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31  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Re: Walking Far on: January 16, 2011, 10:09:15 pm
Slowing to a cautious stalk, he eyed the long damaged front windows of the station, not activity as far as he could see but he stayed on guard as he stacked up near the open doorway.   He then turned to step inside, he then stopped to sling the rifle and switch to a mag light and his sidearm. Clicking the light on he looked around, heard nothing nor saw anything, yet, something was plucking at his senses, something was still around, but what?  He swept through the mini-market’s isles, looking for something.

   Yet nothing was in sight or in hearing range.  Holstering the colt he suddenly herd a noise coming form one of the restrooms which caused him to turn, quick draw and aimed both light and gun into the direction of the noise. Listing to it again, he moved forward, he locked onto the door (men’s room).  Stepping closer he reached up and knocked on the door, no instant response came from the other side.  He then pushed the door open, he was greeted by a strong smelling wave of death and decay;  breathing shallow to handle the pungent stink he moved in with the light leading the way.  Getting inside he saw the back of a walker, “Damn it man!” he took aim to shoot the zed in the skull,  the black room lit up briefly from the muzzle flash.  As his ears faintly rung from the close quarters acoustics, “I thought I smelled a zack crapping in here!” he commented as he looked to his right, he shined the light into each of the stalls, finding nothing.

   He looked around the bathroom, taking note of the drying mess on the walls and floor, it looked like there was more than- A sudden sound interrupted Halsey’s thinking as he snapped back into focus.  The noise came from the last stall he had yet to check, keeping the handgun close and the light in front of him, Halsey moved wide as he stayed focused on the stall.  Looking into it he noticed someone had their back turned to him, “Hey, turn around so I don’t hav-” before he could finished the zombie lunged forward in a blur of flesh and dirty clothing, the blur slammed into him, making them both sprawl onto the floor.


   The flashlight clinked to the floor and the colt clattered across the floor under the sinks. The walker, or now leaper as he recognized it, Had him pinned to the floor straddling his torso, with out thinking Halsey had his hands out gripping the leaper’s hands, he held it back far enough to see the faint figure’s face clapping it’s hungry mouth inches from his face. “You son of a bitch!” Halsey managed as he threw one hand away to reach for his belt, however, the leaper brought the freed hand down to slash at the face, Halsey rolled his head to the side.  The middle finger of the leaper’s hand left a small cut on his face.  He managed to unlatch and pull his trench knife free, “Get-”he punched the leaper in the cheek with the solid knuckle guard, “-the-” he slammed his fist again against the leaper’s face, “-Fuck-” he slammed again, “Off me!” he swung one last punch to knock it off balance.

   Letting go with his other hand he shoved the thing off him, the leaper stumbled off of him and he slid himself across the floor to reach for his pistol, he was about to reach for it until the leaper grabbed his ankle, pulling him backwards, a hand was reaching out but only managed to grip his coat, tearing into it with it‘s nails as well ripping the Winchester off his back with a snap of the sling strap; Halsey kicked to knock the hand off of him and he threw himself forward.  His hand clapped onto the grip of the 1911 and he rolled over onto his back, he took quick aim and fired the pistol till it was empty.

   Each round sounded like a bomb in his ears shooting from underneath the sinks, but each muzzle flash exposed the leaper as it took every hit.  The last shot fired ripped a hole through the eye out the top of the head, the body collapsed to the floor, falling onto his feet.  As his eyes regain focus from the blinding muzzle flashes and his ear rang from the shots, he pulled himself away from the body and crawled out from underneath the sink.  He picked up the flashlight and looked at the body, it wasn’t moving and that, was all he cared about as he picked up the dropped ruger, his hurting back reminded him of the rifle that was torn away.  Picking the rifle off the floor he instantly took off the lenses one at a time, the viewing lenses was okay but as he took the front lens cover off, glass fell out, the scope was useless now.

   He cussed up a storm as he threw the rifle down, “You son of a bitch!” he shouted at the dead leaper, “You broke my god damn rifle!!” his hand reminded him of the trench knife that was in his grip still and he started pounding the knuckles into the skull, his knuckle guard vibrated with each punch against the skull as he went mad on the swings.  His hand finally became numb when the skull finally collapsed from each pound of the knuckles.

   Feeling only mush now, he stopped, used the leaper’s tattered shirt to clean the knife and his hand before returning the knife to it’s sheath.  Picking up the Winchester again he looked at it, the scope was damaged as far as he saw it, the rifle itself was still in shape but it’s sling was snapped at the middle. Clicking the light off and putting the flashlight into a pocket, he grabbed both rifles and walked out of the bathroom.

32  TZH Discussion / TZH Fan Fiction / Walking Far on: January 12, 2011, 09:36:13 pm
The start of mentioned project.  I decided to post it in chunks as to not leave a mess of errors and what not as there are other distractions from completing this piece.

Hope you enjoy what comes up every now and then.
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{modifed by a friend}

        A warm breeze blew across the desert landscape, kicking up dust and decaying chunks of paper. It was a hot day on this plain but the heat never bothered the wondering dead as they aimlessly crowded an abandoned freeway gas station. Roughly fifteen of them either stood still, bumped into broken down vehicles, meandered and/or leaned against the wall; each of these things where hunting for a meal but none of their senses could pick nothing up. However, they all came to action when they herd a sudden PUNK! as something slammed into the colorless metal sign.

   This sound repeated again three times before the undead where surrounding the sign above them, drawn out by the noise. Among the fifteen one of them had a pair of glowing red eyes, it turn its gaze upward to glare at the sign, perfect. A minute passed, then a whiz fallowed by a sudden fleshy impact, the red eyed zombie’s head snapped forward before falling to the ground face down with a lifeless thud, split second later a rifle report was heard.  None of them stirred from the sign for the sound was still to distant from their sensitive ears.

   A quick hiss and another undead collapsed to the ground, the distant report echoed across the plains again. Up the decaying road laying on top of a burned out rusty car, the shooter worked the bolt of the model seventy Winchester, before fixing another target down the scope. Gently squeezing the trigger, the thirty ought six boomed, a split second later another zombie fell forward against a pillar before sliding down onto it’s back.  Working the bolt again he sighted a shadow to the right as he peered down the scope.  Panning right, he saw the familiar unreal smile on the face of what was the gas attendant, it’s scalp, long eaten into, exposed a black rotten mush inside, the torn grease suit stained in black;  apparently, it caught wind of his sent and noise and charged after him.

   “Shit!” the shooter snapped as he fallowed the smiling runner as it bolted across the desert towards him, “Not today meat sack…” he followed the runner with the scope and he squeezed the trigger.  The rifle roared and the runner fell forward, hitting the ground as it’s leg snapped out backwards from under it; even though it tumbled from it’s own momentum it scrambled to it’s feet to only be sent back down again with another shot from the shooter, blowing chunks out the back of the head.

   Opening the bolt he rests the gun down and peers down a pair of binoculars, looking down at the dwindling cluster of zeds, he counted silently before he lowered them, “that makes four out of sixteen down, didn’t see you there inside friend.” he thought aloud commenting on the sudden appearance of the smiling runner. Setting the benocs aside he brought the rifle up to shoulder, closed the chamber on the last round in the internal magazine.

   Peering down the scope one more time he pans his scope on the dispersing group of zombies, “Target, Three inches to your right.” A calm voice spoke from nowhere, “Four inches down” the shooter pans the scope according to the directions, his crosshair sit on the mug of a female zombie, “Confirm target.” the voice, now sounding as if on a radio ear piece, the zombie suddenly mouthed the words. “Confirmed, Zack standing out in front of the group.” The shooter spoke quietly, “Copy, Halsey, you are clear to eliminate Zack.” the zombie mouthed again as the shooter followed it with his scope, “Fire, Fire, Fire-” the calm female voice spoke sounding both close to him and on the invisible radio, each word spoken fit an on-off pattern; “-Fire, Fir-” the rifle boomed and the zombie dropped, “Target down, team is clear to move in.” Halsey spoke before lowering the rifle, he laid there listening to only silence that fallowed the rifle shot.

   Propping himself up on an elbow he rubbed his eyes, “Fuck, I need sleep.” he thought aloud to himself, he then looked to his right, his mind somehow thought someone was laying there next to him but only an empty space of the car roof was there. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes, clearing his mind as he laid there. Opening his eyes again before dozing off he finally got up.

   Working the bolt, the spent casing spilled out and landed on the roof then bounced onto the road below. Digging into his book bag, he fished up several rounds from the bottom, he fitted them into the magazine well one at a time before closing the bolt over the fifth round. Folding the tri pod back, capping the scope lenses, he slung the rifle across his back before putting the binoculars into the bag.

   He then picked up his hat and Ruger rifle, the black battered, wide brimmed, river hat fitted snugly on his head. he checked the rifle before getting up and walking off the derelict car. His worn boots clapped onto the pavement as hopped down off the hood, he took on last glance to where he once had laid, still seeing nothing. He shook his head and he walked onward, heading down the hill towards the station.

   Closing in, he brought the carbine to shoulder, hurrying across the open desert for it wasn’t that far of job. Clearing ground, he came to a stop to kneel down beside the runner he killed, “Sorry for the head ache friend.” he spoke to the corpse as he padded the pockets for anything useful, nothing was felt, “But I didn’t want to be today’s lunch.” he folded back onto his feet and moved forward.  He raised the rifle as he got close.  “Yo Zack!” he called to the remaining zombies. “Lunch time!”

   The zombies heard his voice and stared shuffling towards him while he stepped backwards. He pulled the trigger and the Ruger rifle popped, a walker collapsed to the deck with a small side section of it’s skull missing;  Another shot, another fell to the ground with  a blown out knee cap, it started crawling towards him.  He then came to a stop as he started laying rounds into them, out of the several round he sent before he started side stepping around the little cluster:  one took three, one in the stomach, chest then the head, two others where neck and nose shots, the rest took stray hits over their bodies.   As he made a slow circle around them he plinked away on the trigger,  slowly, one after another dropped, A luckless zed slipped on the body of one it’s killed zombies and fumbled to the ground.

   Two stray shots went out before the action locked back over the empty magazine. Stopping his circle pattern he started backing up again this time he pressed the release lever to loosen the mag before drawing a loaded from a pouch, tapped the empty free, then slid the new mag in till it locked in place.

   A quick yank on the slide handle and the action slammed shut, ready for more. This time, since he made some distance away from them, he steadied himself to take proper shots; before he was not only ten or so paces from the walkers as they tried to get him, he simply used their grouping ability to his advantage.  The rifle fallowed a rhythm of one shot, body fall, one shot, body fall;  He panned the rifle slightly side to side as he fitted the emotionless faces in his sights, yet, his shots didn’t make the same mark as he was free standing this time.

   A nose flew off, an eye hole burned through, a skull made like a banana and split open out the back, and a jaw fell free from the joints; each of the zombies feared nothing as indivisible death pierced their flimsy rotting bodies, they all were only fixed on the human target that was picking them off one at a time.  After the vertical hail stopped, one was left stumbling over the bodies towards Halsey who simple watched it for a minuet before he raised up again.  He aimed low and blew out the legs from underneath the crawler, it fell forward.

   He watched it crawl towards him, a clumsy effort of the zed’s usage of it’s already damaged arms which Halsey found this pathetic display amusing.  As it reached out with a hand when it got close, He drew his sidearm to plant a single round into the forehead, the faded green eyes staring back at him as it finally died. As the pale hand landed harmlessly on his boot he simply stepped over the body.

   After sweeping through, putting a bullet into the ones he missed, he took a total head count, “sixteen more for nature.” he thought aloud as he holstered the colt and brought the rifle around to his shoulder. He raised up as he moved close towards the door way into the station.
33  TZH Discussion / TZH Discussion / Re: Today's Comic on: January 06, 2011, 03:11:59 pm
I think the rental part for some equipment is effective when managing several different teams. However, not sure what kind of currency stands in terms as when they where looking for new gear for Charlie in that shop.  Spoken/written credit system maybe?
34  TZH Discussion / TZH Discussion / Re: MILO'S DEATH PLACE YOUR BETS!! on: January 06, 2011, 02:55:54 pm
I think It'll be like a last stand while the rest escape.   He gets bitten during a sudden scuffle and the noise is drawing in the horde and fast. A small window, a chance, to escape is left, and since he was bitten he'll set himself up to hold them off long enough for the others to escape.

A touching end but that's What I see happening for some reason.

so, 60 pts on the last stand the other 40 on a berserker attack.
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