be a concussion. Hugh's ribs had started to bother him again, their pain no longer masked by the overpowering emotions of fear--both for himself and for Rebecca. We're a bunch of cripples hobbling along. It's a wonder these people didn't shoot us and take our stuff.

Lamar stared through the cockpit window at the growing city. Hugh could clearly see that there were multiple ships in the harbor, one sailing away to the northeast. The largest one had to be an aircraft carrier. It stretched across much of the bay, sitting resolute against a fierce and lethal world.

"You think she'll make it?" asked Lamar.

Hugh sighed, "I don't have much hope. I'll believe in a cure--or even a resistive treatment--when I actually see it." The Chinook lowered onto the city hospital and its doors opened.

by **Dubrovka** » Mon Jul 13, 2015 11:43 am

Desmond Wolf // FOB Alpha // Day 31

After Desmond was finished with his coffee, he set down his mug and stood up from his cot. He looked around, and decided to see what else there was to this FOB. He walked around a bit, moving between cots and marines, until he found one marine behind a table with a giant container behind him. The man was scribbling on his notepad and looking around. He finally met the eyes of Desmond and said "Ah! You must be new. I am Sergeant Andrew Milany of the 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment. Currently, I am the acting Quartermaster of this FOB. I like your dog by the way, very cute and he seems useful. Who might you be? And who is your friend?".

Desmond replied "I am Staff Sergeant Desmond Wolf, Illinois National Guard and this is my dog Max. Hes a 3 year old German Shepard, I used to be a K9 cop, so I kept him safe when the outbreak began. I just flew in on the Chinook yesterday from a small settlement near Chicago. I am rejoining the military in this outfit. I have everything I need, but I'm wondering if you need anything?".

The Sergeant Replied "Well nice to meet you Desmond, even though you're Army, you and Max are welcome here. Currently we aren't missing much, except for plasma, blood, and bandages".

Desmond reached into his pack and pulled out the incredibly heavy Medical Bag he was carrying since he left the bunker. He dropped it on the table and opened it. He said "In here, there are 20 military grade bandage kits, 3 tourniquets, 25 pens of morphine, 15 pens of epi-pen, 5 bags of plasma, 4 bags of saline, and 5 bags of blood for the most common blood types. There is also some odds and ends in here as well, such as antibiotics, and mild pain killers such as aspirin. You can take it, I won't be needing it since there will be Marine medics on hand".

The man started at Desmond in awe as he looked through the bag. He looked over everything and sure enough, everything Desmond said was there. The Sergeant said "Desmond, your more than welcome here, you may have saved the lives of a few marines without having even been here a day! Let me repay you". He unlocked the case and pulled out two magazines of 5.56 for Desmond's Mark 11 Mod 0. Desmond smiled and took them, putting them in his carrier rig. Desmond wished the man well and walked up to the roof.

On the roof he found a few marines, some standing guard, mingling with each other, some smoking and watching the sun rise. Desmond thought it was pretty peaceful besides the moan of infected. It was a cool day, maybe 55 degrees out and cloudy, but Desmond didn't mind. Through his many layers of clothing he couldn't tell the difference. Himself and Max walked up to a group of two marines and started to mingle as the sun rose to warm the day. The marines looked down at Max and scratched his head, not seeing an uninfected dog in awhile."It isn't so bad here." Desmond thought cheerfully. This was the first time he felt safe and cheerful in awhile.

by **Nilla Wayfarers** » Mon Jul 13, 2015 9:39 pm

Day 14, in Hudson, a suburb of Denver, CO on I-76:
Ryan Kim
As the traffic reached a standstill, Ryan sighed, sat back in his seat, and pondered whether or not the five of them could make it around the city. In the days between Chicago and Denver, driving had slowed from almost 400 miles a day down to less than 40. Open gas stations were few and far between, and what little those had was barely enough to keep the car chugging along the interstate. We had to keep Mary and Mark out of sight from passersby, despite their successfully healing wounds. Anyone who mistook them for bites would get us in deep shit, fast. Riots made it near impossible to get past Des Moines, and military presence in Omaha forced us to take a long detour that cost us an extra day. Frequent warnings to stay indoors were broadcast on all channels, and with little else to hear, we sat in the car with it off, listening to honking and shouting as people desperately tried to move West.

We were hungry, we were thirsty, and having only three people able to drive made the long shifts at the wheel exhausting. I was about to doze off when I heard the crack of a handgun. At first, I thought it was an angry driver asserting their place on the road, and I gripped the wheel tighter in anticipation of a confrontation. But then I heard it again. And again and again. Someone screamed. Other guns started going off, and I slowly climbed out of my seat and on top of the car to get a better view.

My eyes widened as I took in what lied ahead of us. Stampedes of people, some healthy, most infected, were storming out of Denver from all sides. Barricades were blown over like a house of cards as tens of thousands of living and dead slammed into them and tore them down. The few soldiers remaining were overwhelmed as they attempted to lessen the interminable flow of bodies. On the road, drivers abandoned their cars and attempted to flee, using their own guns to ward off nearby infected as best they could.

I climbed down, and stuck my head into the car.

"What's happening out there?" Jane asked, instinctively reaching for the pistol.

I shook my head. "We have to get out of here. Now."

by **Beiarusia** » Tue Jul 14, 2015 2:03 am

Days After Outbreak: 39

Samantha Tallow // Somewhere outside Michigan City, Indiana

Sam looked through the cracked window of the small home, out and into the backyard, her eyes scanning the broken picket fence and abandoned dog house, a swing set swaying gently in the calm morning breeze. Her reflection, just noticeable in the absence of light, looked back, sad and defeated, dark bags under her eyes.

The girl couldn’t sleep.

A common occurrence nowadays. Nightmares plagued the her mind, tearing at her subconsciousness, tormenting her with thoughts of all that she had lost. Friends and family. Home after home. Sarah. Vincent. Luke. Father. Mother. All gone and most likely dead, free of this world and its suffering, leaving the young girl behind in the darkness that she had long since stopped trying to claw herself free of. She was hollow now. Numb to it all, travelling onward with little purpose other than to move ahead. Languid; not caring.

There was little point in going further, and yet she did, not knowing why she even bothered when she knew full well that nothing would ever go back to the way it was.

The sun would be up soon. Foley, asleep in the next room over, would want to be back on the road well before noon. Perhaps they wouldn’t go far but they couldn’t stay here. They had to keep moving, if only for a little bit, to stave off the inevitable.

It had been luck, Sam saving Foley’s life back in New Evanston. She had dragged him away from the road and into the bushes, moving away from the compound as the Lurkers ransacked whatever was left to be taken. By chance nothing stumbled upon them, and once he had awoken Foley had taken charge, leading Sam away from Chicago, south for a bit before moving northeast and pass Gary. Maybe he had a plan in; maybe he didn’t. Sam would follow. She had nowhere else to go as it was.

She fell away from the window, the first sparks of day breaking over the horizon. She lay back down in the bed, curled into a ball with her knees brought up to her chest, arms wrapped protectively around herself. She did not sleep but instead wept quietly, purging herself of these pent up emotions so that only the numbness would remain. In the absence of sleep this was all that she could do.

And so she cried until it was again time to pack up and move. A cycle that would be repeated tomorrow and the day after and even the day after that. Endless until she too could be graced with oblivion.

Perhaps then she could be free of the darkness.

by **Wallenburg** » Tue Jul 14, 2015 7:32 am

Hugh Garmany || Boston, Massachusetts || Day 31

When the cargo door lowered two soldiers picked up Rebecca and ran outside across the road and into the hospital. Hugh helped Lauren up and they walked to the hospital together. They asked someone at the desk where Rebecca was and the clerk gave them instructions to get to their friend.

This is unbelievable. This is almost like...before. They came upon a ward and stepped in to find Rebecca strapped to a drip.

"Oh! Good you're here!" shouted a doctor from behind a mask. "What blood type is she?"

Hugh looked at him sternly, "How the hell should I know?"

"I'll take that as 'O, positive'. All right, lads, get her a transfusion and find me some of those kickass antibiotics from last week!" Turning to Hugh and Lauren, he said, "Of course, she doesn't look good. She's lost a lot of blood and could start to turn any minute, but she seems to have some immunity. It probably carried her through the ride here."

The doctor pulled a pistol from his coat and Hugh almost put a bullet through his head. "Easy!" shouted the doctor. "You know what we must do if the treatment fails. I hate to do it, but it's just part of the job now."

Hugh nodded, "But if the time comes to do it, we put her out. Not some stranger."

The doctor shook his head grimly. "I suppose I'll never understand the survivor culture of beyond these walls. Sure, if she turns you may finish the job. Just stay out of our way while she is alive."

Most of the operation was repairing her wound, dressing it and sowing the flesh back together. Rebecca was out, unconscious before the Chinook even landed. Someone looked to Lauren briefly and decided to give her a bottle of painkillers before returning to Rebecca. Rebecca was in and out, the transfused blood being immune to the virus and constantly battling the infection. Rebecca awoke in the evening, crying. The doctors tried a second transfusion, but the infection held out. They had seen this before. She didn't have long.

by **Wallenburg** » Tue Jul 14, 2015 7:33 am

Most of the doctors left after night fell, only the one with the gun staying.

"I'm sorry, but all we can do now is prolong life. She isn't suffering now, but soon enough the virus will hit her brain in full force, and then--well, then there's nothing else to do."

Rebecca was in the other room, but she knew what was going on. She was grateful, not having expected to live past the parking structure. And in the short time she had seen the city, it had been enough. Humanity was going to survive. There were children. Newborns. People were slowly moving on and defeating the outbreak. Endurance was everything. Her own body had none left, but she smiled as Hugh and Lauren told her they were staying in Boston.

The town flinched a bit as a gunshot pierced the early night.

Lauren Clark || Boston, Massachusetts || Day 39

"Are you certain?" asked the doctor, his hands over Lauren's as if a father were comforting a child discovering the harshness of reality. Hugh was off on an away team beyond the walls, searching with others for food and medicine. Lauren was supposed to be helping to get the city's computers back online, but a friend had covered for her. Lauren did not slack off. If she couldn't work there was damn well a reason behind it.

She nodded at the doctor's question, sniffling although all her tears were gone.

"It is his, yes?"

"It couldn't be anyone's but his."

"Then why are you unhappy?"

She looked up at him and tried to laugh, but it came out more as a whimper. "We live in hell. Nothing should know only this."

"Boston is safe and growing. We aren't exactly living out of abandoned cars."

"What if Hugh dies? What if I do?"

"That's happened for centuries, millenia. Besides, every day there are less infected and we get stronger. We haven't had a death since your friend. Trust me, you can have this child."

Lauren stood up and smiled halfheartedly. "I hope so." Then she left the hospital and walked back to the state house to finish her assignment.

by **The United Federation of Terrans** » Tue Jul 14, 2015 9:17 am

Beiarusia wrote:Days After Outbreak: 39

Samantha Tallow // Somewhere outside Michigan City, Indiana

Sam looked through the cracked window of the small home, out and into the backyard, her eyes scanning the broken picket fence and abandoned dog house, a swing set swaying gently in the calm morning breeze. Her reflection, just noticeable in the absence of light, looked back, sad and defeated, dark bags under her eyes.

The girl couldn’t sleep.

A common occurrence nowadays. Nightmares plagued the her mind, tearing at her subconsciousness, tormenting her with thoughts of all that she had lost. Friends and family. Home after home. Sarah. Vincent. Luke. Father. Mother. All gone and most likely dead, free of this world and its suffering, leaving the young girl behind in the darkness that she had long since stopped trying to claw herself free of. She was hollow now. Numb to it all, travelling onward with little purpose other than to move ahead. Languid; not caring.

There was little point in going further, and yet she did, not knowing why she even bothered when she knew full well that nothing would ever go back to the way it was.

The sun would be up soon. Foley, asleep in the next room over, would want to be back on the road well before noon. Perhaps they wouldn’t go far but they couldn’t stay here. They had to keep moving, if only for a little bit, to stave off the inevitable.

It had been luck, Sam saving Foley’s life back in New Evanston. She had dragged him away from the road and into the bushes, moving away from the compound as the Lurkers ransacked whatever was left to be taken. By chance nothing stumbled upon them, and once he had awoken Foley had taken charge, leading Sam away from Chicago, south for a bit before moving northeast and pass Gary. Maybe he had a plan in; maybe he didn’t. Sam would follow. She had nowhere else to go as it was.

She fell away from the window, the first sparks of day breaking over the horizon. She lay back down in the bed, curled into a ball with her knees brought up to her chest, arms wrapped protectively around herself. She did not sleep but instead wept quietly, purging herself of these pent up emotions so that only the numbness would remain. In the absence of sleep this was all that she could do.

And so she cried until it was again time to pack up and move. A cycle that would be repeated tomorrow and the day after and even the day after that. Endless until she too could be graced with oblivion.

Perhaps then she could be free of the darkness.

Foley awoke like he always did with his sidearm in his hands as he scanned the area for the presence that jerked him from his sleep. Finding nothing except the receding shadows, Foley gave a groan and sat up as the worn bed frame groaned a bit with the shift in weight. Foley sighed as looked down at his patched woodland tiger striped pants and his Bates combat boots that had seen him through so much before he wondered over to where his vest and pack lay propped against the wall with his dirty but dry tiger stripe blouse hanging from a coat rack. Donning the blouse, vest and pack, Foley cracked the open an inch to scan the hallway for any threats but found none. Satisfied, Foley moved past the bathroom which held the original inhabitants of the house and towards the stairs; however the marine instead made a left into a door next the stairs and opened it to reveal the sleeping form of Sam. The marine however, knew that no matter how peaceful she might be, they needed to move as he moved to the young girl and gave her a gentle shake on the shoulder as he stood at the foot of the bed that once belonged to the house's eleven year old boy judging by the wallpaper and pictures in the room.

by **The Union of Courland** » Tue Jul 14, 2015 12:15 pm

Update on the Second Canadian Union, Day 39:
The Second Canadian Union has been experiencing setbacks with its invasion of New Brunswick upon reaching Fredricton, as a massive horde from Nova Scotia had traveled up and caught the Armed Forces by surprise. Currently, the Army is pinned down in Fredricton fighting a massive battle against the undead. So far, new tactics undertaken by the military have reduced casualties, but a good amount of lives will be lost in this battle. In other news, the RCNS Halifax was sent to Quebec, and upon arriving discovered a breakaway Quebec Republic that controls part of East Quebec near Labrador. They were offered the chance to rejoin Canada or stay independent, and they not surprisingly decided to stay independent. The only other news is that contact has been made with the French Provisional Government via the islands France controls near Newfoundland, and Canada has agreed to let France clear out and set up a safe zone on Newfoundland until France proper has been reclaimed.

by **Tayner** » Tue Jul 14, 2015 3:22 pm

// Luke LaForge // The Trek to Richmond // Day 32, 14:09

Luke hadn't been able to make contact with Jean and proceeded his trek to the capital of Dixie. He drove getting off from highway to highway, road to road, town to town. He stopped his car when he saw a billboard. It was an old Zaxby's ad, but it was painted over in bold red paint.

Allive in Richmond

// Luke LaForge // Richmond Safezone// Day 39, 8:30

Luke was awoken in his new apartment, by the euphonic sound of Dixie being played outside. According to the other settlers here, Richmond was spared by most of the zombies, and by the USAF. A small group of National Guards secured the city and secured it back in day 5, with local support. The town was secure, with a wall surrounding most of the safezone.

He put on his cloths, and walked outside. His job was to help keep watch. He got on the platform next to the south gate. A Confederate flag, (Not the battle flag.) and a Virginia state flag flew over the gate. He sat in a lawn chair next to a guy named Mike.

"Hey Mike. Your early."

"Yeah, the wife ran me out. I was getting dressed wile running out the door." He said with a chuckle.

"What for today?" Luke said. "It's the third time this week."

"She's probably just pissed of about our son running off."

"Why? I thought Jason was a fuckin' twenty year old man."

"That's what I say. Hey, look what we got." Mike said, pointing his rifle down the road. "Looks like a survivor."

Luke raised his scoped rifle, given to him for his job. It had a x12 scope, and a silencer. He squeezed the trigger, and the survivor fell to the ground. "Wow, Mike. Your eyes are really must've gone bad. That was a zombie."

"Yeah, tell Allen that so he'll give me a better job."

"What the fuck you want? Laundry? Yeah, I'd bet you'd love to wake up at 14:00 and work alongside the ladies." Luke said, with a joking tone.

"Speaking about ladies, when you gonna date Carly, you two seem to like eachother."

"What the fuck are you Mike, a twelve year old? I'm here busy surviving a zombie apocalypse, and your talking like a middle schooler."

"What were you surviving before here any way? I hear the berets hunted survivors up north, and the Old Chair Force bombed the cities."

"It's all true."

Luke and Mike continued to talk. It was mostly Luke describing the past few days. First he finds some boy and his little sister in the Sears tower, then about the berets attacking the warehouse and the hardware store. How he culled a horde of zombies with his friend Vincent wile being shot at by a helo. Then it was Eric or whoever getting eaten by a lurker on the way to New Eviston. How they overthrew the old leader, known as "that bitch", and how she kidnapped Sam. And then how he sent a mercenary force to return her, to only possibly be killed by the berets. He told him about Jean and Vincent, and how Vincent saved dozens of lives, only to pat the ultimate sacrifice.

Luke pondered over it in his head. "If I hadn't investigated that damn tower, I would've been blown up with Chicago. Shitty as it sounds. I've killed three men, dozens of zombies, staged a revolution, and went on a road trip, just because I heard an IED go off a few blocks over."

"That's fucked up man."

"Yeah. Morning watch is almost over, you want to meet at the bar?"

"The one where Carly bartends?"

"Yeah, the only fucking bar inside the walls Mike."

"Yeah, I'm down." Mike said, as the relief crew arrived. It'd already been three hours. The two went to the bar.

by **Partially Blind People** » Tue Jul 14, 2015 3:47 pm

Fox pulled out just behind the Belgian armoured car, bringing the British armoured car up behind the vehicle. The road was slightly bumpy, giving them a somewhat rough ride, but nothing too uncomfortable, despite Henry's injuries. He kept his head low, fearing an attack on the vehicle, especially now that the 40mm rounds had begun to thud into the compound. He was jolted upright as a whoosh followed by a boom thundered through the air forcing Fox to brake suddenly, sending a shock of pain through Henry's broken ribs.

The moments after that began to blur. The rest of the convoy sped by them, trapping the vehicle in as bullets sprayed across the side of the vehicle and grenade explosions echoed off the concrete compound walls. Davies had begun to return fire using the grenade machine gun, laying down a blanket of munitions at the enemy's advance, but was cut short abruptly with a distinct crack from a sniper's rifle, leaving him to drop onto Henry's lap, blood drenching Henry's clothes.

Fox reversed the car, smashing into a crashed sedan as he did, bringing them back closer to the garage they had exited from. The enemy were now inside the compound although small arms fire was still clattering next to the vehicle. Henry's ribs were sore, he winced at that, his head hurt quite a lot as well, and he started to wonder whether the blood now soaking his clothes belonged to Davies or him. MacTavish appeared to be unconscious but blood ran slowly from the corner of his mouth, forming a red line down his chin and onto his neck. Kennedy barked orders but Henry couldn't hear what they were, they just seemed to be chatter under the roar of gunfire and the pounding of pain in his head.

Fox had finally managed to manoeuvre his way back into the garage and then past the cars now blocking the way when it happened. Henry didn't see it, he wasn't even sure if he heard it, but he definitely felt it. The force of the explosion flung the vehicle, seemingly suspending it in mid-air, providing a floating feeling in great contrast to the deep rumbling vibration that he had initially felt with the explosion. The moment was shattered when the vehicle landed with a crunch and then thrust him into darkness.

Henry awoke with a bombardment of pain battering his weary brain. He opened his eyes slowly, the world spinning around him as he felt almost weightless. He vomited, though the sick travelled up rather than down, revealing him to be upside down, his seatbelt keeping him in place. A strained, guttural sound emanated from what appeared to be the trashed front end of the vehicle. He laboured his head to look and recoiled at the sight of a lurker. He reached for his pistol, grasping at an empty holster. He reached for the knife on his chest but felt the clammy, rough hand of the lurker grab his arm and force it away. The beast brought its face close to his, giving him full view of its deep red, cracked teeth, its dark, evil eyes and pale stretched skin. He vomited again, spluttering as the stink of its hot breath slithered through his nostrils, tearing into his throat and burning his lungs.

It opened widened its mouth, almost grinning before cackling, sending spit and blood across Henry's face. He spat back, but it just cackled again, seemingly amused to have cornered its prey in such an easy situation. It leant further forward and he could feel its breath against his neck. That's when the bullet ripped through its head, sending blood and gore across Henry's already stained face. He glanced in the direction of the gunshot, and for the second time in a few short days Kennedy offered his arm to pull Henry from a wrecked vehicle.

by **Wallenburg** » Tue Jul 14, 2015 8:44 pm

by **Nilla Wayfarers** » Wed Jul 15, 2015 8:45 pm

Day 15, Hudson, CO:
Ryan Kim
Bill roared as his gunfire tore through another wall of infected. While he and Mary obliterated the torrent of bodies surging up the stairs, Jane, Mark and I reloaded our weapons in preparation of doing the same. It was two in the morning, eight hours since Denver fell, and its infected stormed into neighboring areas by the thousands. We managed to flee the highway back into Hudson, into an abandoned home that we boarded up and occupied until we could escape. We were lucky enough to pick weapons and ammunition off of fallen soldiers before sealed within the walls.

Unfortunately, the hoard outside never waned, only grew larger and larger until we were forced up onto the slanted roof, clinging to the tiles as infected attempted to climb the walls and reach us through the windows. We had managed to hold them back as of yet, but this early in the morning, our stamina was well below what it was to start. And our ammo was almost as low as our strength, but we tried to ignore that as long as we could.

After a few more minutes of firing, Mary ran out of bullets, so she pulled out her knife, leaned down to a window, and began stabbing the infected with massive swings of her blade, the blood flying across her face as she cried in desperation.

Bill grabbed her shoulder and pulled her away from the window. "Mary!" he bellowed, wiping blood from her eyes so she could see him. "Stop. There's nothing we can do."

Mary sighed, tears mixed with blood on her face, and sheathed her knife. "So we just wait until we die up here?"

"No," I told them. "We can jump."

Mark laughed. "Are you crazy? We'd never be able to jump past that many. And they'd catch us if we did."

"No," I repeated. "We carve our way through, jump down where we've cleared, and cover behind us until we can make it to the airfield."

"A-airfield?" Jane stammered. "I thought we were going on the highway."

"Not anymore," I said, smiling. "Checked a map while we were in the car. I was hoping it wouldn't be our last option, since I doubt any of us knows how to fly, but it's our one ticket out of here."

"How far is it?" Mary asked, her eyes still red and puffy from her unexpected outburst.

I bit my lip, knowing it was a stretch. "Four miles."

Mark sighed and Mary put her head in her hands. "We'll never make it that far," he said.

"It'll be hard," I conceded, "but if we find a car out there, it'll only take a few minutes."

"He's right," Bill said. "It's pretty much our only chance."

"Okay," I said, aiming my rifle toward our escape route. "Let's do this."

An hour later, I was turning the key to our car as hard as I could while the battery sputtered and died. Behind us, I could hear the shuffling feet of the infected and the heavier stomping of lurkers. "We're out of here. It's dead."

"I thought you said this would take a few minutes," Mary noted, grabbing her pistol and pointing it toward the approaching mob. "I don't even know how long it's been, but it's too long. You're lost. And if you're lost, we're dead, chief."

As we jogged along the road, I scanned the nearby farms for signs of the elusive airfield. As I was searching, however, Mary shouted to us from behind. "Hey!" A shot went off. "There's a lurker here!"

I turned, and looming behind us was a massive, undead wall of flesh. It was running, faster than we ever could. Soon, two more joined it in its chase after us.

"Oh, shit. Fuck this." Mark bolted into a cornfield next to the road, firing randomly as he screamed. One of the lurkers followed him.

"Damn it, Mark!" I shouted. "Shoot that one, guys!"

We all opened fire on the single lurker, which soon fell under overwhelming firepower. The other two were still coming up on us, and closing fast.

Mary grabbed her flashlight and began turning it on and off, rapidly in their faces. They were startled, and hurt enough by the light that we were able to shoot them down before they reached us. I went into the field to get Mark, letting the others go ahead along the road.

As I reached him, he was sitting on the ground, shakily pointing his gun at the lurker we killed just before it reached him. "Mark," I said softly.

Startled, he pointed his gun toward me and fired. Luckily, I ducked fast enough to dodge it, and I wrestled him to the ground and took his gun. "Mark!" I shouted as he struggled under me. "It's me, Ryan. Stop. We have to go."

Mark's breathing finally slowed, and he came to his senses. "Sorry, man. It was just so close."

"I know, it's okay," I lulled. "We have to get back to the road, before more of those get to us. Okay?"

Mark nodded, and stood up. "Where are the others?"

"They went further down the road. They're still looking for a plane." I heard a noise in the distance, then the quickening whir of a propeller. I smiled. "And it sounds like they found one."

by **Ithalian Empire** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 3:49 pm

Somewhere in Forest County, 20 years after

He was riding on one of the trails he and his father had used to ride together. It was a peaceful place, one of thoses places that you go to when you need to be alone. A place to collect your thoughts. It was his favorite place.

The man riding was around 19 years old, he wore a long brown coat and a wide brimmed hat, his unruly brown hair was splayed across his forehead. Across his shoulder was an old battered K-98 and in a holster on his belt was a Colt .45 revolver.

It was mid afternoon, one of those fall afternoon where the sun made the golden leaves of the trees shimmer and dance. In a well lite clearing the man dismounted and walked over to the base of a large oak tree. In its shade where to stone markers, side by side. One read Joel Harding and the other was Alice Harding. It was how his parents wanted to be. The thought comforted Samuel Harding. He placed a few violets on the graves. A snapping twig made him jump.

Standing on the edge of the forest was a girl. She was wearing a blue dress and her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders.

"I knew I would find you here"

" Why did you want to find me?" Sam asked

"To remind you of our arrangement, you seem to forget when the village dance is."

Crap, thought Sam, she was right "Not this year though, I was just going back when you came"

Sure he was, though Lindsay. "Well lets get going"

The two walked back to the village. It was a quaint little place, built by hand 19 years earlier. A palisade wall protected the village from bandits, and those things. Sam didn't like to think about those things. They past through the gate and into the village proper. A center square surrounded by workshops and goods vendors. This in turn was surrounded by the actual dwellings of the villagers. THe entire scene was dominated by a large and well kept city hall. This building served as a place of worship, meeting house, school, and sometimes as a hospital. Tonight it would be a dance hall.

by **Cumberlanda** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 8:11 pm

5 Years Later: Butte, MT, Remnant America

"Mr. Kohler, I am prepared to publish this book, but... this chapter on the base in Chicago. I... I can't."
"Why not?"
"You killed Green Berets without remorse. I could have families reading this who lost their father to your gun. Don't you imagine the controversy? My publishing company deals mostly with the military for their public announcement pamphlets."
"I mostly deal with the military now anyway. I did what I had to do. A friend of mine was dying, and we had to get the supplies to save her life."
"So is one life worth more that, what was it, 12 or so Green Berets, and their families?"
"Not exactly. I feel every ounce of regret from that."
"Yes, I can smell that on your breath. Is that Jack?"
"Well, that's an insult. No, it's Glenlivet! And it doesn't matter, they shot first. Listen, due to the lack of industry that was here before the outbreak, and the fact that I have over 1000 employees who think of me as a fucking god, perhaps you would show a little leeway!"
"Alright, alright. Another bit, the part where you discovered your wife was shot dead by a looter, your son killed the looter?"
"Damn right. Good shot too. Still, it was a shame. I'm still heartbroken over that."
"You misspelled a couple of things."

"Well, you're the editor, edit it!" a voice from the back sounded. It was Brenda, Hans' new wife.

"Ah, Mrs. Kohler. I was just getting to the part where you finally told Hans that you had no family in Helena and you just wanted out of Dubuque. Is that true?"
"Yep. By the time I told him, he didn't care. We were at Yellowstone. First time. It's strange how, even in the mess that was made, the Earth continued to do its thing. The geysers still erupted, the eagles still cawed, and the tourists still moaned. Of course, they were..."
"Zombies?"
"I prefer the term 'infected'" Hans replied.
"Well, let's format the front insert. Who is the book dedicated to?"
"Write this down: To my wife, Sarah, who guarded our family til her last breath. To Vincent Williamson, who let me in his home when I was near death. To Ava and Cade Forster, I only hope they survived. And to Charlotte Noble, the sick but sweet little one, who I promised to remember, and I forever will."
"A bit long, are you su-"
"EVERY DAMN BIT OF IT GOES ON THAT PAGE!"
"Yes sir! I'll get it in print. trust me,Keep Yourself Alive will be a hit!"
"Hell Yeah! Now, you want to get a drink?"

by **The United Federation of Terrans** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 8:19 pm

Fifteen years later; Canada
Foley sighed as he watched the sun set on the horizon. The marine wore the tattered remains of an Atlas vest although he now wore a pair of well patched cargo pants and a fatigue shirt. The old man was all muscle and bone with little fat on him; as he watched the one thing that had remained constant in his world. His Ka-Bar was gone, lost in the skull of a Lurker somewhere near the Great Lakes, his 92FS remained with him however he had no ammo for the weapon; he kept it only out of sentimental reasons as he brushed the cool metal before he went to sleep and wondered where his life went wrong in this mess. Foley sighed as he thought of those who were dead and those who were worse because of him. I'll stay here, pass my time on Earth until the day I day; Never to mess with another human's fate.

by **Tayner** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 8:43 pm

// Luke LaForge // Dixie Confederation // Five Years Post Outbreak

Luke was preparing to address the new army standing in front of him. Ever since July of last year, Dixie had been clearing out towns, killing off hordes, and growing. One of the platoons in Richmond were sent east to Newport News to help make the garrison there more effective. He looked at the new platoon, who were to take their place. This was Luke's first command, and he intended to make it work.

"Welcome to the Dixie Army grunts. By now, you probably know how to survive the apocalypse. Congrats. But now, you're the newest platoon. I'm your platoon leader, Luke LaForge." Luke addressed the group of new soldiers in Richmond. They were mostly green. A few teens and some other inexperienced men.

"You've all been assigned to the Second Richmond Defense Platoon. You're the greenest army in Dixie. But that won't last long. I've been doing the same job as you for five years. And let me tell you, it's easy. If you manage to fuck up here, I will shove my size eleven combat boot up your ass. Now, report to your squad leaders." Luke said to the group of forty or so men, who split up into four groups of ten.

The squad leaders had their men do push-ups, and some other exercises, and then they took their men on a patrol on the walls. By the end of the day they would know how to defend they city. Hopefully by the end of the week, they could stand a chance against a small horde. Luke had trust that his squad leaders could run the place, he had to clock out early.

The walk home was short, and the sun was just setting. He opened the door, and entered the hotel. As it turns out, getting a better job gets you a better house. He got in the elevator, and hit the highest number. 30. Once the doors opened, he exited the elevator and hollered "Honey, I'm home." As he walked into the luxury hotel suite.

Carly walked out of the living room with their one year old daughter, Diana. "Nice to see you. How was work?"

"It was nice. How was Diana?"

"A little bundle of joy." She said, putting a pacifier in Diana's mouth. "Mike and Joan are coming over for dinner."

"M'kay. Well, I'm going to get some SPAM ready. Maybe some homemade fries."

"Please don't deep fry them together." Carly said jokingly.

"Well that just takes away from the taste. " Luke said. "What are we doing for Diana's birthday tomorrow?" He said as they sat down on the red couch.

"I don't know. Maybe just some alone time and you take the day off."

"I can do that." Luke said smiling. He looked out the window, over the city. A helicopter flew over and people were doing their jobs. Guarding the gates, running supplies, farming, reconstructing damaged buildings, all sorts of things. Other nearby towns have been secured, and almost the entire state of Virginia was declared Dixie Confederation soil.

by **Laissez-Faire Economics** » Thu Jul 16, 2015 9:31 pm

Hugh Garmany || Boston, Massachusetts || Day 2580

A sharp alarm pierced through Hugh’s sleep, pulling his eyes open and coaxing a low groan to slither from his lips. Blinking heavily, Hugh lifted himself into a sitting position on the bed. Lauren was hitting the alarm clock with a sleepy fist, missing the button each time. Then she leaned over the nightstand and yanked the clock from its power outlet. Today they needed to wake early to prepare for the big occasion. The entire city—now over 20 thousand strong—had anticipated this moment. The navy had announced wide success in establishing colonies, and the city engineers had restored much of the previous era, but nobody had imagined that the city would have prospered to such an extent.

Hugh’s feet landed gently on the carpeted floor of his apartment, overlooking where the walls once stood. Now they were far away, across the river and well past Harvard, where the top minds were continuously working to recover technology and figure out ways around their lack of advanced supplies. The old walls had been largely demolished in the civil war, but the loyalists had held out and defended the Republic. Hugh shivered a bit as he remembered the carnage of over three years past, but he shook it off, knowing that—despite all of it—his family had survived.

He threw on a shirt and some shorts before walking into the kitchen, starting breakfast with the solar oven. Everything ran on solar energy now. The gas was long gone from the cars, and the few generators that had hummed underground in the early days were now cold and dead. It had been hard at first, achieving self-sufficiency. The first harvest had been terrible, with meager and low-quality food forcing the navy to dedicate even more troops to foraging deeper into infected territory. They had lost many good men that winter, but the second year saw the city more determined than ever to survive. They trained more farmers and collected better tools. When the second harvest came, the walls stayed closed. There had not been a major foraging mission in six months.

“Honey, I’m cooking up breakfast!” he shouted back to his wife.

“Oh, hell no. You’ll burn the bread. You always do.”

Hugh smiled, turning his attention back to the food. “I prefer to think of it as a generous toasting.”

“Daddy!” a little girl’s voice shrieked across the apartment.

Hugh looked up and called out to his daughter, a grin stretching warmly over his face. “Come ‘ere, Rebecca!”

The six-year-old child ran to her father, bare feet lightly sighing against the carpet. She hugged Hugh’s legs and Hugh knelt down to embrace her in return.

“Have I ever told you how tall you’re getting?”

“Every day dad!”

Hugh twisted his face in gest. “Naw, not every day!”

Rebecca giggled and ran back to the table, plopping her tiny body down on a chair and waiting intently for breakfast. Lauren emerged from the bedroom in a simple yet flattering gray coat and white dress shirt. “You’re going to wear that to the gathering?” she asked, looking over Hugh’s half-washed clothes.

Hugh laughed, “No, no. I have something very special in mind. It isn’t as formal as you might like, but I think you’ll appreciate it.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s call it…a throwback to the old days.” He lifted the bread out of the solar oven and pulled some fruit out of a mini-fridge. He poured the three of them water and brought everything over to the table.

“You’re going to have to dress up too, Rebecca. It’s a very important event.”

“But dad, I don’t like to dress up!”

“Nothing fancy. You just can’t go around in those muddy clothes of yours today. Seriously, I have no idea how you get them so dirty.”

“Well you’re the one that tells me to exercise!”

Hugh smiled and nodded. The three finished their breakfast, chatting over the city’s developments, over Rebecca’s grades, over the navy’s latest discoveries. Hugh ate quickly and disappeared into the bedroom to get dressed. They only had half an hour left to get to the state house. Hugh pulled open a drawer and dug deep into his small pile of clothes, pulling out the suit that he had in mind. Seven years. It’s been seven years. It feels like a week ago. He undressed himself and started to get into his suit. Rebecca’s grown so fast. She’s a natural fighter. That will serve her well in this world. But the true gift is that she has never had to live out there. Some may call that a weakness, but to only know that life—to live in constant fear—that is not to live. He walked over to the mirror and tugged a bit on his tie, a little frayed but clean as the day he bought it and almost as impressive. Walking out, he called to Lauren. She turned around and her mouth opened a bit as she saw him standing in his old suit—the suit he wore on the first day, the one that he married her in when they finally settled down in Boston. Hugh loved the suit, his only keepsake of his life before the outbreak besides the lovely woman sitting across the room from him. Lauren got up and kissed him gently. He turned his head to her and returned the kiss, his mind flooding with the memories of the old era and the new—but only good memories. The death and suffering, the fear of the early outbreak, none of the bad memories pierced through the euphoria of now and before. And today, Hugh knew, he would find another jewel of happiness to preserve forever in his memories.

Lauren and Hugh quickly dressed Rebecca in her cleanest clothes and rushed down to the state house. There were several gathering areas, as the entire population could not fit in any single space, but as honored and contributing citizens of the new United States, Hugh’s family received the privilege of joining President Joseph Holston at the state house. Several hundred others packed into the area around the building’s entrance as two men dropped a massive white sheet from the top of the state house. It unfurled and hung onto the side, swaying a bit in the light wind.

The president stepped from behind the sheet and greeted the citizens. Light cheering and clapping resonated from the crowd as he took to the podium.

“Thank you, chiefs of staff, loyal service members, ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the United States.

“Seven years ago, we were hiding behind 8-foot walls as infected clambered into our safe zone and threatened civilians. Martial law was the only law. We struggled against healthy and diseased aggressors alike. We may not even be standing here today without the brave sacrifices and risks of hundreds of men and women no longer with us, and thousands still here today.

“Yes, we started off small and weak, scared to wander out at night, or to get too close to the walls. Our crops were no good, and many settlements wanted nothing to do with us. But, seven years later, we are strong and safe, happy and free. The United States has been reborn from the ashes, and I can promise you that your children shall see the Pacific in their lifetime! That they shall hear a subway screech into its station! That the United States of America will fuse together again, and that the world will be free of the outbreak!”

Cheers erupted at the President’s words. Lauren was suspicious of the man—she had voted against him in favor of a more progressive candidate—but his promises were never dishonest in Hugh’s eyes. The man had finished what Markey had started: the Reconquista of the old world. Hugh knew that Holston was exaggerating his words, but the message was clear.

“Now, you all know why I have gathered you here today. We are a lonely city, one of many islands in a sea of monsters. But after today, we will no longer be alone. The navy has told you that a faraway settlement has made contact with us and wants to formally join our Union. Well, today Captain Scholl has signed the treaty with that settlement, and we will have yet another ally among us in this lonely and unforgiving world. Here they are, the proud citizens of New Orleans!”

The sun had not yet risen over the statehouse, and the crowd cheered once more as the wide sheet lit up with the projection of a live broadcast from the Mississippi River.

OUTBREAK: A Survival RP (IC/ENDED)

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