The Walking Dead Interactive Fan Fiction: Road of Bones
Yes, I know there are tons of fan fictions on here, but I just can't resist throwing in my own two cents. I will update and edit add characters to the story as they are submitted. I have also decided that I'd add a twist that surprisingly I haven't seen anywhere else here; at different points in the story I will be giving a single character an opportunity to make a determinate decision rather that the whole group, but there will be plenty for the group as well. So think carefully about the information you give me for your characters, if you are chosen for a determinate decision, your choices will be based on the things you've given me about your character. I hope you guys enjoy.
Please post your character submissions to the link below:
Character submissions open
The story will begin with the introduction of an original main character named Randy, he's a good man,but guilt ridden and mourning. At the moment I think I know which way he will go but that will depend on you the readers.
Characters introduced so far: Randy, Sonya, Bianca, Samuel, Chris, Morgan
Characters waiting to be introduced: Scarlette, Deago, Marty, Clayton, Evie, Matthew, Patricia, Stephanie, George, Boniek, Mi-Cha, Jean, Jim
Comments
Chapter One: Tears & Ashes
I am dreaming about you, on some level I know this but don’t care; for now, all I want to do is stay right here, in this moment. It was that weekend we spent canoeing on the Ouiska Chitto River with the kids. It was such a beautiful day, peaceful. I was in the back of the canoe, halfheartedly paddling, content to let us drift in the slow current, while watching you enjoy the sun. God, you were so beautiful that day. I sat there and watched you, you leaned back, stretching your body, eyes closed, face lifted into the sun, and you took my breath away.
Behind us, there was a shriek, then a splash, followed by the hysterical laughter of an 8 year old boy and the indignant protests of a 14 year old girl. Another voice shouts “Dad’, I turn and take in the scene behind us. There’s Ben, holding on to the underside of a canoe, howling with laughter, his sister Chloe is a few feet away, treading water, soaked from head to toe, and furious as only a 14 year old sister can be at an 8 year old brother. I can tell in an instant, by the gleam in Ben’s eye, and the scowl on Chloe’s face that their current “circumstances” are not by accident.
“That’s it you little brat, Chloe shouts! I am going to kill you; I’m going to hold you under the water until the bubbles stop!”
With this, Ben stops laughing, assumes a face of perfect, wounded, innocence and looks at his sister.
“But Chloe, it was an accident I swear, he says, his blue eyes still shining with laughter. I love you, and if you drown me where are you going to find another brother as wonderful as me, he asks, mock sincerity heavy in his voice?”
Chloe looks at him, and I can see he is working his magic on her. He is smooth, 8 years old and he can charm the socks off all of them. He is the youngest of six in our blended family, and he has all four of his sisters completely wrapped around his finger. I smile thinking on it, it is such a love hate relationship; they love to hate him and hate to love him. He works it for all it’s worth.
“Besides, Ben chuckles; Dad needs help keeping all you hens in check; and we all know that Jacob isn’t any help there”
“Hey!” I hear my stepson moan, he’s our oldest. I look at Jacob, he’s smiling while at the same time trying to feign indignation at his little step brother.
“The next time they want to dress you up like a little girl; I’m going to help them, in fact I am the one that is going to stuff you in the dress, he teases!
“I ain’t scared of any of you, Ben says,” But I can see that he takes this threat seriously, there is now just a hint of concern in his eyes at his brother’s remark. I am laughing now, at this back and forth. Again, another voice shouts “Dad” joined in unison by another that shouts my name in drawn out dramatic fashion, “Raaaannnnnddddy.” I turn a little further to the right, to the metallic “click” of a camera. There’s Paige and Ashley, my oldest and your youngest, both 16 and thick as thieves.
“Say cheese” says Ashley behind the camera.
It is about this time that I notice two things. Number one, Paige has a look of pure bedevilment on her face. Number two; there is a bright pink balloon, undoubtedly filled with water, sailing my way in a perfect arc. The throw is dead on; Paige has always had one hell of an arm and one hell of an aim. The balloon hits me square in the chest, “SPLOOSH” and I am drenched. Now they are all laughing. “Randy” I hear Tabitha, your middle, shout from the canoe with Jacob. I turn, and another, bright, pink, water filled projectile lands squarely in my lap, “SPLOOSH!” They are all howling now; with laughter and delight at their prank.
“KIDS, I shout! Can’t we just leave them out here? They’d fit right in with all the rest of the animals, I say; turning and expecting to find you just as soaked as me.
To my surprise, you are still sitting there in that same pose; untouched by a single drop of water. Hands behind your back, placed flat to the seat of the canoe, legs stretched out to the front, eyes closed, face lifted to the sun, and the most beautiful and peaceful smile on your lips. Again, you take my breath away. I am not sure if the smile was for the warmth and beauty of the day, or for the sounds of those you loved all around you and laughing.
“I love you, I whisper.” As the realization hits me once again that this is a dream.
“I don’t want to leave this moment. I don’t want to go back. Please, can’t I stay here with all of you?”
It is now that you chose to acknowledge me. You don’t say a word. You simply turn and look at me. You look at me with that face, and that soft smile you use when I have asked for something or said something stupid. That face and smile that says,” Oh my poor, poor, pitiful man. What would you ever do without me, what am I ever going to do with you?” Still you say nothing, a look of tenderness and love on your face, but silent.
“Please, I beg, in an almost inaudible whisper!”
Still, you just sit there, looking at me, silent. Your silence is my answer. The look on your face says it all. I can’t stay; not that you don’t want me to; I can see that; just that I can’t stay, not now. Once again I am struck by the realization that this is just a dream and this realization is clawing out me now, trying to drag me away from you. I try to force myself to stay in this moment, with you and the kids; but it’s becoming harder. The glare of the sun is becoming harsher, the heat on my shoulders that was at first warm and pleasant now becoming oppressive. Now there is a sound, a noise I can’t place that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. Why can’t I stay? I struggle to hold on to this dream for just a little longer.
[try to hold on to this dream and this moment just a little longer]
[open my eyes, that noise is worrisome]
I open my eyes, that noise is worrisome.
TheUnkGuy
thank you for taking a moment to read my story, you time and participation is greatly appreciated! if you're interested in doing so please submit a character to the following link. if not, please continue to participate as you see fit.
http://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/83619/the-walking-dead-road-of-bones-character-submissions
[open my eyes, that noise is worrisome]
So far so good! Excited to see the next chapter! I submitted myself.
[open my eyes, that noise is worrisome]
[open my eyes, that noise is worrisome]
You have to accept reality to survive in the such a world and be alert at all times living in this dream will get you killed
[open my eyes, that noise is worrisome]
That seems to be quite good. I'm gonna submit a character as soon as I have a good idea
Chapter One Part Two: Tears and Ashes
Sonya
Sonya looked at her list, the plan that she’d hastily scrawled in her notebook. It wasn’t much; but it was a start, a beginning.
“That’s something, right, she silently asks herself?”
Better than being curled up in a corner somewhere just waiting to die. These days, dying was something out of your worst nightmares. She shutters a little as images rush through her mind’s eye, scenes that no 12 year old girl should ever, ever have to think about, much less have burned into her memory. She looks again at her list trying to determine if she needs to change the priorities.
She pauses here, choking back a sob. Why had she just automatically put a question mark behind finding Mom and Dad? Did she honestly believe they were gone? They were doctors, they were smart people; smart people survived this; didn’t they? Could they be dead, or worse?
“SOB”
“Stop this, she chides herself! Stop acting like a child! I have to think! I have to have a plan! I don’t have time for this, not now, maybe not ever! “
“SOB”
“Again with this, she thinks? I don’t have time for this, I have to do something or I’m dead, or worse! Think. Think. THINK!”
They’re dead! They’re gone! If they were alive they’d be here and I’d be safe; but they’re not and I am far from safe, so I have got to have a plan! Why hadn’t they come and taken her out of school that day? Why hadn’t they taken her home? Why was she out here, all by herself, alone and afraid? Why hadn’t they come? Why hadn’t they been there when those things broke into the school? Why hadn’t they been there when she was running for her life as those things tore people apart all around her. Why hadn’t they been there as she hid in a janitor’s closet until the screaming stopped? Why hadn’t they been there as she sat in that closet for hour, upon hour, upon hour wondering if it was safe to open the door? Why hadn’t they been there?
Because they were gone. That was the only reason that she was out here, a 12 year old girl, all by herself. Because they were gone and she had no one left.
[1. Find a safe place to shelter, to hide.]
[2. Find a weapon.]
[3. Find food and water]
[4. Find Mom & Dad?]
[5. Find help, people, anyone that can keep me safe.]
[6. Be smart, be cautious, and don't take any unnecessary risks.]
[7. Try not to be afraid!]
voting closed on Randy he will: open his eyes, that noise is worrisome
[6. Be smart, be cautious, and don't take any unnecessary risks.]
[6. Be smart, be cautious, and don't take any unnecessary risks.]
Chapter One Part Three: Tears and Ashes
Bianca
She’d been walking these back water, rural roads for days; seemed the safest bet under the circumstances. No people, no cops, no corpses, no questions or circumstances to which she didn’t have answers. Even still, it was hard to feel safe; she doubted seriously that she’d ever feel safe again.
She thought about Noah, her brother, he was no help; they’d not spoken in years. Last she’d heard, he was somewhere abroad, studying or teaching she couldn’t remember which. They’d never really gotten along as children or adults; but he was still her brother and she just never really believed that he’d just cut her off so completely. So yeah, Noah was going to be help at all. With no other family or friends to speak of, she was on her own; out here, on her own in a world that had gone to hell and was never going to be same.
She adjusted the straps on the back pack slung across her shoulders; that was getting lighter. She’d be going hungry and thirsty before long if she didn’t remedy that problem pretty quickly. Only problem with that, these back water roads that meant no people, no cops, and no corpses; also meant not a whole hell of a lot of anything else. She scavenged what she could, where she could, when she could, when it seemed safe. The truth was, there just wasn’t much. When folks had left their homes, they’d taken everything with them. Her few encounters with others had been much worse. She’d either been met with indifference or outright hostility. People were afraid and angry, hell she was afraid and more than a little pissed off; fear and anger were a bad mix. Fear and anger made people do crazy shit, unthinkable, unimaginable crazy shit, she should know.
‘Whoa there, she thought. Here’s a line of thought I don’t want to go down. Girl, let’s just keep the past in the past. Today is a new day, I’m alive, I’m free, and for now that’s enough.”
She adjusts the straps on her pack again, once again noticing the diminishing weight of her load, she was definitely running low on supplies. That’d be about right, when she thought about it. She’d survived so much only to die of starvation or thirst, or the fucking bugs! She swats a mosquito, the size of small bird, on her arm, leaving a small smear of blood.
“There’s enough out here that wants to eat me without this shit too, she says with her head lifted skyward.”
“A little sympathy from the gods would go a long way right now, don’t you think, she complains to the open sky? Really, what’s a girl got to do? ”
She didn’t expect answers and she wasn't disappointed, her only response was the incessant whine of another mosquito as it buzzed around her face looking for some exposed point of flesh on which to land and feast.
Up ahead she could see a small, green painted, metallic sign; the sign read: CLEARWATER 2 MILES. Maybe, just maybe, her fortunes were looking up. A town would mean houses, supplies; it’d also mean people, cops, and corpses possibly, but that was a chance she’d have to take. Honestly, she’d been walking all day, she was tired, she was hungry, she was thirsty, and she smelled like a pig; one more luxury that the great state of Louisiana had to offer other than it’s mutated insect population, it was about a thousand degrees in the shade. Yeah, stopping and finding a place to rest and regroup seemed like a plan.
She walked another fifteen or twenty minutes and noticed up ahead a mailbox to the right side of the road. It would appear that she’d once again reached the outskirts of civilization. Head up, eyes alert and scanning her surroundings, she kept walking, eating up the last remaining feet.
The mailbox was at the end of a small gravel driveway about 300 yards in length. At the end of the drive there was a moderate sized, brick house; the front door appeared to be pushed in. Behind the house, was a larger, red barn, its doors were closed. She stood there for about fifteen minutes, looking for signs of life, or worse, trying to size up the situation. That front door was worrisome, it stood there, hang askance in its frame, a gaping, black hole on the red brick façade of the house. Whatever had pushed the door in had done so with force or with the weight of numbers; either way it could spell trouble. The barn on the other hand looked promising; it was the big kind, likely to have a loft, some place she could secure herself for the night and maybe get a little rest. And maybe, just maybe, the house would have some supplies, some things she could use, enough to get her through a few more days until the next opportunity presented itself. She focused again on that open door, that gaping spot of blackness at the front of the home. She’d be exposed walking down the drive, out in the open with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide; but could she risk passing this potential opportunity by? She’d been standing here for fifteen minutes; it appeared that the place was deserted, there were no signs of life or otherwise, no movement; just silence and that open, black hole at the front of the house. Should she call out? That could be dangerous!
She walked about a third of the way down the drive, body rigid with anxiety. She stopped, listened, looked around for any signs of movement, for anything that seemed amiss. Nothing, just silence.
“Fuck, I feel like a sitting duck! I hate this shit, she whispered quietly to herself! Got to take the chance girl, got to rest, got to find supplies, got to find a BIG FUCKING GUN, she thinks”
She walks off another third of the drive, now less than a hundred yards from the house, with still no signs of life, movement or danger. She can now just make out the back end of what looks like a black minivan, a high end mom mobile sitting in a two car carport to the side of the house, there appear to be decals on the back glass, the kind you see on all these types of vehicles; “My kid is such and such at such and such school.” Other than the front door, the house seems to have been lived in, well maintained; cared for. She can see the remains of broken flower pots and trampled flower beds in the front yard, a football just lying on the ground at the foot of a huge oak, and a child’s bike the BMX type that a younger boy would ride, lying discarded on the front lawn. Still no signs of life, just silence. This was obviously the home a family, question was, where were they? What had happened to them? She cautiously, quietly walked off the remainder of the drive to the side of the house near the garage, avoiding that open front door; and stood staring at the open carport, the barn was about fifty feet to her left.
“Jacob # 52 Clearwater Cougars”
“Ben # 12 Clearwater Youth Baseball”
“Chloe Clearwater Junior High Honor Roll”
“Ashley and Paige were here” drawn out in white shoe polish on the back glass with little hearts and stars for added flourish.
“Tabitha Clearwater Cheer”
“SUZY Q1” a personalized vanity plate on the back of the van.
Yeah this had been the home of a family, a big one. This had been the vehicle of a Mother, lauding the accomplishments of her children for all the world to see on the back glass of a minivan. Where were they now she thought? What had happened to them?
Toward the front of the minivan, were wooden stairs, leading up to a deck and patio that stretched around the back of the house. The deck appeared handmade, it had that look of something that had been added on after the fact. It had the look of a man’s touch, a man that knew his way around hammers, nails, and tools; a Father. Across a small space of deck she could see sliding, glass doors, leading into the house. She could just make out in the shadowy interior of the house what appeared to be a large table with a number of things on it. She can see nothing else within the house.
She looks again to her left, the barn. It seems safe, secure, but unlikely to have anything it in the way of food and water. The barn seems the surest bet for tools and such though, maybe a weapon of some kind.
“What the fuck do I do now, she whispers under her breath? Which one first?”
Search the house first
Search the barn first
Search the barn first
Also anymore peoples coming out today?
Search the house first
Search the barn first
Search the barn first
Yiss, Bianca! :-D
Search the house first
not sure just yet, this is tougher than I thought, challenging but in a good way. I have some things to clear up with Bianca and the main Randy as well...I'm sure you guys noticed the names on the minivan, and poor, poor Sonya she's out there all on her own. You guys have all given me some great characters to work with so I want to take my time and introduce all of you guys the right way. Please bear with me, I will make you this promise, I will try my hardest to make it entertaining and worth the wait.
voting closed Bianca will: search the barn first
Chapter One Part Four: Tears and Ashes
Randy & Bianca
I woke in our bed, head pounding, drenched in sweat. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was or how I got there; as clarity came I didn’t want to remember. I laid there for a moment more, you face still fresh in my mind, trying to safe every detail, trying to etch you image from that day in my mind.
“God, I don’t know if I can do this, I whisper. I miss you so much.”
I rise up, sitting on the edge of the bed now, looking around our room. There are pictures scattered everywhere, on the bed, on the floor. Our memories, like shards of broken glass. Everywhere my eyes land, there is an image of you. So many moments; they are lost forever.
I feel sick, panicked!
I can’t breathe!
My heart is racing, pounding in my chest!
There is a roaring in my ears!
My vision begins to blur; now I am clawing at consciousness. The room is spinning; I am choking back bile. I struggle to stand, hand stretched to the bed post for support. I lose my grip and fall to the floor on hands and knees. Slowly, I begin to catch my breath, slowly the world begins to settle and right itself.
I hear a sound, a scratching; and suddenly I am fighting the panic again, dread filling me as images fill my mind. The shotgun is lying on the floor, at the head of the bed, where I left it. I reach for it with shaking hands; desperately now trying to regain calm, composure. I reach it, my hand closing around the stock; the feel, the weight, of wood and steel is reassuring, comforting. I stand, and begin to look around the room for the source of the noise; my eyes go to the window, where a branch from the tree outside our window brushes the screen in the breeze. Scratching, scratching, like fingers. I notice movement, out of the corner of my eye; to the left, in front of the barn. There is a woman standing there, for the briefest of moments, I think it is you. The urge to call your name, to scream it at the top of my lungs is almost overwhelming. It’s not you, and that realization hits me in the gut like a brick. I grab the shotgun and move silently through the house.
Bianca
Bianca looks a moment between the house and the barn, her mind turning furiously over which to search first.
“ The barn, definitely the barn, she whispers to herself, remembering the pushed in front door, the trampled flower beds and broken and smashed flower pots.
She walks quickly to the barn her decision made, reaches for the handle, and opens the door. Backed into the barn is a blue Ford truck; a big step side, kink cab with knobby tires, a push grille, and 4X4 picked out in silver letters along the side. It is they type of truck she sees a lot of farmers and oilfield workers driving, it was a working man’s truck; built for work and punishment. To the side of the truck, on the driver’s side near the front there was something else, something covered by a tarp. She reaches out and grasps a corner of the tarp, it pulls away easily.
“Well now, aren’t you a thing of beauty, she whistles, low, through her teeth.”
Underneath the tarp was a monster, a flat black, beast of chrome and steel. The words “Harley Davidson” gleam in chrome on the side of the gas tank. This was a machine of power and speed, she could just imagine the rumble of the motor; it would growl and roar. It was beautiful! She just stood there a moment, taking it in; it was hard to tear her eyes away. It seemed funny really, to be so marveled at something so simple really; but this bike had been cared for, this was a prized machine and it showed.
Randy
I move quickly, silently through the house, even in the dark. This was our home for 11 years, I know every nook, every cranny like the back of my hand. I move out the front door and quietly around the house so that I can come up behind the woman. She’s standing in the doorway of the barn, her hands on her hips. I hear her let out a low whistle and mumble something to herself. I am close, but not close enough to hear her words, a gleam of chrome tells me what has got her attention. For a second, I think about killing her where she stands. At this range, I won’t miss. I have no idea who she is, and if there’s one thing the last couple of weeks have taught me, it’s not just the monsters you have to worry about. The woman looks young, maybe late 20’s, she has long, black hair and is wearing jeans, boots, a white tee-shirt, and a light leather jacket. She’s pretty; but something about her seems hard. My finger tightens on the trigger as I bring the shotgun to my shoulder. Killing her would be easy, just a little more pressure on the trigger, she doesn’t even know I am here. In my mind, I hear your voice, you say one word.
“Wait.”
Randy & Bianca
She never hears the man’s approach. She is standing there, in the doorway of the barn, thinking about how to search it, what to search for, when he speaks. His voice, the metallic sound of a round being worked into a firing chamber, and the words he says chill her to the bone.
“At this range, I won’t miss, he says, his voice flat, his tone even.”
He is speaking calmly, as if he is stating a fact. For a moment, Bianca has a memory of flashing lights, red and blue strobes, and someone else speaking to her in that calm even tone.
“Lady, I don’t know who you are, what you want; but I want you turn around real, real slow. I swear to Christ lady, if you so much as breathe in a way I don’t like, I’ll fucking cut you in half."
Bianca's mind works furiously, what should she do?
[I am standing in the door of the barn, screw this guy, dive for cover!]
[Turn round real slow, speak softly, "Look mister, I'm sorry, I don't want any trouble."]
Turn around slowly
voting closed
Sonya will be smart, be cautious, and won't take any unnecessary risks
[Turn round real slow]
[Turn round real slow, speak softly, "Look mister, I'm sorry, I don't want any trouble."]
[Turn round real slow, speak softly, "Look mister, I'm sorry, I don't want any trouble."]
Chapter One Part 5: Tears and Ashes
Chris, Kate, & Sam
ATTENTION
ATTENTION
THE GOVERNOR IN CONJUCTION WITH THE FEDERAL EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT AGENCY, DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY, AND OTHER STATE AND LOCAL AGENCIES HAS INITIATED THE EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM.
THIS IS NOT A TEST
I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A TEST.
THIS IS AN ACTIVATION OF THE EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM.
AS OF 5:15 P.M. LOCAL TIME SEPTEMBER 15, 2014 THE GOVERNOR HAS DECLARED A STATE OF EMERGENCY FOR THE CITY OF BATON ROUGE AND ITS SURROUNDING MAJOR METROPOLITIAN AREAS.
AS OF 5:15 P.M. LOCAL TIME SEPTEMBER 15, 2014 THE GOVERNOR HAS DECLARED A STATE OF MARSHALL LAW FOR THE CITY OF BATON ROUGE AND ITS SURROUNDING MAJOR METROPOLOTAIN AREAS. CURFEWS WIL BE INACTED STARTING FROM SUNDOWN TO SUNRISE. RESIDENTS ARE ADVISED TO REMAIN INDOORS. VIOLATERS WILL BE SUBJECT TO STATE AND FEDERAL PROSECUTION. FEDERAL, STATE, AND LOCAL AGENCIES HAVE BEEN AUTHORIZED IN THE USE OF DEADLY FORCE.
AS OF 6:00 A.M. LOCAL TIME SEPTEMBER 16, 2014 LOCAL AND STATE AGENCIES IN CONJUCTION WITH ELEMENTS OF THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY, THE LOUISIANA NATIONAL GUARD, THE LOUISIANA ARMY, MARINE, NAVY AND AIRFORCE RESERVES, AND UNITS OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY ACTIVATED OUT OF FORT POLK LOUISIANA WILL BEGIN COMBAT, SANITATION, AND RESCUE OPERATIONS IN THE CITY OF BATON ROUGE AND ITS MAJOR METROPOLOTAIN AREAS. RESIDENTS ARE ADVISED TO REMAIN CALM, TO SECURE THEMSELVES AND TO AWAIT OFFICAL PERSONNEL FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. RESIDENTS ARE ADVISED DO NOT ATTEMPT TO APPRAOCH OPERATIONS PERSONNEL. THEY WILL BE CONDUCTING BUILDING TO BUILD SWEEPS OF THE AREA STARTING FROM THE WEST BANK OF THE MISSISSIPPI PORT AUTHORITY, ASSESSING CVILIAN POPULATIONS AND PROVIDING FURTHER INSTRUCTION ON SAFE ROUTES TO FORWARD OPERATING BASES. AT CONTACT YOU WILL BE GIVEN INSTRUCTIONS FOR EVACUATION TO STERILE SAFE ZONES. AGAIN DO NOT APPROACH OPERATIONS PERSONNEL, THEY WILL COME TO YOU. THE USE OF DEADLY FORCE HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED.
PLEASE CONTINUE TO MONITOR THIS STATION FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
ATTENTION
ATTENTION
THE GOVERNOR IN CONJUCTION WITH THE FEDERAL EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT AGENCY, DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY.........
“Holy shit Kate! Are you listening to this? The Governor has declared a state of emergency and martial law, says Chris as he looks at the radio in disbelief. This shit is real! Look we need to get prepared, military personnel will be arriving tomorrow sometime and we’ll be getting out of this city.”
Chris looks into the other room of their small hotel suite to see if he has his sister’s attention. She sits silently in a chair by a window looking out at the city below. Chris walks into the other room and approaches his sister, he kneels down in front of her, placing his hand on her arm.
“Kate, did you hear me? We’ll be getting out of here tomorrow. They’ve called troops in, they’ll start evacuating people. They are starting from the port authority moving inland through the city. That’s only about 2idge miles away from here, I bet we’ll be on a bus and out of the city by noon.”
I’m scared Chris, Kate whispers. Everything has gone crazy! The news said Kansas City has fallen. I never, we never should have come here. Do you think Mom and Dad made it out? Do you think they are ok?”
“Look Kate, I don’t know, God knows I wish I did. Nobody saw this coming. My God! You came here to check out the campus at LSU. I took a couple of weeks of vacation to tag along. Who knew the world was going to go to shit in the meantime. Look, right now, all that matters is we’re together, we’re safe, and we’re getting evacuated tomorrow. We can figure out what to do next once we’re out of here. I know you’re worried, but we have to keep our shit together, be ready. Can you do that for me?”
“I am not a child Chris, Kate says angrily! So don’t treat me like one! I know what we have to do! You asked me if I am paying attention. Are you? Were you watching the same news I was before television service went out? Did you see the things they were showing, what was happening to people out there?”
“Look Kate, I know, yes I was watching the same things you were. I am scared too; but it will be O.K.; I promise it will, says Chris desperately trying to keep his sister calm. I’m sorry Kate, I don’t mean to treat you like child; and you’re right, you aren’t a child. I am just your meathead, big brother; and I want to make sure you’re ok.”
“Damn, I just thought of something Kate, I bet if we went to the observation deck on the roof, we could see what was going on. How about it, you want to go up and look?”
Kate shakes her head no in silence as Chris stands.
“I think I’ll keep trying to reach Mom and Dad, she says. Fucking cell service has gone completely to shit.”
Alright, I am going to go up, take a look around. I’ll be back in a bit. Lock the door behind me, don’t open it for anyone, ok?”
Chris leaves the room taking and elevator to the top floor of the Marriot Baton Rouge. As one of the tallest buildings in the city, its rooftop observation deck offers a pretty impressive view of the Mississippi River and the city itself. If they had to be stuck someplace in Baton Rouge, at least they were stuck in one of the nicer places. Flights out of the city had been cancelled two days ok, pretty much any means out of the city besides on foot had been cancelled. On foot was definitely not an option. Kate had been right about that part of things, the streets were getting crazy. Sirens at all hours, hotel personnel advising guests to stay in their rooms as much as possible; and now the Governor declaring martial law and moving in troops.
Chris stepped out on to the rooftop observation deck and immediately noticed that he wasn’t alone. There was another man about his age, he seemed familiar, on the roof as well looking toward the west through a mounted telescope. He was trying to place the man’s face when he turned and spoke to Chris.
“Chris, isn’t it, he asked”
It was then that Chris recognized the man. This was the hotel bartender, he thought his name was Sam or something.
“Sam, right; Chris asked”
“Well Samuel really, but yeah, Sam’s ok.”
“You up here for the same reason as me, Chris asks?”
“Yeah probably; I wanted to see what’s going on. I’ve been stuck here for two days, since things started to get bad out there. The hotel is putting staff up in rooms, trying to keep folks here to help out; not to mention to keep things safe and secure. It’s getting crazier and crazier out there by the day. Truth told though, I was thinking about splitting until we got the E.B.S. message. Guess I am stuck now, probably for the best, Sam’s says shrugging. Dude you should see this, Sam says offering Chris his place behind the telescope”
Chris looks westward, over the city, toward the river and port. He can see the bridge on I-10 that crosses the Mississippi, a massive hump of iron and concrete, rising from one bank and descending to the other. There appears to be a great deal of activity, traffic on the bridge, long lines of strange vehicles crossing the river in the same directions on both the east and westbound lanes of the bridge. Military helicopters can be seen flying low on the horizon. In the distance he can hear the sonic boom and scream of jet aircraft.
‘’Are those tanks on the bridge, he asks turning to Sam?”
“Yeah, tanks, M1s, troop carriers, armored Humvees, Bradley fighting vehicles; Uncle Sam’s whole fucking kitchen sink. Those helicopters, the ones that look like dragonflies, those are Cobra and Apache gunships. Those screamers, the jets, those are A10 Warthawgs. I spent a few years in the Army, when I first got out of school, college wasn’t for me; so I know the firepower over there. Believe me, there’s enough ordinance crossing that bridge to turn this whole fucking city into a parking lot. I’ll tell you this much, tomorrow morning, I am going to back up here. Front row seats, Sam said!"
"How about you, you coming up to watch the fireworks tomorrow morning, he asked?”
You're damned right I'll be up here, I have got to see this!
Man, I don't know if that will be safe, I think I'll probably wait in my room for emergency personnel.
Edit: Ill vote You're damned right I'll be up here, I have got to see this! instead i had changed my mind on that
You're damned right I'll be up here, I have got to see this!
You're damned right I'll be up here, I have got to see this!
You're damned right I'll be up here, I have got to see this!
rotflmao...what happened to taking the safe route?? hmmm, maybe seeing what is going on is the safest bet, then again, maybe not
[try to hold on to this dream and this moment just a little longer]
Probably the bad choice, but I had to be different XD Really good!
Well i decided to change my mind because i figured why not
Chapter One Part Six: Tears and Ashes
Sonya
Find a safe place to shelter, to hide.
Find a weapon.
Find food and water.
Find Mom and Dad?
Find help, people, anyone that can keep me safe.
Be smart, be cautious, and don’t take any unnecessary risks.
Try not to be afraid!
Her list was quickly becoming a mantra; Sonya would repeat it over and over in her head. It soothed her, helped her to think. She’d always been organized, always liked to have a plan. It made things simple that way, easier to deal with. It was a habit she’s picked up from her parents. With both of them being doctors; and working all kinds of crazy hours at the hospital, every aspect of their lives and Sonya’s was scheduled down to the minute. Her Mom kept a calendar on the refrigerator, with everyone’s life, detailed out; where to go, when to be there, who was picking up who, etc. They made it work; and even with her parents always working the way they did, Sonya never felt like there wasn’t time for her. True, there were times when she had to settle for one parent or the other; but there was always one of the two available, and they’d always made her feel as if her time was important; that she mattered. Right now, Sonya’s list was the only thing that kept her going, kept her moving.
She’d stayed hidden in that cleaning closet, her ear pressed to the door listening for any signs of movement, any sound at all; until hunger, thirst, and the necessity to know her situation had forced her to make a decision. She had to move, in order to plan a person had to have information, information was behind a locked door. The only way to get it, was to open the door and risk everything, there was simply no “safe” thing to do here.
She pressed her ear to the door again, listening for sounds of movement. She heard nothing and reached for the knob with trembling fingers. Maybe if she only opened it a crack, a quick look, and if something was wrong she could close the door again and try to figure out what to do next.
The halls of the school were empty and silent. They were littered in every direction with the grisly remains of the attack. In the air there was an almost over whelming odor of copper and rot, the smell made her stomach clinch and threaten to empty. There were bodies torn apart so terribly they were almost unrecognizable as something that was once human. Blood and gore splashed desks, doors, walls and ceilings. For all she knew and could see, she might be the only person that survived the attack. She could almost hear the “SNAP” in her mind as a part of her conscious self, refused to see the horror that lay all around her. She moved silently through the halls toward the exit, one foot in front of the other, eyes straight ahead; this was the world that she was stepping into, this was the world that she’d be forced to survive. This was a world where all her plans meant nothing.
There was a noise, to her left, down a side hall that ran to the gym, she could see nothing but shadowy figures, large and small, shuffling her way. They were accompanied by a sound she didn’t think she’d ever forget for the rest of her life. It was a low, rumbling, wail and groan. It was a voice of hunger, unending, unyielding hunger; it was a voice of death.
On some primal level, Sonya recognized this all in a fraction of a second. In her mind, some primal, wild thing took over and forced her body into action, into motion. She ran. The world around here became a blur, she ran, head down, the sound of her shoes echoing off the walls. That primal self, thinking of nothing; but escape. Something caught the toe of her shoe, and she was suddenly falling, her knees striking the floor sharply, her hands and upper body sinking into something wet and cold. She landed on the remains of a body, her hands and arms sinking to the elbow into the torn open upper torso. The body was torn in half, an arm was missing; it was the remaining arm that had tripped her up. Slowly, the head turned, a low moan escaping its lips. This thing, this torn and ragged thing, that shouldn’t be moving at all was straining at the neck to lift its face to hers, its one remaining arm flailing at her back, fingers grasping; seeking purchase. Instinctively she tried to push the thing away; with her hands still inside it, the body simply slid along the floor and she fell further face first, into the tore and open gut. Gore and bile filled her mouth, the smell of copper filling her nose. In her chest, her heart thundered as if it was going to burst. In blind panic, she jerked herself upright, arms and hands coming out of the torso in a splash of blood and gore. She leapt to her feet and ran again, heedless to her direction, mind screaming over and over, escape, escape, escape, ESCAPE!!
Up ahead, a glimmer of light caught her eye, it was moonlight, shimmering through the glass of a door. It was an exit. It was escape, it was freedom; it was life. She burst through the door at a dead sprint, her lungs burning, gasping for air and turned the corner. She ran head first into a dark, shadowed figure. Hands like steel bands grasped her arms, pulling her forward. She was a wild thing, the struggled, kicked, fought with everything she had; instinctively she lowered he face to one of the hands and bit with every ounce of force she possessed, and still the hands remained, pulling her up, forward, toward the face hidden in shadow. She filled her lungs one last time to scream, as she was spun, her feet dangling in midair and slammed bodily into the brick wall. The world went black, and the scream; it died on her lips, a single, whimpered word.
“No.”
voting closed Bianca will: Turn around real slow
voting closed Chris will: Hit the roof to see what happens
I have to admit here, this was the choice I hoped you guys would make! Yay! I've had what's comes next rolling around in my head for a couple of days now.
Wait...Is she dead?!
Chapter One Part Seven: Tears and Ashes
Bianca & Randy
Bianca turned around very slowly, her arms to her side; her hands open with her palms out to show she wasn’t holding a weapon.
“Look mister, I am sorry. I don’t want any trouble, and I don’t mean any harm, she said in a calm voice. I was just looking for a safe place to rest and hopefully some supplies. I didn’t know there was anyone here. I thought this place was abandoned, she said as she slowly turned.”
The man behind her was holding a shotgun to his shoulder; he was standing in a firing position with his finger tight on the trigger. She was shocked by how close he’d been able to get to her without her notice. He could have killed her at any moment and she’d have never known what happened. He was right, she could see by the sure way he handled his weapon, he wouldn’t have missed at this range. In a glance, she was also certain of his other statement, had she twitched wrong; he’d have killed her where she stood. He could in fact, still kill her where she stood.
He appeared to be early middle aged, perhaps in his late thirties or early forties. He was not a very large man, under six feet and was of average build, not fat, not muscle bound; just lean, the build of a man who looked used to and capable of physical labor. It was hard to tell in the fading light, but she could see that his cloths and exposed skin appeared to be covered in perhaps dirt and grime, and she noticed now that there was a sickly sweet and coppery smell to him. The smell made her worry, made her worry about what she couldn’t see well that seemed to covering his clothes and exposed skin. If that alone wasn’t enough to frighten her, looking at his face and into those blue eyes was more than enough.
He was blonde, and appeared unshaved and unkempt; startling cold, blue eyes like chips of ice stared back at her. Those eyes; appeared to be the eyes of someone, not quite sane anymore, or someone teetering on the brink. She watched as a range of emotions played out behind them; anger, rage, grief, despair, and defeat. An entire gambit, played all at once. It was terrifying.
“This is what Becka must have felt like, she thought to herself.”
Bianca had always been strong, confident. She’d always been the one in control. No one had ever gotten her at a disadvantage, she simply didn’t allow it. She was a person used to living by her own rules, yet here she was, completely at the mercy of a situation that was completely out of her control. She began to tremble, and was disgusted by her fear. The more she fought for control of her fear, the more afraid she became. It was visible, she was terrified.
I could kill here, I thought. Right here and now and no one would care, no one would stop me. Hell, truth told, she’d probably be better off. In this world, there are worse ways, much worse ways to die. It is at this thought that I again hear your voice. Once again you speak, this time only two words.
“No, look.”
Bianca couldn’t explain what happened next. One moment, the man was standing there, looking as if he were going to kill her when suddenly his whole demeanor changed. Was that shame she now saw in his eyes? It was as if someone had suddenly put out a fire with one great drought of water. It was so abrupt, that she took a step back, instinctively. The man seemed deflated now, and yes, there was shame in his eyes. Once again she watched a gambit of emotions play out on his face and in his eyes; shame, horror, guilt, and grief. Grief so great it seemed to crush him. He lowers his shotgun, the barrel now point into the dirt at his feet and begins to speak.
“I’m so sorry, he says in barely a whisper.”
“You are welcome to stay. It’s not much, he said pointing to the barn. The door locks though, from the inside; there’s a loft, with a pull up ladder. You’ll be safe there. I have blankets in the house, you are welcome to them. There’s food too, on the table and in the pantry, take whatever you need. Are you hurt in any way? I think there’s a first aid kit in the barn, at the back near the work bench. I can bring you some candles too, I’m afraid the power is out. I have a generator, but I’m not sure if the noise would be a good idea. Is there anything else that you need, he asks; still standing there looking somewhat ashamed and confused.
Bianca is speechless, the man’s words had come out all in a rush, as if he were checking off list, checking them off one by one. It’s as if he is listening to some internal monologue, making sure that he is getting it right.
“My name is Randy, he whispers his voice breaking.”
He turn then, slowly, and walks back into the home. Bianca, stands there a moment more, still uncertain of what to do. Was this a trap? She really didn’t think so. The shame she’d seen in this man’s eyes, the grief, seemed genuine. There was something else going on here, she knew that she didn’t have all of the information.
Slowly she approaches the stairs leading up to the wrap around porch with the sliding glass doors. She could see that he’d left the doors open when he’d entered the house. As she reached the stairs, she noticed something, there were words, carved into the steps.
THIS HOME WAS BUILT WITH LOVE.
LOVE MAKES A HOME
AND LOVE LIVES IN THIS HOME WITH THIS FAMILY
YOU ARE WELCOME HERE
RANDY, SUE, JACOB, TABITHA, PAIGE, ASHLEY, CHLOE, BEN
She stands there, on the last step, staring at the names carved artistically, carefully into the weather beaten wood. Names that were carved when the wood was new. Names that were carved when the home was new. When the hands that carved them wanted them to be the first thing that the people they represented saw, the very first time they walked up those steps. In her heart, she thinks she begins to understand.
The door leads into a large family room, in the center of the room there was a large wooden table, the kind of table a large family would sit around during a meal. There were canned goods, nonperishables, scattered on the table. There was enough there, just on the table, to last her a few weeks. As she stood there staring at the things on the table, a noise from the back of the house caught her attention.
It was the man, she could hear him softly weeping.
She turned again and looked at all the supplies on the table.
This man is crazy as hell, take what I need and get the hell out of here!
Oh my God, he sounds like he is in so much pain! Go and ask him if he is ok?
Oh my God, he sounds like he is in so much pain! Go and ask him if he is ok?