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1  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Re: Walking Far on: May 01, 2012, 01:16:40 am
The nightmares invaded his mind over night and he woke once but didn’t budge from his sleep, though he was briefly puzzled on why a toilet was right next to him before he remembered what happened before dozing off again.
   When he woke again, he checked his newly found watch, 8:23 it read. He felt stiff as he sat up, his ears felt slightly muffed as the gunfire from yesterday fight deafened him. Tucking the colt away, he got up, collected his pack and coat and was out the door.  He slung his rifles over each shoulder as he checked surrounding cars for anything useable.  He did find a few pieces of gold:  a hand held scanner that still worked a flashlight that would be fitted with double A’s, which there are plenty to grab and go.
Also, a map that was marked up with someone else’s hand writing, sadly it was done by a surgeon’s hand.  The fancy long hand was difficult to read the legend that defined the markings.
Taking his own map out, he took the pen from his journal and wrote on the map and translated everything he could decipher.
From what he could tell, he isn’t not only maybe a week’s travel from the nearest city, that has a large harbor but he is in luck to read an abandoned convoy about a few hours away.  He translated miles into time and estimated it into walking time for taking a car would not only be cumbersome, it also made noise and managing gas is always a bitch considering his past with driving.
Finishing his sketching, he folded up his own map, tucked it away, and let the old one blow away with the breeze.
   Stocking a little more on food, he searched around for water. He found a few gallons worth of water and filled his canteens, stuff four more extra water bottles on his pack and searched around for more mags to fit the colt and his 74.  He only managed to find two more mags for the 74 to add onto the four mags he already had in his vest pouches.
Keeping weight and enough for everything is always been a tricky balancing act, one can never expect what will happen next further down the road. However, he tried his best before moving on.
   As he walked away from the campsite, he stopped to take a knee. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head slightly, he said nothing but his mind was praying for safety on his travel and to bring him to the door step of the survivor’s colony.  He stood up dug into his coat pocket for his Ipod, put on the earphones and turned it on, not really paying attention to the words he simply wanted some background noise at least for a several tracks before putting it up before it dies. When he did took it off, it only had a quarter bar of power left.

   Time later, after passing abandoned cars, mummified bodies and taking out a few walking rotters, he caught sight of a few Humvees in the distance.  Bringing his Winchester around, he peeked through the cope.  From the distance he could cover with his eye, he could tell that it was the convoy that was described to him on his map. Slinging the rifle he jumped roof to roof of the short bumper-to-bumper chain of cars. When his boots touched the pavement, he had the 74 out with the stock folded out.
   Ducked behind a truck as he peeked around to see the abandoned convoy, he then leaned back to check the time, it was 12:45 when he got here. Taking a deep breath he went around the truck with carbine raised, It may be abandoned, but it didn’t mean that someone or something was hanging around.
Keeping it cautious he made his way up to the front Humvee of the six vehicle convoy.  No one was home, the CB made nothing but static, a constant hum of buzzing. With nothing to notice other than open doors, he went down the line, the second Humvee was the same, only the duce that was attached to the roof pointed at no one but the sky above.
   Inside were one rifle and a scattered mess of fifty cal brass. Apparently they sprayed into some of them on their way here or blasted their way through the hordes. The half tons where empty aside some discarded magazines.  The second to last of the vehicles had nothing until he came to the end Humvee where there were two stretchers in the bed of the shelless Humvee.  Both where covered by a tarp but boots stuck out of the bottom and glimpses of hair stuck out the top.
He didn’t need to lift them up to tell that they both where wounded that were euthanized before the rest of the unit abandoned the convoy to escape on foot.  He still did uncover the bodies to check what gear he could pull off them; both had a familiar mark, a blackened hole in the forehead that dotted the now pale faces, bandages covered bites, one of them had their vest, fatigues torn by claws.
Two of four canteens he took, he managed to pull off the undamaged elbow and knee pads off both of them to make a complete set for him; a pair of gloves he pulled off the hands of one of them, the frags and ammo where stripped from the corpses but a single concussion grenade he found, he picked it up and looked at it for a moment to think. The blast wasn’t enough to kill but enough to knock zeds down. Thinking with a nod, he tucked the grenade into a pouch on his vest.
   He would have been glad to have found a helmet with the gear attached but it looked like they both where mobbed, so a good portion of both soldier’s gear is missing. A shrug of oh well before he looked at the boots, he could tell that they wouldn’t fit him so he simply recovered the bodies, “Rest well boys, you’ve earned it.” He got off the Humvee before he carried on.
   He walked a few paces before he stopped to fit on the new items, the pads and gloves where a good fit.  He had to loot from the fallen before, so he didn’t feel bad as he stripped the gear from them. Folding the stock and tucking the 74 under shoulder, he carried on.
2  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Re: Walking Far on: May 01, 2012, 01:15:01 am
He walked into the women’s room for the men’s room had the bloody mess he supposedly made during the fighting.  He found a stall, closed the door, bolted it and took a seat on the Toilet.  Opening the extra MRE, he read the entrée that was inside, “Chicken with buffalo styled sauce…”  He didn’t mind much of the flavors each one came in. Food is food right?  He thought that opened the box to start eating, everything as decent, minding the fact that there is no way to heat it, well, there is, but he didn’t want to risk any drawn attention to jump him in the dark.

   Upon finishing, he had just discarded the empties right as it hit him. He felt a strange pull in his gut, “shit…” and that’s what he ran off to do fallowing the clatter of a stall door.
   Nearly a half hour later, he reemerged, and moved to the other end of the stalls. Now, bolting the door, he sat on the lid and pulled out his book.

Day 122

   I’m currently sitting in a bathroom stall, He simply began, he smirked at the thought of starting off with that. But outside this roadside stop restroom, is a bloody mess, caused by my hand.  What was originally going to be a gun battle between me and a mob of those things, turned into another black out.  I’m not sure what is causing these black outs, but I can honestly say that I have won the fight.  Found a small supply dump left behind the original occupants of this makeshift campground. He paused to think, he memory flashed back to the canister bursting from a stray shot and his Rugger jamming on him, My trusty ruger jammed on me finally, right as I had drawn their attention out into the parking lot. Thankfully I ditched it for a 74U, more reliable and can clean it- who’d to think that I can finally clean a weapon without having to spend hours to run a thin rod down the barrel while I can just clean with a string and some oil. he laughed at himself at the thought, Either way, I managed to find some decent supplies to hold me over till I can find either another dump like this one or reach the next town. I can honestly say that I’m going to need to find a new map or at least search around for one that has been written on so I can update mine. Let’s hope I’m close to the coast.  Yet, I have to keep in mind that it won’t be no picnic for the coastal cities will be the most crowded.
   Crazed humans, banshees, spitters, runners, and god knows’ what else will be in that city whichever one I enter.  All I can say is that I’ll hopefully- the lead snapped and he clicked the mechanical pen to continue, -I can contact whoever that is on the other end of that radio signal and get the hell off this continent.
with all stress aside, I’m try and sleep and hopfully not get torn up in my sleep

Sergeant Adam Halsey

   He closed the book, tucked it back into his pack, laid it down. He took off his jacket and laid himself down.  He laid his head on his pack to use it as a pillow, then covered himself with his coat, all the while keeping his colt, now had been reloaded, close to his head.  It took him a little bit to drift off.
3  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Re: Walking Far on: May 01, 2012, 01:14:18 am
(This section will be a little longer because weapons are in this one)

   Pushing his mistake out of his head, he simply walked on to look for anything more to salvage from the camp before finding a more suitable place to clean up, rearrange supplies, and above of all, rest!

   After what felt like several hours of picking through the carnage, he managed to find several items of interest, half a first aid kit (missing only one bandage roll, a couple of gauze pads and several packets of wipes and painkillers), several abandoned weapons, a few intact cans of ammo, a handful of canned food and a shit load of M.R.Es, as well a few watches off the bodies as well some extra miscellaneous items (batteries, glow sticks, lighters, etc.).

   Finding a bench that wasn’t toasted to perfection, he laid his findings, laid his own gear down, and proceeded to pick through the loot on what he’ll take with him tomorrow.  Before he started he took a glance to the sky, as he determined what time it was, he silently thanked the good lord for not making him zed chow.

   Turning back to the loot table, he first started with the munitions.

There laid before him were two revolvers, four pistols, three shotguns and five rifles. 

The Newer model M1911 was only salvaged for magazines and internal parts, He didn’t find any interest in the P99 because “it’s a nine…”  The luger looked well used but Adam didn’t think he’ll want to use it for it could break on him (a quick look at the numbers, dings and scratches that it was carried through World war one and there for no, certainly no); The Nagant and webley revolvers he found where decent but power and loading speed came to mind when he remembered the magnum he ditched somewhere in this parking lot.

Then he found the battered Tokarev lying there, picking it up he could feel the weight and fit of the handgun.  Rummaging through the ammo he collected he could make out about six or so magazines loads of the small but potent round, however there where only four mags that could be found, five if you can count the one in the gun already.

Looking at the handgun he nodded then set it aside.

He found no intrest in the Ithica or the Benelli but the “bitch grip” mossburg caught his eye, setting it aside too he then picked through the rifles.
He gazed upon the old war carbine but he had to pass it up for he knew the thirty cal carbine would be perfect for him but ammo was nearly nonexistent when he checked the ammo pile.

The M4 didn’t look like it’ll last long under his ownership however, the hybrid sight attached was prefect to squeeze onto his Winchester but work like that will have to wait till morning, the SKS was too long, the FAL was too clunky but the AK 74U was scratched up to hell and back but it still worked, two Russians in one day, what a find… he thought as he slung the rifle.

Sadly, thinking about weight, he ditched the Mossburg for he only wanted to keep just one compact rifle and an extra pistol along with his snipe and his colt.  With that thought in mind, he went through the food supplies and decided to keep the MREs for the sake that he had been living off them for a while and it would be hell to switch to something other than that.

He filled his nearly-empty first aid kit from his pack with what he could stuff from the more-larger kit before returning it to his pack. He organized the several MREs into his pack then rummaged through the rest of the items.  The two watches that still worked both counted the time, 7:23 they both read.  He looked at the sinking sun and agreed that the time was right.

Strapping on the sports watch, he took the time to load magazines and rearrange his vest and locate a different holster for the TT.  Reffiting and reloading any/all magainze he will be taking with him; exchanging the ruger magazines with the AK mags and tinkered with the ACOG mounts then made a difficult fitting the hybrid sight onto the Winchester.  With the dual purpose of the sight, he can make long rang shots as well quick close quarters shots.  The set up looked awkward as it sits above the action, but it will work for where he will be going.

After refilling on thirty-aught and grabbing an extra MRE for the night, he went back inside the stone restroom building.
4  TZH Discussion / TZH Discussion / Re: Today's Comic on: October 19, 2011, 03:04:55 pm
You have to think, the second that he grabbed her, she instantly had a Flashback, saw red and didn't stop until that man stopped moving.

And out of everyone, it had to be quiet, little Kattie to be the most brutal of this crew.
5  TZH Discussion / TZH Discussion / Re: What zombie class would you rather die by? on: July 25, 2011, 11:49:30 pm
its a tough choice.  I would normally be too willing to live to be killed by one of them,  however, it would depend on who would get to me first. and odds are high for the mercy and zerker.

why one of them?  because I would either feel a bite once, or go down swinging.
6  Art Discussion / Music / Re: What are you listening to? on: July 12, 2011, 10:34:53 am
7  Art Discussion / Writing / Re: Mind Doddles on: July 11, 2011, 02:49:14 pm
This piece (as well another one) were themed around another comic I'm still reading.  but due to the lack of connections this one and the other turned into random bits typed around a post OB* world.  This one I made was practice on character to character Dialog, as well testing out how an antique rifle can be effective in combat with obviously the right amount of practice and muscle memory. Things might be a little dull or lacking but it was just a practice bit.  Also, this became an attempt in creating realistic weapon function, recoil, etc.



“Jesus, when are you going to get rid of that damn thing?” a survivor asked another as he glanced up from the map of the city.  “When are you going to quit using that glock?” the other man replied as he added long bullets to the bandoleer that was strapped across his torso over his coat, he then took the last round of the brick and slid it into the open breach of his rifle then closed the trap door lid. With a distinctive click, he carefully rested the hammer of the rifle. “Are you ever going to learn that nine mill is only for people not those shufflers out there?”  The man asked as he leaned against the counter, he dug into his coat pocket to pull up a pack of camels.

“yeah, yeah, and your grandpa rifle isn’t over kill either…” the first survivor grumbled as she scanned the map again, “There’s that super market about a few blocks from here, ya know the wal-mart wannabe?”  she then folded the map as neatly as she could to packet it away in her book bag, “yeah I know the place, I wouldn’t forget the place where the dick of a co-manager tried to over charge me on a brick of two-twenty-three and some groceries a month or so ago.” the man chimed all-not-so-enthused as he stuck a 100 long into his lips then lit it with a Zippo lighter.

Clapping the lighter shut, “I understand the need for a tester but can’t we just bust down that seven-eleven a few blocks back for one?” he questioned, with a little hint of annoyance in his voice, as he puffed the cigarette, “I trust Omni mart better than a immigrant run seven-eleven thank you very much!” the man simply puffed before speaking agian, “Uh-huh, and I guess you take the “where value lives” part of the sign seriously…don’t you?”
“oh shut the fuck up Grant.” the girl snapped before giving a playful punch to his arm, “and Aren’t you being a little harsh on the guys that work at the seven-eleven? Their just out-a-country stiffs tryin’ to make a buck that’s all.” Grant replaced the 100 back in his lips, “and you need to get real as those are the same fuckers that tried to rob us before you flashed that antique at him.”
“Hey-” Grant pointed a finger at her, “-Pavlo remembers my trapdoor during a hunting trip so they where smart booking it after seeing it shoot once, so forgive-n-forget those bastards alright Samantha dear?” He then looked back at the entrance of the gun shop as Samantha closed the bag, “DON’T CALL ME SAMANTHA!!” she snapped stomping a foot.

“You know how much I hate my full name!” Grant chuckled as he witnessed her little brat display, “Whatever Sam.” he smirked as he stood up, slung the trapdoor over his shoulder and walked towards the front counter, “Now hurry up and collect your pussy nine mil so we can get goin’.” he spoke over his shoulder, “The longer ye take your time the more closer that pesky bandit’s, “ambush“, would’ve been successful.” Grant spoke over his shoulder as he emphasized “ambush” with finger quote marks. “I thought we went over this! Don’t talk about that!!” Sam growled as she vaulted over the counter, she pulled a brick of nine millimeter, she dug into her belt pouches, pulled up several empty magazines to your Glock and laid them on the counter.

As she thought to her self aloud under her breath in grumbles, Grant watched the front doors as he took a seat at the front register counter, the carbine laying across his lap. He finished his camel then snuffed it in the penny pan next to the register.  “You saying somethin’?” he asked aloud with a smirk as he herd a annoyed sigh, “NO!” Sam roared as she glared across the room to Grant before going back to loading the mags.

“Alright, just checking.” he chuckled lightly as he had fun picking on her.  Even though he was just a traveler in this city, he wanted to always help people out, doing his part before moving on;  Samantha on the other hand was an exception, she was weak on her own with little knowledge on survival and when he had saved her from that bunch of street bandits, as he called them, she was in the bed of their half-ton bare ass naked. He some how knew that she’ll be stuck to him for the rest of this apocalypse, even if they where being a pain in the ass to one another.

A short time went by as the low clicks of bullets going into the plastic/metal magazines turned into a rhythmic tone to Grant’s ears as he leaned back in the chair, pitching his feet up on the counter. “Just a thought Sam, you might want to take a gander of what’s left of the store’s merchandise, might be a good idea to be ready incase the Omni folks aren’t friendly to outsiders.” Grant suggested as he looked over to the burnet putting the mags away into their pouches.  “Right, but I doubt it.” the young woman replied as she turned to examine the racks, she knew better than to listen to the cocky bastard, but she still remembers the bandits as they fooled her with friendly smiles, the event still makes her shudder.

On a conscious awkward level, she trusted Grant’s judgment.  Grant looked on at the racks from where he sat, “Maybe that mossy might do the thing.” he said looking at the woodland camouflage shotgun that leaned in it’s rack.  “uck don’t like the camo on it.” Sam spoke touching the gun first, “then pick something else.” Grant added before he herd a metal thump against a car outside.

Snapping his head around, he looked on to see that a shuffler had bumped into the car, he then saw another run into the glass of the large store windows, “uh…Sam, might want to hurry up with that.”
“Because we got company.” he stood up from the chair and brought the Springfield’s stock to his shoulder, “How many?” Sam asked as she quickly grabbed a over/under and a box of shot shells.  “about five at the moment.” Grant replied as he watched three others come to the windows.

Pale hands started banging on the glass, “Crap….You got a good idea Sammy!” Grant vaulted over the register counter as he herd a crack from the glass. “Think there’s going to be more?” she asked as she slid in two target loads into the open breach.  “Wouldn’t doubt that once the shooting starts.” Grant  answered as he hurried over to the gun counter.  He brought the carbine to half cock while bringing the stock back to his shoulder again.
Closing the bird gun Sam mimicked the stock-to-shoulder stance as she too watched the infected pound on the glass. What seemed like minuets was seconds as the glass gave way to the zombie’s knocking.  Rising up, “Weapons free!” Grant ordered before fully cocking the carbine before firing, the crack of the 45-70 morphed into a thunderous roar thanks to the acoustics of the small shop;  an infected stumbled backwards before falling to the sudden slam of bullet into it‘s head.  Flinching by the invisible wind of the muzzle blast, Sam quickly recovered by bringing the bird gun up and fired one barrel at another infected. The dry bloody stained shirt of the zombie shivered as bbs tore into it.

Grant cocked the rifle again then flipped the small lever then opened the trap door of his rifle, the spent shell spat out and flew over his shoulder as he leaned his head to the side; pulling a fresh round from the bandoleer, he loaded the round in before closing the trapdoor.  With a click, he brought the rifle up then fired again, and reloaded with practiced speed. “Grab something different if you can’t shoot so fast!” Sam yelled over the blasting of both guns, “Shut up and keep shooting-” Grant let loose another heavy round into a luckless zombie as it pitched sideways onto the floor, “-It’s just a matter of muscle memory!” he opened the breach and loaded another round, closed then fired again.

Sam turned the top lever to open the breech, she flipped the gun over, gave it a slight jerk, then spent shells tumbled out. After flinching again to the big bore going off next to her, “I think that was more than six!” she spoke closing the action after two shells where in.  “Yep, here comes more.” Grant then pulled several rounds from the ammo belt and held them in between his fingers. “This is going to get messy, so keep that Plastic toy ready.” he spoke before firing.  “It isn’t a toy!” she corrected half annoyed,  “it’s a gun too!”
“Whatever just shoot!” Grant snapped as he flipped the trapdoor open, he dropped a bullet in then pushed it home before closing the trapdoor, a zombie fell forward into a coat rack with a clatter.

As Grant fired, Sam held the bird gun from the hip (resting on the counter top) then pulled both triggers, the shotgun roared as two zombies where knocked backwards, knocking a third down with them. It was Grant’s turn to flinch, “Christ!” he recoiled as Sam was knocked into the shelves behind her from the recoil, “The fuck you where thinking?!” He glanced down as Sam scrambled to get to her feet, “Just clearing the way that’s all.” Sam admitted as she started reloading again.

Grant let another round off at a zombie that spun around by the bullet’s impact, knocking untouched items fall from their shelves. As they both saw five more shuffle in to replace the already seven killed. “I think we should find an exit out of this madness.” Grant suggested, “oh gee ya think so?!” Sam looked to Grant before they both raised guns and fired into the zeds as they moved closer to their position behind the counter. After firing one more shot, Grant slung the Springfield before filling both hands with a handgun, “Sam, you check behind those doors-” he gestured with a nod behind them to a set of double swing doors, “-maybe the service doors aren’t blocked by these things.”

Sam only looked at Grant before letting both barrels off into a zombie.  As more infected trickled in, “Grant…you can’t be serious.”
“Come on sweetie, I’ve got them covered, you just go find us an exit and I’ll hold’em off.”  Sam looked at the zeds then at grant one more time before nodding, “Alright, be careful!” she commanded before ditching the bird gun on the counter before turning to hurry to the doors, “Always!”  Grant called after her before he raised both pistols and started shooting at the zeds, .45 rounds tore into and around the zombies as they began to slowly pour into the establishment. As both slides locked back, Grant flipped one closed and returned it to it’s holster and then pressed the release on the other.

Putting another clip in he took aim with both hands and started taking better aimed shots. The pistol barked as rounds found their targets:  one infected crumbled as the back of it’s skull sprayed into the face of another, another infected simply fell forward before trying to get up.  “Sam! Hurry! These Rotters are getting close!” he roared as he reloaded, looked on as the infected where inching closer to the counter.

Suddenly the double doors opened again, “Grant, found a door! Come on, come on!!” Sam almost shrieked as she saw that they where far too many to be coming into the place. “Got it!” Grant then grabbed the trapdoor, turned on heel and ran for the doors.  They both then ran for the door she opened before coming back.  Grant turned to fire two more rounds into some that fallowed them, no kill shots though.

“Come on!” Sam urged tugging on the sleeve of Grant’s coat, Grant turned and kept walking along with Sam as they both exited onto a back street behind the store.  Slamming the door, Grant returned the pistol to it’s holster then started reloading the trapdoor, “Anywhere else?”
“Yeah, spotted a ladder over there.” she pointed  up the street to the back of another building with a fire escape ladder still intact.  They both jumped and stepped back as the infected started pounding at the door, “Lets go!” And they both ran towards the ladder.

Half way, the door fell open behind them, letting a small flood of zombies pour into the street. “Run faster!!” Grant shouted as they both picked up their pace as best they could. As they reached the ladder, Sam was the first to grab onto it and started climbing.  While Grant turned and started shooting.  He fired, reloaded and fired again, covering her as she got onto the roof.

“Grant! Come on!!” she begged, Grant turned, grabbed the ladder and started climbing up, as he looked up, he could see the dread in the twenty-year-olds face as he climbed up. As he got closer to the top, a hand gripped his boot, “shit!” he felt himself slip, “Grant!” He herd her shout, “Let go of me!” Grant barked as he kicked the zombie free from him. Solid thud and Grant got onto the roof. As he pulled himself over the edge, he rolled onto his back first then propped himself against the wall.

“You okay?” Sam asked kneeling down beside him, “Yeah, just got a hand print on the boot, no scratch.”
“Thank god.” she sat beside him, “Why, you worried about me?” He asked looking faintly smug as their heavy breathing started to settle.  “Me?!” she looked at him with a faint tint of red in her cheeks, “Oh hell no I wasn’t! The last thing I wanted you to be is pulled back into those things.”
“Uh-huh…so you where.”
“No I wasn’t!” She snapped sharply, Grant chuckled as she argued with him, she then looked down as he took the brife banter funny. she then leaned her head back as she realized how hilarious she was acting then, she then started to feel her self chuckling along with him.

They both joined together laughter as zombies groans and moans came from below them.  "So are we still going?" she asked finally, "Yeah...but this is going to be one hell of a trip for just one test." he looked at her then they both laughed again at the thought wading through a horde of zombies for just one pregnancy test, "Might as well pick up some BC while we're at it." he added before relaxing finally, "For starters we should find a way to go to another roof encase they decide to-" Sam suddenly hugged him, "what the?"
"So glad you made it." she spoke quietly as she closed her eyes.

"uhh, I was right behind you the hole time, I didn't go far." he then felt the need to complete the embrace by putting an arm around her.  It felt weird, though she was two years younger than he was, that she was showing her soft side to him out of the blue.

after a minuet of the embrace, the two let go, "I think there should be a way off the roof." Sam said finally, a red tint still coating her cheeks. "Well, alright then..." Grant got up, she fallowed suit, "shall we then? and...don't be so sudden like that again, it almost scares me when you do it."

Sam simply smirked as she walked by him, "Whatever you say tough guy."
To get a better idea on how it is like to speed reload this rifle heres and example,
8  Art Discussion / Writing / Mind Doddles on: July 11, 2011, 02:38:41 pm
So, while My creativty and brain recover from the writing coma, I'll like to open a topic here to where I can post random bits that don't fallow any story but are variously themed.

So...yeah, here's a bucket for my writing vomit.
9  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Re: Walking Far on: July 05, 2011, 09:37:44 pm

Walking on, he mentally counted up the number of kills, he came to terms that whatever happened to him, he knew that he had blacked out.  Yet, he still couldn’t grasp why or how.  Last he knew he was perfectly sane, but that was months ago before taking this long trip.

   As he lost count as some of the bodies started to appear with missing limps, he came across a killed zed with its foot inside its skull; the boot on the foot must have been a steel toe, so it could explain how it got in there.  He took another step and his foot stepped on something.  clink! and he looked down as he moved his foot,  it was the magnum he carried during the battle.  Kneeling down, he picked it up,  Examining it, there was some dents and nicks up-n-down the action and barrel; Adam had some clue that he must of used it as a club during his rage moment before discarding it.  Checking the cylinder, there were only spent shells inside. Bumping them out, they tinged on the concrete as Adam flicked the cylinder closed.

   Returning it to the shoulder holster, He stood up and looked around to find his Ruger.  He looked out into the distance and found it right where he had left it.  After heading off to retrieve it, he tinkered with the jammed action as he walked back to the camp site.  He remembers the Bullet explosion and prayed that there was something worth salvaging after that screw up.

   There were a few crippled stragglers that nosily tried to avenge their defeat, but Adam drove a pick, which he had found in the bed of a pickup, into their skulls, snuffing them for good.  Leaving the pick in the last of three he came across, he examined the table that the box had sat on.  Sadly, the box was an ammunition crate, but the good part about it was, that it was a caliber that didn’t want to begin with, how convenient… he thought to himself.  Scavenging around, a skill all too well versed, he noticed that only a few ammo cans were knocked to the ground while some stayed on the table just pushed in every direction by debris, shrapnel, and the blast itself; a few of the empties where obvious as they were pitched far in every direction.  Few other things, like a camp stove, and a burned out box of MREs sat on the table.

   As he searched and picked up a half can of thirty cal, he heard a creaking noise then a clatter of snapping wood, clanging metal and various objects falling.  Turning around, he looked on to see that the table had collapsed from being weakened from the blast, fire and weight of objects.  Turning his attention to the sky, he took note of lost time; taking the scene another look, he wondered why he didn’t look before he shot that propane can earlier today.
10  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Re: Walking Far on: July 05, 2011, 09:29:28 pm
{(yes, yes, I understand the rules behind Necro bumping but I felt like coming back to this after a long creativity coma*)}

Slowly getting to his feet, he grabbed a clump of toilet paper to wipe left over stomach matter from his mouth, walking back to a sink, he twisted a handle, a groan emitted from the pipes before a cough of water splattered the sink bowl. A few more coughs and rust colored water flowed from the tap.  A few seconds later, clear water replaced the colored water. Tossing the wad of paper aside, he leaned into the sink to dip his dirtied hands to splash to wash them first of the dried blood and to cup a handful to splash his face.

   As cold water greeted his gritty face, he stood leaning over the sink in silence, the running water, powered by the sun (at least he came to think it was panels on the roof), making the only sound in the room.  He looked up at the mirror, he stared at himself for a long while.  He wondered what happened to him, what has become of him and wondered if this already costly trip is worth it?  His mind slowly lit up with questions.

   Almost losing himself in thought, he suddenly remembered something, “What the hell happened out there?” he asked himself looking at his own eyes. He then turned his gaze from the mirror to his left at the door that was jammed open. Silence came from outside.  He questioned himself it is worth walking out there to see what became of all the undead out there.  Either way, he wasn’t going to stay in here.

   Shutting the water off, he reached to the floor to collect his empty pistol; flicking the slide release he holstered the gun before walking outside. What greeted him when he walked outside made him stop in mid step in awe.  Bodies littered the entire parking lot, yet there was only confusion as he looked upon the carnage that he must have caused.  He remembers starting the fight by shooting at the zeds, yet after his gun jammed things got crazy after that.

    He couldn’t remember what happened to the rest of the mob that was about to run him down and make chow out of him.  Yet, there they were, bodies everywhere.  “What did I do?!” he could only manage as he walked into the mess.  He gazed upon bodies that looked more bloodied than the ones shot.  Faces, mangled and nearly unrecognizable; some faces were caved in, others missing, one head seemed to have been removed. He stopped in his walk and looked at his hands as they started to throb with pain.  Examining them, he could pin point bruises forming across the knuckles and other parts of his hands.

   “Shit…I went ape shit on these things.” He commented to himself

{(*=a form of writer's block that lasts longer than two to three weeks)}
11  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Re: Walking Far on: April 04, 2011, 10:35:11 pm
As the body collapsed, the last of it’s nerves twitching among the puddle of sizzling acid, Adam got to his feet.  When he looked behind him, he could notice some of the zeds had staggered too close to him.  Ignoring them for the moment, he took off back into the parking lot. The feeling for the warm day and the blue skies he had once before the fight long gone, he turned to back stepping, his rifle plinking the five-fifty-six away at three of the zombies that staggered from the bathrooms, two tripped, one put back to sleep.

   However, after the third shot, the rifle didn’t click, didn’t fire, just stopped.  Breaking aim, Adam looked down at the action, a round had miss-fed and jutted upward towards the roof of the action. Glancing up, he noticed that it would be a minuet or two before the zombies will form back in their rotten pursuit for their human prey. Turning back to the gun, he attempted to remove the magazine;  the bullet, wanting to slide forward with pressure from the slide while it wants to jump up into the action, caused the magazine to stick in it’s magazine well.

   “Oh god, not now!” he grumbled to the gun a hint of panic in his voice as he pulled on the mag. Glancing up again, he noticed that the zeds where now closing in on him.  Thinking quickly, the survivor threw down his rifle and drew his handgun. Thumbing the hammer on the 1911.  Gripping with both hands, he raised up and fired off two rounds at two other zombies, they both collapsed with the sudden lose of brain function; the forty-five pounded a heavy bang that assisted in increasing the volume of the ringing in his ears; the gunshots dulling down to a muffled pop with each trigger pull.

   Dropping six more, he pressed the release, drew up a fresh mag, and reloaded in a short time span. As the slide snapped forward, the pistol sang once more. Four more ate a piece of history before Adam stopped to reassess the situation. They were everywhere at this point, but their numbers started to diminish as well the bullets on his person.  “Looks like your going to need help Lucy!” he spoke to the pistol as he drew the magnum with his left.

   With both hands filled,  if I have to die here, he thought, Might as well go down swinging…

   He thumbed the hammer on the revolver and aimed with both pistols, a killer’s smile cracked across his face as he looked on at the mob inching close to him.       His fingers twitched and both pistols went off one beat after another, the magnum kicking harder (and barking louder) than the colt.  Two targets went down, one staggered back to its feet.  Thumbing the hammer on the magnum, he squeezed off rounds with the colt, pausing after the third shot to cave in a chest with the magnum.

   The rhythm of the pounds became muffled thuds in his ears with each shot, each shot found their marks.  One after another, the rotting bodies collapsed to the ground, some not moving, others getting back to their feet to continue their pursuit of their  well-trained (yet ballsy) killer.  Adam fired the 1911 till the slide locked back; every shot took a shoulder, a jaw or took part of a skull away.

   Flicking a thumb and his hand on the release, the slide snapped forward into place before the pistol was returned to it’s holster. Switching the magnum between hands, he fanned the hammer with his left hand before taking a shot at another zed; the fragile thing was knocked backwards from the impact, doubling over two others.  He thumbed the last shot before his feet began to work automatically, moving him backwards as worked the cylinder release.

   The now warm cylinder swung open, a quick tap and the spent shells spilled silently to the ground.  The survivor’s hand went to the vest pocket that carried the spare rounds.  He dug then out, loaded six then flicked his hand to make the cylinder click shut. Thumbing the hammer, he stopped in his track to take a careful shot.

   Two shots later he lost count but as far as he could tell that the mob was dwindling but not fast enough. However, when he fired the magnum empty, his vision blurred by the muzzle flashes; his mind began to lose focus.  While his hands worked, stinging faintly against the hot cylinder as he loaded more rounds, his eyes began to go dark.  His mind remained blank and no more thoughts as his vision turned to total darkness as his hands began to work the gun automatically.

   Everything was silent for what seemed felt like hours. Thuds echoed into his ears, he felt every shock of the gun at first then soon, he felt his legs move, slow at first, then they picked up speed.  His mind registered briefly that he was sprinting, which way he was going was lost to him.  Adam felt his own body move on his own, his conscious locked in a blackened shell of his own mind.

   His legs then sprung, he felt air, them he felt a fist land into something hard. A solid slam, he felt the shock vibrate up the hole arm.  Another hand griped  something cold, a foot kicked against something then his hands worked their magic of reloading on their own.  Seconds later, his hand felt the familiar jolting of the colt.  He also felt his other hand grab something then swung it hard.

   His hole body began to work as one absent minded machine while Adam sat in the dark black seat of his mind.  The shooting, reloading, swinging, hitting, kicking and even jumping lasted for god knows how long.  Suddenly, the fighting seemed to of stopped.
   He felt nothing, he herd nothing, he didn’t even think of anything.  Like as if sleeping, he began to drift until he felt hands touch something cold.  His vision, mind and conscious began to recover the body.  When he blinked, he at first saw the darkness fade from his vision.  Then the blurring clear up slowly.

   Finally clearing up, he was staring at the bottom of a sink, he was in the bathroom of the rest stop. He felt cold, his hand sore and bloody as he slowly inched his eyes to look at them. One still gripped the now empty colt handgun.  His breathing as his mind reconnected with the body was a slow and deep, his trained pattern to calm his body after a near miss with shaking hands with the reaper.

   He forced his neck to life his head, it moved slowly as his body was numb. His eyes met the mirror, his face and hair was plastered with drying blood.  His eyes, he must have been seeing a result of the black out but he could of seen his had changed, the white replaced with a solid oil black, the color a solid white and the iris, a black dot.  Yet with a single, the eyes cleared, returning to their more familiar  paper white and marble gray colors. He was freaked by it but something else stood in fear’s place.

   A stomach movement.  He jolted from it and immediately spun around to dash for an open stall, the pistol fell free from the loosened hand.  He lost what little he previously eaten before walking all the way here.  A few bursts of vomit into the toilet and he flushed after wiping his mouth with toilet paper. Yet he hung over the bowl for a few minuets as his body settled finally.
12  General Discussion / General Discussion / Re: What did we learn today? (Apart from that australian wine rocks.) on: April 04, 2011, 09:41:09 pm
I've learned how to fight procrastination by simple turning on something upbeat to distract the mind then start working on everything at once.

like working on college work, my fan story and started bookmarking pages to every possible historical gun made from 1945 and backward for references for my story and other works of mine.
13  TZH Discussion / TZH Discussion / Re: Today's Comic on: March 07, 2011, 08:35:13 pm
This shovel kill was brought to you in-part by...


durable, reliable and light weight Hand tools for your survival in the wastelands!


Happy scaving folks!


anyways, good strip today!

and when I have the money, I'll order a book if you guys are still taking orders.
14  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Re: Walking Far on: February 21, 2011, 02:15:02 pm
A stray bullet ripped a hole through a cargo pocket on his pants, grazing the skin as it slammed into a tree in front of him. Falling to the ground from the stray shot, Adam was quick to scramble to his feet ignoring the hit. He got around the tree line.  Hugging his back to a tree, he looked around to see that the burning box had splintered and was on fire from the rounds that were left inside it.

   A snap took a branch inches from his head, he reacted by ducking his head; He looked on to see some undead had vanished from view as others were getting to their feet. The camp site around the box was totaled, bullet holes decorated the tents, chairs and everything else; shrapnel from the can and box embedded in every surface or was scattered in every direction. The only thought running through Adam’s mind was the hope that the box wasn’t  holding rounds he’ll need later.

   As the burst of bullets died down to a random popping every so often, Adam broke cover and dashed towards the parking lot of the rest stop. As he ran, he glanced to his right, taking a vague head count of how many are left. He lost count at thirteen when his body responded to dive as something sizzling flew clear over head.

   Hitting the ground, he looked off to his left as he herd a watery splatter. A greenish brownish ooze blanket the already bullet damaged bark, the unknown substance eating away at the bark;  The zombie that was shuffling through the tree line had also caught a splash from the glob.  It’s arm fell from the middle of the left bicep, a section of melted skin and muscle ran down the leg of the same side.

   As the zombie buckled and fell from the lost of leg bone, Adam quickly looked into his right to see where the glob came from.  A lone zed, that had probably walked from one of the opened rest room houses, had the same ooze dribbling from it’s mouth. “You shitting me…” Adam thought aloud as he looked on for a split moment before he noticed the zed’s body quivering, then it went into a bodily motion; like as if a ghost is giving it a Heimlich maneuver, “oh hell no!” Adam shoved himself off the ground to pitch himself onto a knee.

   At the same moment, the zombie’s mouth opened, emitting a harsh hacking and gargling noise; Adam brought the Ruger to his shoulder; The undead puke filled it’s mouth; Adam fired rounds into the zed.  Adam’s reaction was faster than the spitters.

   Three rounds pierced the body, it ignored the impact as it tried to finish bringing it’s stomach to it’s mouth. However, the third round tore open a hole between the acid worn skin between the exposed chin and neck, creating a hole for the hazardous vomit to drain all over the body of the spitter. The special finished it’s movement but only managed to force the leftovers to dribble from the mouth and onto it’s own body.

   The acid finished the job.
15  General Discussion / General Discussion / Re: What did we learn today? (Apart from that australian wine rocks.) on: February 17, 2011, 10:29:13 pm
It was the Valentines candy that gave me the flu?

well, I blamed the candy but It really think it was an oddball strain of cold/fluthingy that had some weird symptoms to them.
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