Them Things...

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

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Them Things...

Post by ivanor » Mon Jul 13, 2015 10:58 am

Hmm, where to begin? It all seems so minor when you look back on it. But, the sum of the parts spelled disaster. A small outbreak in a country that few recognize the name to. Amongst people that would never be missed. A missionary on a multi-stop international flight returning home to beg more funding for the disaster. A lax government not instituting travel bans and quarantines in a timely manner. Early symptoms mimicking the common cold. The pathogen highly contagious as early as the ‘cold’ stage.

Five weeks into the epidemic, the death toll was staggering. Six weeks into the epidemic the undeath toll started to appear…By the seventh week, the epidemic had been declared pandemic. Third world nations were quickly overwhelmed by the situation, followed by second and then first. The countdown to apocalypse…3...2...1…
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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Re: Them Things...

Post by ivanor » Mon Jul 13, 2015 10:59 am

“This is RB251, broadcasting in the clear, I repeat, this is RB251, is there anyone out there looking for a conversation tonight?’

‘It’s been two months since you heard anyone on that thing Jim, why do you even bother with it anymore?’

‘Because I can, Ellen, because I can…’ Jim mumbled as he shifted frequencies and made his call again.

The HAM rig was here at the cabin when they found it. The cabin had no running water, but an impressive solar array and the radio rig. There was a hand pump in the yard between the cabin and the work shed. The water tasted a little rusty, but was cold and wet thus meeting all their criteria for using it.

‘OK’, sighed Jim, ‘I am going to go weed the garden and then collect some more firewood. How long till the lunch bell?’

‘That bell done broke, you know we are down to two meals a day until we get the garden coming in…’

‘Maybe I should head down into the town and see if I can scrounge up anything more for the pantry?’

‘And like I told you the last time you suggested that, no way in hell until we are really close to desperation are we going anywhere near them things again. And you are most certainly not going alone!’

‘Meaning, you are not going to be left here alone, I know, I know…’ as Jim headed out to the garden, tired of the same conversation almost every day since they found this place in their mad dash to get anywhere without ‘them things’…

The cabin wasn’t much, but it was a godsend for the two of them when they needed it most.
Out of fuel, middle of nowhere, running away 'from' but nowhere to go 'to', had everything they could carry with them on their backs and simply left the road where the car died and headed up into the hills around them.
Second day of hiking south, they stumbled into a small clearing and there it was. Just sitting there. Looked like no one had been there for months. Batteries were fully charged on the array and a couple led bulbs in the cabin worked for light.
And, of course, the Ham rig, sitting there on the little desk with a thin layer of dust on it.


Ellen had the foresight to bring what garden seeds she had, just in case. Turned out to be their brightest hope. Jim found the work shed to have the necessary hand tools and went to work getting a small garden dug and raked and planted.
The third day or so, once they got their bearings and worked out a plan for staying there, Jim and Ellen hiked back to the car for the things they had to leave behind the first time. Their spare clothes and the heavier canned foods were retrieved and soon stocked the cabin.
Now they had to make it last long enough for the garden to start coming in.

Here, two months into their survival at the cabin, Jim and Ellen learned what all poor folk have known for centuries…Hardship is an aphrodisiac.

“Jim, come get your breakfast. Daddy’s need to keep their strength up.’

‘Say what?!?’

“I said, come get your breakfast.’

‘I heard that, what was that other part all about?’

‘Oh, I read somewhere once that first time daddy’s needed to keep their strength up, it makes the whole process work better…’ as she set a couple bowls of oatmeal on the table…

‘How did that happen?!’

‘I hoped you knew, I am at a loss myself…’ Ellen smirked.


After the initial shock and their scant breakfast, Ellen broached a subject that Jim had given up on…

‘Jim, you realize this changes some things for our situation, right?’

‘Well, yea, a baby will do that!’

‘No, not that, the fact that this was the last of our oats, silly…’

‘Huh, umm, WHAT?’

‘I think it’s time we head towards town and see what we can salvage. We need more staple foods and now some baby things and always some medical supplies. I doubt that first aid kit my dad bought at Sam’s for Y2K is going to be much help with birthing…’

‘But, you are pregnant. No way can I let you go into town with me. Too much risk, for the baby and you…’

‘Jim, I am only JUST preggers and WE need to make this run because there is still no way I am going to let you run off alone. This is the perfect time for us to do this, before I become bigger than the cabin and far less agile.’
‘’Bigger than the cabin’? Don’t try to sway me with all that sexy talk, babe…’ Jim says, while ducking the expected back swing…’OK, OK. We will go first thing. Grab a pack and pack light. I hope it doesn’t take us more than a day or two to find what we need…’
Last edited by ivanor on Sun Jul 19, 2015 2:50 am, edited 1 time in total.
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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Re: Them Things...

Post by ivanor » Mon Jul 13, 2015 11:00 am

Sometimes, simple statements prove Prophetic…

Town proved to be a little more difficult than it sounded in the planning stages. Taking the visible path from the cabin, town proved to be a three day hike to arrive on the outskirts of a small burg. For those three days, they saw nobody and nothing, excepting for the occasional wild animal along their path.

‘We need to find a small caliber rifle and maybe a bow and arrows for this small game. A little fresh meat for our diet is making my mouth water just thinking about it.’ Jim noted.

‘I know what you mean,’ replied Ellen, ‘those bunnies are looking more tasty than cute these days…though after what we saw getting out of the city, I wouldn’t be opposed to finding a LARGE caliber rifle, either.’’

‘I he-ah Dat!’ laughed Jim

‘Shhh-h, there’s a sign for the town. We are getting close. Let’s move off the road and follow the tree line for a bit. See what is what around here.’

‘You command, I obey, Mama!’ Jim quietly chuckled. Jim’s good mood didn’t last much beyond that.

As they approached through the tree line they started to see the remains of the little burg. There was debris everywhere and occasional remains lying here and there amid the rubble. Several of the storefronts on the main street were burned out hulks and the gas station on the first corner coming into town looked like it had exploded and then burned down to an ash filled pit with an occasional twisted pipe poking up like weeds in a flower bed.

All the destruction looked like it was from ages past. The cracks in the sidewalks and roads all had a proliferation of stark green stems fighting for the space with blowing trash wrapped around their young stalks. The remains were picked over, rotted and drying now in the afternoon sun. There was an occasional slightly green tarnished shell casing lying here and there amid the blowing trash and piles of debris. A battle was obviously fought on these quaint streets and there were no victors left to claim their fame.

After quietly watching from the shadowed edges of the trees and moving occasionally for a different view, Jim and Ellen saw nothing moving in town for over an hour of observations. So they made the decision to church mouse their way down the first street and check each building for anything they could use.

After living in the nearly bare cabin for two months, almost everything they found in the first building went in the take pile. Then when they realized they would need a small semi-trailer to haul it all, they went back through with a jaundiced eye. Separating the take pile into the ‘must have’, ‘want’, and ‘if we have room’ piles. The ‘must have’ pile being the smallest of the three and the ‘if we have room’ being the largest.

‘Kind of creepy here, thought for sure we would find somebody here, alive or otherwise…’ Jim whispered to Ellen.

‘There are no tracks in the dust anywhere that we have been, so I think there has been nothing alive or moving here in at least a month, maybe more.’ She replied.

Moving down the street, they left their piles in the main room of each building, only putting the lighter weight must haves/hate to lose things in their packs at each stop. Reaching the intersection with Main Street, Jim peeked around the corner and noticed the Hardware store was intact. So he indicated to Ellen that that would be the next stop on their search.

The hardware store was a Bonanza of Items for the couple. It had somehow avoided all the destruction in the town and was in near pristine condition until Jim bashed in a small side window to gain access.

Once inside, Jim’s creative side flourished amidst the aisles of the man tools and materials. Ellen had a few ideas of her own and went first to the sporting goods aisle and found what they really needed and wanted. Wheeling a cart she had found and filled back from her side of the store Ellen couldn’t help but notice that Jim had dragged a couple bicycle s still in their boxes out to the workbench in the back room<which luckily had a skylight> and an assortment of pipe and hardware and was totally engrossed in his project. To the point Ellen had to clear her throat three times to distract him.

‘Oh, wow! You have been a busy girl’ Jim chuckled, as he looked over her cart full of goodies.

‘Indeed I have’ agreed Ellen,’ I found three compound bows, 2 shotguns, 3 rifles and all the accoutrements the store had for them. Hundreds of rounds of assorted ammo and about 60 arrows and triple that many broad heads, even a couple fishing poles and two complete boxes of tackle!’ Ellen launched into a proud peacock sort of shuffle at this point, chanting ‘Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh!’ Which Jim laughed at, for it more resembled the funky chicken to him.

‘And what, may I ask is it that you are so, ‘boy on Christmas morning’ about here in the back room?’ she asked.

‘What if I told you I was making the ultimate Tandem bicycle, Trailer hauling Monster Transport that will allow us to move everything faster and use no fossil fuels, which is great for the environment, and besides, we are completely without at the moment…?

‘Uhmm. Yea. OK. But I have... GUNS!’

‘That’s nice dear…’ Jim mumbled as he went back to work on his project.
Last edited by ivanor on Sun Jul 19, 2015 2:56 am, edited 1 time in total.
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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Re: Them Things...

Post by 91Eunozs » Mon Jul 13, 2015 9:18 pm

Nice start... Diggin' it!
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
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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Re: Them Things...

Post by DAVE KI » Mon Jul 13, 2015 10:48 pm

Gotta agree. Bring it on. :awesome:
"We'll Fight Them, Sir!, Until Hell Freezes Over, And Then We'll Fight Them On The Ice! Sir!

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Re: Them Things...

Post by ivanor » Tue Jul 14, 2015 9:31 am

It took the couple the better part of two weeks to complete their salvage of what was left of the burg. They never saw another human/humanoid the entire time. Jim’s project Bicycle proved its worth as they were able to haul large quantities of materials back to the cabin on each trip. The time for travel being reduced to only about 4 hours of hard pedaling each way for the two of them.

In the ensuing months, Jim managed to build a storage barn from materials salvaged from the abandoned town’s remaining buildings. The grocery store was a mess, but they scraped together more than enough food for the two<three?> of them. All the diapers and baby food/formula was untouched by the disaster.

Come harvest time, it took Ellen a few tries to get the hang of canning veggies over an open fire. Jim promised that after the baby arrived, they would make a run back to town with the intent of finding a wood burning cook stove. That item was not even on their lists last trip as they both knew that the cabin already had a wood stove, they didn’t realize a small, single burner pot belly stove was not a ‘cook stove’ per say.

The garden seemed to produce forever, though it was only a month or so of real busy canning. They used up over half the jars they had found and this made Jim resolve to build a solar dehydrator before the next harvest season. They didn’t bother saving seeds, as the hardware provided enough seed packages and variety to last them several more years.

Jim found a small stream that had fish nearby, and hunted occasionally. He even practiced with a Bow till he could actually hit something he aimed at. Though it took him four tries to eventually get a deer with it.

So their lives went for the winter months, hidden in this bubble of safety that the events of the world had somehow bypassed. Not everyone has to have it rough in an apocalypse…
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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Re: Them Things...

Post by ivanor » Sat Jul 18, 2015 5:20 am

Elsewhere, things were not nearly so idyllic.

‘But Dad, all the kids in my class have colds, can’t I stay home today? You don’t want me getting sick too, do you?’
‘Enough of your excuses child! Go out there and get on that Bus!’ It’s always something with you, why can’t you just go to school and enjoy it for once?’


“Shoo-rry Bhill, it’s jusht a runny nose, a lithle cold is all. Aiee can shtill work…


Aichoo! ‘Damn it hon, Dave came to work with a cold yesterday, and now I am coming down with it! I am gonna call in, you can nurse-maid me today.’


‘Blue Flu my ass, it isn’t even contract time and over half the force has called in sick today…’


‘Hey, Mister. You OK?’

‘Suzy, get away from him, you never know what kind of sickness those homeless people are spreading!’

‘I was just going to give him one of my sandwiches. I do every day, Mom. He’s not some monster, just a guy down on his luck. Here you go sir, this should help…Aiee-eee! He bit me!’

‘Suzy, get over here! You, get away from her, and me…what are you doing? <screech>

Last edited by ivanor on Sun Jul 19, 2015 2:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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Re: Them Things...

Post by idahobob » Sat Jul 18, 2015 8:31 am

Good start! :clap: :clap: :clap:

Glad to see that you are writing again. :awesome:

Bob
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People who are rather more than six feet tall and nearly as broad across the shoulders often have uneventful journeys. People jump out at them from behind rocks then say things like, "Oh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

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in the city, the big big city...

Post by ivanor » Sun Jul 19, 2015 8:15 am

New York City, 22 days into the apocalypse, no word from the government for the last week, radio channels have all gone to static. Only one TV channel still on the air, and it has been stuck running a loop of Gilligan’s Island episodes for the last 3 days …

Peering out under a small flap in the cardboard covering the basement windows of the nondescript townhouse looking into the alley behind, the last hungry members of the small group of refugees knew they were in trouble.

Sure, it was the apocalypse
Sure, the dead were rising and eating flesh
Sure, half the city was afire and only the remnants of a fluke 1-in-ahundred year’s storm kept things wet enough that the whole city didn’t go up.


But those were not the things causing their immediate concerns this morning. Their immediate concern was the small remaining group of the local gangster children, whom had turned all ‘Lord of the Flies’ when this all started, that were currently crossing the alley towards the abandoned looking row of brownstones.

Where the ragtag group of children could have gotten the guns they were carrying, in this gun-free city, the confused sheeples huddling in the basement could not even begin to understand…
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



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Scouting 'Them Things"...

Post by ivanor » Sun Jul 19, 2015 9:53 am

‘See Davey, over in that basement window? The cardboard moved a little bit. I saw the same thing a couple days ago. There must be someone still hiding out there.’ Sheila quietly informed her squad leader.

‘We need to make sure this area is clear and then see about getting them moved into the ‘Zone’, 14yr old Cpl. Davey Sanderson, leader 4th Squad, N2Y Volunteer Defense Force, responded after having also noticed the movement. ’Let’s do a quiet sweep of these buildings and make sure none of ‘them things’ pop out and spoil the day for these folks, then get them moved.’

Using hand signals that the team had perfected amongst themselves over the last couple weeks, they moved cautiously toward and through the townhouses, clearing all the rooms and spray painting a white ‘X’ on the closest glass to the closed front and rear doors, to indicate the building had been cleared. A red ‘X’ would have indicated dead bodies in the building and a black ‘X’ would mean there were some of ‘them things’ sealed in somewhere in the building. Red over the black would mean they had been sanitized.

Rapping lightly on the basement door to the brownstone, Davey called gently for a survivor to answer.

‘Go Away! We have nothing for you punks to steal here!’ Mr. Higgins fiercely whispered through the locked door.

‘Sir, we are with the N2Y Volunteer Defense Force, we only want to help you to a safe ‘Zone’, sir’…

‘I said go away!’

‘Sir, if I may be allowed in, I will explain it all to you. My squad can all wait in another room if you will feel better…’

‘Harvey, the boy sounds sincere, let him in. We have nothing left to be stolen anyway…’

‘Well, alright, only you, but I warn you, we are armed!’

‘Of course sir, I will leave my weapon with my squad.’

Leaving his squad defensively positioned, Davey entered the basement quietly as soon as the door opened.

‘How many are there here, sir, and are there any injured or sick among you?’

‘There are no injured or ‘sick’ here, young man, but what is the N2Y thing you are claiming to be from?’

‘Yes sir, if I may address your whole group, I will explain everything sir.’

‘He does seem to be quite well mannered, Harvey, let the boy down the stairs so he can talk’

‘Kate, get back down to the basement! I can’t even turn around with you crowding up behind me like this, and yes, he can come down and say his piece. Now give us some space here woman.’

‘…so, you see, when the media started to come down so hard on the Boy Scouts, a small group of the Eagle Scouts got together and created this secret ‘Club’ so that we could continue to practice the traditional scouting activities without having to deal with the media witch-hunt against our basically Christian organization. I am sure there are occasional pervs that surface in every organization, but the media’s hatred of Christianity seems to have made it a focus and exaggerated problem for us and probably the Catholic Church too…’

‘So anyway, when this crisis started, my father, who is a Policeman and we refer to as the ‘Captain’, saw the potential for a group of young well behaved scouts and formed us into the ‘New-New York-Volunteer Defense Force’ or, the N2Y, as we call ourselves. We have secured a 4 block area to the east of here. Barricaded and guard the entrances and have been sending out squads to collect survivors and supplies for the last few weeks.’

‘If you will all follow my lead for an hour or so, we can get you escorted back to the Check-In building at the ‘Zone’.
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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The Zone...

Post by ivanor » Sun Jul 19, 2015 11:19 am

With this seven survivors, the Zone’s population was now 126. Not very many people for an area that once held 2 million. Supplies were not a problem for the survivors, as the squads were bringing in everything they could find of the dry and canned goods from the surrounding areas. The masses of the undead seemed to have followed the remnants of authority across the city in its ever widening retreat from the Big Apple. Squads have reported large concentrations of them things at all the bridge and tunnel entrances. The tunnels and bridges themselves all having been destroyed to try to contain the ‘problem’.

There were sanitizings performed daily by the squads as they came across stragglers and ones that were trapped in assorted rooms and fenced areas about the Zone’s borders. The squads have refined their tactics and methods in the last couple weeks to the point of making the sanitizings as simple and effective as they can. The most common method is to draw the targets into a narrow alley, then trip them up and smash their heads. This works well for the numbers currently being encountered, But the Captain knows they need to find something that will work with larger groups, as soon Them Things will become bored at the blocked exit points and start wandering back into the city.

The use of firearms, though every squad and security member is amply equipped, is reserved for emergency use only as noise seems to provide a focus for Them Things…Thus the Squads have developed improvised methods for the administering of ‘Final Rights’ or ‘FR’ing Them Things. The most popular being a broomstick with a pusher block on one end and a spear point on the other. A couple squad members hold back Them Things with the push blocks while another member spears them through an eye socket if possible…

When entering the Zone, survivors are brought in through the check-in building, all persons entering the Zone are required to pass through for a strip search and health inspection by the dentist, nurse or 2 hygienists that comprise the entire medical staff for the Zone. Armed guards overlook each of the two entrance rooms, one for males one for females. Efforts are made to retain the dignity of the survivors, and no exceptions are made, not even for returning personnel.

The Squads are housed in the upper floors of the check-in building and avoid continuous quarantine stays by not officially re-entering the zone proper. The Captain refuses to allow lax security to end the recovery process before it begins. The medicals staff manage the Check-In facility and Quarantine areas. After release from quarantine, the survivors are found a position to fill in the Zone. No free loaders are allowed. The Captain makes it all very clear in a welcoming speech that everyone must pull their own weight here. No Exceptions. There have not yet been any dissenters, so the Captain hasn’t had to make a decision on what happens if…yet.
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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The Windsmill of Fate

Post by ivanor » Sun Nov 20, 2016 10:15 pm

All along the Jersey shores Facing New York City, one can see The Windmills. The first windmill showed up about three weeks into the apocalypse. It was just there one morning. A handful of people were aware of where it came from, but to most it was not there and then it was there…

It was a still morning, and the mill was sitting still. It looked like a scrap metal frankenstinian version of a Dutch windmill. It had a center turbine and tower of a standard wind generator. Built around it was a secondary smaller tower with 4 crossbar rods sticking out in the cardinal directions. These crossbars had heavy tempered blades on the ends, mounted to spin horizontally as the bars rotated about the outer wall.

Word spread along the line of defenders to stay clear of the windmill and to not shoot any of the undead that came up out of the water unless they were this side of the windmill. There had been a steady flow of several hundred undead per day coming from the river. The ones that fell in somewhere upstream on the New York side and washed up on the Jersey side.

As the sun rose into the morning sky, warming the earth, the morning winds picked up enough to start the turbine generating. The near silent fop-fop-fop of its blades went on for nearly an hour without anything else to distract the people watching. An hour was all it took to charge its battery banks to a level that automatically enabled the switching gear for the crossbar motors to fire up. The crossbars took less than a minute to rotate up to speed and at speed they created a loud racket of sound.

The spinning crossbars with their blades was an impressive sight, then they started rotating around the tower and it became a vision of power. The whir of the blades, the fop-fop-fop of the turbine above and the clackety-clack of the circling crossbars preformed exactly as its creator had envisioned. ‘Them things’ that were emerging from the water were drawn to the noise and motion of the device.

The results were sickening, but thorough. Every one of them things that could hear it was drawn in like moths to a flame. There was a steady flow of goo back to the river even as there was a steady flow of them things to the windmill. The defenders on the shore let go a spontaneous cheer at the success of the unit, and then quickly silenced as their noise drew a few of them things in their direction.

In the following weeks, more of the windmills showed up spread along the shoreline. The second one had a couple improvements as did the third and the fourth. By the time the fifth was produced, it was rolling off an assembly line in a small factory district that was producing one every day at its peak. The millions of undead from New York were no longer a mind boggling problem of proportion.
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



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Re: Them Things...

Post by 91Eunozs » Mon Nov 21, 2016 2:20 am

Like the innovative way to clear the hordes... zombie purée!
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
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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staying Low on the HI-Way

Post by ivanor » Sun Dec 18, 2016 11:33 pm

The Emergency Broadcast System said to shelter in place. Stay off the roads and let the public services and the military handle the situation. Yea, right. When was the last time that the government handled any problem decisively and effectively? I can't think of a single time...

Soon as we realized how bad this was going to be, we packed all that would fit into the car and headed for the hills. Problem is, everyone else had the same idea. 3 hours into our 'evacuation and we were parked bumper to bumper on the freeway and still near the center of the city. There were multiple accidents and arguments, people milling around asking questions, some holed up in their cars, windows up and doors locked, listening to the radios and still others taking what they could carry and trying to get anywhere else, on foot if they had to.

Between the wrecks and abandoned vehicles, the cars plugging all the on and off ramps, and the rising temperatures and boiling anger and fear, we knew we had screwed the pooch trying to get out on the highway. Nobody out here was going anywhere for the duration.

The throngs heading over the fences and up the on/off ramps were soon raising hell in the neighborhoods and the locals were being none to neighborly. Someone pulled a trigger and the people started stampeding in every direction. People were shooting the 'invaders' and then some of the invaders dug out guns and started shooting back.

By nightfall, the freeway was littered with burning wrecks, scattered bodies and clumps of assorted people, some huddling and crying, some defending a hastily arranged circle of cars, with the gathering dusk, the braver were trying to sneak off into the surrounding city and the surrounding city was having none of that. There were buildings burning from the crowds, the rage and the constant fighting since early afternoon.

It was a chaotic free for all and the police were nowhere to be seen. the one squad car that was unfortunate enough to be caught on the freeway with everyone else was an empty smoking hulk, it's two occupants lying where they fell when the crowd stampeded them, stripped of any gear, their unseeing eyes staring at the darkening sky above.

Sometime in the early hours of the night, the local gangbangers realized that the multiple cars on the freeway were stuffed with peoples 'valuable' belongings, just waiting for them to take all they wanted. The darkness brought terror on a new level to the stranded families. People who had spent the time locked 'safely' in their cars learned how quickly the security of a locked vehicle was lost when windows were smashed and them dragged kicking and screaming to the pavement.

By the morning of the third day, there were few survivors left anywhere near the highway. The living figured out real quick to stay out of sight, leave, or die. Those who were left, felt that they had survived the worst that society could bring, and then 'them things' showed up and changed the whole game. It was estimated that over half the population died withing 3 blocks of the highways...
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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bodyparts
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Re: Them Things...

Post by bodyparts » Sat Jan 14, 2017 8:09 pm

good stuff thanks !

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ivanor
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feral....

Post by ivanor » Sun Feb 12, 2017 9:47 pm

Peeping from the spy hole dad had put in his 'secret' playroom, Timmy watched them things as they bumped through his mom's kitchen. He remembered the last words she had said to him when she closed the playroom's hidden door, she said 'Timmy boy, you stay quiet now, you hear?'

So Timmy stayed quiet. When the dog started barking at something after mom went to look for his sister, he stayed quiet. When the big sliding glass door on the patio shattered, he stayed quiet. When the dog yelped and quit barking he stayed quiet. When the sun went down and he was all alone in the dark of his playroom, he cried quietly.

Around noon the second day, hunger forced Timmy to leave his hideout. He watched and listened for over an hour to make sure the coast was clear. He slipped out the hidden door. His home was a mess, things all knocked over and broken. There was no sign of the dog. Peeking out the front windows he saw some of them things out in the street. They were moving up the road towards where his school was. He quickly used the bathroom and then grabbed some random food he liked and took it back into his place.

He could hear sirens like the police cars and firetrucks have and fireworks popping every now and then in the distance. Just before sundown, after another trip to the bathroom, he gathered the flashlight from the kitchen drawer and a couple blankets and his pillow from his bedroom and then back in his hidey hole he went.

As the days passed into weeks, Timmy made his quiet excursions and had to go further and further to find things he needed. after 3 months he was hardly recognizable as the little boy he had been. Feral, that's what the soldiers had called him when they finally cornered him in a house down the road. He was bundled off to the nearest survivors compound and left with the people running it. It took weeks for him to start to come out of his shell. The one older lady, volunteering with the children had gotten him to let her sit near and comb his tangle of hair out. How a five year old could have survived alone in this crazy world she would never fathom...
Last edited by ivanor on Mon Feb 13, 2017 4:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
It served him right, if not well...

I find myself more culpable than capable...

Ivanor



just some junk... <Completed 3/19/15> viewtopic.php?f=113&t=111852

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91Eunozs
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Re: Them Things...

Post by 91Eunozs » Mon Feb 13, 2017 3:38 am

Thanks...nice (short!) update.
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
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