Hey guys, we've decided to update this thread as we update our facebook Zompocalypse story so you guys will be up to date. To put it in perspective, the first Zompocalypse, simply titled 'Zompocalypse' took over 4 months to complete. We wrote between university, work, and gaming. What this basically means is in its usual format bits come out in bite sized chuncks every few weeks or so.
There was about a months gap in between finishing Zompocalypse and beginning ZpN, or Zompocalypse Now.
So to get you guys right up too speed, here is part 2, Zompocalypse Now.
[-----------Zompocalypse Now------------]
ZpN
?Chip Sandwiches!? Someone yelled.
Fuck that would taste good right now, mused Jay. White bread, crispy fresh chips, some butter, a little sauce. Sitting on a floor rug and just hoeing it down. That?s how he?d want to do it, if he had one. Maybe the person who yelled it out was selling them, like an ice cream van. Chip Sandwich van for those days at the beach or in the backyard, when all the cousins were racing around like chickens with their heads cut off. Jay?s head cringed slightly, his brain twitching static flashbacks.
Racing.. AROUND... Chicken? Head cut off? Head cut off... headless... beheaded....
And that series of poorly connected thoughts shot the memories into him like a diamond bullet.
Zombies. Boyd. Jay. Gasmask. Guns. Trains. Mez. Helicopter. Sword fighting mounted knight motorcross. Car chase. 10 points. Bent tin can. Madison. Flamethrower. Air raid siren. Strangers. Ghosts. Talking zombie. 4WD, where is my 4WD? Guns! Fire axe. Zombies!
Jay choked traumatically and rolled awake, holding his head with his hands.
?Argh...? he managed, but when he opened his mouth it filled with noxious dust. Spluttering and coughing he rolled to the side, he was on rough, natural ground, and he could feel tufts of grass and lots of bulldust, stones and pebbles. He opened his eyes fully.
He was in a lush creek bed. The sky was blocked out by thick rainforest canopy. He stood up slowly, gazing around at the alien surroundings. He had no idea how he had gotten here. He felt himself up and down for wounds, there were none, but he had lost some important things... he just couldn?t remember what they were, couldn?t put it in context. He waded through some shallow clear water, prawns and tiny fish darted around him, he swiped at them instinctively but kept walking. He passed through some huge man made tunnels where nature had taken over, trees and bushes growing out of cracks in the cement, the walls moulded, covered in moisture loving plants. He emerged out the other side, still very alone, and waded into deeper water, the surface completely laced in the blue petals of a great flowering tree. He stroked through it slowly and thoughtfully, with only the top of his head exposed like a crocodile. It was all so peaceful. What had he forgotten? Where the hell was he?
The water erupted. Jay was flung bodily from the pond, sent spiralling through the air in a huge spray of airborne droplets, twinkling like jewels, before landing heavily in the wet mud of the far bank.
Something huge and primordial rose from churning surface, mud and filthy water streaming from it. The dirty roots and deflated green leaves of ripped-up water lilies clung to smooth grey metal, dangling from antennas and minigun barrels. A vast, hydraulically-actuated pillar of armoured metal lifted from the defiled pond, displacing tons of water, and slammed down next to Jay?s head as he scrambled backward up the slope. A second leg reached from the water and drove its flat, plated toes into the deep, black mud. It was surreal. Jay rolled backwards up the slope over his own head, onto his feet, falling back into the creepers and thick foliage of the river bank. The legs hissed with hydraulic power and a massive central form rose from the pond, now a churning black pit of fresh rainforest water mixed with black anaerobic sludge.
The huge metal beast towered upward, then tilted down toward Jay. The deep thrum of a power source within it resonated through the ground, fixating Jay to his spot in the foliage.
The mirrored glass of a cockpit mounted between two huge air vents reflected Jay back at himself - a tiny human, like an insect before a vast, malevolent god of war.
?Metal Gear!? breathed Jay to himself.
Jay turned and scrambled. Metal Gear, a gigantic bipedal nuclear armed walking tank was not an enemy to be contended with. It stomped through the forest after him, crashing down trees, some of them set alight for some reason. Jay dived behind a thick oak, closed his eyes.
?Walk past walk past walk past? repeated Jay.
The forest exploded with irradiated fire and smoke as Metal Gear let off its NUKA-THROWERS, nuclear enabled flamethrowers. The entire forest and its surrounds puffed in molten embers and Metal Gear stomped through the waste, its bio-radar searching for life to exterminate.
Jay was caught under the burnt remains of the oak and knew it was the end. Metal Gear sighted him; all guns swivelled at his face. Turning to face the end, fire licking at his sides, he uttered on final, all encompassing word:
?Fuck.?
Then he was eaten by flame.
?Jay! Jay!? Boyd was yelling. ?Wake the fuck up!?
?Ruh!?? He groaned vaguely as he roused.
?We?re in the shit this time!? He said, ducking a dud mortar round as it sank into the earth next to them. ?Eat this! Chip sandwich! Got it from him!? he pointed to a silhouette standing on a mound of destroyed structure and earth next to a decapitated flag pole. ?Buck up!? He said, turning and running to the man on the mound. It was snowing a steady pitter patter of fire and ash. Explosions both near and far were ringing out. Zombies were moaning somewhere close. Sporadic heavy weapons fire racketed across the wasteland tundra.
?We ARE FUCKED!? Called Boyd, running back to the dazed Jay. ?Get UP!? He roared, taking Jays finger gloved hand and pulling him to his feet. ?Here?s your gun! Hope you don?t mind, but I was using it! Zombies are fucking everywhere! Weird ones, fucking wanderers at first, and then these madhouse runners, they close distance in seconds, full pelt, I fucking swear! Specials, they are fucking everything up! We?ve gotta Get The Fuck Out!?
Jay nodded. The surrounds were a hellish maze of terrors. Their current position was under heavy bombardment. The air raid siren thundered out, from close, within a block or two.
Jay took a bite out of his sandwich as he and Boyd stood next to the stranger near the flagpole, three silhouettes against the dusty chaos. The view before them was both spectacular and devastating.
?We?re all here now. What is it we do?? Said the stranger.
Jay eyed him for a second and said nothing. Boyd turned and gave him a cheeky grin, and looked as if he was going to crack a joke or general observation, but stopped himself.
They stared at what lay ahead. The adventure had only begun.
?All hope is gone? muttered the stranger Elliot as he looked around the landscape.
The destroyed train had crashed through the perimeter walls of Fernan Military base, and the thousands of zombies pounding on its gates had flooded through. The Black Hawk had crash landed on the command tower, supposably killing everyone and anyone unfortunate enough to be inside. The unsuspecting soldiers were caught off guard and without command and all hell broke loose. Bullet riddled zombies were stumbling around, the bullets passing straight through their bodies, causing little damage.
It was often argued among apocalypse survivors about zombie senses. And even though the idea seemed insane when eyeless, earless and noseless zombies were herding around you groaning completely out of sync, there was always two prominent zombie senses: Sound and Movement. Jay and Boyd, and everyone else not dead knew that zombies were undeniably attracted to loud noises and movement, more specifically, human noises and human movement. But was it possible, Boyd thought to himself, to trick zombie senses? With a noise they might associate with humans? Or with puppets? Maybe a television screen? What captures the imagination of a zombie...
Jay was crouched low, grimly looking at the approach. He was healed, by Elliot no doubt, and he had done a fine job. He remembered what had happened now. He had fallen off the train with Boyd; he thought he had broken his leg. Turned out it was just a pinched muscle. Lucky, he grinned.
?We?ll make our move in five minutes. That?s when the shelling seems to let up.? Said Elliot in a distant voice. He was a million miles away, thought Jay.
Jay had other things on his mind as well. ?You ever have those dreams where some crazy shit happens, and it?s like, fuck, that was weird, then it kind of happens the next day, almost like a premonition? I used to get them when I was a kid, in primary. I dreamt that I saw my friend at school, and we stole this kids popper from his lunchbox, and my mate throws it on the ground, and the kid shows up, he asks for the popper back, and me and my friend look at each other, and I just grin at this little kid and jump on his popper, and it bangs, juice goes everywhere. The little kid runs off crying. That was the dream. Then that exact shit happened the next day. You ever get that??
?Fuck no.? Rebutted Boyd, firing pot shots at some passing zombies with his pistol.
?Yeah. Guess I?m the psychic now.?
?Why?s that??
?I just got a feeling is all.?
?About what??
?Like something really bad is coming our way.?
?Look around dude. We?re pretty fucked already.?
?Not this. We?ll get out of this.?
?Don?t count your zombies before they rise... or do, I can?t remember which.?
?There is something different in the air now, can?t you feel it??
?Look dude, don?t get fucking madhouse voodoo on me now, I can?t feel shit?
?Fine, fuck. Just keep it in mind.?
?Yeah okay. Alright. Let?s get out of this shit.?
They both stood to full height, exchanged a glance with Elliot. Then they all ran for their lives.
Leaping into a network of trenches running underneath the battlefield, they instantly encountered a massive fucking horde of zombies. Boyd pulled out his weapon, a Glock 9mm, a starting popping shots, shoulder charging the pack. He beat the moaning mass into a compression, they clawed back, Boyd firing wildly, killing 2, 3, 4 zombies with random headshots. He fell as the zombies overwhelmed him, and Jay took to the fore, unleashing rapid fire death as the MP5 chewed zombie skulls. The crowd thinned as the spray of metal cut them down one by one, Boyd lying in the mud, covering his head with his hands as the dropped around him. Only a couple remained. A tall handsome zombie who was more impressive and intelligent looking than the rest pushed his way through. He was wearing a surgeon?s uniform.
?Doctors in? Breathed Boyd.
Jay leapt a crumbling zombie, reaching for his pistol, instead he pulled out a gigantic silver Desert Eagle, a gun so massive it was surely compensating for something. Elliot must have given it to him. He raised the great silver weapon to the doctor?s head.
The moaning ex-Phd?s life force was instantly and irreversibly charged to the negative as the desert eagle blew its head from existence itself.
?No appointment necessary? breathed Jay, stepping over the headless corpse.
?Look!? Shouted Boyd, leaping to his feet. ?Smoker!?
He was right. A zombie wearing a cowboy hat and an expensive white suit was stumbling towards them, a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.
Boyd flicked the Glock to burst fire and the smokers head disappeared in a sea spray of blood and goop.
?No smoking section? he said to the limp corpse, crushing the cigarette with his boot.
Elliot was hanging back, waiting for his moment. It didn?t come. All the zombies were dead.
?Gotta get in quicker next time!? Said Boyd as he ran. ?You?ll miss all the kills!?
?And the opportunity for stupid one liners??
?Well, yeah!?
Elliot said nothing. He was waiting for the perfect moment to show his true grit.
Because he was chock full of that.
