Night of the Undead (ZotD's Zombie story)

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Night of the Undead

Prologue

You drove them deep into the heart of the Reich…

You thought they were dead…

You were wrong.

The noise of the B-17 Flying Fortress’ engine was thunderous soaring over the dark sky of Germany. On board the B-17, Sergeant David Sanders sat impatiently, wondering why his squad was sent on such a simple mission. It was September, 1945. The war had been over for months in Germany, couldn’t they just send in an ordinary unit stationed in Berlin to retrieve this guy they were sent after? There seemed little reason to send in one of the best Marine units the U.S. had to offer.

He looked over at the rest of his squad. His squadmate beside him was Private John Banana, the rifleman. He wore a bandana underneath his helmet, which he never seemed to take off. In front of him was Smokey, who could never be seen without a cigarette in his mouth. He looked like the standard U.S. soldier with a cap, and wore sunglasses. Then the medic. He didn’t say much, barely 3 sentences through all the time the squad has been together, all the way from Guadalcanal. As for Sanders, he was the typical U.S. soldier, and was support gunner for the group.

The team leader, Sergeant Tank Dempsey, barked out the mission over the engine’s piercing noise.

“Okay, when we land, our mission is simple. We are to head to an Asylum near the outskirts of Berlin. It seems way too simple for the likes of us, so be prepared for something unexpected.” Sanders rolled his eyes. Even the more difficult missions they had been sent on were cake compared to Peleliu.

Dempsey continued, “We are to rescue a man, codenamed Peter McCain. Apparently he’s been undercover in an organization allied with the Nazi’s. He may have valuable information on them.”

“I have one question,” Smokey yelled, “how far are we away from this place anyways?”

“We’re getting close. About 30 miles now,” the pilot answered.

Just then, a large “BOOM” was heard. The B-17 shook. Sanders got a hold of himself, and asked “What the hell was that? Why is there AA fire? The war ended months ago!”

Dempsey, after gathering his senses, answered, “It can’t be the krauts. It’s either friendly fire, or something else. The hell if I know” as the B-17 took another hit. It wasn’t going to end well.

“Brace for impact! We can’t even retaliate, they’re nowhere in sight!” the pilot shouted. Sanders was actually worried now. None of the missions went this far south. It’s worse than Peleliu, he thought. The plane whirled and whirled. Sanders braced for impact. As it hit, his eyes went black.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Alright, so that's the first part of my zombie story that I was too lazy to type for 6 months. I plan on doing the whole story eventually, if enough people like it.

Also, I named my character David Sanders after my cousin who's currently in Afghanistan. Just thought that needed to be mentioned.

So anyways, tell me how I did. No zombies yet, but next chapter :twisted:

[MyLittleHellhound]

Night of the Undead

Prologue

You drove them deep into the heart of the Reich…

You thought they were dead…

You were wrong.

The noise of the B-17 Flying Fortress’ engine was thunderous soaring over the dark sky of Germany. On board the B-17, Sergeant David Sanders sat impatiently, wondering why his squad was sent on such a simple mission. It was September, 1945. The war had been over for months in Germany, couldn’t they just send in an ordinary unit stationed in Berlin to retrieve this guy they were sent after? There seemed little reason to send in one of the best Marine units the U.S. had to offer.

He looked over at the rest of his squad. His squadmate beside him was Private John Banana, the rifleman. He wore a bandana underneath his helmet, which he never seemed to take off. In front of him was Smokey, who could never be seen without a cigarette in his mouth. He looked like the standard U.S. soldier with a cap, and wore sunglasses. Then the medic. He didn’t say much, barely 3 sentences through all the time the squad has been together, all the way from Guadalcanal. As for Sanders, he was the typical U.S. soldier, and was support gunner for the group.

The team leader, Sergeant Tank Dempsey, barked out the mission over the engine’s piercing noise.

“Okay, when we land, our mission is simple. We are to head to an Asylum near the outskirts of Berlin. It seems way too simple for the likes of us, so be prepared for something unexpected.” Sanders rolled his eyes. Even the more difficult missions they had been sent on were cake compared to Peleliu.

Dempsey continued, “We are to rescue a man, codenamed Peter McCain. Apparently he’s been undercover in an organization allied with the Nazi’s. He may have valuable information on them.”

“I have one question,” Smokey yelled, “how far are we away from this place anyways?”

“We’re getting close. About 30 miles now,” the pilot answered.

Just then, a large “BOOM” was heard. The B-17 shook. Sanders got a hold of himself, and asked “What the hell was that? Why is there AA fire? The war ended months ago!”

Dempsey, after gathering his senses, answered, “It can’t be the krauts. It’s either friendly fire, or something else. The hell if I know” as the B-17 took another hit. It wasn’t going to end well.

“Brace for impact! We can’t even retaliate, they’re nowhere in sight!” the pilot shouted. Sanders was actually worried now. None of the missions went this far south. It’s worse than Peleliu, he thought. The plane whirled and whirled. Sanders braced for impact. As it hit, his eyes went black.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Alright, so that's the first part of my zombie story that I was too lazy to type for 6 months. I plan on doing the whole story eventually, if enough people like it.

Also, I named my character David Sanders after my cousin who's currently in Afghanistan. Just thought that needed to be mentioned.

So anyways, tell me how I did. No zombies yet, but next chapter :twisted:

This is quite good Zombieofthedead

[killallzombies]

finnally,you promised to type this up for meh

good story so far

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 1: Hard Landing

Everything seemed so blurry. Sanders went in and out of consciousness. He stirred for a second, seeing some sort of figures closing in about 500 yards away. He couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough.

The next time he woke up, he saw a similar image, but much closer. Roughly 300 yards away this time, he guessed before falling unconscious again. He woke up once again a few seconds later. They were getting closer, most just… limping? He could barely tell.

One started to run, real crazily, flapping his arms around like an insane person. Sanders actually got some sense back, and started to inch backwards away from the blackish, seemingly retarded figure. It was nearly there, just a few feet, and then…

The sound of an M1 Garand echoed off the wreckage. The… thing in front of Sanders was no more. Head blown clean off. Sanders turned dizzily to see who his savior was.

“Dammit Sanders, GET UP ALREADY” Dempsey yelled, as more of the figures began to loom near.

“Shit… Only a few clips left in this thing. Most of the ammo was destroyed in that damned crash. Medic! Check if the pilots are still alive. Banana, check for any other weapons that can be salvaged from this wreck. Jesus… I don’t know who these guys think they are. They. Won’t. DIE!”

Sanders jumped up to help John search for weapon, but it was futile. Naught could be found but 4 pistols, a few grenades, and the combat knives that each of the team had. Suddenly, he heard a yell for help.

“Get me out of here!” said the pilot, “My leg’s broken, I think my co-pilot is dead.”

The medic struggled getting him out, the pilots leg was stuck under something, and the squad had very little time time. “It’s no use!” the medic cried, “Your leg’s stuck, and we’re about to be overwhelmed!”

The pilot sighed. Dempsey called out that he only had a clip left. Sanders got up to try and help the medic with the metal crushing the pilot’s leg, but the pilot just stopped them both.

“Okay, it seems there’s no hope for me,” the pilot paused, he was obviously nervous.

“Go,” is all he could say to the marines. “Save yourselves. Dempsey, give me the M1, I’ll hold em off. Head to that bunker, just over there.” He pointed to a building just behind us. Dempsey, though reluctant, gave him the M1, and ordered Smokey, Sanders, Banana, and the medic to the front of the building.

Sanders felt a horrible for leaving him there, but he knew there were few options, and even less time. Together with John and Smokey he carried the supplies they had to the bunker. Within seconds after the last shot of the M1, the heard horrible, bloodcurdling screams come from where the plane was

They entered the bunker through where they saw two German trucks, passing through a doorway with metal bars right next to it. Setting the supplies down, they tried to grasp the situation.

“Okay, what the HELL was that back there,” John asked. “It sounded as if the pilot was literally ripped to shreds back there. This is just insane.”

“I’m not sure what it was… but the important thing to note is that most of us survived that crash… so let’s see what we have available,” Dempsey noted. “From what I see hear… we have four Colt M1911s, with plenty of ammo that we will divide up. Sorry doc, none for you.” The medic just shrugged.

“Okay… we all have our standard issue knives, even you doc. Looks like we have a few German stick grenades as well. Not much, but we’ll make do for now,” Dempsey finished. Sanders sighed. He knew he was in for the biggest nightmare of his life.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ok, I REALLY enjoyed making this chapter. I'm definitely continuing this.

I plan, near to the end of NDU, to do Takeo and Nikolai's stories before moving to verruckt as well. Richtofen's backstory will be revealed like the radios.

I also find it funny how I named Sanders after my cousin, and one of his friends was nick named Smokey.

So anyways, if you like it, [brains] , tell me what you think as well

[anguscr]

[brains] [brains]

MORE DUDE THIS IS GREAT

[MyLittleHellhound]

I like how the pilot was left behind, and also the panicky feeling you added to this chapter

I have to spread my brains, but I will give you them :lol:

[TheSlushTurtle]

this is great man! have some brains and deffinetly keep this going

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 2: Round 1

The air had a strange chill. Everything was very eerily silent in the abandoned german bunker. Sanders was scared. It seemed unusual that the creatures had not come for them yet. Not a sound in the dark, moonlit night. The marines all clutched there M1911s, trembling from the fear of an evil they did not know. All except Dempsey. Why is he always unafraid of everything, sanders asked himself.

Sanders turned away from Dempsey, and got up off the ground. He decided he’d investigate the area a little more. The bunker wasn’t big, not to mention a lot of the inside seemed to have been destroyed. There were 5 windows in this room, most makeshift, originally acting as doors, but sandbags had been stacked. There was a staircase in the middle, leading to an upstairs area that was blocked by furniture. Above that, there was a chalk message, saying “You must Ascend from Darkness”.

Whatever that means, Sanders said to himself. Back near where they came in was another door, made of wood. Written on it was “Help”. The message was unfinished. There was a bloody handprint on that door as well. Sanders shivered. What a creepy place this is, he thought.

“Okay, soldiers. Be on the lookout. Everyone take a window. If you see one, shoot like hell,” Dempsey ordered. Sanders took one on the far side away from the help door. Looking through the fog wasn’t helping him contain his fear.

The silence was broken by a rustle of bushes. Sanders heart raced faster than it had ever before. He shot his whole clip into it. Nothing came from it.

“What’s going on there, Sanders? You see one?” asked Smokey. Sanders just stood there, paralyzed with fear.

“Hey, you alright, man?” He came up to Sanders. When he wouldn’t respond, Smokey went in front of Sanders, and shook him. That was when the terror came.

From the window, there came a moan, and Smokey was grabbed from behind. Sanders unfroze, and jumped at the surprise of the creature. It was a nazi who grabbed Smokey, only something wasn’t right about it. It had glowing yellow eyes, and was very pale in the moonlight. Immediately, Sanders reloaded his Colt.

The Nazi tried biting at Smokey, who tried struggling from its grip. The Nazi couldn’t seem to bite him, the wooden barriers stuck in his way. Sanders brought up his colt, straight at the Nazi’s head, and shot. The body fell back, with a loud thud. Smokey was relived.

“Man… thank god you got to your senses in time. Damn…” Smokey whispered. The rest of the group heard the commotion, and regrouped.

“Damn…. That Nazi had a nasty grip,” Smokey said shakily, cigarette still in mouth. They pulled the body inside to investigate what they were up against.

“Holy shit….” The medic said, “This guy’s been dead for a week at least already.” The air seemed even chillier than before to Sanders. The Nazi had already been dead, but was still attacking? Not to mention the strange, glowing eyes, the strong grip, and how unstoppable some of the other Nazi’s outside had been.

“It seems we aren’t facing Nazi’s or anything human here,” Dempsey said. “We are facing something supernatural. They aren’t living, but they aren’t dead. In other words, we are facing the living dead here.” Sanders gulped. He could actually see it now. The Nazi had bloody hands, and a huge wound on its arm. It almost looked like… teeth marks?

There was more moaning coming from outside, loader than before. The marines got up, looking around at the windows. “Get to your windows! Go! Go! Go!” Dempsey barked. At Sanders window there was but one. He shot three rounds into its chest, but it would not die. It broke down one of the planks. He swore. Taking out his knife, he slammed it straight into the undead Nazi’s head.

Over at Dempsey’s window there were three. Being the badass that he was, he took his knife, chopping the head off one Nazi, then slamming down on another’s head before shooting his whole clip into it. The last lingered, Dempsey took the knife out of the Nazi’s head, then threw it at the remaining one into his left eye, killing it.

John got two. He shot a clip into one’s chest, to no Avail “Shit!” he said, “Why won’t mine die?” He reloaded, shooting again, two more into the chest, finally killing it. The other nazi had gotten most of the boards off.

“Shit, this one’s getting in!” John said. Smokey came to help, having none at his window. With one stab with his knife, he killed it. The Nazi had looked as if he had been burned. John made note of that, noticing they seemed to not know pain.

Sanders sighed. He didn’t know if he could face more than they had already. “Freakin zombies. Guys, with only these colts, we will not survive.” As Sanders said that, he noticed something on the wall. Was that… a chalk outline of a gun?

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Well, it's been awhile since the last one. Thanks for all he replies, btw. Like to see that people like the story I don't think this chapter was as good as the last one, but hey. It'll get better. Anyways, hopefully I'll make another in the next few days. I've just been busy for awhile. Hope you like this one. Again, give me feedback, and [brains] if you like it.

[MyLittleHellhound]

This chapter was good, good to see that you still update this :D

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 3: Things get weirder.

Sanders went up to the chalk outline of what he assumed was a german Kar98k. “Um… guys..” he started, “Something about these outlines of weapons seems strange, doesn’t it?”

John answered, “Yeah, I noticed that awhile ago. Why would some idiot draw a gun on the wall when these freaks are attacking? What, did he assume it would pop out of the wall for two bucks a pop?” Sanders touched the area in the middle of it, and felt something at his feet. Could it really be…

He looked down. There was indeed a gun at his feet. The same as up on the wall. He felt a little drained, for some strange reason, but shook it off, and picked up the rifle. Along with the clip chambered, there were about 10 more clips on the floor for it.

“Whoa… that’s weird, I don’t remember seeing that on the ground before,” John added. “Mind giving it to me? My colt’s nearly empty after that wave of the freaks.” Sanders handed him the rifle, as well as its ammo. He wasn’t a fan of bolt actions anyways, they loaded too slow. Versus the freaks, he figured it wouldn’t stand a chance. But, they were slow. He couldn’t deny that.

“Sweet… thank god,” John said, thanking Sanders, “Hopefully this added power will actually take em out this time. That is, if they come back.” Of course the freaks are coming back, Sanders thought. He remembered back at the crash, seeing the walking corpses looming near, dozens seemingly.

“Oh look, another chalk outline,” Smokey said as he walked toward it. It was past the next window. This one appeared to be an M1 Carbine. “Lets see… where’s the damn gun below this? I see nothing!” Smokey slammed on the wall, while everyone observed. As he hit the outline, it appeared at his feet.

“The… fuck?” Smokey confusingly stated. The other marines were equally confused. How was it that a gun could just magically appear at his feet, they all wondered simultaneously. Smokey picked it up, then staggered a bit, as if he had lifted a huge weight.

“Wait… guys, what if touching the outlines is what made the guns appear?” the medic asked. The marines looked at him.

“That actually sounds, well, correct,” Dempsey admitted. “By the way, soldier, we never got your name throughout all our time in the pacific, even in our capture at peleliu. You seem a little… shy. Anyways, in times like these, I think names are a must.” The medic felt awkward. He was certainly a shy man, even though he had known he fellow marines for over three years.

“My… my name,” He began, stammering slightly, “My name is Charles Walker. Most of my family and old friends called me Chuck.” Finally, we could actually identify him, thought Sanders. Took him long enough.

As these revelations commenced, more moaning came out from the cold night air. The marines went back to their windows. Smokey had given his M1911 to Chuck.

“Ah shitballs, there’s more of them this time,” Shouted Dempsey as he raised his Colt to the first in sight’s chest. “Remember marines, no fear, and no mercy.” John raised his Kar to the zombie’s chest, and shot. It hit the Nazi’s arm, which then flew back about five or so feet. It kept walking.

“Guys… I don’t think hitting them anywhere but the head is working. Aim there!” Shouted John. He raised his Kar98k again, this time to the undead’s head. It blew clean off, sending it back to hell. “Fuck yeah! It works! Aim for the head!”

Smokey was having the most trouble. Three came to his window, unstoppable. Most of the boards had already been taken down. “Shit,” is all that he could say. As the last board fell, he heard John’s message. Immediately, he put the carbine right into the zombies mouth, and shot. Clean through its brain, it tumbled to the ground. The heavy feeling he felt moments ago was gone, replaced with sheer joy.

The two remaining undead had gotten through, and Smokey, thinking fast, blew the seconds head away instantly. Overjoyed, he took his last Nazi down with a stab in the skull. As he did so, the strangest part of the day had just happened. After he finished the Nazi, a giant glowing green floating skull popped out of the zombie.

“The… fuck?” This seemed to be his new favorite phrase with all that had happened. Was it good to go up to or bad? “Screw it,” he said to himself as he walked into it. He heard a voice inside his head.

INSTA-KILL

Dempsey sliced the zombies neck, which immediately popped following this voice, which he had heard as well. All of them had. Chuck shot both of the limping Nazi’s, both dead with one bullet to the stomach. Sanders watched in awe, as he had gotten none of the creatures at his window.

“Well… that’s different,” Smokey whispered as he began boarding his windows. The wave was over. With a sigh of relief, Smokey met up with everyone else by the stairs to discuss all the crazy shit that had happened today. And boy, a lot of crazy shit happened today, he thought.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

So that's it for today's chapter of ultimate awesomeness zombie slaying. I liked this one more than the previous one, and I think it's longer. Was roughly 2 pages worth in word, anyways. I hope to make them longer with each chapter.

So, with that, I named the Medic after the two main characters in my favorite TV show, Chuck, which ended a few days ago. /sadface. I think that's enough honor for it.

So, I figured out a way to make the point system of zombies work, as well as power ups. How do you like it? 8-)

Also, could someone please help me figure out a way to indent every paragraph? I make it indented in word, but it doesn't transfer well to the site.

Thoughts, comments, etc?

[TheDunbarian]

Just read all of what you have so far and I must say I really like it. One would think that including gameplay elements in the story (chalk outline weapons, insta-kill, etc.) would be really weird and cheesy, but it didn't seem too strange here. I guess when you're telling a story about zombies, all realism can just fly out the window :lol:

[anguscr]

One word: EPIC. If i could give you more brains i would :D

[MyLittleHellhound]

Chapter 3: Things get weirder.

Sanders went up to the chalk outline of what he assumed was a german Kar98k. “Um… guys..” he started, “Something about these outlines of weapons seems strange, doesn’t it?”

John answered, “Yeah, I noticed that awhile ago. Why would some idiot draw a gun on the wall when these freaks are attacking? What, did he assume it would pop out of the wall for two bucks a pop?” Sanders touched the area in the middle of it, and felt something at his feet. Could it really be…

He looked down. There was indeed a gun at his feet. The same as up on the wall. He felt a little drained, for some strange reason, but shook it off, and picked up the rifle. Along with the clip chambered, there were about 10 more clips on the floor for it.

“Whoa… that’s weird, I don’t remember seeing that on the ground before,” John added. “Mind giving it to me? My colt’s nearly empty after that wave of the freaks.” Sanders handed him the rifle, as well as its ammo. He wasn’t a fan of bolt actions anyways, they loaded too slow. Versus the freaks, he figured it wouldn’t stand a chance. But, they were slow. He couldn’t deny that.

“Sweet… thank god,” John said, thanking Sanders, “Hopefully this added power will actually take em out this time. That is, if they come back.” Of course the freaks are coming back, Sanders thought. He remembered back at the crash, seeing the walking corpses looming near, dozens seemingly.

“Oh look, another chalk outline,” Smokey said as he walked toward it. It was past the next window. This one appeared to be an M1 Carbine. “Lets see… where’s the damn gun below this? I see nothing!” Smokey slammed on the wall, while everyone observed. As he hit the outline, it appeared at his feet.

“The… fuck?” Smokey confusingly stated. The other marines were equally confused. How was it that a gun could just magically appear at his feet, they all wondered simultaneously. Smokey picked it up, then staggered a bit, as if he had lifted a huge weight.

“Wait… guys, what if touching the outlines is what made the guns appear?” the medic asked. The marines looked at him.

“That actually sounds, well, correct,” Dempsey admitted. “By the way, soldier, we never got your name throughout all our time in the pacific, even in our capture at peleliu. You seem a little… shy. Anyways, in times like these, I think names are a must.” The medic felt awkward. He was certainly a shy man, even though he had known he fellow marines for over three years.

“My… my name,” He began, stammering slightly, “My name is Charles Walker. Most of my family and old friends called me Chuck.” Finally, we could actually identify him, thought Sanders. Took him long enough.

As these revelations commenced, more moaning came out from the cold night air. The marines went back to their windows. Smokey had given his M1911 to Chuck.

“Ah shitballs, there’s more of them this time,” Shouted Dempsey as he raised his Colt to the first in sight’s chest. “Remember marines, no fear, and no mercy.” John raised his Kar to the zombie’s chest, and shot. It hit the Nazi’s arm, which then flew back about five or so feet. It kept walking.

“Guys… I don’t think hitting them anywhere but the head is working. Aim there!” Shouted John. He raised his Kar98k again, this time to the undead’s head. It blew clean off, sending it back to hell. “Fuck yeah! It works! Aim for the head!”

Smokey was having the most trouble. Three came to his window, unstoppable. Most of the boards had already been taken down. “Shit,” is all that he could say. As the last board fell, he heard John’s message. Immediately, he put the carbine right into the zombies mouth, and shot. Clean through its brain, it tumbled to the ground. The heavy feeling he felt moments ago was gone, replaced with sheer joy.

The two remaining undead had gotten through, and Smokey, thinking fast, blew the seconds head away instantly. Overjoyed, he took his last Nazi down with a stab in the skull. As he did so, the strangest part of the day had just happened. After he finished the Nazi, a giant glowing green floating skull popped out of the zombie.

“The… fuck?” This seemed to be his new favorite phrase with all that had happened. Was it good to go up to or bad? “Screw it,” he said to himself as he walked into it. He heard a voice inside his head.

INSTA-KILL

Dempsey sliced the zombies neck, which immediately popped following this voice, which he had heard as well. All of them had. Chuck shot both of the limping Nazi’s, both dead with one bullet to the stomach. Sanders watched in awe, as he had gotten none of the creatures at his window.

“Well… that’s different,” Smokey whispered as he began boarding his windows. The wave was over. With a sigh of relief, Smokey met up with everyone else by the stairs to discuss all the crazy shit that had happened today. And boy, a lot of crazy shit happened today, he thought.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

So that's it for today's chapter of ultimate awesomeness zombie slaying. I liked this one more than the previous one, and I think it's longer. Was roughly 2 pages worth in word, anyways. I hope to make them longer with each chapter.

So, with that, I named the Medic after the two main characters in my favorite TV show, Chuck, which ended a few days ago. /sadface. I think that's enough honor for it.

So, I figured out a way to make the point system of zombies work, as well as power ups. How do you like it? 8-)

Also, could someone please help me figure out a way to indent every paragraph? I make it indented in word, but it doesn't transfer well to the site.

Thoughts, comments, etc?

I think that you might have to Indent it yourslef, or press the space bar a couple times when you are in this post box kind of thing.

And yeah, im liking the point system! If you cant buy, do you feel wrose? And if you have alot you feel bette? Or is it everytime you get more points or lose you fell better and wrose

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 4: The “Help” room

They sat in their little circle by the stairs. Smokey seemed to be enjoying himself, after all, he had a high powered rifle and made things easier for the whole team with that floaty green skull thing he had picked up.

“Floating green skulls, voices in our heads, guns that pop out of chalk outlines in the wall, this shit just gets crazier and crazier,” Dempsey announced, “least we’ve got some better arms in our arsenal.” He glanced at both John and Smokey, holding their weapons with glee.

“Sooner or later, though, we’ve got to get out of this room, find a more defendable place, and hopefully find better weapons,” he paused for a moment, “those freaks brought more this time, and judging from the fact that they are even more relentless than the Japs, we will be screwed if we just stay here.”

Sanders remembered the door, with the unfinished “Help” written on it. “Hey, Tank, what about that one door over there?” he pointed it out to tank.

“Good call, but we ought to be careful. The place looks a bit sketchy, another of them might pop out and scare the shit out of us, or worse,” Dempsey replied, in a grave voice. Each one of the marines knew what worse was. They rose up, and went to the door.

“You up for this, David?” Dempsey asked simply. Sanders nodded, shakingly. He held his gun up, ready for anything, and opened the door.

The room was black, there was very little light except from the two windows in the room, as well as a corner up ahead, right under some stairs. The corner opposite that had a simple wooden box, with question marks on it. They even found more weapons on the wall: a Thompson, and a double barreled shotgun.

“Sweet. I open the door, I get the Thompson,” Sanders announced. Tank didn’t care. All he wanted was a BAR, his weapon of choice in the war. He took the shotgun. Chuck didn’t need a weapon, he was mostly there to be a medic after all. He was just given the M1911 ammo.

“Damn… getting these things takes a bit out of you, ya know?” Tank said, quivering after buying the shotgun. David nodded. He felt the same after buying the Thompson. It was clear to him that the chalk outlines needed to be “bought” per say with a little bit of their strength.

“Well, I felt the same way as you guys. After killing some of those freaks, though, I actually felt much better. Don’t know why,” Smokey replied. David noticed a helmet on the ground, after going back near the entrance. He shivered. Damn, this place is creepy.

“Hey guys, what’s with this box here?” John asked, calling the marines over. “It seems a little strange... something just draws me to it.”

“Well, open up the damn thing then,” Smokey replied. So John did. He searched through the hay, until he felt something cold. Metal, he thought. He pulled it out, revealing a German MP40. His heart beat quickly.

“Oh my god… this is awesome!” John shouted with joy. Then he stopped, realizing he felt weak. “Damn, this box too? I see what you guys mean about the weakness… ugh.” Then the moaning, again, erupted from the windows.

Sanders readied his Thompson, a great smile on his face. “None of these freakbags are going to see the light of day after this. They have nothing on us.” Dempsey nodded in agreement. Hm, interesting new name he has for them, Dempsey thought. He readied his weapon, as they heard the first board being torn down.

Smokey got on a window, along with Dempsey, realizing both of their weapons were inferior to John and David’s. With a loud BOOM, Dempsey fired his double barrel into two of the zombies brains, who were lined up. Smokey aimed his Carbine toward their head, hitting one . Then another. Then another. Nothing seemed impossible to them.

John and Sanders took turns, one firing, the other reloading. There were at least ten limping towards the small door. Blasting each one of their heads apart was a breeze with the combined effort of the MP40 and Thompson. Each one died in just a few shots. Even if the shots missed, the zombies would still die if shot enough. The wave ended sooner than it had actually begun.

Smokey went to the box to try for his own weapon, eager to get something other than his carbine, to match up to the awesomeness of the Thompson and MP40. He got Molotov cocktails instead.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!” Smokey screamed, letting the cigarette drop from his mouth. “I ASKED FOR A GUN, NOT A RUSSIAN’S BEST FRIEND.” He was seething with rage. Sanders took a look at him, and then made his own try at the box.

What Sanders got brought him joy, “Awe, fuck yeah!” He had gotten an M2 Flamethrower. Smokey yelled with rage again.

“God damn it, Smokey, keep it down! You might attract even more of those freaks,” Chuck whispered, trying to keep the noise down.

“This kid is a genius, of course they’re attracted by sound! No wonder they didn’t attack us for hours,” Dempsey replied. Unfortunately, it was too late. The undead had returned, but this time, they were screaming. They were even running, and there were too many to even count.

Back to their battle stations they went, this time with Sanders up front. They burned, and quickly. But not quick enough, David thought. From behind him, he heard a sound. Was it… stone breaking?

“Shit, they’re breaking in through the walls!” screamed Chuck. He used every last bit of ammo he had on that on window, to no avail.

“I’ve got it!” Sanders replied. “John, take care of the horde for me,” He said, looking back. John nodded. He shot his MP40, blasting them down one by one. It was unstoppable. He had little ammo left, however.

Sanders raised his flamethrower, and burned many in the broken wall. It looked as if there was a cave behind it. Smoke and flames rose, and the zombies burned. David coughed from all the smoke. He fell to the ground with a thud.

Smokey and Dempsey had little problem, they went to join John in fighting. “Here’s a little surprise, straight from Russia you fuckers,” Smokey exclaimed as he threw his first Molotov. “I hope you like vodka, bastards.” There was little problem left. As the horde died down, it became increasingly obvious that ammo was running low.

Smokey went to the box once again, tired as ever. He had no ammo at all in his M1 carbine. He dropped it. Opening the box, he searched through the hay again, and came back with a gun, glowing green. It was red, with some green and even blue in it.

Smokey looked at it once, and wondered, “is this a toy?” unaware of its abilities and true potential.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I'm beginning to hate how some parts of the format on word doesn't transfer over well. Oh well. I forgot to mention this last time, but I actually got the points thing from another zombie story, which had nothing to really do with the story, apart from characters. It's basically only a heavy feeling, not a sickness or anything, otherwise fighting would be impossible.

Also, next chapter I'm thinking of doing a little part with Nikolai in it at the end. Would you guys like that? If not, too bad. I'm doing it anyways So yeah, next chapter is the ray gun. I doubt it will be as long as this chapter. We'll see, though.

Comments, feedback, and [brains] appreciated

[MyLittleHellhound]

I know I seem like one of the only people on this thread- I pretty muich am stalking you

This hcapter was Awesopme!

Lots of fighting!

[TheDunbarian]

You're not the only one left here, Hellhound. This is awesome! As soon as I read "Is this a toy?" I immediately knew that s**t was about to go down...

[unlawfully inacurate]

amazing story! keep it coming!

[TheSlushTurtle]

Im also following this closely ;)

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 5: The Ray Gun, and a shit ton of luck

“Seriously, is this some kind of joke? It’s a freakin toy gun! What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” Smokey walked angrily out of the “help” room, into the main room. Fueled with range, he threw the gun at the window by the jail-like bars. It accidently shot.

A donut shaped blast fired from the gun, flying directly at the german truck parked outside. The truck blew up, with Smokey in awe. “Holy shit balls. There is a god after all!” he ran back to pick the alien-like gun up, carefully this time.

“Hello Mr. Spaceman gun, could we just forget about me throwing you a second ago? I promise you it was a complete misunderstanding! I thought I saw a zombie, and…um…” Smokey was then slapped by Dempsey.

“Get a hold of yourself, man. The damn gun isn’t alive… but it is kick ass none the less,” Dempsey told Smokey. “It seems we might actually make it out of here alive then!” Dempsey then thought about the marine’s next move.

Hmmm, it seems as if there are more coming by the minute. We got that crazy new alien gun, and even a flamethrower, but…. it’s not enough. Dempsey sat in deep though, considering his options. Ok, the area we’re in is working now… but soon it’s just gonna get too hectic. We might have to try going upstairs. Ammo isn’t so great either, there is the box of course, and there are bound to be more weapons upstairs…

He decided. Upstairs was definitely the best current option they had. He told the rest of the group about his plan.

“But wait, we’ve been holding out well here! Why now? Why not later?” Smokey asked, “After all, I have this… ray gun.” He smiled at the name. The perfect name for it, he thought. Dempsey sighed, annoyed that Smokey didn’t know the first thing about tactics.

“Smokey, aside from your Ray Gun, and Sanders flamethrower, the rest of us aren’t doing so great on ammo. I bet my life there are more weapons upstairs. Not to mention, we might find a better area to defend. If we fail, we could always just re-block the staircase. It’s not that hard.” Dempsey explained, to which Smokey finally understood.

“Fine, let’s go. John and I will move the couch and everything blocking it,” Smokey replied. John just groaned, clearing not liking that he was forcibly volunteered for moving something heavy. Together, John and Smokey walked up the “help” room’s stairs. The couch was impossible to slide forwards, so they ended up lifting it up, much to John’s dismay.

“Oh… my… god,” Dempsey said as they moved the couch, revealing another chalk outline. “It’s… It’s…” He ran as fast as he could up the stairs, touching the center of the outline, and picked it the gun up off the ground. His heart was pumping.

“The BAR,” Chuck said, finishing what Dempsey could not say. “Your favorite weapon, am I not correct, Tank?” Dempsey nodded, with glee. With this, he knew he would be unstoppable. He didn’t even notice the weakening effects that the outlines usually gave.

The marines went upstairs. They found another outline near a window, this time an M1897 Trench Gun. Dempsey grabbed this off the wall as well, tossing the double barrel to John.

“Seems like my luck just keeps getting better and better. My two favorite guns! What are the chances?” Surveying the area, they went to the end of the room facing the top of the staircase. There was a lookout there, a perfect spot to find incoming hordes.

There was a lone window to the left of it, and outside they saw their B-17, still burning strong. The hanging body of the pilot, the one who bought the marines valuable time, was still there. He barely looked the same.

A wave of sadness came over Sanders. Even Dempsey felt a little disheartened at the site of that poor man, hanging over the plane by his leg. He made a gesture to move away from the site.

On the other end of the room, there seemed to be a perfect area to stay in. It overlooked the area with all the trucks, a place perfect for a lookout. On the other side was a window. Dempsey decided it was the perfect area.

“Yep, this place is perfect. Now, all of you, John, Smokey, Sanders, and Chuck even. Get a weapon from the box. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

John went first. He had an empty MP40 and the double barrel Dempsey had given him. From the box he obtained the M1919 Browning Machine Gun. “Oh fuck yes! We’re getting all the luck today!” he exclaimed. He left his old MP40, and ran back upstairs.

Chuck went next. He got a .357 Magnum. “Perfect,” he said, with true sincerity. He specialized in pistols, they were light and easy to use. Medics didn’t really require heavy weapons after all.

Smokey went after. He didn’t really care for another weapon, but went anyways because he only had ammo for the Ray Gun. He got a Panzerschrek, a German anti-tank weapon. Smokey smiled. Two freakin anti armor weapons, and this one will take out hordes nicely. He decided to use the Panzer only when there was no hope left.

David went last. Receiving an MG42 from the box, he was overjoyed. He replaced his Thompson for it, and went upstairs.

Regrouping upstairs, they discussed tactics. It was settled. Dempsey would stay in the main room on the first floor, while Sanders would be lookout alongside Chuck in the current room. They removed the rubble from the blocked staircase there for easier access. Smokey would be lookout on the other side of the upstairs. Finally, John would join Dempsey downstairs.

They all knew what they had to do. To survive, they would have to go all out. They would have to fight until they were completely undone. In this night of the undead, the only way to survive is to use tactics of true American Marines.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Drunk Russian: Subject One

August 8th, 1945

Berlin, Germany

In the war torn city of Berlin, the Soviets reigned victory over Germany. For months, they had celebrated at the glory they had brought to their motherland. No surviving Nazi should be left alive, and all was good.

“Heh, why should I celebrate?” one Russian, patrolling the empty streets pondered for a moment, “My fucking cousin died trying to carry our flag to the top. Poor bastard. Third degree burns. Not to mention I don’t even have a nice place in the government anymore.”

He took a long sip of vodka. Over his standard soviet hat, he wore a headscarf, just like his cousin, Chernov. Complete opposites in personality, they were. One, a pacifist, the other, a complete stereotypical Russian drunk. Drowning out his sorrows, he continued on his patrol.

“Damn, I hope I can just go home to wife again. That way I can take angry on her!” the Russian had a long history of killing his wives. He moved up in political rank by marrying. He wasn’t discovered until his fifth wife had tragically died. He tried making an excuse, that she had simply died from “cleaning” his axe with her neck.

Stalin, who had actually been afraid of this Russian, sent him to the front lines in the war. He’d been wanting to do that for years, but had no excuse to do so, until now.

The Russian took another swig of vodka. When he finished, he noticed, even through his drunken blurry eyes, a shadowy figure. “Who the fuck are you?” More importantly, do you have any vodka?” The figure didn’t answer.

“Oh, I see, one of them quiet types, eh? Well then, how about this?” He aimed his PPSh-41 at the figure. “Are you gonna give me your fuckin vodka now?” Still no reply.

From the alleys, he heard some shuffling. Turning around, he was grabbed by two more figures. Nazis. Of course, the Russian was too drunk to notice that fact. He dropped his vodka, the bottle breaking on impact.

The Russian stopped struggling, hearing the impact. His eyes narrowed. He turned to his attackers. “You. Did. Fucking. Not. NO ONE HURTS MY VODKA!” He drunkenly punched, but ferociously at that, hitting his first assailant, even knocking him out cold. He just stared at his second assailant. The attacker took one look at him. Then at his friend. Then at the Russian again. He turned around and bolted.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He turned around, only to be his with a lead pipe. He was knocked out cold. The shadowy man had identified his target.

“Nikolai Belinski. Supposed Russian that even Stalin himself is afraid of. Murderer of at least five wives, and a drunk. Our first test subject.” The man grinned. His sadistic nature unparalleled. He was “the Doctor.”

“Quite a useless bunch of Nazis, it seems,” the Doctor remarked at the unconscious attacker. “Oh well. We’ll just see how this subject goes. For all we know, this could be quite interesting.”

With a maniacal laugh, he drags Nikolai into his truck, restraining him, and begins the long journey back into Poland.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

So that's that. Sorry this took so long. First off, I was sick, and became disinterested. I also became... preoccupied with other things. I actually started this a week or so ago, but I completely rewrote it, because the previous draft I had was too cheesy.

Anyways, this chapter was basically setting up what I have planned for the next few. I'm kinda trying to speed it along so I can get to verruckt.

Also, Nikolai gets his very own short story! The only one he will ever have, unless I decide to make backstory stories for all of the characters. For now, this is the first non marine entry. I may have several other mini chapters involving Richtofen before verruckt and the special story I have planned for Takeo.

Finally, thank you all for reading this! Seriously, didn't think so many people were reading it. If you are currently reading this, but haven't posted, please do! I'm interested to see who else reads this.

[anguscr]

Once again, ME GUSTA. [brains] for you.

[Undead]

One thing:

OW, my eyes. Brighter text plz.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

One thing:

OW, my eyes. Brighter text plz.

Really? Doesn't seem that bad to me. I'll take that into account, though.

Hopefully I'll have a new chapter up soon. I've just been REALLY busy this past week.

[Undead]

Just the contrast between white text and blue, I have to squint to read it here and there.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 6: In der Stille der Nacht

The night seemed to never end. Still, the moon seemed to take up half of the horizon. It couldn’t have been much more than midnight, from the look of it, but from all that had happened it seemed like much more time had passed, at least to Sanders.

The silence of the night had still not broken, but from the chill, eerie wind. As of yet, Sanders saw nothing on the horizon, but trees, and even another truck in the distance. He took that into account for when the marines intended to leave. Something bugged him though. He felt as if this was going to be it, their last stand. Something just didn’t feel quite right.

Shadows began to appear out of the mist, limping dazedly toward the bunker. Slight moans and groans began as the roamed closer. Now, there were many of them, and David finally noticed.

“CONTACT!” he shouted to the group below. Dempsey fired his Trench gun, and away the limbs blew. The body of the Nazi was already disfigured enough, but now even more so.

“Got one!” Dempsey shouted as more came near. On the other side of the second floor, Smokey saw more coming from near the plane. He used his first Ray Gun blast, which not only killed the zombie instantly, but knocked Smokey himself back a little.

“Got a lot of recoil, this does,” Smokey added in. He aimed at another, and shot. It even caused the zombie’s flesh to burn! What does this thing have in it, some kind of radiation?

With his MG42, Sanders set its bipod down on the railing, and began to lay waste, one by one popping their heads. The MG42 is well known as the fastest shooting gun there is, and it wouldn’t let up, until of course the ammo was up. Sure enough, it was empty. David reached into his ammo bag, and pulled out another ammo box.

In the few seconds that he stopped laying waste, he began hearing… music? The fuck is going on, where is that coming from, he thought. The music sounded… hopeless, and yet intense. He shook his head, and got back into focus. He reloaded.

Back on the first floor, Dempsey was having no trouble. Near the jail-like window, a Nazi had gotten in. Dempsey just wacked the zombies head off, like a baseball, with the butt of his trench gun.

“WHOOO! Just like High School!” he shouted. He turned left, and shot another zombie straight in the gut, and taking off another ones arm. John Banana finished it with a stab in the head. As he did that, several more zombies came out of the windows behind him, forming a horde.

“Jeese, they’re all over the place!” John shouted as the incoming undead got closer. He brought up his Browning as best he could, given the weight, and fired into the crowd. Dempsey switched to his BAR, and fired as well into the wall of zombies. They backed away, back towards the staircase, slowly.

Smokey fired a Ray Gun shot. He couldn’t believe it, but the undead were in at his window. There were just too many. At least ten piled at his window, trying to pull the boards away. He ran to the front entrances balcony, where David and Chuck were holding.

Chuck turned from the window he was protecting, only to see Smokey running from a hoard of zombies. As Smokey ran into the room, Chuck brought up his magnum, and fired at the horde. The recoil was hefty, and Chuck stumbled, but when he looked up there were three less zombies, and more that had tripped. Smokey turned around and fired his Ray Gun into the remaining few.

Smokey nodded his head toward Chuck, and then went to the staircase. “Hey, y’all need help down there?” he called to the marines downstairs. He didn’t wait for a response. he went down and fired a few rounds of the ray gun into the crowd, where Dempsey and John were getting swarmed.

“Hey, uh, Sanders. We need a hand down here. A big, fiery hand,” Smokey said, realizing the flames might finish them. David nodded. He took the bipod down, then ran to the staircase. He shot into the crowd with his MG, with little effect. Tank and John were just barely holding them off. He set the MG down, and went back upstairs for his surprise.

The situation was bad. Dempsey only had a few clips, and John had a slow reload time. John’s heart sank. He wasn’t ready to die, especially to atrocities with glowing orange eyes, and decayed faces. He feared the worst, and closed his eyes as the last of his ammo depleted.

Heat like no other. That’s what he felt next. Is this really what death is like? he thought to himself. Am I in… hell? John opened his eyes, to see the dead damned to hell themselves. Sergeant Sanders had done it. As the flames of the last Nazi died down, John knew that he had more respect for his friend.

But the dead were not over. The shouts got louder and louder. David had no choice. He unstrapped his flamethrower, and sprinted faster than he has before, in order to get his MG42. John had dropped his Browning in favor of his double barrel, despite its even worse reload speed.

Smokey ran off into the help room, and retrieved the Panzerschrek there. From behind the door, one of the Nazis jumped out. Frightened, Smokey panicked, and shot, which did more harm than good.

“Aw shit… I think I’m starting to feel that radiation. Better not get so close next time,” he groaned. He wobbled a little further in. From behind, a zombie had hit him, and another from the front. Smokey fell on his back. The Nazi’s began ripping at him, attempting to bite.

“OH HELL NO!” he shouted, and put the ray gun into ones mouth, imploding the brain. He turned and shot to the next one square in the chest, blasting himself as well. He had very little strength left.

“Hehe… that’s right. No one messes with…. with…” he stuttered, barely strong enough to form words. Exhausted, he passed out, with three close range Ray Gun blasts and two zombie hits, it wasn’t surprising.

As Sanders reached his MG, Dempsey had taken over as overhead watcher. He gestured Sanders and Chuck to go downstairs. They nodded, and strode down.

As they ran down, John was covering the stairs, but had not seen the undead at his flank. David raised his MG, shouting, “behind ya! Take cover!” John turned swiftly, and shot the zombie straight through the skull. David took care of the rest.

“We’ve got your back,” Sanders finished. John smiled. The screams and moans became louder, from all directions. Sanders was now very afraid. “Back to back!” he shouted. The dead burst in, from all sides. There were hundreds all around. Gathering up his courage, he pulled up his Magnum and shot every shot with as much strength as he had.

Scowling, the other two pulled up their weapons, and fought as hard as they could. All they could hope for was a quick death. Every reload was agonizing, terrifying. With courage, they held off many. Unfortunately, it was not enough. With the last of the ammo gone, John made a move to the help room.

He bolted in, trying to remember where Smokey put the panzerschrek. “Dammit, he said he was going to get it! Where is…” He noticed his friend lying on the ground, next to the corpses of the damned. “No…. No… My… my best friend. NO!” Seething with anger, he remembered in those seconds where Smokey had put the panzerschrek.

From behind the box, he picked up the rocket launcher. He heard music, hopeless music. With anger, he ran to the help room’s entrance. He couldn’t see the other two, and assumed the worst.

“You fuckers… YOU BRAIN DEAD BASTARDS ARE GOIN STRAIGHT TO HELL!” he yelled at the zombie horde. With one last look at his friend’s body, he turned, and brought the Panzerschrek up.

“Well then, my friend. This is for you, the end of us all. For you. For Sanders. For Chuck,” He paused for a moment, gathering his breath. “Let’s push the bastards back!”

The weapon fired, obliterating all that remained of the undead. John dropped the Rocket launcher, and dropped to his knees. He cried, more than he ever had in his entire life.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

So, I feel like my writing is getting a bit sloppy, but I digress. This is the epic chapter of this story. I estimate one or two more chapters for NDU, then I move to Takeo, then Verruckt.

Also, I'd seriously like a few more comments. I know they take forever to get in, but I really appreciate them.

Finally, I'd like to know if I should post more like the Nikolai story in future ones, revealing bits of backstory. I didn't do that this time, because I figured I should just focus on getting the chapter in.

Also, hope this color is a bit easier, undead. I figured it might also be the big chunks of paragraphs, so I spread them apart a little.

[MyLittleHellhound]

I feel that you have some great work here, and A TON OF POTENTIAL INTENSE STORIES!

I hope to see you writing more as well as maybe some other stories!

Authors in arms!