The Sciforums Fleet: Zombie Pandemic

Discussion in 'SciFi & Fantasy' started by The Flemster, Jan 19, 2010.

  1. The Flemster Registered abuser Registered Senior Member

    This thread is a continuation of the long-running Sciforums Fleet thread, also here in SciFi & Fantasy.
    After running it's course, the SciForums Fleet members (all 5 of us!) have elected to 'go in another direction' with a zombie survival story.
    Everyone is welcome to join in of course.
    The back story is thus:

    Earth, 2044. A world not too far from our own. Man has not made it to the stars but has established a collection of spacestations in Earth orbit.
    On the planet below, a well-meaning scientist has created a virus that can belay the effects of death. This virus has, however, caused a zombie pandemic. All this has taken place a couple of years before this story is set.
    There are a few survivors scattered across the planet, as well as in a few of the orbiting space stations.
    As a contributor, you can place yourself anywhere on the planet and be equipped as well or as poorly as you choose.

    The remaining members of the Sciforums Fleet have a backstory of their own. This is the quick version: coming from their own, alternative, universe, they exist around the year 3010. They have an array of highly-advance technology and a collection of awesome ships. However, due to a catastrophic battle with a powerful foe in Earth orbit, they are now about to find themselves flung through a wormhole into another reality (this one). Their ships and the majority of their tech will be destroyed and they will be scattered and marooned on the zombie-infested planet below, in the year 2044.
    (For the long version, why not read the original thread? I'd recommed starting from Post 431 here:

    Post as often as you like, keep it friendly andif you have to go off-topic, please start your post with 'OUT-OF-GAME', as this keeps the flow, erm, flowing.

    See you on the ice!
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  3. Omega133 Aus der Dunkelheit Valued Senior Member

    Backstory: Captain Omega watched as a bomb exploded of the port bow. The Aggressor was left behind in the time warp, in 75% condition. Omega and a few other guys were sucked in as the warphole sucked them into another demension. They landed in the fortified pirate stronghold of SafeHaven, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.

    The Story Begins: Omega woke up as he felt a pulsing through his head. It was a tingly feeling, much like a beer buzz. He awoke to the smell of Barbecue and Rum all around. He sat up to see his unfamiliar surroundings, noticing the 100 foot wall surrounding the city. He needed to clear his head, so he and his 9 crewmates began walking into the woods, outside of the city.

    A few miles out the group hears a strange moaning sound. The crew begins to get curious as three men follow the noise. Omega and the rest stay where they are. Two minutes later one of the three returns. He is ranting about an undead man who ate the other two. Omega is shocked and runs to see te truth, he is frightened to see a zombie feasting on one of his crewmen. Omega runs back to town and starts talking about the zombie, the people seem to be aware of the zombies as they pass it off as old news. This is but the begginning.
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  5. The Flemster Registered abuser Registered Senior Member

    In Earth orbit, the same strange phenomenon that produced the arrival of Omega and his men spat out the powerless Trouserfly. It drifted towards the blue planet below, glowing first red then white hot at is it slammed into the atmosphere.

    The Flemster came around to the horendous noise as his ship thundered through the Earth's upper atmosphere.
    He attempted to steer but the ship was dead. Panic washed over him as the plumeting craft shot through the clouds. Below him, he could make out a coastline, coming up fast. His training took over. He checked he was strapped in, grabbed a survival bag and used his elbow to smash a small, glass-covered panel behind his head. He reached up and hit the switch there and a hydraulic lever sprung up between his legs.
    The ship shook violently as it picked up speed. He knew he only had moments left. He strained against the g-forces and grabbed the lever, yanking it towards him.
    There was a deafening pop as the canopy shot up and away from the spiralling ship. He didn't have too much time to notice the noise, however, as he was ejected from the craft by powerful rockets buried under his chair. The terrible acceleration knocked him unconcious and he never got to see the Trouserfly impact the ocean below at fatal velocity. The ship blew apart in a geyser of white foam.
    Parachutes unfurlled above his chair and he drifted down silently, coming to rest high in a tree in some woods. He was uninjured but very unconcious.
    Silence enveloped the scene...
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  7. Skullkid Take your pick..... Registered Senior Member

    Cap.Skullkid joins the fight!

    A wormhole from the future opens, revealing a new captain to aid the others in the fight......Captain Skullkid!!!
  8. Skullkid Take your pick..... Registered Senior Member

    OUT OF GAME: sup
    Last edited: Jan 19, 2010
  9. Skullkid Take your pick..... Registered Senior Member

    Backstory:Captain Skullkid is an excellent captain from the year 2055 and has come to the past for one reason:to stop the zombie virus from ever being created. However, when he exits the time portal he created to go to the past, he finds out that the virus has already been spread and the pandemic has already begun. Now he slowly approaches the little blue planet in his prized ship, the S.S. Renegade, in his attempt to try and contact any nearby captains. He recieves one answer from a captain orbiting Mars and hears that most of the fleet has crashed on Earth. With sorrow deep in his war-hardened heart, he attempted to contact any captains on Earth,sadly,with no results. Now he was left with only one risky choice:to go down to the zombie infested planet and locate any survivors and help them win this dreadful war. No matter what the cost was......
    Last edited: Jan 19, 2010
  10. Omega133 Aus der Dunkelheit Valued Senior Member

    Omega came to grip with the situation. He drank a Rum and headed for the comms room in SafeHaven. He sent a message on all frequency's. "I am Captain Omega in the city of SafeHaven please respond." And with that sipped his Rum.


    Skullkid! You realize there is no cure, we are all from the future if you read the backstory and the Original SciForums Fleet, we were sucked into the hole, and you can't have your ship. It must be destroyed/abandoned or whatever. However you can use your ship in The Original SciForums Fleet. Other than those mistakes you are good to go. See you in school tomorrow.
  11. The Flemster Registered abuser Registered Senior Member

    The Flemster awoke to feel the sun on his face. All around were the sounds of birdsong and the familiar rustling of trees.
    He looked below. He was suspended in a tree by his parachute harness, about 20 feet off the leafy ground.
    His head felt groggy and he could feel all his recent injuries starting to act up. Then came the all-too familiar rush of meds from his DermaPatch, the subcutaneous medical system imbedded in his shoulder.
    His head cleared and he tugged at the release catch on his harness. The lock gave way and he dropped to the ground, landing in a heap but unhurt.
    The Flemster, captain of the SSS Spectrum, the Battleship Galacticock and, albeit briefly, the SSS Trouserfly, got to his feet and took in his surroundings. He was in a wooded area, not too dense that he couldn't see some fields about half a mile away through the trees.
    To him, it felt like England, the country of his birth, but it could just have been Germany or anywhere else in northern Europe.
    One thing did strike him as odd though.
    The silence.
    On his last visit to England, about five years ago, you couldn't go anywhere without hearing the constant whine of jet engines or the buzz of hovercars, not to mention the low hum of people. People were everywhere, such was Engalnd's overcrowding.
    So maybe he was in a German forrest. There was only one way to find out.

    The Flemster checked his survival bag. Some basic meds, some survival rations, a homing tracker that appeared to be malfunctioning, a comms unit that also wasn't working, a pistol and ten clips of ceramic ammunition and a large hunting knife.
    He was pretty sure the last bit wasn't standard and assumed that whoever originally owned the Trouserfly had added it to the kit themselves.
    He slung the bag over his shoulder after removing the gun and stuffing it in his pocket. He also strapped the knife in his waistband.
    The Flemster set off, the crunching twigs and rustling leaves the only sound he could hear. Apart from the birds.

    After a few minutes, he entered a large, overgrown field. In the middle of it, he soon discovered a rusting tractor. He walked around it, occaisionally prodding it with his blood-caked fingers.
    "This thing must be a thousand years old..." he muttered to himself.
    He climbed up onto the tractor's roof, taking care not to snag himself on any rusty metal.
    He looked in all directions. Fields, all overgrown like this one, some more woods and...
    ...a village!
    "Sweet!" he said, jumping down into the long barley or corn or whatever the fuck it was.
    He headed off in the direction of the buildings he saw...
  12. Omega133 Aus der Dunkelheit Valued Senior Member

    Omega sat and thought hard about what they would do. What could they do? They didn't know where anyone was, nor where any other safe settlements would be. "We shall get a ship and head for America, surely somebody is still alive." Omega inquiries a bit and finds a boat, and begins to set sail for New York. Whilst sailing he notices dead bodies in the water. Bleeding and looking gross. He sees that some have bullet holes in the head, and then he remembers. The only way to kill a zombie, is to damage the brain. When Omega reaches the not so distant New york he begins to yell to see if anyone is there. To his suprise he sees a man in the distance riding a red Ford Mustang. The man jumps out. Oh no! This is I AM LEGEND.

    Then Omega wakes from his dream and goes looking for a boat.


    What did you think of that?
  13. The Flemster Registered abuser Registered Senior Member

    Omega-- not sure that'd work. You're from the 31st century, thrown back to the middle of the 21st century, so I'd be sceptical as to just how long I Am Legend would stick in the mind! Unless you were a classic movies fan...!

    (IN GAME):

    The Flemster arrived at the outskirts of a small village. A pub, about ten houses and a small village shop. All deserted.
    The thing that struck him first was that all the doors were open to all the buildings. The silence was growing deafening.
    He crunched across a gravel driveway and into the village centre. He knew now that he was in England, as the pub was called the Green Man. It's windows were all broken and, through the open doors, all he could see was darkness.
    He looked all around him, finally taking in the scene.
    All the houses looked as if they'd been abandonned in a hurry, as there were remnants of clothing scattered about the overgrown and unkemp lawns.
    He walked to the shop, taking the gun out of his pocket. As he walked, he loaded a fresh magazine of ceramic flechette rounds into the pistol's hilt and worked the slide. It clicked into place with a resounding clunk. He flicked the safety off as he got to the open door.
    "Hello?" he said, not too loudly. Something was tugging at his instincts. Something that said to turn tail and run.
    But he ignored it and stepped into the gloomy building. The sunlight outside barely penetrated the grime-smeared windows as he walked over to the counter. He noticed all the shelves were completely bare and the cash register was open and also empty.
    He spotted something on the floor, half sticking out from underneath a drinks cooler devoid of drinks. He picked it up. It was a comms unit, or rather, on closer inspection, an old phone. He hadn't seen one of these outside the tech history books from school. This thing must be 900 years old!
    Yet here it was, dusty, cracked screen and lifeless but otherwise looking quite new.
    He stabbed at a few of the buttons and, realising it was futile, dropped it in his bag.
    "Hello? Anyone here?" he called out, a bit louder this time.
    He remained motionless, waiting to hear anything at all but, save the birdsong and the wind outside, there was nothing.
    "What the fuck's happened here...?" he mumbles to himself out loud.
    The Flemster walked out of the shop and headed down the only street. It was slightly overgrown, with insistant weeds pushing through cracks in the pavement and road surfaces. The last time he'd seen neglect like this was way back when he visited the Los Angeles Ruins, back in about 2998.
    A thought hit him. This must be one of those villages the army bought up and used for urban combat training. Of course! All he had to do now was follow the road and it ought to lead him to the base. Then he could get to a comms unit and, hopefully, get in touch with the fleet.
    He set off up the single, overgrown street.

    After about ten minutes, he neared what appeared to be the last house in the village. There was a car ob the drive.
    A car!
    One with wheels and everything! This was really odd. He hadn't seen an antique like this in real life outside of a museum. He walked up the drive of the bungalow to take a closer look. It was an ancient Ford Escape, according to the badge. It looked in cherry condition, albeit filthy dirty and neglected. The Flemster couldn't understand why anyone would let such a valuable antique get so dirty and rotten.
    The driver's door was open and he poked his head in.
    There was a strange yet familiar smell inside. A sort of rotting dinner smell. He looked about the SUV's cabin. The seats were covered in animal shit and small bones. It looked like something had made its home here a while ago. He leant across and opened the glove box. It flopped open with a well-made clunk. Inside, there were some documents.
    He took one out and looked at it. It was an instruction manual for the car's stereo. The Flemster knew right then that something was wrong. The date on the manual said 2010 and, taking into account it's yellowing pages, he knew that no paper over a thousand years old would have lasted in this condition.
    His head started to fill with thoughts as his mind raced to fill in the blanks. He shook his head clear and fumbled about for the bonnet release. He soon found it and yanked it. The bonnet opened with a dull thud.
    The Flemster went round the front and popped the bonned open, raising it up. It remained open, the hydraulic fluid still working it seemed.
    The car's hybrid engine, a primative design, looked as good as new. Dirty and oily but servicable. He fiddled with some of the connections and came to the conclusion the car would work. All he needed was a starting mechanism.
    He racked his brains for details learnt from his history classes at school. If he remembered correctly, ancient cars needed either a voiceprint command, a fingerprint recognition, a simple button or an external key.
    He left the bonnet open and went back inside the cabin, scanning the dashboard. There was no discernable intelligent computer system that he could see and no key slot. Then he spotted a dust covered button with 'Start/Stop' printed on it. The print was quite worn, probably through years of use. He pressed it but nothing happened. He also noticed a slot underneath the button.
    Ah! This must be for a smartcard or something, he thought. He scoured the car for it but came up empty handed.
    He looked up towards the house. Its door was also open, revealing nothing but darkness within.
    "Fuck it. Worth a look." he said to himself.
    The Flemster checked his gun again and crunched up the gravel drive towards the open door of the seemingly-deserted bungalow...
  14. Omega133 Aus der Dunkelheit Valued Senior Member

    Omega, stirring from his dream began to walk to the shipyard. There were boats alright. But they were in terrible condition. Omega looked at the best one, looked it over again, and finally said "It'll float, barely." Several minutes later he was on the open sea. He decided to head for Germany. Surely some true warriors held up there. They were halfway there when a noise came out of nowhere. It was a strange sound. Omega listened closer as he heard metal clanking. With intense fog, he couldn't tell where it was coming from. Suddenly he looked to the right. It was an old Gulf War battleship. How weird Omega thought. How in the world did it get out here? He and his crew climbed aboard as the old boat creaked beside the massive ship. He looked at the flag on the command spire. It was a USA flag. Interestingly enough it was abandoned. He found a radio on board and clicked "Play CD". He laughed in amazement as Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones played. "Sir you know this music?" "Yeah I studied the past alot in the academy. Wish we had some AC/DC." And with that the battleship set a course for Normandy, France.
  15. Sirius83 Registered Senior Member

    When Sirius awoke, his ship was being buffeted by high-speed atmospheric entry. Red and white flashes swept over the view out the front window and he was for a moment, very disoriented.

    This wasn't his ship. Then it came back to him: Exile was parked back at the secret resistance base undergoing repairs. He was on a small shuttle sized craft, the Calypso 5, which he had found abandoned in the base hangar. He had come looking for his fleetmates, but found himself looking at a strange pulsing hole in space, a hole that shorted out all his systems and then sucked him into itself. In one of those moments where time seemed to stand still, it only took a fraction of a second for all that to register.

    He tried the hard switch again, then swiped his hand over the console and cycled the switch over and over. "Start, you rotten..." he hit the console. "START!" He gave the switch another try, and, flickering, the console sprang to life.

    "Your entry velocity is over the recommended maximum," was the first thing the computer said.

    "Oh, thanks!" Sirius responded sarcastically. He played the throttle and pulled hard on the flight yoke. He leveled the ship out, a light headed feeling threatening his consciousness again but he willed himself to keep his eyes open. If he blacked out now, he would surely die.

    He was braking hard, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. It meant he was back in some control of the ship, but with the engines refusing to activate he was steadily losing altitude. According to the navigation computer, he was somewhere over Europe though for some reason it was unable to link to any satellites for a more precise location. Finally, he saw his opportunity.

    A lake. And what looked to be a fairly level shoreline in the distance. Sirius mentally geared himself, and then began a steady descent. He had to get it just right, or he would ricochet across the water surface and break apart. Landing skiffs were deployed, braking surfaces were fully extended and the water sped past just below.

    "Here goes luck," he muttered. "This has not been my week." He let the craft drop the final few feet, and there was a shudder as the skiffs made contact, followed by a jolt as they submerged and the fuselage impacted the water. Water sprayed violently over the cockpit and the shoreline came up too quickly for comfort. There was a much harder, bone jarring buckle and Sirius found himself yanked against his restraints, then snapped back.

    He saw spraying sand, and the ship was silent as it soared briefly through the air one more time, probably for the last time.


    The cockpit was filled with smoke from the burning electronics. The front viewport was a spiderweb of cracks and covered with dirt and foliage. Sirius tensed and relaxed every muscle in his body and then slowly flexed his joints one by one. Nothing seemed to be broken - that was good. The computer system was knocked out so he withdrew his portable.

    The portable returned to his pockets several minutes later. He could not understand it - not a signal anywhere. How was that even possible? He dug into the shoulder sack he had brought aboard. In it were some rations, to which he added the ship's emergency supplies and first aid kit. He snapped his blaster pistol to his belt as well as what appeared to be a hilt. It was a retractable titanium alloy blade that could extend to form either a knife or a full length combat sword. It was one of those decorative weapons from his days as an officer in the Centauri Civil War, but he liked to walk with it. There was just something about a seemed a much more honorable weapon than the sudden burst of a blaster.

    Finally, Sirius stepped clear of the wrecked Calypso 5. Apart from being severely scraped and dented, the hull was clearly scorched and there were more than a few ruptures to go with the dents. The landing skiffs had broken cleanly away and one of the wings was beaten in from where it knocked a small tree over. Looking back, there was a clear cut in the shrubbery from the sandy shoreline to where the downed shuttle now sat.

    He had to backtrack to the shore, he thought. He would walk sticking close to the water's edge until he found either a house or a road.
  16. The Flemster Registered abuser Registered Senior Member

    The Flemster stood at the open door to the seemingly deserted bungalow. The bright sunlight did nothing to help him see inside. He wished he had a torch or even a microlight but, after checking his bag, he realised he would have to rely on his own eyes.
    "Hello? Anyone home?" he called out, already knowing he wouldn't get a reply. Still, he waited for a few minutes anyway.
    When he was sure there wasn't going to be an answer, he once more checked his pistol and stepped over the doorway. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom but he soon could see well enough to take in his surroundings. The short hallway he was in was covered in dust and grime. There were plenty of small animal bones and rotten fur scattered about the fetid carpet, which led him to believe whatever had lived in the SUV had upgraded itself to a nice bungalow. He carefully stepped into the living room.
    And gagged.
    All over the walls was dried, blackened blood. Gallons of it. The place looked like an abatoir. There were also lines of bullet holes and, in the corner, the unmistakeable signs of fire damage. Judging by the patterns, The Flemster guessed a grenade had gone of in here.
    "What the fuck..." he mumbled, wrinkling his nose against the rank smell of decay.
    There was the remains of an ancient media unit hanging on the wall, its screen shattered and useless. A sofa and easy chair lay upturned and burnt. Papers were scattered all across the floor, most covered in stale and dried up piss and shit.
    The Flemster bent down and carefully picked up a yellowing sheet of newspaper. Newspaper! No media service had printed stuff out for over 500 years! Whoever owned this gaff must have been a real antiques nut, he thought.
    He scanned the faded print. Random waffle about some old sporting event, a few adverts for antique comms units... then he spotted the date.
    August 23rd, 2042.
    He dropped the paper in shock. This was making absolutely no sense at all to him now. Like the car manual outside, this, of all things, should have disintergrated hundreds of years ago.
    He quickly looked around the rest of the ruined room and found nothing of much interest. Or was it that his mind was closing him off from reality? He looked again, this time opening drawers and cupboards. He found, amongst some printed bills and leaflets, a plastic keyfob with a small card attached to it. He held it up and studied it. It was emblazoned with the Ford logo.
    "Sweet." he murmered.
    He poked his head into the kitchen and saw that it had been gutted by fire. The back wall had collapsed, exposing a massively overgrown and wild garden. He decided not to bother with that.
    There was only one other door to open, the door to a bedroom, he assumed. Raising his gun and holding it at arms length, the way he was trained to do years ago in the Space Marines, he nudged the door open with his boot. It gave way easily and revelaed a simple bedroom. Bed, chest of drawers, chair, mirror, etc. All untouched, all covered in dust and animal turds. The smell was horrific so he exited again.

    The Flemster carefully walked back to the car, all the time using his senses to detect the slightest out-of-place noise or movement. It supprised him just how quickly his old training came back to him. He hadn't served in over 15 years, yet to the untrained eye, he would have appeared to have just been dropped off by a Marine InsertShip.
    He climbed into the Escape's cabin, sweeping the bones and crud away with the egde of his bag. He slid the card into the slot and waited.
    He pressed the start/stop button.
    Again, nothing.
    The Flemster slumped back against the supprisingly comfy chair and sighed.
    "No power." he said.
    He climbed out and went around to the open bonnet. He stared at the engine but, he knew, although it was ancient, it was still something he knew nothing about.
    He also knew there was no way to get power to charge it. All the electrical devices he carried - his comms unit, his medscanner - were broken.
    He stood there for a moment, weighing up his options, before coming to the inevitable conclusion.
    He sighed once more. "Fine."

    The Flemster set off away from the dead car, the revolting bungalow and the empty village. He wanlked up the only road, his gun still out and his senses still on maximum. All he could see around him were overgrown fields and woods.
    The road snaked off up and over a hill, so that's the way he walked...
  17. Omega133 Aus der Dunkelheit Valued Senior Member

    Omega turned on an ancient entertainment device. It seemed that someone had recorded something on a disc. Omega turned it on and it chimed to life. The disc began to play and it appeared to be the press.

    January 1 2044: Hi i'm John Max. In recent news it seems a crazed man bit his wife and walked off into the woods. His wife later followed him into the woods. Search teams have been deployed and are still trying to find them. It is believed they had rabies.

    January 8 2044: Hello. I'm John Max with channel 1010 news. In recent events members of the search team have been found dead. Bite marks cover their bodies. Wait, this just in... the search members have gotten back up and attacked the paramedics. More as it comes in.

    January 20 2044: Deranged people are all over the streets of Hueville, Massachusetts. They are attacking and eating other humans in brutal display. We are getting word that the Army has deployed on the scene, here we go live to the scene: Alright men fire a warning shot. Fire. *BANG* Nothing, they are still coming. Fire another warning. *BANG* No response from the crowd. Fire at them on my mark......FIRE! *RATATAT* *BANG BANG BANG* They keep coming! The MG isn't stopping them! Throw grenades. *BOOM* Not a thing! Run! I will stand and figgaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Ladies and Gentleman we are seeing a scary thing unfold before our eyes. We will keep you updated.

    January 25 2044: I am here with Doctor Mansing, Scientist. Welcome Doctor. Thank you.
    Now tell me what is going on.
    It is reanimation.
    Reanimation is when a body dies it becomes alive, in a way, although body functions don't work the brain still operates motor skills, to an extent.
    A virus called Solanum. It takes over the brain and reanimates the body. It only enters your system through bodily fluids, such as blood.
    How do you kill a zombie?
    Destroy the all costs.
    Thank you Doctor.
    It was my pleasure.

    January 31 2044: Zombies are taking over! Pockets of resistance are all over, but unfortunately governments have collapsed and the outbreak cannot be contained. I myself am getting out of here. For the final time, I am John Max, signing off.

    Omega was silent. The ship was nearing the port near Normandy, France. It was quiet, too quiet.
  18. The Flemster Registered abuser Registered Senior Member

    The Flemster made it to the end of the small counrty lane that led out from the deserted villiage. A larger road cut across the end of it, streching off in both directions. Woods encroached on the road on both sides all along it's length.
    A road sign sat on the corner, facing away from him. He took a look at it. It was the name of the villiage he'd just left.
    Nine Ashes.
    "Well bugger me..." The Flemster grinned. He knew this place. In fact, he wasn't too far from the London Sprawl. Judging by the amount of greenery, he guessed he must be in the Green Zone, the 10-mile wide belt of woods, fields and villiages that cirlced London.
    A smile crept across his face. He wasn't overly familiar with the area but he was pretty sure he was either in Kent or Essex. It shouldn't take too long to leave the GZ and get to civilisation. Then he could get to a comms unit and, hopefully, back into a ship.
    He stood at the junction, wondering what way to go. Right seemed to head off into the woods whereas left wandered through more overgrown fields, leading off to what looked like more woods in the distance.
    The Flemster squinted against the sun as he looked left. Just behind the distant woods, he could make out a church steeple.
    "That'll do." he muttered.
    He set of along the country road in the direction of the next town...
  19. Pinwheel Banned Banned

    Captain Pinweel IIIs log: Date Unknown: I woke to find myself facing the sun. My face was sunburnt, I dont know how long I'd been lying there. I turned over to my left, and spotted the burning remains of spaceship debris.

    My mind flashed back to earlier events on the Spacedock. I had a hangover from Hell, but somehow I managed to return to the HMS Office after dicthing the others at the bar. I bundled my way into my quarters and fell asleep. But woken with a violent shudder, I panicked and headed for the Bridge. But...the details are fuzzy, all I remember is seeing something strange on the viewer, a vortex of some sort.

    But now, I find myself on a beach. Wait.....wheres the sea? No...not a beach, Im on a desert? Damn, I stood up, blocking the sun out with my hand, and scanned the horizon. As I looked round, I could see mountain ranges. The remains on my eject the distance, maybe 2km. I headed for it.
    Last edited: Jan 23, 2010
  20. The Flemster Registered abuser Registered Senior Member

    The Flemster reached the villiage of Blackmore. A selection of houses set around a villiage green, complete with a few pubs and shops, Blackmore was, even in his time, one of Britain's most picturesque villages.
    Not today though. A makeshift barricade had been erected across the road. It consisted on a few more cars, all antiques. Random items, such as fence poles and barrels, were littered across the barricade.
    As were the bodies.
    The Flemster already had his gun out as he approached the barricade carefully. The bodies were all shot to shit. Their leathery skin barely hanging on to their bleached white bones.
    One thing struck him. All the bodies had been obviously shot a hell of a lot of times but each one sported a single headshot too. Quite a few had the back of their skulls missing, clearly the work of a heavy calibre weapon.
    The Flemster trod carefully around the corpses, his shirt pulled up over his nose, more for psychological reasons than anything else. He clambered up onto the bonnet of one of the cars, the noise far too loud for his liking, and dropped down the other side. He landed in a sea of empty shell casings and almost lost his balance. He pressed on and made it to the centre of the village green.
    The scene was not too different to that of the tiny hamlet he'd just left. All the doors were open and the windows broken. Litter lay strewn about everywhere. There were pools of black, dried blood all over the place too, suggesting one hell of a firefight took place here at some point.
    The Flemster called out as loud as he could. "Hello!"

    He walked into the mini-supermarket, its glass doors shattered and blackened, probably the result of an explosion. The shop was empty, save for some magazines and local maps and stuff. He grabbed a magazine and looked at the date. 2042.
    "This doesn't make any fucking sense..." he muttered.
    He dropped the magazine and picked up a map from the floor. It was a street map and bus timetable for Brentwood, Ongar and Blackmore. It too was dated 2042/43.
    He walked over to the blood-spattered counter and unfurled the map. It took him a moment to find where he was. He then realised that the Essex of his world was completely different to this one. The Essex he knew was a part of the London Sprawl. The capital city spread outwards for nearly 100 miles in every direction. This map showed otherwise, with patches of green and counrty parks and rivers scattered across the area.
    A noise caught his attention. He had the gun aimed in the direction of the sound before his head had turned. Nothing.
    Then a bloated rat scuttled across the floor at the other end of the shop. It stopped and regarded him, its nose twitching, before carrying on about its buisiness.
    He lowered the gun and folded the map as best he could, shoving it in his bag.
    "Anyone here?" he shouted.
    "Course there's fucking not..." he added, mumbling.
    He left the store and walked across the green, heading for what the map said was the road towards the sizeable town of Brentwood.
    He turned the corner, past the burnt-out ruins of a pub, and came to another barricade. More empty shells and blood littered the scene. He clambered up onto the roof of yet another antique car and surveyed the view. The road ahead was packed solid with burnt out cars, packed together as har as he could see. Many cars had corpses still in them. He could see the nearest ones had been shot to fuckery, their skulls shattered and blasted apart. The hedges either side of the road had encroached enough to make the road impassable, even by foot.
    The Flemster sat down on the roof of the car and got the map out again. He traced his finger to where he sat and moved it about, looking for another way out of the town. He spotted a small stream that looked as if it began just down behind the burnt-out pub. He followed its course with his blood-caked finger as it grew in width to become a small river. It seemed to skim the edge of Brentwood by one of its many outlying farms.
    "That'll do." he said to himself.
    He hopped off the car and, gathering his bearings, walked towards the burnt-out pub. He figured the river route would be less congested and, if there was anyone left alive in this strange world, less likely to be guarded by heavilly-armed people that were clearly happy to shoot the shit out of people in their cars.
    He got to the ruined pub and spotted an alleyway that led to an overgrown graveyard. He checked the map and, confirming he was on the right track, set off down the alleyway...
  21. Omega133 Aus der Dunkelheit Valued Senior Member

    The bulky ship neared the port. He and his men carefully rested the ship next to the nearest dock. Omega jumped out and surveyed the area. He was definately in France. He could tell because off in the distance was the Eiffel tower. He headed that way with his men. When they got there they noticed people at the top, with what appeared to be sniper rifles.

    "Hello?" Omega yelled. A few of the guys pointed their rifles in his direction. "Don't shoot!" "Who ze f*** are you?" "Omega of the SSS Fleet." "Ve do not know any Misseur Omega." "What happened here? Can you come down here?" "Ve shall come down to you."

    Three of the men came down to meet Omega. "So what happened here?" "Zombies hit zis place hard. We barely held off." "So, would you be willing to find other survivors?" "Ze more ze marryer." Omega and the Frenchmen walked over to the Victory Arch of France. As they walked to Germany Omega looked at the Arch that had seen Germans on more than one occasion.


    I appoligize if I offend anybody of French ethnicity. I got the accent from movies, and made the remark about the Arch seeing Germans more than once to state a fact of history.
  22. The Flemster Registered abuser Registered Senior Member


    Omega, your character must have bloody good eyesight if he can see the Eiffel Tower from Normandy. It's 330 miles inland from the port!!!
    The Arc de Triumph (Victory Arch) is a good 30 mins walk from the Eiffel Tower and Germany is 350 miles away from Paris!
    Other than that, good stuff, bro!
  23. Pinwheel Banned Banned

    Captain Pinweel IIIs log: Got sand in my underpants. Did a little re-adjustment, and continued to walk toward the debris. When I got to the escape pod, I looked inside. Tha baking hot desert heat had pretty much cooked everything inside. I sat down in its shade. I picked up some food rations and a canister of water. As I sat there, pondering my next move, I scanned the horizon once more. Was that......smoke in the far distance?

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