DekuNut
I play my drum for you
I haven't touched this in over a month. This is my Zombie Fan-fic. Warning: it may get a little graphic, deffinitley violent. I'm still looking for sign-ups... just post here: http://zeldadungeon.net/forum/showthread.php?19402-Zombified-Sign-Ups&highlight=zombified
Now, her is Chapter 1.
Zachary Tennings woke up early in the morning and yawned. His red hair flew into his blue eyes, “Time for a haircut,” he mumbled. He found his way out of the barracks and to the Common Area, his pale skin visible in the early-morning sunlight coming through the boarded-up windows.
He decided to go downstairs and make breakfast for himself. All he could find in the pantry was oatmeal- the same meal he had eaten twice a day for the past few months. He knew that he would have to eat it with barely any water and eat only a little bit. There was nothing to put on this bland substance, because even the bread had depleted into nothing. He heated the woodstove to cook on.
A sound came from the other side of the room and the door to the girl’s barracks opened, and Sela Arkhson sleepily drudged out. Lack of coffee had taken a toll on everyone, and everyone was having trouble getting up in the mornings. Her shoulder-length tan hair was tangled into knots, and she was so dirty you could barely see the scar on her leg. Right now, Sela looked like a zombie... Zach laughed at the thought. Once he would have thought that, but not now.
Not now that he had seen a real zombie.
He had seen live zombies. He had seen dead and dying zombies. He had seen zombies eat his friends, and his friends turn into zombies. He had seen zombies fight and use their pure force to reach even the smallest toddler.
He shivered at the thought.
Soon enough all of the survivors were downstairs. There were only 8 of them left. Zach stood in the center of a circle of oatmeal-eating survivors. In front of him Sela, who had already eaten.
On her left was Nathan “Sharky” Mantrios, a pale 20-year-old with brown hair and hazel eyes. His machete, still in sheath, was slung over his shoulder. Their head surgeon was drowsy, yet seemed focused during the daily pep talk.
Next to him was Eliza “Lizard” Russel, an ex-army captain and tactiacal specialist. Her dark skin and hair complimented each other perfectly, and as always she was up and eager to go by about 6 am.
Zach’s assistant, a skinny youth by the name of Tobias Huttman, was standing in the back of the room, listening and scribbling down in his notepad. The boy was writing ANOTHER book. At least it kept him sane... pale and brown-haired, Tobias needed no more sadness in his life... none of them did.
His friend Zordo Danascus, resident arms specialist, stood next to him, helping with the writing. Zordo’s brown hair fell beneath his eyes again and he lifted it back into his headband. An AK 47 was leaned against him.
Jimmy Borgon, third member of the writing squad, was half-helping the others and half-reading about antibodies and viruses. As R&D Specialist, he worked steadily with Sharky about finding the Zombie Cure. He never smiled... or, at least, as far as Zach could tell.
Finally, completing the circle, was 15-year-old Amaterasu. Troy the cat mewed on her shoulder and she scratched the feline. Her brown hair looked black, and it was obvious she had snuck onto the roof last night to shower in the rain.
Zach looked at them all again, “As far as we still know,” he finished, “We are the last survivors. Let us stand proud against these zombies. We will live!” he yelled, and the group applauded. He then stepped down from his pedestal, “Council meeting in my room. 20 minutes,” he told thm, and went back to his room to prepare for the coming meeting.
Now, her is Chapter 1.
Zachary Tennings woke up early in the morning and yawned. His red hair flew into his blue eyes, “Time for a haircut,” he mumbled. He found his way out of the barracks and to the Common Area, his pale skin visible in the early-morning sunlight coming through the boarded-up windows.
He decided to go downstairs and make breakfast for himself. All he could find in the pantry was oatmeal- the same meal he had eaten twice a day for the past few months. He knew that he would have to eat it with barely any water and eat only a little bit. There was nothing to put on this bland substance, because even the bread had depleted into nothing. He heated the woodstove to cook on.
A sound came from the other side of the room and the door to the girl’s barracks opened, and Sela Arkhson sleepily drudged out. Lack of coffee had taken a toll on everyone, and everyone was having trouble getting up in the mornings. Her shoulder-length tan hair was tangled into knots, and she was so dirty you could barely see the scar on her leg. Right now, Sela looked like a zombie... Zach laughed at the thought. Once he would have thought that, but not now.
Not now that he had seen a real zombie.
He had seen live zombies. He had seen dead and dying zombies. He had seen zombies eat his friends, and his friends turn into zombies. He had seen zombies fight and use their pure force to reach even the smallest toddler.
He shivered at the thought.
Soon enough all of the survivors were downstairs. There were only 8 of them left. Zach stood in the center of a circle of oatmeal-eating survivors. In front of him Sela, who had already eaten.
On her left was Nathan “Sharky” Mantrios, a pale 20-year-old with brown hair and hazel eyes. His machete, still in sheath, was slung over his shoulder. Their head surgeon was drowsy, yet seemed focused during the daily pep talk.
Next to him was Eliza “Lizard” Russel, an ex-army captain and tactiacal specialist. Her dark skin and hair complimented each other perfectly, and as always she was up and eager to go by about 6 am.
Zach’s assistant, a skinny youth by the name of Tobias Huttman, was standing in the back of the room, listening and scribbling down in his notepad. The boy was writing ANOTHER book. At least it kept him sane... pale and brown-haired, Tobias needed no more sadness in his life... none of them did.
His friend Zordo Danascus, resident arms specialist, stood next to him, helping with the writing. Zordo’s brown hair fell beneath his eyes again and he lifted it back into his headband. An AK 47 was leaned against him.
Jimmy Borgon, third member of the writing squad, was half-helping the others and half-reading about antibodies and viruses. As R&D Specialist, he worked steadily with Sharky about finding the Zombie Cure. He never smiled... or, at least, as far as Zach could tell.
Finally, completing the circle, was 15-year-old Amaterasu. Troy the cat mewed on her shoulder and she scratched the feline. Her brown hair looked black, and it was obvious she had snuck onto the roof last night to shower in the rain.
Zach looked at them all again, “As far as we still know,” he finished, “We are the last survivors. Let us stand proud against these zombies. We will live!” he yelled, and the group applauded. He then stepped down from his pedestal, “Council meeting in my room. 20 minutes,” he told thm, and went back to his room to prepare for the coming meeting.
