Doing Time

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Sat Feb 23, 2019 5:49 pm

The escaped prisoners had no idea where they were on the river, not being able to see anything but black to either side. Trey, hoping that they had crossed the tunnels by now, was watching ahead for the outline of a bridge against the sky. He had no hate for the air crew, but if they collided with the bridge it was just too bad. The Blackhawk caught up to the speeding boat bathing it in a pool of light. Then just as quickly banked to the east, the blades only six feet from the river surface. A bridge piling of the George Washington Bridge flashed by on the left and was gone.

The sport fisherman slammed into an empty fifty, gallon drum with a bang. Joker’s head snapped toward the stern in time to see the port motor flip up on its mount. The propeller spun in the air briefly before dropping back into the water. The force of the water flowing past prevented it from locking into place. This created a drag pulling the boat to the west, now running on only two motors. Their speed dropped, although they were still traveling at almost fifty miles an hour. Trey used the helm to compensate for the drag.

The Blackhawk was back, following the criminals at an altitude higher than the next bridge. Trey was wondering if they were waiting for permission to fire. Maybe pleasure boating didn’t rate that kind of response, escaped prisoners in a stolen boat probably fell into that category though. The minutes passed until the Cuomo bridge could be made out against the sky. The boat roared past Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow. Ossining, with the famous Sing Sing prison was still ahead, when the helo began to lose altitude in a dive.

The Blackhawk in an all, out dive is traveling at over 180 miles an hour. The sport fisherman, with only two motors still running, was slower than previously. It was also more maneuverable at the slower speed. Trey spun the wheel dodging most of the rounds fired by the helicopter. The bank robber headed for the western shore of the river, now that they were out of time. He dodged this way and that, however the watercraft was still hit by the machine gun fire. From the fuel gauge reading, the pilot was sure the tank had been perforated.

Joker wanted to return fire, but required both hands to hold on during the boat’s evasive action. The gunner guessed correctly about the boats next turn, putting a long burst on target. One round punched through the starboard engine, the severed fuel line sprayed onto the hot engine parts, bursting into flame. The captain gave up dodging and aimed directly to the shore. The flame from the burning engine, fanned by the air trailed out behind. The Blackhawk ceased fire and followed the dying craft at a distance.

The west bank of the river was dark, the only hint there was a hill was revealed to an observer looking up. The night sky was lighter than the earth below it. Trey reduced speed, even though he couldn’t tell how close they were to the water’s edge. By the time he could see where the land began and he cut the throttles, the bow was grinding up the stony incline with a jolt. The worse for wear water craft, stopped where the bow was touching weeds growing from the sod. Trey was standing in the middle at the helm, however Joker was off to the side and the boat tilted in his direction.

With their rifles already slung and ammo belts around their waists and the extra weapons not in sight, there was nothing else to carry. The cellmates bolted over the gunwale onto the beach, then ran over the broken ground and river debris into the tree line. The fire grew quickly, engulfing the stern of the boat. The Blackhawk passed over the now burning wreck, hovering out of range of the fire, looking at the empty shore. The pilot made a report then waited for instructions. The occupants were out of sight and possibly ready to take them under fire. He drifted his aircraft out over the river, figuring if he had been chased, he would want some payback.
The fire cast light over the flat ground between the river and the trees. The criminals withdrew, moving from shadow to shadow, avoiding the streams of firelight piercing the trees. The incline of the hill began a very short distance from the river. They were soon pulling themselves upward by grasping the tree trunks. Trey stopped for a breather, having no idea how far they had to climb. It was clear the Blackhawk, even if it was carrying troops, wasn’t keen to land at that location.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Sat Feb 23, 2019 5:51 pm

The felons had a whispered conversation, deciding to go further up the natural elevation, where the dead attracted to the ruckus were unlikely to pursue. Hopefully the goons would concentrate on the burning boat and the helo out over the river. The men were winded by the time they reached the top, a hundred and fifty feet above the river. They sat in the trees at the edge of an open area containing a white structure. The Blackhawk could be heard, still on station out over the river. Maybe after the chopper left, they could look around.

The Blackhawk departed before the criminals caught their breath. Who thought it would ever be so quiet, that a helicopter could be heard that close to New York. Noise pollution has disappeared along with light pollution. The stars were clearer than Trey could remember them ever being. The smoke from the burning boat was also drifting downstream. The two men explored the hilltop. The white, building they saw, was in fact a Hudson River Lighthouse. It was only fifteen, foot tall, but it was built on a tall hill. Paved walkways wandered about the almost level, acre around the lighthouse.

The cellmates decided to spend the night in the nearly two hundred, year old structure. It was out of the breeze that had sprung up and its stone walls and metal door were goon proof. The only drawback was the fact that it only had one door. Trey led the way up the short stairs to the lantern room. From that point, they had a three hundred, and sixty, degree view of the surroundings. Joker, who hadn’t been sleeping in a comfy bed the last several nights, sacked out on one of the wooden benches.

The bank robber mulled over their situation. He doubted that the military would come after them, although it wouldn’t hurt to be gone by dawn. The pair was roughly four hundred miles from home, as driving time was about eight hours. It would, of course, be longer if they swung north to the great lakes, instead of going through the mountains to the west. Going north meant dealing with Buffalo, while to the west there were no major cities. Just as important, although they had firearms, they had nothing else but the clothing they were standing in.

It was Trey’s turn to nod off, leaning back against the rough rock wall. He would wake and check the stars through the glass of the lantern room. Sitting back down, he would doze again. When the stars started to fade, he shook his companion gently. “This is your wake-up call Mr. Kracken”.

The thief sat up “Did you hear anything last night”?

“Nope, not a thing”.

“I was hearing strange voices that woke me up. You were sleeping. I think this place is haunted” the smaller man said with a strange look on his face.

“Then the quicker we leave, the better” the younger man told his senior. “Let’s get out before the Army comes calling.

Joker stretched his muscles, saying “I need a bed. This is the third night sleeping on wood”.

“Well if Trask gets his hands on us, you will have a very nice bed”. The two men walked around the lantern room, not seeing any movement outside. Downstairs at the entrance, Joker cracked the metal door open. Peering through the crack at first, then opening the door far enough to stick his head through. “All clear”.

The pair strolled down the paved, walk, looking for the way off the hill. Trey stopped and looking closely at a marker in the dim light. “Stony Point Lighthouse” he read aloud. “Built in 1826”. He read further “We whupped the British here too. Were your voices speaking with British accents or American” he joshed his friend.

“Never make fun of haunts” Joker said seriously. “Let’s get out of here”.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Sat Feb 23, 2019 5:52 pm

The men found the stairs leading down the hill. They eased down the hill, until they could see the empty, parking area at the bottom. “The dead are probably over by the river”, Trey said. They crossed the parking lot, entering the brush on the far side. The criminals followed a faint trail in the growing light. The trail ended in a grove of maple trees, bordering the yard of an older, Cape Code style house. Although hungry, it was decided to cover some more ground before looking for food. “I could use a coat too” the bank robber added.

The friends crossed the lawn, plunging back into the brush. They found a new trail, frequently used by deer from the tracks. This time they traveled several hundred yards, startling one deer and several squirrels and birds. The trail crossed a creek where somebody had set stepping stones in place. The water ran from under a road by means of a sizable drain pipe. The next clearing held a row of half a dozen homes. Before they stepped into the back yard, they heard the helicopter.

“Come on” Trey ordered his companion. Joker raced after Trey, who was running back the way they had come. The leading man turned and ran up the creek bank almost to the road, before sliding down into the water. Joker hesitated, then followed him into the drain pipe. They splashed their way toward the middle of the pipe, bent over, then halted. The pipe was too small to stand up in, so Trey took a knee in the cold water. Joker managed with a slight crouch.

“If we stood still, they’d think we were a couple of the dead” the shorter man informed his friend.

“The dead don’t show up on infrared”.

“Duh, its light out”.

“Duh, we’re warmer than the surroundings”.

“Good idea hiding here, then” the thief admitted. “Do army choppers have that”?

“I bet they have some police choppers that do” the debate continued. It was difficult to tell underground, but the choppers sounded nearer now. “We can’t tell if they’re landing someone”.
Trey duck walked further up the pipe. “There’s a log up here, might as well get comfortable.

“I’m tired, hungry and now cold” Joker complained. “Things can only get better”.

“Nobody’s shooting at us” Trey added helpfully.

“Yet”! the older man retorted.

After what seemed like a long time, Trey was tempted to peek outside. They hadn’t heard the aircraft in a while. This was when a watch was handy, to provide a frame of reference. Several times, he crept toward the openings, but stopping well within the cover of the drain. The light outside was diffused through the leaves, revealing little about the source. He always retreated to his seat, until once again, he felt compelled to act. Trey wasn’t aware that he had fallen asleep, until Joker’s voice in his ear, along with a vigorous shaking, woke him up. “Come on man, wake up”!

The bank robber shivered, chilled from leaning back against the damp concrete. He bent forward, rubbing his neck from the awkward position it had been in. “What”?

“I think it’s afternoon”.

Joker led the way toward the round opening. “The shadows have shifted”.

The bank robber could see what his friend said was true. The western, creek bank seemed slightly, darker. The sunlight brightened the eastern bank. “Mid-afternoon maybe” he whispered.

“Let’s get out of here” the smaller man said anxiously.

Trey had been feeling the same way all day and decided to listen to the small voice that had been nagging him. “OK, we go out the other way, there’s more cover there”. He led the way back to the opposite end of the drain. The entrance was almost covered with tall weeds and the beginning of an Elderberry grove. The banks were much closer together than the lower end. Trey looked and listened for several moments, then eased out of the pipe and up the bank to the left. He took a knee, checked his surroundings again, then crooked a finger at the waiting thief.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Sat Feb 23, 2019 5:54 pm

The felons waited longer once they were together. Neither seeing or hearing anything to cause them alarm, the pair began picking their way through the thick brush, traveling west. The openings they came across were packed with prickly, blackberry bushes. The berries, they sampled were far from sweet and too few to satisfy their hunger. Upon reaching the end of the cover, where an overgrown lawn began, they saw a row of homes. The men agreed that these were the homes they had passed to the south earlier. Now they were north of them.

The criminals continued to travel, passing the point where they had turned back because of the helicopters. “Why are we stopping” Joker asked in an annoyed tone of voice?

“We have to think about stopping for the night” Trey informed him with an evil smile. “Besides, I’m hungry”.

“We just got started” Joker argued.

“Its almost dark, we got no food or water. We don’t even have a flashlight or a blanket” Trey reminded his cellmate.

Joker’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “It will take a year to get home at this rate”.

“You’re such a candy ass” Trey said making the smaller felon laugh. “Once we get an outfit and get into the rhythm, we’ll cover some ground” he said, attempting to raise his friend’s spirits. The cellmates stopped at the first house. The interior looked like a tornado had passed through it. The kitchen cupboards were empty, much of the contents strewn across the floor. The closets and dressers were in much the same state. Neither man even thought of looking in the basement without a flashlight. They moved on to the second home.

At the rate they were losing daylight, checking a third place was unlikely. They entered through the unlocked front door, into a living room, which except for the dust, was very neat. The bedrooms were empty, except for clothing neatly stacked on the bedspread of the master bedroom. The bathroom also had supplies readied, as though for a trip. The kitchen counters were filled with neatly stacked cans and dried foodstuffs. A door in the kitchen led to the basement and the second to the garage.

A dead man lay on the cement floor of the empty parking areas, against the back wall. Empty brass of three or four different calibers littered the floor. The big door was closed and from the bullet holes, the shooting had occurred while the door was in the overhead position. The dead man had a single action revolver laying next to him that he had evidently been in the act of reloading. A shotgun blast at close range had killed him. The body had been there for a long time.

A flashlight hung from a key rack by its lanyard. With it, they checked the basement, which held nothing of interest. Their evening meal was eaten cold from the cans they chose. While looking for a can opener, they discovered some batteries in a junk drawer that fit the little flashlight. Once it was getting too dark to see without the flashlight’s aid, Joker claimed the couch and Trey the recliner. Several blankets from the bedroom ensured a comfortable night’s rest.

Trey woke once, sitting in the dark listening. Then dropped off to sleep again. That morning he awoke shortly after dawn, roused by Joker battling the can opener. “You have to be smarter than the can” he said entering the kitchen.

“It’s a cheap piece of junk” the thief growled. He managed to bend back the part of the lid that the opener had cut through. Then he teased pieces of fruit through the narrow opening. “I miss eggs for breakfast. Pancakes too. We should stay on the farm for a while. Get rested up”.

“Hopefully, we’ll be home by Christmas” Trey said, looking over the limited breakfast choices. “Let’s eat and go”. With a couple cans of food and the reloaded handgun from the garage, the house had nothing else to offer. They decided to skip looking in the other homes in favor of covering some ground. They crossed the lawns behind the houses, entering the woods to the west. The men turned north, pausing when they came to a road. It was clear in both directions, so they crossed over climbing the bank on the far side.

The men hiked for over an hour without seeing a road or any buildings. They crossed one road, then hiked for over another hour. Mott Farm Road was the first road sign they had seen. Not long after crossing, the next sign announced Bear Mountain State Park. The first site they didn’t see until the pair were standing in it. Several tents were laid flat on the ground, near a dining fly that was missing its central pole. Whatever vehicle they had arrived in, left deep ruts in the loam when it had departed. The further into the park they traveled, the more abandoned camp sites they saw. “This is kind of spooky” Joker said.

“Yep, an empty house is different” Trey understood what he meant.

The felons started to follow a small permanent stream down the slope it followed. Trey, stopping, pointed ahead with one finger. Joker looked until he saw some leaves down the slope twitch. More leaves moved behind the original silent disturbance. The first goon limped out of the grove of slender saplings. The criminals couldn’t make out any details at that distance, however the stiff way the figure walked declared it to be long dead. More of the cannibals emerged into the open. Trey and Joker watched the mob hike up the same slope they descended, only on the opposite side of the little feeder stream.

Once the goons were out of sight, the two travelers changed directions, walking across the face of the slope. They found a hiking trail that took them to a five, acre lake in the woods, located next to the Doddletown Road. Their pace increased on the paved surface, reaching the junction with 9W. Neither of the roads showed any signs of passage by wheeled traffic for some time. They continued north a short distance on the new road coming upon a car and trailer pulled off on the berm.

The cell mates checked the car, finding it out of gas. “Any idea where we are” Joker asked his friend.

“Nope. Let’s stay the night here. Who knows where the next place might be”.

Joker twisted the door knob on the travel trailer, which opened readily. “I think its a sign”. The hikers found a fair selection of canned food and bottled water. They spit the last bottle of soda. The thief kept coming back to the idea of the wilderness, as he called it, being so close to the city. They discovered a deck of cards and spent the last bit of daylight playing spades. The friends drew cards to see who got the mini bedroom and who slept on the pull-out couch apparatus. The small man crowed at being the big winner.

Daybreak refused to leave Trey in bed. He tossed and turned, finally giving up on the idea. After taking a quick look around the area, the bank robber started a fire. He put the coffee water on and waited for it to get hot. Sitting in a dirty camping chair, he enjoyed a cup in the quiet of the morning. Joker would be crying all day if he was awakened this early for no reason. Although, with the shorter days of winter fast approaching, he’d better get used to it sooner rather than later.

Looking for the coffee pot had turned up some freeze, dried food. The cook opened the pouches and mixed them up with water. Once he had the mixture in a skillet over the fire, he shook Joker until he woke up. “What” the small man demanded?

“Your eggs are going to burn if you don’t get up”.

The eggs had thickened over the heat by the time the older man made his appearance. He stumbled down to the fire, laces from his boots trailing behind him and threw himself into a folding chair. He greedily drank the instant coffee from a metal cup that had been thrust at him. “Nice fire. Think the choppers will see it”?

Naw, the wood was dry, barely any smoke at all”.

“Where’d you get eggs” Joker demanded?

Trey scooped half the yellow concoction onto a metal plate, shoving at his friend. “Just add water”.

“Salt and pepper”?

“Nope”.

Further conversation was delayed while they ate the first hot meal in several days. They shared the last cup of instant coffee, leaving the dirty plates on the ground next to the fire. The bank robber watched his partner begin to lace up his boots, then went back inside the tiny camper. When he departed, he had a pillow case over his shoulder containing the few things they might be able to use. “Surprise”, he presented his friend with an old style, spike, can opener.

Joker tucked the implement safely into a uniform pocket, with a smile of satisfaction. The skillet full of ditch water, extinguished the fire before they set out on the road. After walking a good part of the morning, a body of water showed up east of the road. Trey was sure that it was just an extension of the Hudson River, while Joker bet it was a separate lake. Well over an hour later, Trey won the bet, although the Hudson was only half as wide as it had been to the south. Looking ahead, they could see a road bridge that crossed the river. Neither man recalled the name of the Fort Clinton bridge.

“How many goons do you think are on the bridge” Joker asked?

“Probably not as many as will see us going across the road. Once they see us, they’ll follow”.

The thief pointed out the railroad track that crossed the inlet of the Hudson. “We can use that. The road is bends to the west. We’ll have those trees and brush to screen us from the road”.

“Sounds like a plan”.

The pair picked up the rail line just after the crossing of the inlet, where the roads were closest to it. The double ribbon of rail followed the river bank for as far as they could see. There was little talk as they walked the rail bed, looking down as much as they looked at the bridge they were approaching. Joker stopped, looking around “Is that the wind” he asked about the sound he’d been hearing?

“No, I think it’s our friends” Trey replied, tilting his head back to look up at the bridge railing. A substantial section of the railing two hundred feet above them, was lined with the dead, looking down at the travelers, waving their hands in greeting. What the felons couldn’t see, was just how many goons were up there. The excitement of the first zombie to spot the two men spread among the others nearby. Movement drew in additional goons from farther along the 2,250, foot structure. The crowd grew, pressing against those first to the railing. Members of the mob that lost their footing became steps for others looking down.

The startled cellmates jumped away from the impact of the first body, striking the ground head first ten feet in front of them. “Run” Trey shouted sprinting forward. A second cannibal hit the ground on its back, the head separating to roll past them like a bowling ball. The skull struck one metal rail and bounced six feet in the air. A third exploded on striking the ground, coating the area around it with black liquid and rotten flesh. The criminals ran until the thuds of bodies hitting the rail bed were well behind them.

The men stood under the bridge speechless, watching the dead rain down from above. The aerial attack ceased after eight goons had made the jump. “Come on” Joker yelled, pulling his friend away from the spectacle. The two men sprinted the width of the bridge, emerging from its footprint at top speed. When they slowed to a stop and looked back, only an empty bridge rail met their gaze. “We can follow the railroad” Trey imitated his friend. The small man’s only response was a crazy grin.

Twenty minutes later the pair had stopped walking. A river, that flowed into the Hudson blocked their path. The only way across was the railroad bridge. The alternative was to hike inland until they found another bridge over the waterway. “This isn’t like one of the old movies, where we get halfway across and train shows up, is it” the bank robber asked?

“Sure” Joker answered. “The train is sitting just out of sight with a full head of steam”.

Trey looked across the rail bridge, then back to the west. Figures were moving around the cluster of buildings and there was more movement on the road coming down from the bridge. “The other side looks clear, let’s go for it”.

Without a word, Joker started across, stretching a little to set foot on the ties that were almost two feet apart. “Don’t look down” the thief called over his shoulder, striding out onto the quarter mile bridge.

“I want to see them follow us out here” Trey called back, making his friend laugh.

Joker stopped at a mid-point, looking upstream until Trey caught up to him. The banks of the waterway looked to be only ten feet apart, before it curved out of sight. “We could jump over that” the small man said. They continued over the construction that spanned the river mouth, occasionally looking back where they had started from, which was still empty of any threat. The men completed the crossing without incident.

The tracks continued straight as far as they could see. “Time to start looking for a place to spend the night” Trey said.

Down the track a way, there was a large building seen to the west. “Too much glass” Joker judged from the setting sun’s reflection.

The rails changed to a little more easterly direction. Trees and brush screened the left side of the rails, however Joker spotted something ahead. The building was to far away to make out any detail. The ground cover slowly disappeared as they walked, revealing a handful of commercial buildings ahead. The pair looked around from the edge of cover, then went forward to have a look.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Re: Doing Time

Post by bodyparts » Mon Feb 25, 2019 6:10 pm

Groucho thanks for the MAOR !!! It is always good to find that you have gifted us with exciting update.

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Johan » Wed Feb 27, 2019 8:08 am

Thank you for the MOOAAAR!!!
It was good stuff as always..
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Re: Doing Time

Post by Halfapint » Thu Feb 28, 2019 2:30 am

You posted this giant dump and I’m not able to read it yet! Vacation week and I’m exhausted everyday I get home. Hopefully I’ll get to this in the next couple days.
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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Sat Mar 16, 2019 9:13 pm

Trask slept well in his own bed the first night back. He was surprised to think of it as his bed, rather than the bed. The mission report had taken longer to write than he had figured on. Even after the changes he made, the damn thing read like fiction. After stopping for breakfast, he wandered into his office by mid-morning. Illion was sitting by the scarred man’s desk, struggling to stay awake. He cleared his throat loudly, startling the lieutenant who jumped to his feet. “Good morning Sir”!

“Morning” the Captain replied, firing up the coffee pot. He seldom used the pot, however, the junior officer looked like he could use a cup. Trask shuffled papers without speaking until the pot signaled that it had accomplished its task. He placed a cup in front of his guest, then poured himself a cup. “So, how did the search go”?

“Not a sign of him” Illion replied, expecting to get a tongue lashing, if not worse.

“They are a slippery pair. Where are your troops”?

“At chow”.

“Here’s your billet assignments” Trask handed over the paperwork. “Get them rested up. Tonight, send anyone who would recognize the little guy, out to hang around in pairs. Same tomorrow. Any questions”?

“No sir” Illion said with disbelief, almost running from the office.

The captain sat with his feet up for a while after his guest departed. Never having been a popular officer, he was surprised at the number of CI personnel that stopped by to ask what it was like in the field these days. That afternoon he visited the Provost Marshall for a chat about the escapee. He also checked in at the prisoner holding area, although he didn’t speak with Trey. The remainder of the day was spent in the gun cage cleaning his weapons. That evening he made one of his rare trips to what passed as the officer’s club. His table proved to be a popular place to gather as well.

The General didn’t get back from his trip until late and didn’t see anyone. He must have read the report, since Trask was summoned late that night. He arrived in time to listen to the Blackhawk chase the speed boat up the river. Dispatched to the holding area, he confirmed Trey’s escape, sent the injured guard to the hospital, freed the captured guards at the dock and counted boats. The General and his boss were not pleased with the night’s events. His scar covered his amusement when the escapees were referred to as super villains by the General.

Trask was tasked with trying to locate the criminals. He led a platoon that was helicoptered near the burned boat the next morning. His request for infrared equipped transport, was roadblocked because it hadn’t been in demand since the dead returned to life. The squads were deposited in different areas, searching for some sign of the felons. The copters stayed on station to spot the prey if they tried to run.
The Captain gave it a couple hours before giving up, not that he thought that the maneuver had a chance to begin with. “They’re like homing pigeons, we know where they’ll end up” he told his superiors.

Trey and Joker walked quickly down the railroad track, wanting to get inside while the coast was clear. Two blocky buildings were to the right of the tracks, right on the river’s edge. The perspective changed as they moved closer. Both were long and narrow warehouses. Half a dozen buildings of various sizes sat to the left of the tracks, located on Mine Dock Road, which dead ended at the river. The narrow, paved, road, sprinkled with pot holes was barely wider than one lane. The commercial structures were one story, built of either brick or stone. The two men opted to check out the two story, wood framed house across the road.

Joker led the way up the stairs, onto the old, style porch that ran the length of the building. Trey watched the surrounding area while Joker knocked on the double front doors. Moments passed, bringing no knocking or pounding from inside the dwelling. The knob turned, easily and the door drifted back against the wall from the easy shove it had received. The thief had stepped back, swinging his rifle into position just in case. Neither cellmate saw any movement or cause for alarm in their respective sectors.

He stepped inside, noticing that there was no smell of rot or death, however, it did smell old.
That smell was one Joker associated with historic buildings, that had been saved from the wrecking ball. The plank floor had been painted gray, the same color as the porch. Trey backed in the door, closing it behind him. The main room, with the stone fireplace, was connected to a kitchen on one end and an office on the other.

The office was cluttered with the debris of having been lived in for days. A tangle of coats of different sizes and colors, along with a windbreaker lay on rugs taken from inside and outside the front door. The rugs, serving as insulation from the cold floor. Boxes and wrappers from a variety of foods were stacked on the desk and thrown into a corner. Mouse droppings decorated the area where the vermin had searched for crumbs. Though, the first thing that was noticed, was that the room smelled like a locker room. The sour odor of sweat was mixed with a general smell of body odor.

Eight file cabinets held records on a variety of media. There were paper files, microfiche, floppy discs and CD’s. Personnel files, vacation and work schedules, along with accounting records made up the lion’s share of the now irrelevant information. The floor bowed under the cabinets from the weight when everything was paper.

The kitchen was empty except for the lunch set out on the table. A moldy sandwich and a withered apple sat next to a lunchbox, evidently owned by “Al”. A cheap refrigerator sat in the corner of the room, on the cheap linoleum floor. The empty cupboards were as badly in need of cleaning, as the walls in need of paint. The counter tops showed white through the original yellow color. Whoever had stayed in the office must have come long after Al missed his lunch. Holding his breath, Joker opened the fridge that held only a single bottle of water, that was half empty.

Trey parted the cheap paisley curtains to check outside. The sun had set, however it was still light enough to see several goons wandering the area. The bank robber pointed up, to the floor above. The second floor was accessed by a stairway near the entrance. The stairs creaked loudly unless one placed his feet next to the raisers attached to the wall. Two of the three rooms upstairs were used as storage, although the third was a usable bedroom. Joker peered out the window facing the rear of the building. “That’s a long drop if we have to get out of here”.

Trey agreed, adding “This is the most depressing place we’ve stayed in”. The felons spent the night in the office. Trey claimed the swivel chair, leaning back to put his feet on the desk. Joker looked at the nest on the floor with disgust. Neither man slept soundly, waking to listen in the dark. Once, feet dragging on the porch floor kept them awake until the noise stopped. Both criminals were awake and ready to leave before dawn arrived. They could make out the shapes of the dead against the lighter colored stone of the building across the street. One goon stood on the porch, rocking from foot to foot, slowly turning, as though it knew prey were very close by.

The cellmates had a whispered consultation. “What are they all doing here” the thief asked?

“They probably saw us when we arrived, even though we didn’t see them. Let’s go out the back way” Trey suggested. His partner nodded agreement. The men tried several windows on the back side of the first floor. The only window that would budge, began to squeal as the damp wood rubbed against each other. With a shrug, Trey began smashing the glass from the window frame. Joker grabbed a poker from the fireplace, using it to knock all the remaining glass from the exit. Trey went out feet first, holding onto the ledge to lower himself, then dropping the last foot to the ground.

He reached up, taking the rifles Joker held out the window by the barrels. As the smaller man was going out the window, the pounding on the front of the building began. The thief hung from his hands on the sill, letting go to drop a foot further than his friend had. He began to backpedal when he hit the ground. Joker lost his balance despite his efforts, falling into a sitting position, feeling the seat of his pants soak up the heavy dew on the grass. Trey kept quiet while hauling Joker to his feet, although he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

A goon staggered around the corner of the house and became an instant target for the thief’s rage. The fireplace poker was swung until the dead man’s head was an unrecognizable pile of tissue on the grass. “Do you feel better now” the bank robber asked?

“Why yes, yes I do” the older man replied with a smile. A brush and tree covered hill began two steps from the back of the old house. The felons had a good start climbing before the goons arrived at the bottom. The pair climbed steadily without stopping. Trey was expecting the top of the hill to be cleared ground, but the woodland continued. The men headed west, descending to what they guessed was almost the same level as the river. They bypassed a home set back in the trees, stopping at the edge of a field, with a view of a four-lane road.

The pair stopped well back from the border, looking at what used to be humanity. There was over forty of the dead in that short stretch that was visible. A couple were staggering to the north, although most were stationary, facing one direction or another. Trey slowly sidestepped to his friend, who said “We’re not getting past them”. They turned and picked their footing, retreating the way they had come. They turned left, going past the house again. The convicts struck a gravel road, but after a short distance, the trees were replaced with grass for a short way.

Deciding that way looked too exposed, they turned off into the trees again. Three houses on large lots blocked their view of the road as they passed behind them. All the homes appeared to be empty so far. Next in line was an old farm building, possibly for equipment storage. Staying under the trees, they reached an intersection of three narrow, gravel roads and had a look at the front of the building. All three made bends out of sight, so they took a chance and crossed to the target building.

The door was secured by a large, but cheap lock, that was easily opened by the master thief. Someone had oiled the hinges, allowing the right half of the door to swing open a few inches silently. Their flashlight played over dusty, machinery. The inside smelled clean, remained quiet and still, so they entered. Light streamed through the cracks in the board walls of the structure, saving the batteries in the flashlight. The centerpiece was an antique tractor, missing its wheels, that had been in the process of restoration. The old parts that had been taken off were stacked against the wall. Boxes against the opposite wall held new parts.

An old square bailing machine took up the far corner. The remainder of the equipment shed was empty except for pile covered by dusty sheets. They explored, finding nothing of use, until they were leaving. Trey, who had been jealous of his partner’s fireplace poker, saw a wrench leaning against one of the jack stands cradling the tractor body. The pipe wrench was two feet long and had been wiped clean after its last use. The bank robber made a couple experimental swings before deciding to keep it. It had the heft to crack skulls, but wasn’t too heavy to carry around.

The coast was still clear, so they closed the doors, putting the lock through the hasp without closing it. The thought might save some poor soul’s life down the road and it would still, keep the weather and goons on the exterior. Back in the trees, the next view of the road was over an acre size parking lot, next to a large restaurant. The goons were occupying this stretch of blacktop as well. It turned out, when they saw the sign, that this was 9W that they had followed back in the park. The road was making a long, slow, curve to the east.

The houses became closer together, separated only by a few mature shade trees. Ahead the could see another street intersecting 9W. The homes on both sides of this street were larger than what they had been seeing. The felons turned back east, looking for a place to cross over. The dead population was thinner here, but still too numerous to risk crossing the street. A disheveled figure in one house saw them and began pounding on the glass door that led to a deck. The friends retreated into the woods before the disturbance attracted the free-range goons.

They kept to the trees, passing backyard swimming pools and tennis courts. At the end of the street, the trees let them turn to the north again. Joker stopped, looking to his right. Trey joined him to see what was up. They stood there looking at the railroad and the Hudson river, having made a circle. After a whispered conversation, they continued north, in the trees separating the homes from the tracks. The quality of the houses diminished, although they grew more numerous. Slowly, the width of their cover shrank, until they were on the river bank using the higher rail bed for cover.

“We really need to find a map” Trey said. The convicts sat on the river bank, taking a break.

“Yep” Joker agreed.

“Except everyone was using GPS instead of paper” the bank robber said thoughtfully.

“You’re a ray of sunshine” the thief replied. The partners stretched their backs from moving hunched over to stay below the level of the railroad tracks. “A truck won’t do us much good” Joker continued.

“We need to find a boat” Trey made the point he’d been thinking about. “The River keeps getting narrower, there should be some small boats around here. Besides, I hate being hemmed in by the river. We could end up swimming if the dead show up in force”.

The break ended, the men traveled two hundred uncomfortable yards, bent over, before a belt of trees allowed them to walk erect again. Several attempts to get close to 9W failed due to the number of homes in the area. Finally, a grove of trees without dwellings looked like it might go where they wanted. A bed and breakfast lay on their left as they drifted through underbrush. Then a large parking lot for a Holiday Inn came into sight also on the left. A group of the dead, clustered around the doors, like they were tourists who had arrived before check-in and were waiting for their rooms to be available.

The tree line halted, although there was a limited view of the main road. The felons were looking between a fitness center and another large, but nondescript building. Goons were moving on this stretch of road too, only these ones were moving south. “Perhaps the goons that seemed to be standing around had been local people” Trey thought. The cellmates backed away to the middle of the woodlot for a hurried conference.

“We should be thinking about stopping for the night” the bank robber suggested in a low voice.

Joker agreed “Sneaking around is burning a lot of daylight”.

The friends moved back toward the river on the opposite side of the grove. There was an old shed in the large yard of a house. It was too far from cover for their purposes. The next building was an old structure that appeared ready to collapse. Once they passed it, there was a house in front of it. Unfortunately, a clear cut had been started that was too risky to cross. The pair went almost to the river before changing direction. The approach to the house was covered almost to the back door.

Joker manipulated the lock, leaving Trey to keep an eye out. They were inside in under a minute. The criminals stood still, listening and smelling the stale air. The single-story, Ranch, had three bedrooms. Trey guessed it belonged to an empty nest couple. Only the master bedroom was occupied by a bed. The others were now a sewing room and a TV room. The basement also passed the tests of sound and smell. Enough light entered through the long, narrow windows, that they could save the flashlight’s batteries.

One of the owners believed in stocking up on can goods whenever there was a sale. The partners smiled, looking at the selection. They decided on beef stew and peaches for supper. The only item of use was a canvas bag with a single carry strap attached to it. It was filled with a half dozen cans so it could still be carried easily. The felons sat at the kitchen table to eat after they had slowly closed the curtains.

Trey raided the man’s bureau for clean underwear, t-shit and socks. Joker was going to pass on the large size clothing, until he got a whiff of his soiled uniform. “These should fit you” Trey said, throwing a pair of women’s underwear at his friend.

“Gee, thank you very much” Joker replied throwing them back. Trey also used socks from the drawer to cover the cans they were taking, to keep them from knocking together and making noise. The cellmates spent the night in the TV room with matching recliners. The men were awake when the sky began to get light. They breakfasted on peaches, which were still a nice change from what they usually found. Trey finished cleaning up with bottled water to find Joker missing. He found the older man in the bathroom flossing his teeth.

“That’s not a bad idea” Trey announced. When they left the house, both men had a toothbrush and a tube of paste in their pocket.

They retraced their steps from the day before, using their previous location to scope out the road again. It was still full of moving dead, only the flow this time was reversed, all moving north. The pair resigned themselves to trudging up the railroad again. The homes grew closer to the rail line the further north they went. They reached a point where not only had all cover disappeared, but houses had been built literally next to the railroad.

“What kind of moron would live this close to the tracks” Joker whispered. Trey shrugged, thinking they weren’t bad looking houses either and fairly, new. The felons crab walked the next hundred yards before reaching the cover of the trees on the riverbank. The area they were in turned out to be a large undeveloped tract of woodland. Once again, the criminals crept forward to check out the area. To their surprise, the road they found was only a two, lane city road.

They didn’t see movement on the street or in any of the buildings on widely spaced lots. There were good places to cross the street to the left and the right. The partners scooted across the street, then watched to see if they had picked up any followers. “Do you know what else is up river” Joker asked?

“I know West Point is somewhere up here, but that’s about all. There might be small towns along the river the entire way north. I-90 is up north and will take us west, all the way to Erie. As long as we’re on foot, we need these small towns. If the goons are on 9W we can think about getting some wheels”.

“What we really need is a plane” the thief responded.

“If you see an airport sign, be sure to let me know”.

They walked through the woods, slowing when the light grew brighter where the trees ended. The felons’ observation point was above the road, where it cut through a small rise of ground. The dead had stayed on the multi-lane road when the road split. Crowds of the walking corpses moved along at a slow pace. Smaller groups, pairs and singles intermingled with the larger groups of flesh eaters. The weather since the outbreak, had turned the reanimated humans the same gray color as most of their clothing. Most were going north, passing through a mature forest on both sides of the road, although stragglers were walking south against the flow. On the stretch of highway that they could see, there was only one car in sight. The small sedan rested on its roof near a mangled section of guardrail.

The convicts eased back away from the edge of the tree line. Trey changed their route to parallel the original path. Approaching the houses that they had passed earlier, the men stopped to look and listen for a short time. Joker tapped the bank robber’s arm, pointed to himself and then the stand-alone garage in front of them. Getting a nod, the thief lowly walked toward the older building, that had probably been built at the same time as the older house.

Looking through the filthy glass of the side door, Joker could see that the big door was closed. Despite the dim interior, he could see that the single parking space was empty. They checked the other half dozen places on their side of the road, but had no luck. Only forest lay ahead of them, so they crossed the road again. Houses were scattered amongst the older buildings that used to be businesses or farm oriented. The convicts worked their way down the row, checking the garages.

They found vehicles that were out of gas and several that had severe damage from front end collisions. Most of the damaged front ends, were coated with coated with the black substance the dead leaked. They guessed that the others were damaged avoiding the dead. Only two homes contained goons that bet on the windows as the men passed. The line of buildings ended at a cemetery, that had a lot of evidence of recent burials. The men could see houses on the far side of the cemetery, also through the trees behind the sacred ground.

The pair took to the trees again rather than walk across the open ground. Joker saw one building that they had missed, hidden by the fall foliage. The convicts walked toward the rear of the house, when Joker heard a sound behind them. He took one look at the source of the rustling brush, “Dogs” he spoke calmly. Trey had walked on after Joker had paused, but still heard the warning. The bank robber glanced around for other threats before turning around.

Two, Terrier mix animals, stood at the edge of the clearing growling at Joker. A third dog emerged, this one was clearly a Pit Bull, with a more audible growl and bristling hair along its back. The cellmates began backing away from the animals, who were joined by a German Shepard and a Boxer mix. “Now what” Joker asked?

“Kids were building a tree house. There’s boards nailed to the trunk behind us. Keep backing up”.

“Can’t we just shoot” Joker asked?

“They’ll come really fast. I doubt we can get all of them at this distance. I’ll give you a leg up”.

The thief pushed his fireplace poker through his belt. Reaching the huge maple tree, Trey dropped his wrench and bag, cupped his hands, bending slowly at the waist. His rifle sling slid down to the crook of his elbow, as he watched the animals advance the same distance the men had retreated. Joker put his foot in his friend’s hands, who boosted him high enough to grasp a pine board nailed to the tree trunk. A part of his mind noticed the number of nails that had been bent rather than hammered straight in. He hoped they would hold his weight.

The movement from boosting the smaller man into the tree triggered the dogs’ aggressive instincts, that were already on a hair trigger. Trey leapt for the makeshift ladder, his rifle, striking the tree bark with a thud. Before he could lift his second foot off the bottom board of the ladder, one of the Terriers grabbed a mouthful of his pant leg. Struggling to lift the additional weight, Trey was almost pulled from the tree by the Pit Bull, who had sunk its teeth into the sole of his boot. He barely held on while both dogs, suspended by their jaws, jerked their bodies back and forth.

The sound of cloth ripping was followed a reduction in the extra weight attached to his leg. He raised his foot almost to the next rung of the crude ladder, before the sole of the boot was ripped almost free by the Pit Bull. Trey scrambled out of reach, the bottom of the boot slapping the leather with each movement. He joined his friend in the crotch of the main tree limbs, sitting on the two lengths of pine wood, that were as far as the builders has progressed.

The pack of dogs began barking at their trapped prey, taking turns putting their front paws on the trunk of the tree. “That racket will bring the goons running. Shoot them” the ex-soldier commanded. The Shepard knew all about guns and was the only pack member to escape. The Boxer was indecisive about running until a bullet struck him. The three dogs with Terrier blood, all died trying to get up the tree. “Let’s get out of here” urged. The men descended the tree, feeling for the boards with their feet. Joker waited impatiently for Trey to dig a roll of duct tape from his bag, then wrap his footwear several times.

The cellmates set off for the railroad, thinking none of the dead would be coming from that direction. They set a quick pace upon reaching the river, with not a goon in sight. Joker couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. Trey’s boot didn’t slap as much as it had been doing, however it had also developed a squeak from the tape. He’d also stopped long enough to cut away the strip of pant leg dragging on the ground. “Go ahead, yuck it up” was the only response.

They hadn’t walked far when they caught their first sight of the fence. Past the last trees on the river bank, the convicts had a good view of the water treatment plant. The facility took up two hundred yards of land, just back from the river. “I wonder how often this place gets flooded” Joker said out loud. “Its awful close to the river”.

“Don’t you have any faith in elected officials” Trey asked? “I’m sure they had studies made by top people. Top people” he emphasized!

‘You’re a funny guy’ his friend replied.

“The truth is that half the folks that died are no loss to the world. Maybe more than half” the bank robber said upon reflection.

“That’s pretty negative, I’m impressed”.

Keeping an eye on the surrounding area, the felons circled the outside of the eight, foot fence. They didn’t see anything moving, except birds perched on the fence, that took flight at their approach. The locks on the back gate were so rusted, Joker wasn’t sure it could ever be opened. The front gate gave the thief little trouble. Besides rectangular pools of water of different sizes, there were two, tall, storage tanks and a building. The criminals climbed to the top of one tank, finding only a different perspective, but nothing new.

The building contained two offices and the rest was storage. The real prize was the white truck, with Orange County Water Service emblazoned on the doors in lack. A flashing yellow light sat on the roof for employee safety and someone had even left the solar charger plugged in. Joker jumped into the driver seat, spotted the keys tucked into the sun visor and fired it up. He grinned when the needle on the gas gauge swung to indicate full. “I’d rather be lucky than good”. The engine protested after the long vacation it had and the felons let it run until it purred.

The disagreement occurred, when the discussion turned to the next course of action. Joker wanted to leave right immediately. Trey pointed out how late in the day it was already. Joker brought up the point that they had fired their weapons earlier in the day, probably attracting more goons. Trey though they should gather all the gear they might need while traveling, rather than hunt for it once something went wrong. However, he relented, noting a desperation to be moving in his friend. The convicts locked the gate behind them after they drove through.

The road from the water plant didn’t lead to Old State Road, but rather to Rose Drive, which passed several dead-end roads that existed to build homes on. Each area was separated by large, tracts of forest. After driving by the Highland Falls sewage plant, Joker made the right turn onto Old State Road.
Their route intersected with Main Street, where thick forest lined both sides of the road. Cruising down the street at a placid twenty miles an hour, both men figured that they had seen the last of Highland Falls. Emerging from the forest after several miles of driving, the large portion of Highland Falls lay before them. Large neighborhoods of family housing stood on both sides of the road. Joker slowed the truck, although no cannibals were seen at first. The homes were located on long, irregular, blocks, most having fenced back yards that interlocked. The re-animated dead, they did see, were unable to chase after them before battering down the wood barriers.

Joker slowed the truck in front of a barricade, that had been erected on an access road to the housing development. The blockade reached from fence to fence, crossing the road. Two larger, older vehicles, a truck and a station wagon, with the wheels removed, was used to direct traffic. A small, Nissan sedan, was rolled away to permit entrance. The remainder of the wall was whatever could be found. Furniture made up a large part of the barricade. A considerable pile of corpses was piled near the left fence. The one body that caught their eye, knelt on its knees, buttocks on its heels, head hanging down, arms resting on its thighs. “Maybe he tried to hide a bite”, Joker suggested.

They drove past a Chinese restaurant, a Mexican restaurant and the West Point Motel. Trey was sure they hadn’t reached West Point yet, but it must be nearby. Further down the street, the right, hand neighborhood disappeared, to be replaced by woodland for five or six blocks. A drug store and a restaurant were carved out of the trees, which returned to the road again temporarily. West Point Highway began at that point, splitting off and then paralleling Main Street seventy, yards away. The felons stuck with main Street, not knowing which road, might be a better choice.

About a half mile down the street, Joker stopped the truck laughing. Trey had been staring at the Highland Police Department building, wondering if they should stop to look for weapons or ammo. “What’s so funny” he asked his cellmate.

Joker pointed to the next store across the parking lot. Both men laughed at seeing the donut shop sharing a parking lot with the police department. “You can’t make up stuff like that” Joker said. Past that point, businesses more frequently featured either the name of the military academy or something of a military nature. A small crowd of the dead had gathered outside a church and began staggering after the slow, moving truck. Main Street merged with West Point Highway again within sight of the entrance to West Point.

Joker braked to a stop, the criminals staring at the road ahead. Trucks of every description had been used to close off the academy. Two delivery vans, from competing companies, blocked the two, lane road. Others had been used to make a perimeter. There were hundreds of the dead in sight, on the felons’ side of the perimeter. An unknown number of the dead were inside the ring of trucks, searching for a way out. A shiver went up Trey’s spine upon seeing the cannibals turn, focusing their attention on the travelers.

Joker made a rapid three, point turn, then accelerated back the way they had come. He had just enough room to dodge the dead church goers, without having to mount the curb. The street curved after five longer than average city blocks, out of sight of the academy zombies. The white truck still had to dodge the goons who had been attracted the first time it had passed the area. The bank robber saw the sign for state route 218, had the thief pass it a couple blocks, then duck into a side street and doubled back to throw off the goons.

The suburbs route 218 wandered through were more substantial than they had thought. For two miles they drove past rows of houses. Several reanimated humans in the yards, began walking in the direction the truck was headed. A female in a filthy robe, sporting a shower cap, with bite marks highlighting the gray face, moved fast enough to reach the sidewalk before they cruised pass. A few were in the road ahead of the felons. “Watch this” Joker said, “zombie chicken”. He drove directly at a goon, twisting the wheel at the last moment, missing the creature walking toward them.

A ghoul wearing a torn, plaid flannel shirt, with an arrow flapping from its scalp, had an arm frozen in a raised position like it was waving goodbye, was the last obstacle leaving the town. Forest closed in on both sides of the two-lane road. The criminals had smooth sailing for five minutes, until the trees disappeared in a clearing. They were faced with two choices, a road probably going back into town or the intersection with 9W.

“Crap” Joker yelled. The dead, although less numerous than on the previous section of the four-lane, all took a keen interest in the white truck.

“Keep going” Trey yelled back. Joker grumbled, merging onto 9W by driving onto the berm in order to miss a four, car pile-up. The five dead in sight, began following the truck. The next exit was only minutes away, the felons made the right turn for 218 and the West Point Golf Course.

“How many do you think saw us” the older man asked?

“I don’t know, maybe a dozen”. Forest on the left soon blocked their view of 9W, while the fairways and greens of the golf course came up to the edge of the road. The parking lot was empty, and the club house appeared to be locked up tight. Three academy sports fields showed up on the right, occupied by a scattering of the dead. Trees returned to both sides of the road, although they could see the tops of buildings above the green on the right.

Their road changed direction from east to north, still bordered by trees. Through a gap in the trees Trey saw water and laughed. “That’s the Hudson River on the right” he pointed. “We really need a map”.

“Oh, wonderful” the driver responded with sarcasm. The road meandered back and forth, the builders having used the easiest path back in the old days. The road angled west away from the river and they saw the first house since they had rejoined the waterway. It sat back from the road and ahead the area seemed lighter, as if the trees gave way to open ground. “Let’s stop here” Trey suggested. “How much gas do we have”?

Joker shrugged at the suggestion, turning into the driveway. “Half a tank” he answered the question. The men stretched after sitting for most of the day. “We need gas and supplies” Trey mentioned the obvious, getting a “Duh” in response. The garage parking spots weren’t occupied, however they did find a full, two, gallon gas can marker “mower” and an empty five gallon container. Two different size bow saws hung on the wall and the felons took most of the tools from the peg board next to the work bench.

The cellmates stood outside the home, looking it over. “Do you hear someone singing” Joker asked? Trey stopped to listen, but the wind blew through the trees releasing a blizzard of fall colored leaves on the felons. The leaves brushing against each other masked all other sounds. The wind finally cooperated, settling long enough for Trey to hear a little girl’s voice. “Yeah, I hear it. Now what”?
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Johan
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Re: Doing Time

Post by Johan » Sun Mar 24, 2019 4:08 am

Aaargh!!!
Cliffhanger... :gonk: :gonk:

Give us MOOAAAAARRR !!!
Firepower...
-Is One Bullet that Hits!

wamba
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Re: Doing Time

Post by wamba » Sun Mar 24, 2019 11:21 am

Just got caught up and wanted to throw some praise the authors way. Hell of a story Groucho. I almost want to get a map so I can follow our beloved felons through their adventures. I do have a question though, weren’t there two dogs at the farm? I often read when I should be sleeping so I may have missed something. :oops:
Keep up the good work.
Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it, & you can bet they'll whine that nobody warned them.

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Groucho
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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Sun Mar 24, 2019 10:26 pm

One of the dogs was killed, toward the bottom of page 12.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

USAF SP 72-77,US Army reserves 84-92

wamba
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Re: Doing Time

Post by wamba » Mon Mar 25, 2019 8:00 pm

Thanks for the timely reply.

You know what? Here you are cranking out a hell of a story (and that’s not easy) and I’m bugging you about a minor detail. A detail that I could probably figure out on my own with a reread. Or worst case if there is a discrepancy it’d be easily fixed with editing. Don’t pay any attention to me I didn’t mean to come off ungrateful or nit picky. You just keep writing, and I’ll keep enjoying the story.
Last edited by wamba on Thu Mar 28, 2019 10:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it, & you can bet they'll whine that nobody warned them.

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curt48mauser
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Re: Doing Time

Post by curt48mauser » Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:03 am

Wow! Great to see this one up and running again-loving it!

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Nature_Lover » Wed Mar 27, 2019 12:40 pm

Thank you Groucho!

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Pszara » Tue Apr 23, 2019 5:59 am

I am very happy today because I got the gift from my papa.
unexpectedly.
very delighted.

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Halfapint » Fri May 03, 2019 12:06 am

Shiiiiiiiiiit just got caught up. So good! I read the last 5 updates. Long day of reading but worth it! Thanks!
JeeperCreeper wrote:I like huge dicks, Halfapint, so you are OK in my book.... hahaha
Spazzy wrote:Tell ya what... If Zombies attack and the world ends I'll hook tandem toddlers to a plow if it means I'll be able to eat...

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Re: Doing Time

Post by SamAdams » Sat Jun 22, 2019 8:45 pm

Ready for MOAR!!!!! This is by far one of my top 3 favorite stories on here, PLEASE do not let this one die. :gonk:

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Groucho
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Joined: Sun Sep 26, 2010 3:10 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: original Dawn of the Dead
Location: MO

Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Wed Jul 10, 2019 9:24 pm

Sorry for the delay. I do try to write everyday, but stuff happens. Computer is only a couple months old but its freaking out. Word still isn't usable yet.
Oh, yeah, my long suffering fiancé and I went out to Las Vegas and had Elvis marry us. It was so cool! I had 9/10's of an update ready before everything happened.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

USAF SP 72-77,US Army reserves 84-92

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bodyparts
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Posts: 150
Joined: Sat Jan 25, 2014 9:25 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: land of the dead
Location: sw , mo

Re: Doing Time

Post by bodyparts » Wed Jul 10, 2019 9:36 pm

congratulations :clap: :clap: good luck with your computer.

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Halfapint
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Posts: 3944
Joined: Sat Nov 03, 2012 5:41 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: all?
Location: Central Cascadia

Re: Doing Time

Post by Halfapint » Wed Jul 10, 2019 9:57 pm

Groucho wrote:
Wed Jul 10, 2019 9:24 pm
Sorry for the delay. I do try to write everyday, but stuff happens. Computer is only a couple months old but its freaking out. Word still isn't usable yet.
Oh, yeah, my long suffering fiancé and I went out to Las Vegas and had Elvis marry us. It was so cool! I had 9/10's of an update ready before everything happened.
Congrats!!!! I’m about to do something like that myself :ohdear:

And hey, life happens! We, your adoring fans, will be here waiting. I’m looking at buying a new computer to start editing videos for our soon to be YT channel. This doesn’t make me hopeful of finding a good one.
JeeperCreeper wrote:I like huge dicks, Halfapint, so you are OK in my book.... hahaha
Spazzy wrote:Tell ya what... If Zombies attack and the world ends I'll hook tandem toddlers to a plow if it means I'll be able to eat...

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