A Place of Madness (ZOTD's Verruckt)

[ZombieOfTheDead]

First off, if you have not yet, read my other story first.

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A Place of Madness

Prologue

They outnumber us

Unquenchable hunger, never ending

Only the insane would stand against them

Then again, maybe we’re just afraid

To die

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On route to Berlin

September, 1945

Marine recon unit

Mission: Rescue undercover agent

     As they drove along the road, they were quiet. Two were in the back of their truck, sleeping off the nightmares they had all faced the previous night. Sergeant David Sanders and Private John “Banana” had just had it. As soon as they left “the Bunker,” they passed out. The other two couldn’t blame them after everything they had faced.

     For one, he, as well as Smokey, had not slept all night, and he was getting a bit cranky. What was worse is that the marines lost their medic, who had chosen to stay behind, so that they could continue their mission while he distracted the monsters they had fought. Dempsey cared about his comrades, even if he didn’t show it. He’d rather get killed than watch them die, but in this case he had no choice.

     This reason alone was why Peter had to be rescued. He carried too much information to be lost. Dempsey sighed at recalling this information. He pulled over to the side of the street.

     “Thank god. Okay, we’ll rest for, say, six hours?” Smokey said, throwing his cigar out the window. Dempsey nodded. He took his helmet off, and rolled to the side, as did Smokey. The horrors, however, would never end.

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Prologue to my next story!

Mostly just review of what happened before, but I needed a place to start. New "full" chapter up tomorrow, I think. It's friday, after all.

Oh, and I FINALLY figured out how to indent. The format should start looking ALOT better now.

I guess you can't quite review or anything about this story yet... but if you want, leave a comment anyways!

[MyLittleHellhound]

Decent introduction you have here ZOTD. I look forward to these crazy ass zombies and gore you will put in Especially since your pretty good at RPing.!!! :D

[way2g00d]

Nice one ZOTD. Your stories are very interesting.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 1: The Asylum

     So many arms, he thought. How am I supposed to… run away? He knew the answer. There was no running away. As the first of the undeath reached him, and bit into him, he screamed.

     Next to him, John Banana stirred from the motion that Sanders had made when waking up. “What’s goin on? We there?” John sat up, and looked around at the area.

     “Guess they deserve the rest. Under normal circumstances I’d probably accuse them of being lazy bastards, but after going through all that…,” John paused and looked down. He closed his eyes, and a tear fell from them.

     Sanders nodded, and looked towards the sky. “What time would you reckon this is?” he asked John.

     “Fine… five more fuckin minutes,” Sanders said, groaning in pain as he stood up. “Thanks for being a jerk, Dempsey!” Dempsey just kept on snoring.

     They said nothing as they rode into the city. The Asylum was on the other side of the city, near where the Russians first invaded. It would take awhile to reach. At the entrance, they ditched their truck, figuring it would bring up too much attention. The only weapons they had were an empty Browning M1919, a BAR with only one clip remaining, an empty Trench Gun, and four colt 45 M1911s, which they had resupplied when they went back to their crashed plane.

     The forest behind the asylum was on fire. There had not been fighting in the city for months. What could have happened? They approached the area, and entered the courtyard. The area within was in worse shape. Part of the roof was burning, and the building had clear damage. But worse… there were mounds. Sanders heart sank. Graves, he thought. John dropped his browning, and pointed shakingly towards one of the windows. Boarded up. Just like the bunker. The marines looked around, and saw a pattern. Boarded up windows, sandbags, blood spots. Something had attacked this place. Each and every one of them knew.

     “Okay, marines. We need to do this quickly…,” Dempsey began, as the heard a scream into the distance. They looked outside.

     “Interesting… Quick Revive soda. Weird name for pop, right Smokey?” John said, inspecting it. Then it’s lights turned off, and turned around, looking to see a grime covered door that wasn’t there a moment ago.

     “Shit…,” Sander said, now aware of the situation. “The power’s out.”

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First chapter!

Never was quite sure how I would start this, until NOW.

Will they find Peter? Will they get to the power? Will they have epic party fun time with some good ole' fashioned cola?

Find out next time in A Place of Madness!

Feedback appreciated :D

[MyLittleHellhound]

WOAH. okay haha I LOVED YOUR "five mopre minutes" thing Really adds some humor and shows the characters

Keep on writing like this!

[ninezerowill]

Keep it up, keep it up!!! I'm loving the attention to detail on these pieces.

Especially the funny little Dempsey bits, keeps the story funny in a way, but still dark and creepy because of the Zombehs

How far into the story do you plan on going , just out of curiosity?

Ace work!!!

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 2: The Experiments

Two days previously…

Wittenau Sanatorium, Berlin

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     If I’m not able to report back soon, things could get rather messy here…, he thought, glancing over at the burial mound located closest to the morgue. God… things just go from bad, to total shit storm here. I wouldn’t be surprised if this place becomes as infested as our testing grounds…

     He went down a staircase, and through one of the experimental hallways, and through the morgue. He arrived at a room with a dentist’s chair. A patient was strapped in already. A live one. Another scientist would be performing the tests, while he would observe.

     The dentist tools turned on with a loud buzz, and as they touched the man’s flesh, a liquid more red than Japan’s Rising Sun squirted out, and the man shrieked louder than any other tortured soul in history. As Peter observed, he felt a little depressed. He no longer wanted to be here.

     Being transferred to the Asylum, he observed many of the most brutal things that could ever be done to a human being. He ran upstairs, hoping to find a secluded place in the bathroom. No dice, there were guards nearby. Comms with the outside was prohibited, and he wasn’t allowed out past the main gate.

     There was a staircase in the power room. He walked down it, almost tripping. His heart beat rapidly. Into the room he went. It was dark, secluded, and quiet. Best of all, no one was around, as far as he could see. He set up a small radio, and put headphones on.

     Schneider had heard it all. He’s got communications... with the outside? What could he be planning? He thought carefully for a moment. He knew something wasn’t right about Peter from the start, so he had kept a close watch on him. I have no choice, but to tell the guards. If he’s a spy, everything could be ruined! He ran upstairs as fast as can be.

     The whole area was now on alert, it seemed. Peter ran downstairs, and went to the torture room. Oh thank god… the body’s still here. There was a large pool of blood on the floor. His hand had been sawn off, still strapped in to where it was. Other than that, he was unbound. Perfect.

     “Ah ha, there you are, Peter,” said Doctor Schneider, with two guards at his side. “An agent of the OSS, might you be?” Of course it was Schneider, I completely forgot how he was watching me. What’d I do that put him so on edge like this?

     “Very good, Schneider, but you are forgetting,” Peter paused. The corpse’s eyes opened, eyes as orange and blank as the sun. More evil than any experiment in the Asylum.

     Schneider screamed, and ran back upstairs to get more guards. It was already too late. With one bite, the guard would be dead, and the other, standing in shock trying to figure out what would happen as his friend bit him.

     The chaos had died down. Peter had done it, send the damned out onto the Asylum. Hiding in a closet had actual been quite effect for avoiding them. Once he was sure the screams and gunshots had faded, he went outside.

     He ran to the room by Speed Cola, and the **** please report this topic, post ****. Around there, there were several corpses. Good…, he thought. With a butcher’s knife from the **** please report this topic, post ****, he chopped up some of the dead flesh, and used it. Painting the walls with blood, he sprawled out messages, sometimes repeatedly to get the point across. When he ran out of space, he turned toward the **** please report this topic, post ****, until he was sure that everything had been gotten across.

     He ran to the power room. One last thing to do. He put his hand on the switch. He heat shuffling behind him, and in the moment all he felt was pain, ripping at his arm. One of the monsters. He screamed out. In the backround, he could have sworn he heard voices other than that. Taking a Walther P38 from the monster’s pocket, he blew his brains out.

     On the stove, he heated his wound to stop the bleeding. Schneider… heh, even in undeath he is so sadistic, he thought. He couldn’t hear anything aside from his thoughts. He went to the Speed Cola room, and traveled out the window. A sigh of relief, and he walked away from the chaos that would resume.

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So, did it rock, or did it suck? I figured I'd give a flashback, so you won't find out if the marines had a party with that good ole' fashioned cola until next time.

@MLH, gotta have humor in a creepy story

@ninezerowill, I plan on going all the way. I swear to god, though, if I get some of this wrong I'm gonna be pissed when BO2 comes out. I'll leave some of it vague, but if I'm sure about something it's going in.

Side note: I say this often, but I think the writing came out bad near the end. I just kind of wanted to speed things up a bit.

[MyLittleHellhound]

Another story explanation! Wow. I didnt know anything about Verukt really, and now you've explained some of it through a story! Great job, you are actually one of the best!

[Zkreym]

Your stories are... F**KING EPIC! >_

[ninezerowill]

As always, ace work!

And don't be concerned about what May or May Not be in BO2... remember how 3ARC threw the story all over the place after Kino? (Like how in the flyin f**k did the gang get to Ascension and all) lol

Just keep writing, man. Use what you know, don't stress about it. Your work is brilliant.

:D

[anguscr]

You, sir, should become a creative writer.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 3: The Insane

     “Damn… I was thirsty,” he said in dismay. Sanders put his hand to his face. A time like this and he’s thinking about drinks. Yeah, that’s John Banana for you. Worked in a tex mex cabana, and can’t help but stay thirsty.

     “I take that as a yes. Put your weapons in an easy to find place, and…” Dempsey’s voice trailed off as they heard yet another scream, and then another sound, a strange one at that.

     It pulled itself out of the ground, ever steadily. The marines just watched. Dempsey shook off the petrifying feeling, and pulled out his M1911. Before it could fully spring out of the ground, the undead Nazi, almost human but for the eyes, had caught a bullet in his skull.

     Pulling up his Colt, Dempsey shot them as fast as they got up, but due to the inaccuracy missed much of the time. He decided to wait until one got closer. The anticipation killed him as he readied his knife. The zombie stumbled forward, toward the box like room Dempsey had been standing in.

     “Oh look, another customer,” he said, pulling the knife out of the corpse. “You’ve got a pretty face, zombie.” It’s head rose up as if in appreciation. It had a bandage over it’s head, as if it had had surgery. The pale complexion, yellow eyes, and slight signs of decay didn’t help make the undead Nazi any less creepy.

     Sanders brought up his pistol, trying to ignore the blood and severed hand by the dentist chair behind him. From behind the burning forest came another walker, arms waving by the sides of its body, creeping closer. He took aim, and fired his whole clip to its chest. About five shots hit, not enough to finish it. He reloaded, and fired three more, one which missed, another that hit its chest, and a final that hit his head. He sighed with relief.

     “Hell yeah!” he shouted, and then reloaded. He glanced to the right, and noticed a Nazi, who seemed almost as if to goosestep in a zombie like fashion. John panicked, and went over to the right side of the rectangle shaped room. He brought up his pistol again, and fired straight for its head before it could get to the window situated in the next room. A splatter of blood was left on the tan walls.

     At the sight of the blood, he reacted in an even more panicked fashion. He felt a tapping on his shoulder, and jumped, causing him to fire a shot off. He turned around to find John, who had backed away at the gunshot.

     “Oh fuck yes! The guns are here, too!” Smokey shouted to the others. He went up to the outline, and hit it. Below his feet was a M1903 Springfield, a bolt action rifle. He picked it up, returning his colt to its holster. He felt a slight drain in energy.

     “Hey guys, check out on your side, by the door. You see a chalk message that says the power will reunite you on your side?” Sanders asked, investigating the area.

     “We’re figuring that out, in the mean time find something to keep yourselves busy without causing something outside,” Sanders finished. Great, the hell am I supposed to do, thought John, as he slide down the wall using his back. Guess just in case I don’t make it out of this, I should write something.

[tab][/tab]He pulled out his pack, taking out a pen and paper. At first, he couldn’t think of what to say. Then he thought, I should make this more interesting… make this a poem. Short. I’ll keep writing them as we go along. He knew what to write, and tried to make it sound as great as he could.

Despite the scary, anxious feeling

Killing walking dead is appealing

My first kill felt great

Felt like my first date

Kicking their brains right up to the ceiling.

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Just a short chapter here. I'll try my best to make these as exciting as possible, but until later chapters I feel as though not much is going to happen. I'll see, though.

Another story explanation! Wow. I didnt know anything about Verukt really, and now you've explained some of it through a story! Great job, you are actually one of the best!

Thanks much! Yeah, it's kind of more of what I think happens. Others think that Dempsey was captured first (and that actually has more evidence), but that is hard to put into a story, especially if NDU is put in. Overall, I think this way makes more sense.

As always, ace work!

And don't be concerned about what May or May Not be in BO2... remember how 3ARC threw the story all over the place after Kino? (Like how in the flyin f**k did the gang get to Ascension and all) lol

Just keep writing, man. Use what you know, don't stress about it. Your work is brilliant.

Thanks, and I know. I'm just going to go with what I think happened, and not care what others think. Also, funny you mentioned how we have no clue how they got to ascension... heh, that's gonna be a lovely one to figure out. I still have no freakin clue.

@ the other 2, Thanks a ton! And, well, guess I already am a creative writer ;)

[TheDunbarian]

JUST finished your NDU one and read the chapters you have of this. Awesome work! I love Peter's backstory, the theme for Verruckt was always one of my favorites

[HeadHunter]

Dude, when you going to finish?

This is an excellent read!

[Dude1590]

I absolutley love this story,but wasn't it the 4 original characters on Vurruckt? And wasn't samantha,in control of the zombies at that time? So why did Shnieder(can't spell it) talk about bringing peter to maxis if Maxis was already teleported with samantha and fluffy? Please correct me if i'm wrong here,still love the story and it's great

[unlawfully inacurate]

Dude needs to play w@w not the blops dlc. Please add a new chapter or all but dempsey died or something to end it.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 4: A New Way Forward

     “There’s no guarantee he’ll be up ahead anymore,” said Tank to David, “odds are he’s either gone, taken by the Nazis or escaped , or he’s one of them.” Tank stood up, and took a look out the window to ponder. What should we do?

     In a snap, his eyes flew open, and he turned to Sanders, regarding him with his plan by stating,”We’ll have to push forward to the power room up there,” as he pointed to the flashing blue light, “Banana and Smokes will take point since they have weapons already. We’ll have them investigate for clues on… basically anything. How this started, where Peter could be, what tools we have to survive… anything. Meanwhile, we’ll build up points…”

     “What I mean is, we’ll make this into a game of sorts… won’t lose ourselves then. Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for now. Wake the idiots up,” Dempsey ordered. Sanders was no fool. He knew something was up, but didn’t press it anymore than necessary. He found some metal, and banged on it by the electrical door.

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     “Listen up, Ladies,” barked Sanders, “ Because of your sleepiness, you have just earned yourselves a ticket to scout ahead. Your orders are to search for anything to power, and if possible turn on the power switch.” John just sighed, and walked over to Smokey, who was cowering in a corner by the electrical door.

     “Shit really takes it out of ya,” he noted, as he entered the dark, dank room. As he moved forwards, he noticed a slight hole in the wall. He moved slowly toward it, noticing a shadow. He heard footsteps from behind as the shadow in the wall turned into a hand.

[tab][/tab]“Peter?” he asked quickly. The hand broke more of the wall, revealing a rotten arm. John stepped back in fear, and heard another bang as the arm flew off, a voice of pure evil crying in pain.

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I've finally done it... Only been like 2 years. Just got into the mood. Hope you like it. Has Origins references. If there are any inconsistencies as I get back into this, let me know. I reread through what I wrote (and tbh, I actually wrote decently, always thought the writing sucked), so there ya go. You all, who ever is still reading this, might want to reread both stories.

Jesus... I wrote this for a good hour and a half, and it looks like barely anything. Might not have much time, but I'll try and write some more.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 5: Strength, Zombies, and Toys

     “Well shit,” he said as he got back onto his feet. “First, it scares the shit out of me, then it disappears so I can’t make it pay.” He gave up on it, and moved towards the stairs. They were blocked off with a couch, seemingly easy to get around. There was also a door right beside the staircase, but John avoided it knowing that the power room was on the second floor anyways.

     “Gotta wonder where the chalk came from,” Smokey pondered as he attempted to move the couch.” John smiled.

     “How the hell does this work!?” he shouted angrily. Smokey took out another one of his cigarettes and lit it up. He puffed up in the air, contemplating what to do. He heard a rumbling outside, the sound of dirt flying in the air alongside the shrill moans of the undead. His eyes got wide, and he jumped down the stairs to meet them at the window, cigarette still hanging in mouth.

     He felt agony in his shoulder, though he was lucky enough to turn quickly enough to where the wound wasn’t great. Smokey’s cigarette hit the floor as he used the butt of the springfield to bash the zombie away. He brought the gun back up and blew the zombie’s head apart. He then remembered the hole in the wall as he reached for his shoulder. Could it really be that bad? It’s only a scratch. I hardly think I’ll turn into one of them, he thought when he realized John noticed.

     The undead had broken through in those moments of hesitation. Smokey clutched his shoulder, and ran with John to the stairway after grabbing the cigarette that fell. Dammit, it’s soggy from the water! John attempted to move the couch again, and was this time successful, though drained once again. They ran upstairs.

     That is, until they noticed the toy cymbal monkey. John turned his head to the side in confusion. He realized that it had a bomb on the back. Given that there was no way out, he decided there was only one option. He wound it up, and threw in into the hoard.

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Only one day after the first in a year and a half. I felt compelled to write more despite the fact that people don't often come into the zombie story section anymore it seems. Someone needs to comment this time, if you notice this story again. Tell me how I'm doing writing wise, and if you like the story yadayadayada. But seriously, comment. The best part is seeing what people think.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 6: Night Of Fate

     Meanwhile, John had just found inspiration to write a new poem via the Cymbal Monkey. “Gotta find some way to keep my head in gear,” he proclaimed to Smokey, who was slightly annoyed at having to defend the staircase by himself. Even if there was only a small few, it still made him nervous.

Smokey and I were trapped in a room

We accepted our impending doom

‘Till we noticed a monkey

Which seemed kind of funky

Until we threw it and it went boom

     “We’ve waited long enough for those two,” Dempsey announced. “Let’s move this damn couch for a better vantage point.” The two had a swarm of zombies like John and Smokey, but no real trouble. David had gotten a Gewehr 43 off of the chalk near one of the windows

     Anyways, Dempsey and Sanders had moved the couch without so much a sweat. They had killed so many zombies that it wasn’t even a hassle. They moved upstairs. The upstairs, standing to the left coming up the staircase, was a long hallway. Going further from the staircase and turning left led to the balcony. Either way, the hallway and balcony led to each other. Down the hallway, there was yet another soda machine. This one was called “Double Tap Root Beer.”

     “On the bright side, at least this means the zombies can’t get in through this way,” David noted. “Not like they would be able to jump this high anyways, but there is a window over there they could get through, too.”

     Tank and David looked across the asylum, and shouted to the other two marines. “Marines, get your asses out onto the balcony over there!” Not but a moment later, John Banana and Smokey appeared. Smokey was had begun to get pale. He looked ridiculous with his broken sunglasses, his cigarette still ever hanging. John looked like hell as well, but in a more “we just killed about a thousand zombies nonstop” kinda way.

     “It’s not as easy as it looks. We’ve been to hell and back already!” John answered in a gravely voice. The truth was that he was exhausted. He was just trying to keep it together. The only rest he had gotten after the huge horde of zombies was in writing the limerick.

     John almost collapsed in relief. He smiled, and beckoned for Smokey to follow. Smokey looked paler than before, but followed. Dempsey knew something was up with Smokey, but disregarded it after a moment or so. He told Sanders where to set up for sleep, and then looked over the balcony.

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     John spent his energy on the last door before their sleep. It was now very dark out, like it had been at the bunker. The night they had lost their friend… it seemed so far away, but in reality had happened last night. John sighed. He noticed another soda machine like the blue one he had seen earlier. This one was green. It was called Speed Cola. He just realized that they both had symbols about their machines. Perhaps they signify something about them, he thought to himself. The truth was that he didn’t care much. He set up his sleeping bag, and took off his gear. His dreams were calm that night, though they told not of what would be to come.

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     “No… not this… this… can’t be happening.” His head dropped down as he sobbed. He looked back up at his friend, or what remained of him. It turned out that the scratch was much more fatal than they both would have ever thought. John picked up the knife.

     “--the man you were is long gone,” John sniffled, bringing himself to grips with the situation. “I won’t let my memory of my best friend be bogged down by a spawn of Satan himself. As far as I’m concerned, you’re Satan, and you killed my best friend!” He lunged forward, and tackled Smokey’s zombie. With many hacks of his knife, he cut off the head. The body lay still, and John broke down into tears. There was just no helping it with your best friend.

     John cried, much more than any man should have to . The reality of the situation truly dawned unto him in that moment. He wrote his next poem in great haste, dedicated to his best friend.

I once knew a soldier named Smokey

He Slapped me on the head and awoke me

Turns out he was dead

I cut off his head

Yet but headless he still tried to choke me

     For smokey, this was his retaliation.

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Hey, howbout some thoughts now? I see the view count ever raising, but never get any comments! C'mon people! Stories used to be commented on all the time! Do it again!

So yeah, the stories moving along quite nicely. Maybe the events of the "Just the Beginning" trailer will come soon, eh?

But seriously, freakin comment. I miss MLH in times like these.

[unlawfully inacurate]

ITS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh and its looking good.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 7: Just the Beginning

 

Reaching the morgue was a surprisingly simple task. Fortunately for John, there were no stragglers, at least on his side of the asylum. He ran, barely bogged down by his friend’s sudden death. He tried to push past it. There would be time to mourn later, he thought to himself.

 

As he entered the dark, blood stained room they had known as a morgue, he had pondered if Dempsey had heard from the other side. No sooner had he heard a voice from the opposite side of the electric door.

 

“Hey! Banana!” Dempsey yelled out with his gruff voice, “What happened? I heard screaming over there. I saw you running on your side, and so came down to check.” John gave out a sigh. Turns out I might have to think about Smokey after all.

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Dempsey couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Smokey… Dead? It was unfathomable. First Chuck, who had died for them, and now Smokey. Their numbers were growing thin. He decided that they would have to take action immediately. Unfortunately, fate had decided to take a turn for the worse. Much worse.

 

“Here they come!” shouted Sanders from the balcony. “They’re everywhere!” John panicked. After telling the story, he had grabbed the browning, and loaded a bandolier that he managed to find.

 

“We need to get these doors open. Don’t LEAVE ME!” John yelled out to Dempsey. He ran to the little room facing the courtyard on his side, and took position as the dead began to rise. Dempsey had no choice. He thought up a quick plan, and gave John Banana a heads up.

 

“Hang in there. We’re working to get the power back on.”

 

“Hurry it up, okay?”

 

Dempsey ran up the first flight of stairs, to be greeted by a Nazi without an arm. He put the trench gun in it’s mouth and blasted away.

_______________________________________

Nearby, Sanders had already been overrun at the balcony. He opened up a door, one that he was sure lead to the power room. The defenses are too weak, he thought. The undead had all run up the stairs at once. At first, falling over one another, but as they reached the top it was all over. There were too many. He could only hope that Dempsey could get past the hoard.

 

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John couldn't handle it any more. Even his browning was running low. He was cornered, inching closer to everlasting darkness as the hoard loomed ever closer with each passing step. He fired for their heads, beating down the first row and making the next few trip. It was a good way to slow them. But for how long?

 

He decided on one thing: if he was going down, he was going down fighting. He came up with an idea for his final limerick, one for his memory

My name is John. They call me Banana.

I once worked at a Tex Mex cabana

but now I am here.

As walking dead near

with nothing on me but a bandana.

 

That may as well have been true. His ammo supply was zilch, and his Thompson he left in the morgue due to the weight he already had on him. He clutched the paper in his hand and closed his eyes.

 

“I’m ready to die,” he said.

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No one was a match for Tank Dempsey, least of all a bunch of shell shocked undead Nazis. He ripped through them with his boomstick until he arrived at the newly opened room. He slammed close the open door, barring it with the trench gun. He turned towards the new path. No way but forward, he thought.

 

A trail of blood and bodies trailed the hallway. Dempsey followed it, hoping at it’s end he would find at least some part of Sanders. He wasn’t disappointed, for at it’s end was an exhausted soldier who had obviously seen hell. His only weapon left was a knife.

 

Dempsey put his hand out to help his comrade up. Sanders accepted it, and got up with a heavy sigh. They both turned to the door that he had been leaning on. The power room. There was no mistaking that from the blue glow in the window. It was their only hope of survival. Dempsey let his hand out, and put in on the door. With the touch, the door flew open, and they entered.

 

Surveying the room, Dempsey spotted the switch. Sanders yelled “hit it,” and their world was made safe. Electricity blazed throughout, and they heard the sizzled screams of the damned as they were electrocuted to death. Everything was still.

________________________________

“It’s over,” Sanders sighed a breath of relief at the sight of the burning corpses. Dempsey remained stern. “No,” he spoke, with sadness protruding in his voice. “It ain’t over.”

 

“This is just the beginning.”

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So this was written in my attempt to finish this story finally. There should only be one or two chapters left to conclude this. As of right now, I do not plan on making another sequel. If I make another story, it most likely won't be related to the main zombie story. 

 

This is obviously related to the just the beginning trailer. Not 100% on what I'll do for the next chapter, but we'll see. As always, feedback is appreciated. 

 

BTW, can't figure out the indent on this new site yet, so.... yeah. 

 

[PINNAZ]

Just realised that you posted another chapter. I'm about to re-read your complete story now.

I don't come into the story forum all that often, but this was one of the stories I always remembered. I remember your signature always said "probably never finish this story" or something like that, now it says "updated".

Glad you are active again. And have some tasty BRAINS for your awesome, detailed story. I look forward to more chapters.

PS - you can still use the TAB code by typing it manually or if you're pasting from a word document, just tab on the start of the paragraph. This forum will transfer the exact alignment of a word document.

[ZombieOfTheDead]

Chapter 8: No Mourning for the Fallen

     It was then that they noticed the box. Not just any, but the box. The one that would keep them alive. They’d seen it before in the bunker, and would surely find use of it if Dempsey’s prediction was in fact correct. Dempsey shook his head. All this death and only now do we find the means to truly survive.

 

     Sanders opened the box and lost more of his energy that he had little of in the first place. He stumbled, but took out his prize. “A .357 Magnum. Not bad at all to me,” he said, chuckling hoarsely. He brought his thoughts to John Banana, whom he knew could not possibly be alive after that onslaught. The speed of them was more ridiculous than usual. Of course, his only comparison was the night before in the bunker. He knew that they got stronger as the waves of them went on, as they didn’t die quite as easily. However, these zombies were still fairly weak, and thus his new thought was that they were just able to adapt in some ways to their environment. Given the close-quarters, rushing could lead then to a swift victory.

 

     Dempsey had also used the box, given his weapon predicament. No ammo for one, and using the other to barr a door. Out popped a classic, the Soviet PPSH-41. Dempsey grinned with anticipation for the next onslaught. Coming to his senses, he beckoned Sanders. It was time to enact his survival plan.

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     The trench gun barred door had completely fallen over, and a trail of corpses ran down to the halfway point of the hallway. Somehow, from turning on the power, a surge of electricity had run through them all. Dempsey and Sanders had run past this, and flew down the open staircase with great speed. It was in the room down the stairs, the room they had started out in, that they found the activated the red “Juggernog” machine. Dempsey smiled, and touched the machine.

 

     He had used enough of his energy for two bottles, one for each of them. He tossed one to Sanders, and then chugged his own. Sanders was just about to ask what exactly Dempsey’s plan was, given that soda seemed like a waste of energy to spend, when the jingle played and spelt it out.

When you need some help to get by

Something to make you feel strong.

Reach for Juggernog to-night, Sugar seduction delight

When you need to feel big and strong

Reach for Juggernog tonight!

 

     “Ah, good to hear this chick’s voice again,” said Dempsey. Sanders wanted to inquire about this, however his thoughts quickly fell back on to the Juggernog drink. When I want to feel strong, eh? Pretty sure there’ll be more radiation than Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined. Something tells me this and the undead are connected.

 

     Sanders’s thoughts were interrupted by a shriek in the distance. Human, however he was unsure if these were similar to the disembodied screams they had all heard earlier. He looked at Dempsey, who gestured for him to start moving towards it. He drank Juggernog, and felt like he could lift a whale. The energy he had temporarily lost from exhaustion had all come back to him. They then walked forward, into the unknown. The electric door was now open, so it was time to find John.

 

     While they passed through, there was another machine, light blue and called “Quick Revive.” Bet you can’t guess what that soda could do. Nevertheless, it also spat out a cheery little jingle.

 

When everything's, been draggin' you down

grabs you by the hair and pulls you to the ground,

If you wanna get up, you need a little revive.

If you wanna get up... YOU NEED A LITTLE REVIIIIIIVE!...YEAH!

 

     Sanders had bought for the both of them this time. He tossed the bottle and drank. And then felt sick to his stomach.

 

     “This tastes like cat piss!” Dempsey complained, trying to spit out the awful taste.

 

     “So, you’ve drunk cat piss before? The adventures of Tank Dempsey never fail to amaze,” Sanders chuckled to himself, before throwing up slightly in his mouth. “Must say, I wholeheartedly agree with the analogy now.” Dempsey shot him a scowl that could kill ordinary men for the first comment.

 

     They pressed on towards the next room. Turning left, they heard the shrieks become louder. Sanders was worried. He noticed an empty M1919 Browning by the passage next to the stairs. One that only could have belonged to John Banana. He approached it, and found a slip of paper. He picked up the paper, and read it. Sanders frowned. The poem. The browning. The severe lack of bodies for the amount of blood around. The odds were not in John Banana’s favor. Sanders set the poem on the browning.

 

     Dempsey was, of course, a little unnerved as well, more about the lack of bodies, any at all. He knew John had at least a clip. Nevertheless they both pressed on, and so the shrieking increased in volume until they had reached it’s source. Except, there was no source. It was something darker. Another disembodied voice. Sanders was nervous, knowing that since they were the only ones in the asylum, there were no undead to be found, and that the source had to be in the spot they were in given it’s volume.

 

     Sanders tried analyzing the voice. It seemed so familiar to him. They were now in a room with another perk machine, a green one called “Speed Cola.” With no questions asked, they both drank the green drink. They felt speed, oddly more in their upper body. It was quite jittery at first. More like a drug than a Soda, Sanders thought. With that he began investigating the room.

 

     Blood was everywhere, the floor, walls, and ceiling. Most of it, particularly the walls and ceiling, were pure babbling nonsense. It could have been a message from Peter, but at that point they had really given up on finding him. What interested him more was the blood spillage. It was all in a puddle, and unlike most undead blood splats. It was more… fresh. It was then that Sanders noticed a cigarette, and some broken sunglasses. Next to that, two more poems involving Smokey and John’s adventure, including Smokey’s death. Obviously this was his final resting place.

 

     It hit him that the shrieking might be John or Smokey, or perhaps both. Restless spirits they may be. Tears streamed down his face. Sanders literally could not control it. He held his hand to his face. Tank had noticed. Though tough on people under normal circumstances, these were NOT normal. He pat Sanders on the back.

     And then, naturally the dead decided to rise again. Just can’t give a poor guy time to mourn his fallen brothers, can ya, freakbags? Dempsey grabbed Sanders, and took him to the nearby balcony. He set him by a window for extra fire and back protection. Out from an opening in the balcony fencing rose a zombie. Dempsey took aim at him, but hesitated after getting a closer view. It wasn’t just any undead freak. He wore a red bandana. Unlike the others, he walked with a brisk pace, normal almost. His expression was just as animalistic, complete with the yellow eyes of his brothers.

 

     As he drew near, with a demonic smile he brought out a knife. Dempsey was in shock. He felt as if he couldn’t pull the trigger. Only, he didn’t have to. Bang. A shot fired of to his right, landing straight into the zombies head. And so ended the suffering of John Banana. His hand opened, revealing his remaining poem. Dempsey turned around to a serious David Sanders, emotionally wrecked, but holding up his smoking magnum proudly. Dempsey smiled at him, being truly proud of his fellow soldier for the first time.

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This is either my second or third to last chapter. It's tough to look to see if I have any inconsistencies, so if you see any, try and ignore it. It's been awhile since I've done most of this story, and I really want to get it done to move on to something slightly more creative. Slightly. Oh, and thanks Pinnaz for the brains and the whole tab thing. It's a little better now.

 

I'd really appreciate it if more people commented and gave feedback (and gave me brains too, lol) given that these posts no longer have to be approved. That was probably the issue for awhile. Anyways, enjoy. If you don't, then give me feedback like I said. Ta ta 

 

 

[Lenne]

I did read chapter 8 and I must say that I have to read the other chapters as well now. 

Nice work.