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Group: Member
Posts: 7
Member No.: 254
Joined: 8-September 09
January-April,2009 A deadly strain of the Ebola virus breaks out. The world's leaders are locked in a room trying to figure out what caused it. They conclude that it was spread through the airports from person to person. Many died, until a vaccine was developed. The scientists worked around the clock for two months to get the vaccine out on the streets. They had no time to test it. Releasing it to the public was the only way to attempt to stop all of the population from dying out.
June 2009 The vaccine was thought to have worked. Ebola stopped, but many of the people were dying anyway. The UN refused to accept it had made a mistake, leaving everyone to fend for themselves in the epidemic. The people who died after getting the vaccine turned into more monster than dead. They came back and roamed the streets, killing even those who were not infected and not vaccinated.
November, 2011 More than a year later, and there were a few survivors. They build a shelter in the middle of Seattle. It's well fortified, but they don't have room to store all of the supplies needed for everyday living. They are forced to go out and collect the supplies. The "zombies" (for lack of a better term) are still out there, always searching. They can smell the survivors, and they are fast. Much faster than most humans. They travel in packs. The survivors have been studying their movements and have classified them as opportunity hunters. So, here we are. 2 years after the fact. Can you survive in this world that has been desecrated by the living dead?
Neit took a long drag from her last cigarette. There were more packs, but she wasn't going to have another today. Her lungs already felt like two lumps of coal oddly situated in her chest. She was of average build, and height. Nothing really stood out on her face, except the beauty marks around her left eye. They had been there since birth, but her mother insisted that they were not birthmarks. Her ratted bleach blonde hair was cut into an A-line that stopped at her chin in the front.
"Of all the places to end up," Neit mumbled to herself. The base was in Seattle. The rain constantly made her anxious and irritable. She was a long way from home and far from her family. There was no going back now though. She thumbed the tattoo on her left arm. It was a large circle around where she got the injection for the vaccine that turned everyone into shambling creatures without souls. She was immune to the vaccine, but still carried it in her blood.
Sitting outside of the shelter which was an old residential in the middle of Washington. The building itself looked like something from a science fiction movie. It was encased in mis-matched pieces of wood, metal and anything else the survivors could muscle out from the old airport. Neit looked at the barbed wire fence, which was just a large clump of barbed wire that was piled 5 feet high. Mostly zombies, if you wanted to call them that zed word, could jump over, but there was a much taller chain link fence behind it.
Overall the survivors had a pretty nice setup, even if they were all alone. Neit looked at her watch. There was 2minutes left of her shift. She stood from her watch position. Flicking the cigarette that was in her hand onto the wet grass, she went back inside. "Oi, Next" She called throughout the building that housed 8 people. It was big enough to house a few more even with the conditions the way they were.
Nobody knew if this zombie epidemic would wear off... or get worse. The people who were vaccinated could still die and come back as one of those monsters... or that's what Neit thought anyway. She wondered constantly if she was truly immune or not...
Ooc characters I am playing... since I am a weirdo... for reference I like to write down which characters I am playing so I remember... >> those pictures are clickable... >> think it brings you to the larger full size image... << Neit (after epidemic)
Group: Member
Posts: 82
Member No.: 260
Joined: 10-September 09
"About fuckin' time," he retorted, "I was about to call a friggin' search party for you."
He had been waiting for the past hour to go out. His last cigarette had been about that long ago. Funny, he didn't remember smoking that much before the Ebola epidemic. Did he even smoke before then? He couldn't remember. There wasn't much he knew of the little details back then. He remembered his family... his friends... neighbors... Those were hard to forget... He remembered losing them all... He remembered burying them all... He also remembered where he came from, how he got here, his name... He couldn't remember details, though. He forgot what hometown he lived in. He forgot what classes he had been going to when it all started. He forgot what he used to enjoy, what he used to laugh about. As for what kind of person he was way back then, he couldn't tell you. And it bothered him. So he hid it. He supposed that might be an insight as to how used to be, but he didn't think on it too much.
He pulled out his lighter. He had found it in one of the rooms a few months ago. It was silver with a rebel flag print on it. In a vague worry he might forget eventually where he came from, he kept it. His old one had run out of lighter fluid anyway. He struck it a few times, sighing impatiently the first two tries. He felt relief already running through his system when the beautiful, orange flame flickered to life. He put the cigarette in his mouth, tasting the end with the tip of his tongue. Once it was lit, he took a long drag. He closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag. Dropping his head back, he let it out.
"So much better..." he murmured to himself, eyes still closed.
Too hot for a jacket, I guess... he thought, opening his dark eyes lazily. He watched the cloudless October sky for a few minutes. Gold touched everything now, it seemed. He guessed it was one of those ironic things. He never really paid attention in English like he should have. If he had, he probably could have already written three novels on this whole experience and made a fortune. If there were people to even buy it, that is. Sitting down in the wet grass, he shrugged off his black jacket and lay it across his knees. He rested his head in his left hand, the elbow of which propped up on his left knee, which protruded from the gaping whole in his dark, faded jeans. His tangled his fingers in his black hair and sighed, dangling his hand straight out, wrist on his other exposed knee, idly twitching the cigarette.
Too cold for a white muscle shirt, too. Go figure. He didn't feel like getting up to change and he wasn't going to play the "hot/cold" game with his jacket. He could tough it out until he finished his cigarette.
"Like this even happens to me..." he murmured to himself again.
His voice was the only real way you could tell he was southern. He had the slightest of drawls and every now and again would say odd cliches only native to Louisiana, such as "Crawfishing out of shit" and "boudayin'." He even celebrated Mardi Gras once a year by skipping down the halls and throwing make-shift beads of nuts and bolts he had found on string. He was just a clown like that. He wondered briefly if he had been that way in classes back in high school. Whether Ebola would have come to pass or not, he would have already graduated. Or would he have? Would he have dropped out? At any rate, he would have been out of school. He was nineteen now.
Brett took one long, last drag on the end of his cigarette and then flicked it. He held it a bit longer and then let it all out.
"Damn life's a bitch..." he groaned, standing up. "Wish it was a slut so it could be easy... HEY, NEXT!"
"Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous."
Group: Member
Posts: 7
Member No.: 254
Joined: 8-September 09
"Yeah, yeah. I hope you get eaten," Neit said with a small smirk. She didn't really. She couldn't let anyone die here. It was her job to protect... to serve. She had been a military girl before this whole thing started. Though it was strange that she could be in the American military.
Neit was born in Moscow, Russia. She ended up moving with her family to the United States and got citizenship. The military welcomed her with open arms when she turned 18. Her father convinced her that is what she should do with her life. That was how to help people. That is how she got to this shelter... and how she learned how to take care of herself and others.
For the Military, she was just a Captain. Nothing too special. Neit did a lot of translating work for them. She translated transmissions from Russia and the middle east. She knew many languages.
It was a handy skill when working with a group of survivors... some of whom didn't speak English... Most of those ones were dead now, though. Poor Pierre.
Neit looked at her clock and sighed. It was dinner time. Why was it always dinner time whenever she decided to sit in the kitchen? Neit rubbed her face vigorously and went to their pantry.
Non-descript cans! Again....
Neit pulled a few cans of... stuff off the shelf and brought them to the kitchen. She turned on the stove. The only reason it worked was because of the generator they had. It gave them a little bit of power...
Though, they were running out of supplies. The store was not far away, but it was a treacherous journey to be made by a handful of untrained survivors... Though... they had done it a hundred times.
Soon the food was finished. Neit brought bowls to everyone, but didn't say anything to them. She was a very quiet individual. Once Brett was back inside from his watch, Neit gave him a bowl, too. "Eat up. We're going to have to go for supplies soon..." She said with a small sigh. She was going to need all the help she could get.
Group: Member
Posts: 82
Member No.: 260
Joined: 10-September 09
"Dog food," he muttered aloud. "Yum."
He sat down beside her all the same and lifted his fork.
"While we're there, can we actually pick up something--I dunno--edible?" he said, grimacing at the foul-tasting food. One other thing he remembered from hhis home back in Cajun Country was that no matter what you ate, it was kicking with flavor and spice. He didn't know about the rest of the world, but everything here tasted bland and flavorless in comparison. And yet despite his complaints and blatant expressions of disgust, he still wolfed it down in record timing. He was a guy, after all.
"Hey, I know I'm ugly, but you don't have to go there."
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
"Quit being such a brat, then. It'll be okay."
"No it won't! What the hell are you talking about?? Do you even know you're fuckin' dying??"
"Holy shit!! I'm dying?! That's why they're hooking these IVs with blood bags every two hours?? I thought they were making me a guinea pig for the first ever vampirism experiment!!"
"You're such a bitch."
"Haha. Those were the first words you ever said to me."
"And it's still true."
"Good, keep that attitude when I die. The gun's on the armchair over there."
"I'm not going to shoot you."
"Yeah you will. You know you've been dying to since that first day of college."
"No... I can't...."
"Sure you can! You just go 'Click, click, BOOM!'"
"That's not funny."
"I'm laughing."
"No, you silly ass, you're choking yourself. Here's some water, drink up.... Kiki....? Kiki!!!"
Two years later.....
"Too bad you're not here, Kiki. You'd have loved this..."
A slender figure leapt across the rooftop of a general store to land on the neighboring shop. Her long, golden hair whipped out in front of her and fell over her shoulders as she landed in a crouch. Her brown hiking boots made crunching noises against the gravel. The rocks felt odd against her palms as they were gloved in thick, black, fingerless hand gloves made of leather. She rose and felt the wind that blew only in places of higher altitude. It felt great against her bare, pale arms and legs. She took a deep breath, taking in the rich Autumn air. She approached the edge of the roof, overlooking an alley between thhe shop and the general store.
"Let's do this..." she murmured to herself again.
She dropped down and let herself hang from the drainpipe next to her. Feeling like Laura Croft, she clambered quietly and swiftly down. She landed with a faint clump of her boots. Looking around in the dumpster and both ways at the edge of the alley, she slunk out into the open and quickly opened the store. She smiled when there was no bell sound. She had gotten rid of it yesterday. She remembered how it killed her heart every time she opened it. It took her two years to work up the nerve, but she finally trashed the Tok. She placed a hand on one of her revolvers as she crept deeper into the dark store. She hated this part. The shadows were what scared her most now. A thousand horrific scenarios exploded in her head.
Shut up, Jean-Marie! You've done this plenty of times before. Why should this time be any different?
She kept the scary stories far from her mind by amusing herself with thoughts of Kiki. Her late best friend would have totally loved this. The thrill would have been the high time of her life for her. Knowing her, she'd probably dodge around like a spy and hum the "Mission Impossible" theme song. She snickered softly to herself, the sound making her jump pathetically.
"You're so pathetic..." she whispered to herself. "Just get back to work..."
--------------------
"Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous."
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