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PostPosted: Thu Nov 26, 2015 11:24 am 
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Happy Thanksgiving Zen! You do an amazing job on these stories and it always leaves me wanting.....MOOOOAAARRRR! PLEASE!

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PostPosted: Fri Nov 27, 2015 5:11 pm 
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Wow... A major update to be thankful for! Thank You, Thank You, Thank You! As has been said before, you are providing large doses of very useful training wrapped in an immensely entertaining story! Much appreciated!

Standing by impatiently for the forthcoming battle...

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PostPosted: Fri Nov 27, 2015 5:15 pm 
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The less lethal canon pointed at my head fired, slamming my poorly positioned arm into my face. I guess the airbag deflated immediately, but I was too stunned to notice. Sadie's and my doors were yanked open and hands grabbed at me roughly.
I scrabbled for my pistol with one hand, having no idea where my rifle was. The other was beating at the people trying to drag me from the Jeep. I fought to open my eyes and got the left one to a squint about the same time the yelling started to make its way past the dazed state my consciousness was in.
“Zed!, Zed!” I cranked my head around, knowing my neck wasn't right and I'd be paying for it in the days to come, until I was able to bring my slit of an eye to bear on the bellower. The concerned face didn't mean much to me other than it probably didn't belong to someone trying to do me harm. Then the ginger braid swung free.
“George?” I managed to croak. Then everything flooded in. “SADIE!” They had me out of the Jeep now that I'd stopped fighting them. They sat me on the ground next to my wife who seemed to be in a better state than me.
A water bottle was shoved in my hand. Some went down my throat the rest over my head, in a partially successful bid to get back in the game. Sounds of firing entered my awareness, causing me to stand. George and one of his people caught me as I started to topple over. Little pin pricks of light covered my vision, the view changing to that of one looking down a tunnel. I fought it, with a little help from my friends and it passed a moment later.
“What are you doing here?”
“We thought you could use some help. Why didn't you ask us?” George seemed hurt.
“Sorry brother, it totally slipped my mind. Not intentional.” I looked at Sadie who was content to just sit. An increase in the rate of fire stirred me to action.
“What do you want us to do?”
I stopped, closed my eyes, willing my mind to clear. “I don't have a reserve to speak of.” I tossed him my radio. “Be ready to back us up if I call. Keep anybody else that shows up in this direction off our back. Keep an eye on Sadie. Cool?”
“You can count on us.” George seemed happy to be included. I'd apologize later. If there was a later.
“I know it.” Someone shoved my rifle in my hands and I stepped off again, bringing my pace up to a jog and then a sprint within a handful of paces. When I started this cockamamie hare and hounds idea, I figured Lavell and I would swap places, so I now ran to the machine gun nest. The firing was furious, driving me on, up the hill, still out of sight. Gaining the proper altitude I ran laterally along the hillside until I reached Velasquez. Petri saw me, eyes wide at the bloody mad man running at him.
“FRIENDLYFRIENDLYFRIENDLY!” Recognition reached his consciousness, overriding the amygdala's frantic pounding of the panic button. Sliding into the hole, jostling Velasquez who got off the trigger for a second until he could get the muzzle back on target.
“Radio!” Petri slapped his into my waiting palm.
Grabbing my breathing with both hands I slowed it, long and deep. A look at the kill zone showed all the vehicles stopped. There were bodies strewn about punctuated with red exclamation marks. A statement of the deadly efficiency of a well executed ambush.
The firing slowed as all the easy targets had been serviced. Despite taking a pounding by our machinegun and Kiko's M1 slinging armor peircing rounds, the right rear door opened from which bolted a guardsman.
Who was the rabbit now?
A bunch of our troops saw him and took him under fire. Unsucessfully. I'm guessing this young dude spent plenty of time playing B-ball. He was fast and ducked and dodged, trying to get through an aggressive defense to make a lay up. Each near miss spurred him on. I got in on the action, trying to keep the Aimpoint's dot on the small of his back. The sear broke just as he shifted. I fired again, but reacting to someone else's close but no cigar shot put him out of the path of mine too. He disappeared around the curve and I swore. I wanted no one to get away. No one to call in reinforcements.
Movement on our side of the hill caught my attention. It had the same effect on some of the guardsmen across the road who started shooting at the three figures sliding down the hill towards the road.
Cursing myself for being behind the curve, I reached around behind me, ripping open the velcro holding the rear most magazine pouch closed. I tugged the magazine free and checked that it had red electrical tape around it, then swapped it with the partial mag in the gun.
Stock back in my shoulder, check on the comb, the red dot jumped into view. I pumped groups of three rounds at the guardsmen shooting at my people sliding and bounding down the hill.

It only took a second or two for the troops to see my tracers designating a target I wanted to receive some special attention. Another second went by and the enemy had a new set of priorities as a couple of dozen riflemen sent rounds their way.
My job done, I looked at the idiots that endangered themselves. Jacob and the twins had made the road and hared off after the rabbit. Garvey took the lead with sister Aitch close behind, Jacob's long legs barely keeping him in the running. Watching the twins I was reminded of why marathons are often won by Kenyans.
I was reminded that tracers work in both directions, my directing fire earning me unwanted attention. Velasquez swore as he slipped further below the lip of the fighting hole, momentarily slacking off his fire. I snuck a peak and was rewarded with a face full of dirt and fragments from a near miss.
The enemy took advantage of our momentarily lapse of fire and half a dozen Guardsmen rushed from their hiding spots, while their compatriots put out suppresive fire to give them some cover.
“Boom! Click snick, snick click. Boom!” Frank worked the silk slick bolt smoothly in the action of the old Winchester M70 and the guardsman furthest out, closest to getting out of the kill zone threw his arms back and stumbled, falling face first. The thirty caliber bullet tore though his chest knocking him forward, off balance.
Frank got fancy on the second shot and I knew we'd be hearing about it for days. Two enemy soldiers bunched up, one in front of the other. The hundred and fifty grain slug transected the rearmost man's throat before continuing on to hit his partner between the second and third ribs, shredding the subclavian artery.
Seeing what happened to those in front, the remaining three went to ground, seeking what little cover that they could.
Both sides were trading desultory fire at this point and the ambush, while well executed, had turned into a static affair. I had no idea if reinforcements were on the way and didn't want to stick around to find out.
The second humvee's driver took a hit early on, while the vehicle was still carrying some speed. His last act was to turn the wheel hard right, away from the threat. It went up on two wheels, hit the shoulder, and went the rest of the way over becoming one of the better pieces of cover in the kill zone.
From the amount of yelling coming from behind and the way the guardsmen kept looking at the hummer, it seemed that's where our luckless leutanant was hiding.
“Put some rounds on that second vehicle!” I yelled at Velasquez then put three, three round sets of tracer into the same area. My troopers took the cue and lit it up. I didn't have much hope that the 5.56mm or even the 7.62 short rounds would punch through, but you never know and a lucky shot might sneak through. But they did have the effect of keeping the guardsman leader too busy to give orders and organize a counterattack.
My designating rounds also put Frank and Kiko into the game. The black tipped armor piercing ammo they were firing would zip through pretty much every part of the humvee that was less than an inch of steel.

While they chewed away at the hummer, I looked to see if conditions were right. The three plastic shopping bags hadn't ended up snagged in the trees by some fluke of a stray breeze. We'd placed them carefully down the length of the ambush site as surreptitious wind flags.
They fluttered in the strong breeze, straight away from me, down the road the way the Guardsmen had come, funneled by the valley.
Time to wrap this up.
“Foxtrot, take the shot.”
Frank answered by putting a round into the bright yellow metal canister. The pressurized contents sprayed forth, caught on the wind, and carried down the far side of the road. The coughing and sputtering started almost immediately with the Guardsmen closest to the garden sprayer. The red pepper flakes had been soaking in the rubbing alcohol since the day Zelda had been murdered. By the effects it seemed the potency was substantial.
Half a handful of the enemy bolted, headed right down the middle of the road, trying to get away from the choking mist. They couldn't see it so they had no way of knowing they were running along the same path my homemade pepper spray was taking.
Not that it mattered much.
The luckiest of the bunch made it fifty yards before he was cut down by the combined fire of Stan's Men at the end of the line. Most of them didn't get anywhere near that far, our training on laterally moving targets paid dividends.
Seeing this one group of guardsmen leapt up as one and did what they should have done in the first few seconds, attack into the ambush. The crossed the road quickly, aimed at the shallowest slope on the hill oposite them, right at the center of Stan's Men section of the line.
The suddeness of the action startled my troops, giving the enemy a precious couple of seconds to cross the road and enter the bush. The angle and covering foliage conspired to protect them, the rest of our line unable to take them under fire.
Stan yelled at them. “AIM!”, “BREATH!” “STAND, STAND, STAND!”
And they did. One by one Guardsmen fell, yet still the remainder came on, having no other option, and, at this point, angry. Angry with fear. Angry at what we'd done to them. They wanted some back.
Five or six made it all the way to the line, aiming down into our holes point blank, ripping off full magazines, three round bursts at a time. I watched, helpless as Stan's rifle went down. I couldn't tell at this distance if it was a malf or empty. The rifle was dropped on its sling, left hand pinning it against his thigh as his right filled itself with Glock, punched forward, putting a pair of rounds into a guardsman's face at three paces.
Stan pivoted right, pumping rounds into other guardsmen, covering a pair of his men that had managed to let both their rifles go dry at the same moment.
Unseen to his left, the sergeant I recognized from the video moved his rifle from the hip, up to his shoulder, fixed on Stan and obviously wanting to be sure of his shot. He recognized a leader when he saw one.
Stan sensed the threat, head whipping to his left to orient but he was way behind the act part of the equation. His shoulders slumped slightly in recognition and acceptance, but he started the turn anyway.
He was losing, the sergeant's face hitting the stock, bringing the sights to bear, finger tightening on the trigger. A blur caught my attention, a body in motion, aimed at Stan with the same intention to hit him as the sergeant. The Guardsman's shot broke just as Stan was hit by the other person, falling to the ground, hard.

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PostPosted: Fri Nov 27, 2015 7:17 pm 
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Cliffhanger alert! :ohdear:
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PostPosted: Fri Nov 27, 2015 11:02 pm 
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Great update...got my heart racing enough to counteract the tryptophan-induced sluggishness that's slowing me down at work tonight!

Well done!

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PostPosted: Thu Dec 03, 2015 12:20 pm 
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I was so happy to have something to read on my trip.

Thanks very much!

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PostPosted: Thu Dec 10, 2015 9:25 am 
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I know it's not as fun as the story. but the muse this week turned my head towards more practical and timely writing.
My latest article was just picked up by The Gun Writer Blog. It's survival oriented, so you might find it interesting and useful.

http://thegunwriter.blogs.heraldtribune ... xt-strike/

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 14, 2015 12:08 am 
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zengunfighter wrote:
I know it's not as fun as the story. but the muse this week turned my head towards more practical and timely writing.
My latest article was just picked up by The Gun Writer Blog. It's survival oriented, so you might find it interesting and useful.

http://thegunwriter.blogs.heraldtribune ... xt-strike/


Very interesting and could be a nice intro to a number of detailed articles.

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 14, 2015 8:26 pm 
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Finally got caught up, I missed about 8 updates just got done reading them all. Fantastic writing as usual, I love the detail. Keep up the great work and thanks again for writing!

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PostPosted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 1:24 am 
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zengunfighter wrote:
I know it's not as fun as the story. but the muse this week turned my head towards more practical and timely writing.
My latest article was just picked up by The Gun Writer Blog. It's survival oriented, so you might find it interesting and useful.

http://thegunwriter.blogs.heraldtribune ... xt-strike/



the story is awesome. Thanks for the great, realistic updates as always. The details of building a fighting force from raw recruits is very believable. in the dream sequence, I would have thought the newbies would have left their posts.

wrt current events, I'm hoping the authorities have your insight. Its very believable that SB attackers didnt have the discipline to execute their part of an obviously bigger plan. They let their emotions get in the way luckily and didnt deploy their bombs or use up more of their arsenal. It could have been much worse. Its a perfect example of poor training and poor leadership. They obviously are not readers of the story :)

Everyone stay alert and safe over the christmas holidays!

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PostPosted: Wed Dec 23, 2015 11:23 pm 
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Merry Christmas to all, and here's a wish that Santa will bring us an update soon... :D

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PostPosted: Wed Dec 30, 2015 5:53 pm 
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Ok, Santa screwed us over :vmad: ... Oh well, may the New Year be all you and yours hope for and none of what we all are (hopefully) preparing for... :shock:

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PostPosted: Thu Dec 31, 2015 7:36 pm 
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zengunfighter wrote:
I know it's not as fun as the story. but the muse this week turned my head towards more practical and timely writing.
My latest article was just picked up by The Gun Writer Blog. It's survival oriented, so you might find it interesting and useful.

http://thegunwriter.blogs.heraldtribune ... xt-strike/


How do you get rid of the damn header on that site? It take's up a full 1/3 of the whole computer screen.


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PostPosted: Fri Jan 01, 2016 1:46 pm 
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Happy New Year Zen... Thanks for a great '15 with this story and the original.

Looking forward to lots more in '16!

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Doctorr Fabulous wrote:
... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:
... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:
... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.


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PostPosted: Tue Feb 02, 2016 7:50 am 
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Monthly bump... How about another sample of the awesomesauce that is the story of Zed?

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Doctorr Fabulous wrote:
... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:
... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:
... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.


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PostPosted: Tue Feb 02, 2016 12:01 pm 
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zengunfighter wrote:
I know it's not as fun as the story. but the muse this week turned my head towards more practical and timely writing.
My latest article was just picked up by The Gun Writer Blog. It's survival oriented, so you might find it interesting and useful.

http://thegunwriter.blogs.heraldtribune ... xt-strike/


I went back and re-read the article and watched the two excellent videos again. We need to post those videos into the Zombie Training Film area. Let me go try....

EDIT: right here viewtopic.php?f=13&t=117854&p=2619458#p2619458

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PostPosted: Wed Feb 17, 2016 7:41 am 
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So sad that this story appears to be dead... :gonk:

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PostPosted: Mon Feb 29, 2016 11:19 am 
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Rather than wait for February 30th ( :wink: ), thought I'd put in my bump/MOAR request today!

Please Z?

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Doctorr Fabulous wrote:
... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:
... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:
... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.


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PostPosted: Mon Feb 29, 2016 12:02 pm 
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91Eunozs wrote:
Rather than wait for February 30th ( :wink: ), thought I'd put in my bump/MOAR request today!

Please Z?


:( hasn't logged in since 10Dec

Hope everything is alright!

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 08, 2016 11:37 am 
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Yes. That is an unusually long time.

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 08, 2016 12:29 pm 
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This is one of the first stories I read that got me hooked and lurking here. I hope he comes back for more


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2T2-Crash wrote:
This is one of the first stories I read that got me hooked and lurking here. I hope he comes back for more
Then you should have read the "Unwelcome Sign" by the same author, now if we could get him back on track...

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 08, 2016 4:17 pm 
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Halfapint wrote:
91Eunozs wrote:
Rather than wait for February 30th ( :wink: ), thought I'd put in my bump/MOAR request today!

Please Z?


:( hasn't logged in since 10Dec

Hope everything is alright!



He can run but he cannot hide from the Moar Zombies :mrgreen:

March 5th activity on https://www.facebook.com/zengunfighter

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azrancher wrote:
2T2-Crash wrote:
This is one of the first stories I read that got me hooked and lurking here. I hope he comes back for more
Then you should have read the "Unwelcome Sign" by the same author, now if we could get him back on track...

Rancher

I have. :D


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