Here’s my first post. More will follow.
Chapter 1) An failed raid.
It’s been one week since I woke up in that evac shelter. I finally found a more permanent shelter, and decided to clean up the shelter a bit, order things, so I know where I stand.
We’ve got some food, a good supply of ammo and a weird, moving napkins. However, we’ve got no good melee weapon, and no gun to shoot our ammo. I’m stuck with a nail gun. Even worse, for some reason I though adding a suppressor to my nail gun was a good idea, despite the suppressor blocking the nails and preventing the gun from doing any damage.
As such, my first priority will be to use the cover of darkness to loot the military outpost a bit north and get some firepower.
As I get there I notice a flaw in my plan: the moon is giving enough light for the turrets to see me a few meters off. Can’t sneak past them. I off a couple with a grenade, and get into the compound, but no good loot is accessible. I do find a M249, but I don’t have any ammo for it either, and it’s too heavy to take on now.
I was contemplating whether to call it a day and try to haul the machine gun back anyway when a zombified soldiers start shuffling toward me. I immediately climb the fence, and get ready to shoot him through it with the nail gun, but…
it wasn’t going to work. The guy had the brilliant idea to die in his combat gear, and no nail gun was going to go through the layers of Kevlar and ceramics. As if this wasn’t enough, the soldier’s moaning brought the rest of his platoon.
With no ranged weapons, I was left trying to kill the soldiers with my crowbar. Sadly, I’m no fighter, and with the backpacks I had taken to carry the loot preventing me from moving freely, I just couldn’t deal with them. I tried to slow down, I even tried setting fire to some clothes on the ground to burn them, but nothing worked. Hits after hits took its toll, and a deep bite in my left forearm started to ooze a strange, thick, grey pus.
Right when I was ready to give up, cuddle and die, I saw a faint light on a nearby hill, like someone lighting a cigarette. Another survivor! If I could make it there, the survivor would take care of the zombies, or at least delay them enough for me to escape.
I ran to her, but my hope were dashed when I saw she had nothing but a measly rock. Still she distracted the zombies, and I made my escape.
And then… the unthinkable happened. One of the zombie fell to the savage rock. Then another. I stood 20 meters behind, in awe, as she dispatched the three zombies without so much as a scratch, calmly bowed to grab some kind of submachine gun and a mininuke from the bodies and walk away.
I ran to the bodies to see if anything worthwile was left, and grabbed an M4 and some though pants that would protect me against bites. However, this wasn’t to my savior’s liking. As she saw me grabbing my loot, she turned around, shouting “So you’re the é*$%hole that drew those Zeds to me! Die, scum!”
Knowing she was now equipped with a firearm and a nuke, I preferred to run away. I was going to make it back to the shelter, alive but hurt without much to show for it, when I stumbled on an ammo cache in the middle of some traps.
And amongst other caliber was… .45 ammo! Finally I could reload my M1911! And use it to kill those turrets! You’ll be mine, military outpose!
