Post by schitzo7830 on May 24, 2011 9:04:17 GMT -4
The whole world was a flame. The whole world was engulfed. The world was over. England lay in ruin, in the embers of hell itself. The rapture had come and it was taking no prisoners, it was showing no mercy, and it had no opposition.
On May 13, 2023 a virus known as “Morte II” was released, accidentally from a lab in northern Russia. The virus, causing anyone who comes in contact with it to reanimate and ‘infect’ others spread like fire. These things, called zombies, monsters, even demons by some, had spread to London in a week, because of international flights every country worldwide was now facing infection. Europe thought it was ready. In the week it had to prepare they had summoned every militant group they could afford, it did nothing, if not speed up the infection. Now London lays in ruin, now all the world lays in ruin.
Communication like cell phones and the internet have shut down. In a mere week all has come to a close. The population of infected is now reaching a ratio of one to two at a steady increase. Humanity is for the first time facing its own mortality in the face of other, now mutated humans.
Shamus had a decent look at the things that attacked his team. They were human like in shape, their heads were smaller and the flesh was a rotted color, the legs were almost four feet, making them extremely fast. They had lanky arms as well which ended with long sharp claws making them even more dangerous. The ghouls wore nomadic clothing covered in just a think bloodstained robe that was short and ripped, covering only their waist, Shamus guessed this must have been religious clothing prior to infection. Long thin slivers of what looked like bone jutted out of the bites on the larger of the two ghouls and though they were lanky and not so muscular the smaller of the two had taken full grown, armed men down in seconds. The most creepy and unnerving thing about them, the thing that scared Shamus most was the eyes; infection caused eyes to be completely blood shot, dripping blood even as they ran, yet their vision didn’t seem to be impaired because they were now charging him head on. Shamus, unlike his team, fallowed his training to a key; He lifted his rifle, took aim, and squeezed. Three rounds hit the larger monster in the head causing the creatures head to pop as two more rounds flew under its arm and connected with the little ones chest. Shamus took a step back keeping his rifle trained on its back.
“Oi, Jeremy!...” The Irish mercenary spoke into his ear mic hoping it would work. Communications were still down. He ripped off the microphone and threw it to the ground as the ghoul began to get back up. By now Shamus had engaged a dozen of these creatures and he knew a few facts. You had to destroy the brain to kill them and if you get bit or cut by their claws, you’ll change. He also knew he was the only one left of his unit. The damned zombies tore through them like a hot knife through butter, though in their case it was a sharp claw through a man’s stomach lining. He had to keep moving, his only chance was to reach the edge of the city, the militaries ‘Choking point’ and get through there. Shamus kept moving.
The city itself lay in catatonic silence, minus the gunfire, screaming and bombing that is. Yet the dark silence was heard even over the sounds of war. The motionless concrete of the streets was littered with cars and rubble but there was no one left here to issue a parking violation. All was dead, all was aflame, and over the sounds of a city collapsing; silence. The eerie quiet gave personality to the undead roads and backstreets of London, yet not enough to bring it back ‘alive’. One by one buildings fell to the fire and artillery and two by two the people fell to infection or flame. The military was not enough to hold back the infection even with the combined help of the police and hired guns. The situation was now full of peril, full of tragedy, full of desperation. There was no hope for London.
Shamus had been jogging for what seemed like an hour or so by now. He knew he was only a few miles away from city limits, safety, and most importantly; other humans, but he couldn’t be reckless. He kept the safety off on his rifle and kept the weapon gripped tightly in two sweaty hands ready to be pulled up and fired at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t help but think about the fact he only had a few dozen rounds left or the fact that the military would most likely pull the trigger on him the second they see him anyways, or the fact how painful this whole thing had been. Everyone he knew; Jeremy who had been like a brother to the Irishman, Olly who was a young psychopath in combat but a kind hearted girl outside the battlefield, and Olly’s older brother Danny. Danny and Shamus had problems but when the ghouls hopped on him Danny pulled a grenade and blew him and the creatures to hell, saving the rest of the team momentarily. It was noble, something he didn’t expect the man to do. It wasn’t enough though given everyone else was dead in a matter of minutes, everyone except Shamus.
“Damn it. This isn’t right!” Shamus shouted at himself as he stopped in the middle of a four way intersection. A traffic pole lay behind him as he stepped over it and both sides of the street held signs of abuse. Smoke was coming from a coffee shop and directly in the mercenary’s way laid a dozen bodies of the dead. Luckily they were actually dead, at least the ones in front of him, yet behind him; out of the coffee shop came three stumbling ghouls. The monster had these loud groans that were generally distinguishable, like something out of a horror movie. He heard them before he saw them. Spinning around and dropping to his knee in one fluid motion his rifle was aimed at one of the creatures before it noticed him. Squeeze of the trigger, flash, and then a body hit the concrete; problem was the body that fell wasn’t the ghoul. It was Shamus. Something large had hit him from behind, incredible pain shot through his body and a large hand was pressing strongly and gently on his back, holding him down. Instinctively he reached for the pistol on his hip but as he did he heard gunfire literally above him. He looked up and watched the final coffee shop ghoul take his last caffeine filled rush as a hot round travelled perfectly through its head.
Shamus rolled over and he was hauled to his feet. He looked at the man in front of him now, given a brief non-hellish moment he was able to examine the man. Taller than Shamus, bald, brutish man with muscles the size of a large cement block. The man held a machine gun in his hands and was starting to survey the surrounding area. The man had the same uniform on as Shamus did, a black British fitted spec ops fit. It looked weird on the oversized man.
“ Listen, I don’t know what’s going on but the last evacuation out of the city is in that building” The man spoke with a light European accent so Shamus assumed he must be from the area. Shamus fallowed where the man was pointing, a large building probably with a few dozen floors. Helicopter would evacuate them if they could make it on time. The way the past few days had been going, that was a very big if. “I think we should get moving the name is William” the British man spoke again and before Shamus could even respond he had began moving towards the large building.
As they walked, the Irishman trailing slightly behind the Brit he couldn’t help but talk to the first living person he had seen in a day “I would probably be pushing the envelope to be hoping that the elevator is in service, eh?” Shamus joked.
“I sure as hell hope so; I got a nasty bite on my leg.” William said as he rubbed the spot where his right leg was bleeding.
Shamus stopped momentarily as Will kept moving. The man that had just saved Shamus a hour or so prior didn’t realize the gravity of what his words meant. Now the Irishman had to raise his rifle against the man who had saved him. Sights trained on his back, finger on trigger, and then… A large screech came from behind him.
He didn’t turn, he didn’t think, Shamus ran. He ran to the building. It took him five minutes. The longest five minutes in his life.
On May 13, 2023 a virus known as “Morte II” was released, accidentally from a lab in northern Russia. The virus, causing anyone who comes in contact with it to reanimate and ‘infect’ others spread like fire. These things, called zombies, monsters, even demons by some, had spread to London in a week, because of international flights every country worldwide was now facing infection. Europe thought it was ready. In the week it had to prepare they had summoned every militant group they could afford, it did nothing, if not speed up the infection. Now London lays in ruin, now all the world lays in ruin.
Communication like cell phones and the internet have shut down. In a mere week all has come to a close. The population of infected is now reaching a ratio of one to two at a steady increase. Humanity is for the first time facing its own mortality in the face of other, now mutated humans.
Shamus had a decent look at the things that attacked his team. They were human like in shape, their heads were smaller and the flesh was a rotted color, the legs were almost four feet, making them extremely fast. They had lanky arms as well which ended with long sharp claws making them even more dangerous. The ghouls wore nomadic clothing covered in just a think bloodstained robe that was short and ripped, covering only their waist, Shamus guessed this must have been religious clothing prior to infection. Long thin slivers of what looked like bone jutted out of the bites on the larger of the two ghouls and though they were lanky and not so muscular the smaller of the two had taken full grown, armed men down in seconds. The most creepy and unnerving thing about them, the thing that scared Shamus most was the eyes; infection caused eyes to be completely blood shot, dripping blood even as they ran, yet their vision didn’t seem to be impaired because they were now charging him head on. Shamus, unlike his team, fallowed his training to a key; He lifted his rifle, took aim, and squeezed. Three rounds hit the larger monster in the head causing the creatures head to pop as two more rounds flew under its arm and connected with the little ones chest. Shamus took a step back keeping his rifle trained on its back.
“Oi, Jeremy!...” The Irish mercenary spoke into his ear mic hoping it would work. Communications were still down. He ripped off the microphone and threw it to the ground as the ghoul began to get back up. By now Shamus had engaged a dozen of these creatures and he knew a few facts. You had to destroy the brain to kill them and if you get bit or cut by their claws, you’ll change. He also knew he was the only one left of his unit. The damned zombies tore through them like a hot knife through butter, though in their case it was a sharp claw through a man’s stomach lining. He had to keep moving, his only chance was to reach the edge of the city, the militaries ‘Choking point’ and get through there. Shamus kept moving.
The city itself lay in catatonic silence, minus the gunfire, screaming and bombing that is. Yet the dark silence was heard even over the sounds of war. The motionless concrete of the streets was littered with cars and rubble but there was no one left here to issue a parking violation. All was dead, all was aflame, and over the sounds of a city collapsing; silence. The eerie quiet gave personality to the undead roads and backstreets of London, yet not enough to bring it back ‘alive’. One by one buildings fell to the fire and artillery and two by two the people fell to infection or flame. The military was not enough to hold back the infection even with the combined help of the police and hired guns. The situation was now full of peril, full of tragedy, full of desperation. There was no hope for London.
Shamus had been jogging for what seemed like an hour or so by now. He knew he was only a few miles away from city limits, safety, and most importantly; other humans, but he couldn’t be reckless. He kept the safety off on his rifle and kept the weapon gripped tightly in two sweaty hands ready to be pulled up and fired at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t help but think about the fact he only had a few dozen rounds left or the fact that the military would most likely pull the trigger on him the second they see him anyways, or the fact how painful this whole thing had been. Everyone he knew; Jeremy who had been like a brother to the Irishman, Olly who was a young psychopath in combat but a kind hearted girl outside the battlefield, and Olly’s older brother Danny. Danny and Shamus had problems but when the ghouls hopped on him Danny pulled a grenade and blew him and the creatures to hell, saving the rest of the team momentarily. It was noble, something he didn’t expect the man to do. It wasn’t enough though given everyone else was dead in a matter of minutes, everyone except Shamus.
“Damn it. This isn’t right!” Shamus shouted at himself as he stopped in the middle of a four way intersection. A traffic pole lay behind him as he stepped over it and both sides of the street held signs of abuse. Smoke was coming from a coffee shop and directly in the mercenary’s way laid a dozen bodies of the dead. Luckily they were actually dead, at least the ones in front of him, yet behind him; out of the coffee shop came three stumbling ghouls. The monster had these loud groans that were generally distinguishable, like something out of a horror movie. He heard them before he saw them. Spinning around and dropping to his knee in one fluid motion his rifle was aimed at one of the creatures before it noticed him. Squeeze of the trigger, flash, and then a body hit the concrete; problem was the body that fell wasn’t the ghoul. It was Shamus. Something large had hit him from behind, incredible pain shot through his body and a large hand was pressing strongly and gently on his back, holding him down. Instinctively he reached for the pistol on his hip but as he did he heard gunfire literally above him. He looked up and watched the final coffee shop ghoul take his last caffeine filled rush as a hot round travelled perfectly through its head.
Shamus rolled over and he was hauled to his feet. He looked at the man in front of him now, given a brief non-hellish moment he was able to examine the man. Taller than Shamus, bald, brutish man with muscles the size of a large cement block. The man held a machine gun in his hands and was starting to survey the surrounding area. The man had the same uniform on as Shamus did, a black British fitted spec ops fit. It looked weird on the oversized man.
“ Listen, I don’t know what’s going on but the last evacuation out of the city is in that building” The man spoke with a light European accent so Shamus assumed he must be from the area. Shamus fallowed where the man was pointing, a large building probably with a few dozen floors. Helicopter would evacuate them if they could make it on time. The way the past few days had been going, that was a very big if. “I think we should get moving the name is William” the British man spoke again and before Shamus could even respond he had began moving towards the large building.
As they walked, the Irishman trailing slightly behind the Brit he couldn’t help but talk to the first living person he had seen in a day “I would probably be pushing the envelope to be hoping that the elevator is in service, eh?” Shamus joked.
“I sure as hell hope so; I got a nasty bite on my leg.” William said as he rubbed the spot where his right leg was bleeding.
Shamus stopped momentarily as Will kept moving. The man that had just saved Shamus a hour or so prior didn’t realize the gravity of what his words meant. Now the Irishman had to raise his rifle against the man who had saved him. Sights trained on his back, finger on trigger, and then… A large screech came from behind him.
He didn’t turn, he didn’t think, Shamus ran. He ran to the building. It took him five minutes. The longest five minutes in his life.