I have decided that I’ll also enter a log, not to compete but just to break the ice. Here goes nothing…
Daniel awoke with a start in the dank evac shelter. Everything was suddenly so clear: his purpose in life was to explode. Though no-one would see it except the dead, it was the clearest and most profound revelation ever to wrinkle his brain. He maniacally dismantled the locker he had fallen asleep against and stood, holding his new pipe like a priceless treasure. He clenched his grasp around it, kicked open the door and marched off into the wilderness.
Daniel froze in his tracks. He should really check the evac shelter basement before rushing off. He was naked, after all. He wondered why he had only noticed this now. As he opened the basement doors, four zombies greeted him. Normally Daniel might have ran, ran and never looked back, but now his life had purpose. He was to explode. He clobbered these zombies, looted the basement and glanced over his equipment, quite content that his quest was going smoothly.
He trekked along the road, beside the river and to the north, aiming for the two gun stores he knew existed nearby. Though he was very content with his precious Pipe, he knew that a firearm or two wouldn’t hurt. He might even find an explosive! He got goosebumps thinking about it.
Along the way he encountered a zombie soldier, which he beat to a pulp. Unfortunately it carried nothing of the exploding variety. He did walk away with a helmet and elbow pads, at least, and he had not walked much further before he found a strange array of dead scientist-types. He looted them without guilt, netting a handful of ID cards, a Thermal Dissipation CBM and a bunch of other near-useless gadgets. He threw the CBM into the river. No temptation would stop him from exploding.
Marching across the bridge, he happened across a working truck, albeit without gas. He made a note to return for it; it was certainly explosive.
Reaching the outskirts of town, Daniel took a shortcut through a house. The sound of him shattering the window caught unwanted attention, however, and he spent a few grueling minutes flailing wildly at a number of zombies making a similar entry. He patched up his wounds, out of breath yet still fiercely determined. He could see the gun stores through the window.
Sprinting to the gun store caught him all kinds of attention, but he had learned exactly how skilled zombies were at vaulting through windows (they couldn’t) so he stood his ground and introduced them to his beloved Pipe. When nothing was left moving, he casually browsed the two gun stores. Remembering that all ammunition is technically just a small explosive, he made a note to return. For now he only grabbed a single barrel shotgun, a M1911 and a S&W 22A and the matching ammo.
He then decided that now was the time to get that truck working, so he headed towards the nearest hardware store, via a pawn shop which he suspected would have all kind of useful things. Smashing the window yielded another audience, and allowed him a chance to play with his new toys.
Daniel felt foolish when an alarm began blaring immediately after he blasted his shotgun. An eyebot appeared across the road, but seemed distracted by the roaming zombies. Gritting his teeth against the noise, Daniel continued his rhythmic loading, blasting, loading, blasting, until nothing more approached. Browsing the pawn shop, he helped himself to a nifty army helmet. There was also a broadsword, but he passed over it. His Pipe was all he needed, so beautiful in its simplicity.
Arriving at the hardware store, he was disappointed to find a steel compactor where he had hoped there would be a gasoline tank. His disappointment was comforted by the presence of a wheelbarrow though, which he dragged alongside him, tipping useful items into it from the shelves of the store. He wondered where he could find gasoline… He could not recall any gas stations in this part of town. He resolved himself to simply heading north and keeping his eyes peeled.
He had not walked far when the eyebot turned to face him, and began following closely. It seemed to blink suddenly, and an instant later the ground opened up and a police bot emerged from within. Daniel’s eyes widened as it rolled towards him. He fumbled for his M1911 and took aim. the robot began whooping a police siren and rolled ever closer. Daniel waited until it was close before squeezing the trigger. The robot’s lense disappeared with a large portion of its body and it fell backwards, silent.
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, then turned and obliterated the ever-clicking eyebot.
He continued scouting the town, opting to stick to the edges. Zombies continued to find him, at one point as a group of seven zombie dogs. He traded his single barrel shotgun for a sawn-off after finding a number of traps, and fought off a small group of zombies attracted by the noise. Soon he was breathless and cut up pretty good, but relentlessly determined as ever. He would explode. There was no doubt.
He finished scouting the small town, disappointed to find not one gas station. He decided that his best chance lay in the public works back the way he had came. He caught his breath and headed towards the evac shelter where he would stay the night, grabbing some food from the houses on the way.
“NO!” he exclaimed, surprising himself. “I’ll go the the lab!”
Already partway to the evac shelter, it was not a significant detour. He wrenched his wheelbarrow through the mud; it was heavy with canned goods and ammunition now. Fate must be smiling upon him, because he was hand delivered a Calico M960 by a wandering zombie. As the sun was setting, he arrived at the metal doors of the local laboratory. He grinned as the console accepted his ID card and the doors slid open. Hopefully fate was still watching.
His wheelbarrow proved problematic getting down the damaged staircase, so Daniel left it and descended unhindered. He flicked on his flashlight and began to roam the chilly depths, eyes peeled for anything with “flammable”, “hazardous” or other bright sticker on the side. It was not belong before he spied a bulging duffel bag in the corner of a room. He cackled when unzipped it.
Yes, fate was still with him. He only hoped it would deliver a bomb of some kind. Further exploring yielded a riot helmet, much appreciated bandages, and some funky tasting energy drink called “mutagen”. Several times he was shot by what he can only assume were turrets - he did not leave the door open long enough to see - and before long he resembled a mummie with all the bandages he had used.
Then something amazing happened. He felt fate’s hand upon his as he touched the doorknob. He turned it. He swung the door open.
He hardly noticed the approaching security bots through the tears of joy now welling in his eyes. He clenched his grip around his shiny Calico’ and slammed the door shut again. He waited until he heard the treads roll to stop on the other side before ramming the door outwards and into its metal face. He peppered it with a squeeze of a trigger.
he kicked the casings out of the way and slammed the door shut again, taking a bullet to the leg in the process. He grimaced. It would be worth it. He shredded the second robot. 28 bullets remained. Another robot fell under a volley of lead. He waited ten long seconds, listening for signs of a fourth. He heard nothing, so he gingerly eased open the metal door. On the other side lay three smoldering hunks of metal, and in the center of the room an image of such beauty that he collapsed to his knees and wept.
Daniel counted them. 48. He recounted them. 48. Here lay, stacked neatly atop one another, 48 mini-nukes. He tipped out his backpack and begun excitedly stuffing it with sweet, sweet nuclear bombs.
It took four trips to move them all to the surface. Unfortunately his wheelbarrow had previously had a run-in with a bear trap, and was now unable to hold the 'nukes. He pondered for a moment. Could he get that truck working after all? Perhaps he could find another wheelbarrow or trolley? Either one of those solutions required a trip back to town, which would have to wait until the next day. He rolled out a rollmat and sleeping bag and slept amongst his bombs.
The next day was a blur. He broke into a house and waled on a fridge until it yielded a hose, collected a gallon jug from a dead scientist and went car to car siphoning fuel. Then he revisited the bridge, poured his hard-earned gas into the tank and revved the engine. He couldn’t help but grin like a maniac on the drive back to the lab.
Daniel found a suitable place for his final resting place, and he spent about an hour spreading his 'nukes around. He planted them in the grass, on the sidewalk, inside houses, covering the immediate area in a blanket of future inferno. Satisfied, he knew only two steps remained. He grabbed his trusty pipe and transformed it into the detonation switch for his masterpiece, filling it with gasoline, sealing it and adding a fuse. Next he fetched his M1911 and began jogging around town, firing at random.
He was truly overjoyed when he returned to his killing field, lit the fuse of his closest friend - his pipe - and sat, laughing at the approaching horde–
See kids, dreams really do come true.
