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Author Topic: ARC Interviews with Survivors  (Read 3243 times)
IronBrig4
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« on: July 13, 2017, 11:14:54 pm »

I doubt many people will read this. I just felt like doing some creative writing. This is a transcript from the ARC processing department as they evaluate new arrivals.

ARC Processing Transcript

One of our scavenging teams contacted a group of five individuals in the Wasteland last week. After making arrangements with the scavenging team, the group arrived at a rendezvous yesterday for pickup. Each of the five will be interviewed separately, after which they are to be processed.

Applicant Name: Adam Horton
Age: 40
Origin: Sandusky, OH
Occupation: Cook (insists on being called a saucier)
Status: Uninfected

ARC Officer: We want you to understand that this is not an interrogation. We just want to hear your experiences.

Horton: Yeah, I get it.

ARC: Your group is relatively healthy compared to most people who arrive here. Did you prepare for the outbreak?

Horton: Not really. Like most everyone else in the US, I was convinced that the virus was a Third World problem like ebola. I saw the tearjerker human interest stories of decimated villages in Liberia or Bangladesh. The newspapers showed photos but always cut out the more gruesome ones so they'd avoid angry letters to the editor. I just shook my head and turned the page.

ARC: So did your community fortify itself when the outbreak started?

Horton: No. Sandusky pretty much emptied out when the outbreak came to Ohio. We evacuated to Cleveland because it was supposed to be safe.

ARC: Cleveland?

Horton: Yup. And whatever you heard, it was even worse. I was lucky to have a friend there who had a sailboat on the lake. We got out the day before the Air Force dropped fuel-air bombs over the camps.

ARC: And what happened after that?

Horton: We mostly just drifted from island to island, trying to scrounge or fish what we could.

ARC: That sounds like many other stories we get, and those people are usually in terrible shape. What do you think you did differently?

Horton: Police tape.

ARC: What?

Horton: Yellow police tape. Early on, the authorities treated zombie attacks like any violent crime. Witness statements, CSI, blood spatter analysis, the works. Not that it mattered because things went to shit before the first zombie was arraigned. To be fair, it looked like a lot of attacks were domestic situations or burglaries gone horribly wrong. Or maybe someone under the influence of a scary new drug. The cops would show up at a house thinking they were going to tase a wife beater. Instead they found themselves face to face with a zombie, when they didn't even know what a zombie was. They'd try to talk it down, then subdue it by non-lethal means. Pepper spray did jack shit. Tasers slowed them down a little. Eventually the cops wrestled it down and cuffed it, but not before it bit who knows how many of them. If you want to see one of the original zombies, find an abandoned police car and check the back seat. Chances are there's a cuffed zombie that's been stuck there since the first days. As the attacks became more frequent and we finally knew what we were dealing with, the cops stopped caring about a zombie's Miranda rights. Eventually they just shot it, bagged it, and carted it off. No investigation. When things started to get worse and everything broke down, the cops stopped responding to calls. Then the phones went dead and you know the rest.

ARC: So what's the point?

Horton: Oh yeah, the police tape. If we could find a taped building, we went in. Cops guarded crime scenes until the neighborhood evacuated to a "safe zone." The mass looting just didn't happen in policed areas. And since those folks evacuated on the understanding that emergency services would provide food and shelter, they left a lot of necessaries behind. Afterward scavengers mostly targeted the big box stores and shopping malls. Seriously, who tries to hole up in a shopping mall? A single apartment or house was beneath notice. So yeah, it's that magical sweet spot of decent, untapped loot. Aside from the chalk outlines and the old blood smears, it's like there was no outbreak. There's still toothpaste and soap by the sink. There's usually several days' worth of canned food in the pantries. And let me tell you, there's nothing like finding a place that still has clean sheets and charged batteries. Heh, and sometimes we find condoms in the sock drawer. There was this one time-

ARC: We don't need to know that.

Horton: Okay.

ARC: We've heard enough. We will now give you over to another officer who will work out the specifics.

ARC Note - Entry: Granted. Assignment and living quarters to be assigned later.
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DochSavage
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« Reply #1 on: July 14, 2017, 08:20:50 am »

Good one.  I liked it.
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The reward for work well-done is more work.
Or sometimes, a return to the kitchen.
IronBrig4
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« Reply #2 on: March 04, 2018, 04:57:32 pm »

Applicant Name: Devontah Winslow
Age: 23
Origin: Morgan City, LA
Occupation: College student
Status: Uninfected

ARC: How did you survive the initial outbreak?

Winslow: I was lucky to be studying at Franklin Pierce when the whole thing went down. I had time to gather supplies and find a group. I also fired off one last email to my folks before the system went offline. They could be dead or they could be in Cuba or Trinidad for all I know, but the last they heard from me, I was safe. My group stayed where it was cold because the chill slowed down the zombies somewhat. We eventually holed up in an Elks Lodge in the White Mountains, and stayed there until you found us. We started off with ten students and eventually ended up with thirty-five people from all walks of life. Carpenters, mechanics, and even one of the starting Boston Bruins. Seriously, ask him. Every one of us had a role to play, and a say in how things went, but we were organized by committee. People used to hate on us and called us Social Justice Warriors before the outbreak, but we're still standing. A group with common purpose can make the outbreak a lot less frightening.

ARC: What was your most frightening experience?

Winslow: It wasn't really an experience. More like a collection of similar fucked up shit.

ARC: Go on.

Winslow: It was the pets.

ARC: Not the zombies?

Winslow: First let me say that the zombies were definitely terrifying. Anyone who said they weren't scared of the zombies, especially during the first days, was either lying or needed to see a shrink. You don't know sheer terror until one of those howlers sounds the alarm and brings in every zombie within earshot. I'm talking about the stuff that wasn't really scary, but kept me up at night because it was seriously fucked up.

ARC: How do the pets factor in?

Winslow: They weren't dangerous, except for the dogs that turned wild. You had to watch out for those. We didn't mind killing them, and dog meat isn't that bad. We knew that killing stray pets was necessary for survival. My group and I would sometimes enter a house and see a pet that had been left behind. When the first evacuations happened, people left with just a weekend bag because they thought the whole thing would be over in a day or two. They just topped off their pets' food and water bowls and headed to the evacuation centers. Of course that evacuation stayed permanent and so all those cats and dogs had to fend for themselves.

ARC: What did you find?

Winslow: We'd find dead birds in their cages, and goldfish and hamsters in their tanks. If the house had a dog door or cat flap, we just found some empty bowls. Cats had the good sense to leave. People never quite domesticated cats, you know? They were always half-wild. Dogs would eventually dig under the fence and leave to find their people. But if there was no way for the animal to get out, that's when things got messed up. We'd see cat and dog carcasses lying right behind the front door or curled up in the master bedroom. They had clearly died of thirst or starvation, just waiting for their owners to get back. Some had broken into the pantry and got into the food and water, but that only prolonged the inevitable. We even found a cat that had probably climbed into a cupboard and knocked some canned tuna out. Looking at its broken teeth, it had tried to chew through the can.

ARC: Jesus...

Winslow: Yeah. Thing is, I hated pets before all this. I wasn't allergic or anything. I just didn't like the critters asking for attention when I wanted to play video games. But then my group found Bofur. That's what his collar said. He was a juvenile beagle. We found a nearby cabin that had just been overrun, so his people had probably holed up there since the outbreak. We didn't find any zombies there, so those folks had probably killed each other over some dispute. We took Bofur in and he eventually became one of us. Beagles are a working breed so we'd bring him hunting. They also don't just bark, they baaaaaaaAAAAAAaaaark. He'd instantly rouse the whole group if a zombie got close at night. Bofur made our lives better, and not just by the rabbits he brought us. We had to take care of another living thing. Whenever we fed him, brushed him, or just rubbed his belly, we felt a little more human. The world didn't seem too bad when he was around. We didn't even get mad at him when he stole a day's worth of dehydrated rations and scarfed them down. It was the kind of fancy survival food that expanded when you added water to it. *laughs* That fatass swelled up, waddled, and farted non-stop for the next two days.

ARC: The Wastelander patrol didn't say anything about a dog when they found you.

Winslow: I was getting to that. About three months back, one of our patrols met a passing group. Those meetings were usually peaceful for us. We exchanged news and traded what we could. This group was interested in Bofur because working breeds had become extremely valuable. We just didn't see him as a thing. He was family. We traded some other things and thought the moment had passed. About a week later, Bofur was out hunting with two of us. The two guys returned with no weapons and they were beaten bloody. Bofur was nowhere to be found. That other group had jumped them in the woods, beaten up our two friends, and kidnapped Bofur.

ARC: And what did you do?

Winslow: What do you think we did? We wanted to get our friend back! We tracked him all the way to the assholes' camp. It was one of those temporary camps surrounding several vehicles. They'd stay until they could siphon off enough gas to move on. Not much in the way of protection but better than nothing. We broke out all the weapons for this. We had serious military-grade shit including M4s, sniper rifles, grenades, and an old M60 machine gun. We surrounded the camp but I was the spokesman who approached. I'd hoped to give them one last chance at diplomacy. Instead they put one in my leg and my friends lit them up. This was our first and only major firefight. Shooting zombies is different because you generally get up to point blank range in order to save ammo. We'd fought individual looters before but those were over in seconds. We thought this would be like Commando, with Arnold Schwarzenegger walking into a compound and then spraying bullets until he found his daughter. We sprayed bullets all right and suppressed the enemy. But we hadn't counted on our weapons being so powerful. One of us had an M2010 ESR looted from a wrecked Army truck. She had been aiming for one of the bandits and took the guy's head off. Then that bullet went through both sides of the Honda behind him and right into Bofur's abdomen. It wasn't my friend's fault. She couldn't have known.

ARC: What happened after?

Winslow: We cleared the rest of the camp. That entire crew was dead or wounded and we didn't take a scratch. That's when we saw Bofur with his guts out. He was still alive and begging us to please fix him. We had a veterinarian in our group but all he could do was get a syringe and some chemicals out of his bag. He petted Bofur one last time and then put him to sleep. There was still work to be done. Some of the wounded were still conscious. We're not cruel, but their deaths were VERY cruel. We left them tied to some trees and sounded an air horn for a few minutes, then left just as the first zombies showed up. I saw it all happen through binoculars. There were a few of the really nasty zombies. Berserkers, you call them? Yeah, they had their way with the bandits while I watched and ate a candy bar. I still think those assholes got what they deserved. Anyways, we got back to our camp and buried Bofur near the kitchen. He always liked to hang out there and beg for food. We covered his body and had a good cry.

ARC: *sniffle*

Winslow: Yeah, poor dog. You were expecting a Lassie ending?

ARC Note - Leadership skills. Also displays signs of sociopathy and sadism. Recommend as recruit to Red Halos.
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