Zombie Novel Ch 5
back in Write a Novel Month '05, (fake)Vlad, Leefy and I started writing... a story, novel, kinda... thingy.
Anyway, here are the first 5 chapters:
Chapter 1: Gratuitous Cleavage Shots By Zeth
Chapter 2: I Suck at Coming Up with Names and Titles, by Vlad
Chapter 3: Mr West, by Zeth
Chapter 4: Up and Out, by Leefy
Chapter 5: Zombie City Escape Club, by Vlad
I guess it was my turn, but I bummed out and didn't finish chapter 6. I think I shall do that soon.
Chapter 5 (written by Vlad!)
I Still Suck at Coming Up with Titles
Caley woke to a new existence. She also woke to pain, but “pain” was something she no longer comprehended. The crash had resulted in her breaking her leg just below the knee. She moaned, and slowly pulled herself free of the pieces of cockpit that trapped her. Slowly she made her way into the back of the plane. Out the side, she could see the man she would have recognized as Mr. West slowly pulling himself to his feet. She was ready to head out towards him until she saw movement in the back of the helicopter. The Parasol Corp. soldier had survived the crash as well, but was making far too much noise. Caley slowly worked towards the man. He was wearing an armored vest and a helmet held in place with a chin strap, just like all the others. However, enough of his neck was exposed. Caley went directly for the exposed skin and began gnawing away on the doomed man. He began to scream loudly, though soon that turned into gurgles and eventually, silence. Caley was content to enjoy her feast until she heard noises behind her. Turning around, she saw the other man, the one she would have recognized as Mr. West if her brain still functioned beyond the basic, primal urges. She also would have recognized that a gun was pointed at her. However, none of this mattered to Caley, all she saw was more food. She struggled to raise herself to her feet, no mean feat given the broken limb on which she had to place her weight. As she gathered herself and prepared to lunge however, the gun in Mr. West’s hand fired, and suddenly Caley was aware of nothing at all.
* * * * *
Mr. West watched Caley fall with a grim look on his face. He then turned to the Parasol Corp. soldier who was missing his throat and fired a second shot into the still lifeless body.
Better safe than sorry.
He turned and apprised his situation. Things were not going the way they were supposed to, but it was all still salvageable. He reached into his coat and pulled out a metal case. Carefully opening it he looked inside. In it rested a glass vial with a strangely glowing purple liquid. The precious contents had survived the crash intact.
Good thing, that. Otherwise I’d be just like these two here.
He moved to Caley’s body and liberated the guns she had on her. No sense letting them go to waste. He looked around the helicopter to see if anything was left that he could use. He saw the bag containing the papers that Caley had wanted to take with her. He paused a moment, then shook his head. He knew well enough what he would find in there.
Reports on what exactly was going on there. It’d be nice to take them to the press, but that’d never work. Even if I found some press not on Parasol’s payroll, it’d all be disproved as “fake” documents. And who would believe what’s in them, anyway. Some soda company that in its spare time creates biological and chemical weapons? Pishaw, of course not. They have their own personal army they send out to make people disappear? Yeah right! Bastards, every last one of them.
As he left the helicopter and began looking around, West wasn’t sure whether he meant the ignorant public or the people at Parasol Corp. were bastards. Either way it didn’t matter to him. He had gotten what he came for. Even got to have the smug satisfaction of releasing one of Parasol’s pet experiments on their own soldiers. And on top of that the joy of killing the soldiers once they had become zombies. Not a bad day for him at all.
West walked closer to the main terminal. It was a small airport, and they had crashed on the outskirts. He was looking for a small commuter plane, something simple to fly. He thought about what the plan was from here.
Just have to get the sample and then get the hell out of this hellhole. I was told it didn’t matter where I went, I just have to get gone. Once I was safe, my employers would contact me.
He wondered just how exactly his new bosses would know where and when to find him, but he shrugged it off. Time and time again they had surprised him with their abilities. He’d never dealt with them directly. Their methods seemed a tad alien to him, but whatever. They paid his bills and let him get a measure of revenge against Parasol, so he had no complaints.
The enemy of my enemy is… perfect! That will do nicely. A small little Cessna turbo prop, excellent. Just have to check and make sure it’s gassed up and then I’ll…
A low moaning interrupted his thoughts. He spun around and from behind a luggage carrier came a blonde zombie. On his shirt was pinned a nametag that said “Hello, my name is ROB”
“Well, who have we here, Rob… Rob the Zombie. Hey! Rob Zombie! Haha, I’m so witty. Care to sing a song?” The figure moaned again. “I suppose not. Well, how about this, I’ll play one of my favorite songs; Zombie Full of Lead!”
West reached under his coat and pulled out his revolvers. Before the zombie had a chance to moan at the bad song title joke, West had fired off all of his bullets and Rob was on the ground, twitching slowly, but definitely dead. Mr. West grinned and reloaded his pistols and then holstered them.
He turned back to the plane that had caught his eye. He jumped in and began flipping switches and turning dials and doing other pilot-y things. All the readings checked out, and the plane had been fully gassed. West slowly taxied out to the main runway, made sure there wasn’t anything stranded on it, and then goosed the plane up to full power and up into the air. Once he was safe in the air, he glanced at the compass.
Hmm, the runway was pointing to the northwest. Might as well head straight north. One direction is as good as the other.
Anyway, here are the first 5 chapters:
Chapter 1: Gratuitous Cleavage Shots By Zeth
Chapter 2: I Suck at Coming Up with Names and Titles, by Vlad
Chapter 3: Mr West, by Zeth
Chapter 4: Up and Out, by Leefy
Chapter 5: Zombie City Escape Club, by Vlad
I guess it was my turn, but I bummed out and didn't finish chapter 6. I think I shall do that soon.
Chapter 5 (written by Vlad!)
I Still Suck at Coming Up with Titles
Caley woke to a new existence. She also woke to pain, but “pain” was something she no longer comprehended. The crash had resulted in her breaking her leg just below the knee. She moaned, and slowly pulled herself free of the pieces of cockpit that trapped her. Slowly she made her way into the back of the plane. Out the side, she could see the man she would have recognized as Mr. West slowly pulling himself to his feet. She was ready to head out towards him until she saw movement in the back of the helicopter. The Parasol Corp. soldier had survived the crash as well, but was making far too much noise. Caley slowly worked towards the man. He was wearing an armored vest and a helmet held in place with a chin strap, just like all the others. However, enough of his neck was exposed. Caley went directly for the exposed skin and began gnawing away on the doomed man. He began to scream loudly, though soon that turned into gurgles and eventually, silence. Caley was content to enjoy her feast until she heard noises behind her. Turning around, she saw the other man, the one she would have recognized as Mr. West if her brain still functioned beyond the basic, primal urges. She also would have recognized that a gun was pointed at her. However, none of this mattered to Caley, all she saw was more food. She struggled to raise herself to her feet, no mean feat given the broken limb on which she had to place her weight. As she gathered herself and prepared to lunge however, the gun in Mr. West’s hand fired, and suddenly Caley was aware of nothing at all.
* * * * *
Mr. West watched Caley fall with a grim look on his face. He then turned to the Parasol Corp. soldier who was missing his throat and fired a second shot into the still lifeless body.
Better safe than sorry.
He turned and apprised his situation. Things were not going the way they were supposed to, but it was all still salvageable. He reached into his coat and pulled out a metal case. Carefully opening it he looked inside. In it rested a glass vial with a strangely glowing purple liquid. The precious contents had survived the crash intact.
Good thing, that. Otherwise I’d be just like these two here.
He moved to Caley’s body and liberated the guns she had on her. No sense letting them go to waste. He looked around the helicopter to see if anything was left that he could use. He saw the bag containing the papers that Caley had wanted to take with her. He paused a moment, then shook his head. He knew well enough what he would find in there.
Reports on what exactly was going on there. It’d be nice to take them to the press, but that’d never work. Even if I found some press not on Parasol’s payroll, it’d all be disproved as “fake” documents. And who would believe what’s in them, anyway. Some soda company that in its spare time creates biological and chemical weapons? Pishaw, of course not. They have their own personal army they send out to make people disappear? Yeah right! Bastards, every last one of them.
As he left the helicopter and began looking around, West wasn’t sure whether he meant the ignorant public or the people at Parasol Corp. were bastards. Either way it didn’t matter to him. He had gotten what he came for. Even got to have the smug satisfaction of releasing one of Parasol’s pet experiments on their own soldiers. And on top of that the joy of killing the soldiers once they had become zombies. Not a bad day for him at all.
West walked closer to the main terminal. It was a small airport, and they had crashed on the outskirts. He was looking for a small commuter plane, something simple to fly. He thought about what the plan was from here.
Just have to get the sample and then get the hell out of this hellhole. I was told it didn’t matter where I went, I just have to get gone. Once I was safe, my employers would contact me.
He wondered just how exactly his new bosses would know where and when to find him, but he shrugged it off. Time and time again they had surprised him with their abilities. He’d never dealt with them directly. Their methods seemed a tad alien to him, but whatever. They paid his bills and let him get a measure of revenge against Parasol, so he had no complaints.
The enemy of my enemy is… perfect! That will do nicely. A small little Cessna turbo prop, excellent. Just have to check and make sure it’s gassed up and then I’ll…
A low moaning interrupted his thoughts. He spun around and from behind a luggage carrier came a blonde zombie. On his shirt was pinned a nametag that said “Hello, my name is ROB”
“Well, who have we here, Rob… Rob the Zombie. Hey! Rob Zombie! Haha, I’m so witty. Care to sing a song?” The figure moaned again. “I suppose not. Well, how about this, I’ll play one of my favorite songs; Zombie Full of Lead!”
West reached under his coat and pulled out his revolvers. Before the zombie had a chance to moan at the bad song title joke, West had fired off all of his bullets and Rob was on the ground, twitching slowly, but definitely dead. Mr. West grinned and reloaded his pistols and then holstered them.
He turned back to the plane that had caught his eye. He jumped in and began flipping switches and turning dials and doing other pilot-y things. All the readings checked out, and the plane had been fully gassed. West slowly taxied out to the main runway, made sure there wasn’t anything stranded on it, and then goosed the plane up to full power and up into the air. Once he was safe in the air, he glanced at the compass.
Hmm, the runway was pointing to the northwest. Might as well head straight north. One direction is as good as the other.