Sometimes we have a really hard time keeping track of our Orange Brigade Commander, RC Murphy. We don’t call her a ninja just for fun, folks. She’s good at what she does.
That is why we chose RC to head down to San Diego Comic-Con this weekend. We need a scout that can maneuver through the massive crowds undetected. And with our current problems surrounding the UGA (Unnamed Government Agency), it is best that whoever takes on this mission can take care of themselves.
However, we want to test our loyal brigadiers and decided to make a contest just for SDCC.
The first person to locate Commander RC will receive a token of gratitude from the Orange Brigade—a ZSC bumper sticker signed by RC and the Orange Brigade’s First Lieutenant, David Della Rocco.
You only have Friday and Saturday of the convention to complete your mission. Any longer and your brave commander risks being discovered. Work quickly and keep your eyes peeled for something small, furry, and ravenous.
MISSION: Rescue one Moira Jones from 6th floor of over run hospital. OBJECTIVE: Search for and rescue Moira Jones and bring to safety. STRATEGY: Rendezvous with fellow members of the ZSC and use skill sets to bring Moira Jones to safety.
Jessica’s POV (With Rebecca): Rebecca, Luna, and I slowly started making our way toward the hallway directly in front of us. Rebecca was a new recruit in the Red Brigade of the Zombie Survival Crew and incredibly grateful that her machete arrived in time for the rescue mission. She ordered a special-made Billhook Machete and also brandished her desert eagle with silencer. I carried my cast iron skillet, a sword that I’d commissioned, and also a gun with a silencer. Luna had her unmatched keen senses of smell, hearing and sight even in the dark, and of course, her fangs and powerful bite. We halfway down the hall when all of the sudden Luna stopped in her tracks and let out a soft growl. “Jess, I see something down there in the hall,” Rebecca said, tightening her grip on her machete. I squinted made out a dark figure hunched over another dark figure. We inched closer. Slurping and crunching noises filled the hall—definitely a walker enjoying a meal. “I got this,” Rebecca said and moved forward. As she approached the walker, it lifted its head up and sniffed the air. Before it could even turn around, I heard the machete swing through the air, and thud—the walker’s head smacked the wall. I moved closer. Rebecca smiled and said, “Four!” “That would’ve been a hole-in-one, right there,” I joked. Surprisingly there weren’t any other walkers the hallway. We made it to a set of stairs.
Purple Brigade
“Rebecca and Jess, squirrel. We’re at the stairs.” I paused. Something didn’t feel right about how quickly we made it to the stairs. Only one walker, and that was it? “We are heading up.” I put the walkie-talkie back in my pocket. Rebecca, Luna and I made it safely to the top of the stairs and headed down the hallway. We came to a door, and we pushed it open, walked through, and froze. “Oh my God,” Rebecca said. My eyes stung with tears and I knew I couldn’t keep them from pouring down my face. Rebecca and I embraced one another, sobbing quietly. Then we heard a very soft snarl. We pulled away from each other. The tears fell even harder as we moved toward the sound. There it was, in an incubator, probably not even a week old when it had been bitten. Its entire left arm and part of its face had been ripped off. It snarled as loudly as it could—barely louder than a whisper. Rebecca and I looked at each other and knew what we needed to do, but my heart broke. I lifted my cast iron skillet over its tiny body and as I brought it down to end it’s suffering, it snarled. I fell to my knees and wept. Rebecca crouched down and we tried to comfort each other, but there was just no comfort to be had. Rebecca pulled me back to my feet. We searched the room now filled with tiny growls and snarls. There were probably twenty infant walkers in incubators. Helplessly, they all reached, hoping for something to satisfy their longing. Rebecca and I looked each other in the eyes and said at the same time, “They are not alive.” I lifted my cast iron skillet above the nearest incubator and I brought it down, before moving to the next one. Rebecca watched with tears flowing and stepped toward a snarling little body. She pulled up her machete and brought it down, ending its suffering. Our tears never ceased as we made our way around the room, and before we knew it the room fell silent. My hands trembled as I looked at the mangled and cut up bodies. “We had to do it, Jess,” Rebecca said, tears still flowing down her cheeks. “I know, but…” my voice trailed off. A noise came from the hallway. We wiped the tears from our eyes and moved slowly toward the hall. We pressed against the doors to listen and heard the shuffling of feet. I pulled the door open. Rebecca, Luna and I slipped out. We stayed against the wall and moved quietly down the hall. Something grabbed my leg and I fell to the floor hard. “Oh, crap!” A sharp pain shot up my side. I’d fallen onto my sword. Blood ran down my side. “Luna, get it!” I said as I tried to kick at what latched onto my leg. Luna snarled and growled as she pounced my attacker. She bit into it. A sickening crunch sounded as her teeth tightened down on its rotting skull. Its hand released my leg.
Red Brigade
“Jess! Oh my gosh, are you ok?” Rebecca knelt down beside me. “Yeah, just kinda stabbed myself,” I said, feeling like a fool. Rebecca reached into my backpack and found some first aid items to mend my wound. “You’re going to have to do it.” Rebecca’s eyes widened as she looked at me and she knew what I meant. I needed her to pull the sword out of my side. “Bite down on this,” she said as she handed me a towel from my bag. I closed my eyes tightly as she gripped the handle of the sword. I pictured Moira. Saw her fighting off walkers, trapped in a room with little to no provisions. Anger built up in me and I felt no pain as Rebecca pulled the sword from my side. She quickly bandaged me up and helped me to my feet. We pressed on and came to some more stairs. I pulled the walkie-talkie out of my pocket, “This is Rebecca and Jess. Squirrel, and we are about to head up another set of stairs.” I turned my flashlight on for a second to read the sign posted by the stairs. It said: “Take these stairs to get to the 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th floors.” I looked at Rebecca and she looked back at me. “You ready for this?” “Hell yeah, I am,” she responded “Are you?”
GET A MAP! Seriously. This is oil country and you will get lost without that nifty folded up piece of paper. GPS is practically useless out here, too. You do not want to try to avoid the shambling hoards without one, so don’t blame me if you turn down an unmarked road thinking it will intersect with a highway and it only dead-ends into an oil rig with 20 zombified roughnecks. With that warning firmly in place, here’s a list of what highways to find and how to get to UTPB from them.
Interstate 20 (coming from the west): The interstate highway skirts the south end of town and is probably the safest route through Odessa. You can exit on John Ben Shepperd Parkway and head north for appx. 2 miles until you intersect with University Blvd. UTPB is the Northeast corner. A)If you continue north on JBS, turn into the university at the first light. Merge to the right onto UTPB Circle, then enter the parking lot to the left. The building on the right is the library, the one on the left is the Mesa. B)If you turn east (right turn) onto University, keep to the left lane and turn into the university at the first light. You will pass the dormitories and come to a stop sign. 1)left turn takes you to the same parking lot as in option “A”, which will be on your right. 2) right turn takes you past the S&T building to the gym parking lot, in which you can access the second floor of the Mesa from the ramp between the gym and the S.A.C. building.
Highway 302 (coming from the west, intersects with hwy 285 north of Pecos, TX): 302 will intersect with Loop 338. Head north on 338. (Unless you’re brave and want to drive through town, but I wouldn’t suggest it.) Take it all the way around to the other side of Odessa. When you get to the 191/42nd Street overpass, turn right (west). Now, this is where you pray that it really IS the apocalypse and that there’s no traffic, because once it intersects with the highway, you have about ten car-lengths to cross 3 lanes of traffic to the left in order to turn into the University from Preston Smith Road. Once on campus, you can either A) go straight, and the SECOND parking lot is the gym parking, where you can get to the Mesa building from the ramp or B) turn right until you get to the HUGE parking lot in front of the Mesa.
Highway 385 (coming from the north): Intersects with Loop 338. Pretty much the same instructions as Highway 302. An alternate for both of these would be to exit 338 at JBS parkway (turn right, head south) instead of at 191. Just south of 42nd & JBS is lesser used entrance to UTPB on the left, across the street from Wells Fargo. If you blink, you’ll miss it. This will take you directly to the Mesa building.
Highway 349 (coming from the north): Welcome to Midland. Take Loop 250 west until it intersects with Highway 191. Then take 191 west to Odessa. It’s about 15 miles. The first light is Preston Smith Road – turn left into the University. You can either A) go straight, and the SECOND parking lot is the gym parking, where you can get to the Mesa building from the ramp or B) turn right until you get to the HUGE parking lot in front of the Mesa. (Yes, that was a copy/paste job, smarty-pants.) You can also take Loop 191 to Highway 80/Business 20 or Interstate 20. Those instructions are next.
Interstate 20 or Business 20/Hwy 80 (coming from the east): OPTION 1 – Exit Loop 338 and head north. Turn left onto University Blvd and then turn right into the university at the first light. You will pass the dormitories and come to a stop sign. 1)left turn takes you to the Mesa/library parking lot, which will be on your right. 2) right turn takes you past the S&T building to the gym parking lot, in which you can access the second floor of the Mesa from the ramp between the gym and the S.A.C. building. OPTION 2 – exit at John Ben Shepperd and follow instructions for west I-20 as listed above.
Highways 158 or 349 (coming from the south into Midland): You’re going to intersect with I-20. Read the paragraph before this one on coming in from the east.
Highway 385 (coming from the South into Odessa): Surprise. You’re going to intersect with I-20 on the west side of Odessa. You need to go back to that first set of directions up there.
Notice! Do not expect to be able to get to UTPB from Loop 338 unless you’re using it strictly as access to University Blvd or 191/42nd Street. There are two turn-ins: a park and a (golf) driving range. Neither of these facilities has a direct road to the main campus.
We put out the call for local information on resupply stations, and the Zombie Survival Crew has responded. Information has been trickling in and we’re sifting through and compiling everything for communication to the loyalists. We’ll start by sharing some information provided by Purple Brigade member, Kris O’Dell. Because of the amount of information Kris provided, we’ll post this in two parts. The general information today and the directions a week from now.
Midland, Texas. It’s a nice place to live. Go to school. Raise a family. Work that shiny white-collar job. And a good cover for where you REALLY want to go in case of the zombie apocalypse. For that, you want to head to Odessa, Midland’s blue-collar twin fifteen miles to the west. Home of the University of Texas of the Permian Basin, and your ultimate destination.
UTPB has exactly what you need to bunker down during the apocalypse. The Mesa Building is the most defensible structure on campus and ideal for both long and short term occupation. It stands four stories tall with multiple ground floor exits, a second-story patio that wraps around the entire structure, and balconies on the third and fourth floors. There are six sets of enclosed stairwells connecting each level of the Mesa Building.
Along with multiple classrooms, the Mesa is home to the administrative offices, the student union and campus security/police headquarters. There are computer labs on the second and fourth floors. Each level also has vending machines and multiple restrooms. The patio connects to the second floor of the gymnasium, where survivors can utilize the medical clinic and shower facilities. The gym also has a weight room and a fenced outdoor swimming pool.
Other buildings immediately near the Mesa include the library, the science and technology building and the student activity center. Each building stands at two levels. Beyond the obvious cache of knowledge, the library has more vending machines and computers. The S&T building is home to another computer lab, biology/chemistry/geology labs and could possibly contain medical equipment used for training the pre-med and nursing students. The S.A.C. has a coffee shop, game room, weight room, cafeteria and the campus child care center.
Other buildings on campus include two museums, an art studio and outdoor athletic facilities. UTPB does have apartment-style student housing, but they would not be as secure as the Mesa. However, raiding them for beds and other supplies would be perfectly acceptable. The true outlying goldmine is the fire station on the south end of the campus property.
UT Permian Basin wasn’t chosen simply for the campus itself. There are several places in which to get various necessities within one mile, making supply runs a much easier task than they would be in other areas in the community. In fact, most of them are right across the street. To the north: Wal-Mart Supercenter, Sam’s Wholesale Club, Family Dollar, Home Depot, Best Buy and Academy Sports. South: University Pharmacy & Medical Supply, Westlake Hardware, Hobby Lobby and Dollar General. West: Animal Clinic and Albertson’s grocery. There are five gas stations, three hotels, a handful of shopping centers and over a dozen restaurants within the same area. Oh, and the mall is kitty-corner from the campus to the northwest.
Thanks again to ZSC Purple Brigade member, Kris O’Dell, for this valuable information.
To read more on all resupply stations, please go to our (for members only) Key Links under the Escape Routes/Resupply Stations section
Starring: Kesun Loder, Billy Connolly and Carrie-Anne Moss
Just when I was certain that the ZSC commanders would allow me to rot in my cell, they slid a DVD case under my door. Will it never end? Some idiot once said that death brought around ultimate peace, like going to sleep for the rest of eternity. That idiot lied. But at least this time around, my captors weren’t too horrible about my review assignment.
In Fido (2006) filmmakers answer the burning question on everyone’s mind—Do 1950’s housewives need zombie pets? The answer is, of course, yes. What self-respecting zombie doesn’t want to belong to the cute mother next door? Sign me up for an afterlife of subjugation and humiliation.
Zombies in the movie are created by radiation from space. When anyone drops dead, they’re back on their feet in minutes as the undead. That kind of turn-around makes for business for Zomcom, a government-funded business dealing in zombie security issues. They are the ones that ensure the undead behave themselves by placing specialized collars around the zombie’s neck that curb their craving for flesh and then placing them in private homes or factories to work.
Weight Watchers has nothing on these guys.
The film is centered on Timmy and his pet zombie, Fido. There are the usual boy-and-his-dog sort of moments. The guys playing fetch, washing the father’s car, beating the snot out of a couple of snot-nosed bullies, etc. Oh and let’s not forget starting a zombie outbreak in the middle of town.
Fido doesn’t have the best zombie makeup effects I’ve seen on film, but they are far from the worst. What makes the movie is a smart script and actors that play it straight. That’s a pet peeve of mine, a hilarious script that’s butchered by actors trying to be funny. Just let it happen. That is exactly what they do here. With a few minor exceptions, like the neighbor with an unhealthy lust for his pet zombie. That one pushed it right up to the line.
I’m going to give Fido four dangling eyeballs out of five. It isn’t a huge-budget film, but that is part of the fun of it. Seeing what can be done with little funding and pure talent at the wheel. Pick this one up for your collection. What are you waiting for? And while you’re at it, someone bring me a snack—just an arm or something. I’m on a diet.
From the undisclosed location of LK Gardner-Griffie
Your Zombie Survival Crew TM commanders are always on the lookout for not only stories of potential zombie uprisings, but ways to improve survivability come the apocalypse. So we were intrigued to learn from Motortrend’s Wide Open Throttle that Robert Kirkman of The Walking Dead fame has collaborated with Hyundai to create the Zombie Survival Machine. Check this bad boy out:
Just imagine plowing through a horde of zombies with that sweet spiked cow-catcher. Wouldn’t you like to get up close and personal with this car? Well, you can. The 2013 Hyundai Elantra Coupe Zombie Survival Machine will be on display at Comic-Con, which runs from July 12-15 in San Diego at the Future US booth, along with a limited-run illustrated owner’s manual. This beauty will be unveiled as a part of a four-episode behind the scenes series on HyundaiUndead.com on July 11th.
If that weren’t enough…a 2013 Hyundai Elantra GT hatchback will be wrapped in the 100th cover of The Walking Dead issue and will be given away on July 31st.
The word on the street is that our Orange Brigade commander, RC Murphy, may be among the merrymakers at San Diego Comic-Con in stealth mode. And I’m sure she’ll be taking the opportunity to size up this newest possibility to keep us safe from the shambling hordes.
MISSION: Rescue one Moira Jones from 6th floor of over run hospital. OBJECTIVE: Search for and rescue Moira Jones and bring to safety. STRATEGY: Rendezvous with fellow members of the ZSC and use skill sets to bring Moira Jones to safety.
Tiffany’s POV: “While I was on the line with her something happened, it sounded like glass breaking and I think something grabbed her. I couldn’t make out much more before the line went dead.” Those words from Commander Flanery echoed in my head. Scared for all of us, I questioned if we’d make it in time and even if we did, would we make it back out? I knew I shouldn’t think about stuff like that, we’d made it this far. But what if we were too late? I shook my head. “No,” I said to myself. Moira counted on us and we were going to get her to safety, no questions asked. Michael and I broke away from the group and made our way through the 5th floor. I took lead. My katana was quieter than Michael’s HK417 chambered 7.62 millimeter. We entered the Burn Unit. The mix of burnt and rotting flesh attacked my nose. I choked. The faint gunshots of the others echoed in the ward as mine and Michael’s boots stomped along the dingy floor. Michael yanked me back into a dark corner. I looked over my shoulder. He put a finger to his lips and pointed over my shoulder towards five walkers shambling down a nearby hallway. He motioned for me to take the two on the left. He’d get the three on the right. I nodded. On the count of three, we charged from the hallway, running towards the walkers. I thrust one of my katanas forward. It slid through both walkers, pinning them to the wall. They growled, clawed and snapped at me. Singed flesh hung from their bodies. Without a second thought I ran the blade of my second katana through their skulls. I cringed a bit, but it needed to be done. I let the bodies hit the floor before pulling my blades free. I shook the blood from them as Michael dropped the last walker with a shot to the head. We looked at each other and nodded. I felt safe knowing Michael had my back.
Orange Brigade
“You ok, Kid?” Michael asked. “Yeah.” “Let’s move out.” I nodded. Michael took lead. That’s when I heard it, growling and shuffling. I lifted my head to see Michael and I surrounded by walkers. Every direction stood a drooling, rotting corpse. We were trapped. I mumbled a few curse words and pressed my back against Michael’s. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Ain’t afraid of these bone heads are ya?” “Of course not.” “Good.” He fired a shot. I swung my katana, sending flesh and blood splattering everywhere. One walker tried to bite; just as he did I rammed my katana blade into its throat. I swung the other, decapitating another walker. It seemed like there were countless walkers. For every one that dropped, two more took its place. I kept telling myself, think of Moira. She needed us. Michael’s gunshots echoed, silencing the skin, heads and blood splattering around us. My clothes were wet with walker blood, but it didn’t matter—I’d swim an ocean full in order to save Moira. Michael and I continued cutting a blood soaked path to the stairway. We were almost at the end. One more floor and we’d meet up with the others. Someone grabbed me. I thought it was Michael, until I felt blood trickle down my arm. Crap. I tried to jerk my hand away. I didn’t feel any pain from a bite, but that could be my body running on adrenaline. Pulling away, the force caused me to drop one of my katanas. Something grabbed my ankle. Before I knew it I was pulled down. My head smacked the floor. Despite being dizzy, I knew I needed to get up. On the floor was the worst position I could be in with a horde of walkers. I rolled over, kicking at the walker who tried to bite my leg. My head throbbed, felt like it may fall off my neck and roll away. I grabbed my other katana and swung, slicing through the abdomen of a walker. Blood and gore spilled onto my jeans and down my arm. Michael yelled, “Kid! Get up!” But I couldn’t. He took a few more shots, then felt him—at least I hoped it was him—grab me by the ankle. Before I knew it, I was being dragged towards the door. I grabbed the pistol from the waist of my pants and fired at a few walkers following us, nailing them in the head. Michael dragged me, leaving carnage behind us. He stopped and yanked me to my feet. We turned, shooting the last four remaining walkers as we backed out the door leading to the stairwell. Michael slammed the door shut and I leaned back against it to catch my breath. If it were a cartoon, my heart would’ve been beating three feet out of my chest. Michael looked at me. Something warm ran down the side of my face. I touched the top of my head and flinch. “Sh*t” Michael shined his flashlight on the wound. He fished in his back pocket, pulling out a black and red bandana and wiped the blood off my face to inspect the cut on the right side of my head right along the hairline. “Damn kid, they got ya good. You didn’t get bit nowhere, did ya?” “No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t.” Michael nodded, wrapping the bandana around my head to protect the cut. He asked me how many fingers he was holding up, what’s my name, who he was. Once satisfied, he stepped back. I regrouped, shaking off the dizzy spell and ignoring the pain in my head to get ready to charge up the steps with Michael. I reached for my walkie-talkie first—needed to give a status report. “Team Rooker, just left the burn unit. Squirrel!!” “Good, Eve and I are on our way up. All’s clear on our end.” Commander Reedus responded. “All’s squirrelly over here” Em chimed in. “Squirrel!!” Jessica added. “Alright then, everyone, let’s get our behinds up to that floor and get our girl.” Michael and I charged the steps. I pushed myself onward. I had no choice. Even as the pain in my head increased, Michael kept telling me to move my butt. We reached the top of the stairs, looked at each other and proceeded to kick the doors open.
MISSION: Rescue one Moira Jones from 6th floor of over run hospital. OBJECTIVE: Search for and rescue Moira Jones and bring to safety. STRATEGY: Rendezvous with fellow members of the ZSC and use skill sets to bring Moira Jones to safety.
We split off from the group and made our way silently toward the eastern staircase. Aside from the big group we’d encountered when we first entered the building, Norman and I weren’t seeing many walkers. We took down five before we made it to the door that opened into the stairwell. “This seems a bit too easy,” Norman said, almost too softly for me to hear. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or thinking aloud. “You okay, Eve?” I looked over to see him watching me. “Yes, I’m fine.” I tossed him a quick glance and added, “I’m worried about Moira. That message from Sean has me a bit freaked out.” “Yeah, me too.” Norman stepped forward to peek in the window of the stairwell door. He leapt back as a grotesque face slammed against the glass. “Damn!” He studied the walker for a moment. We could hear more of them shuffling around behind the door. I pulled my hunting knife out of its sheath and held it so that the blade ran along my forearm. My left hand gripped my compound bow. I nocked an arrow—held between my right middle and forefinger, leaving my two other fingers and thumb wrapped tightly around the hilt of my knife. I turned and covered the hallway behind us while he prepped his weapons. Norman pulled back the string on his crossbow until he heard it lock. He slid a bolt in place, pulled a silenced 9mm Glock out of his waistband and chambered a round. He grabbed his walkie and announced that we were entering the stairwell. “Here goes!” He yanked the door open and stepped to the side as I loosed an arrow into the group amassed there. My arrow went through three skulls before lodging into the fourth, not quite penetrating the creature’s brain. Norman jumped over the fallen and began working his way through the dozen or so other undead that crowded eagerly toward him. I took the flat of my palm and shoved the arrow through the skull of the fourth zombie before sending a second arrow flying to take another out just as it lunged for Norman’s back. The base of the stairwell was far too constricted to use our bows practically. We slung them and focused on knife work. He gestured to the stairs behind me with a nod of his head and used his hands to signal that he wanted me to go first, he would be right behind me. Fortunately, red tinged emergency lights still lit this area and we were able to make it up the two flights to the third floor. Norman studied the map near the door.
Lt Blue Brigade
“Right. It should be a straight shot past this nurse’s station then we head left and the next set of stairs should be just down this hallway. There are,” he did a quick count of the small rooms off the hallway, “only 12 rooms, six on each side, between us and the stairs. We’ll assume they were all occupied when it all went down. Of course there are 48 rooms total in this wing so we should be prepared for worst case scenario.” He reloaded his gun and crossbow as I double checked my guns. As he pushed the handle down, the emergency lights failed, throwing us into pitch black. “Holy crap!” I whispered. “I can’t see anything!” “Here.” I tapped one of the flashlights against his hand and he took it. I swung my bag back around, the other flashlight in my hand. I felt breath on the back of my neck; my heart constricted and goosebumps rose all up and down my arms. This breath was cold and it reeked of rotting flesh. I whirled around and smashed my flashlight against its face before tripping on Norman’s shoe. I fell against the railing, my right foot slipped off the edge of the top stair and I tumbled down, coming to a stop on my back a few feet below. My flashlight rolled down to the landing and flickered on spreading an eerie light up the wall. I couldn’t breathe and my ankle throbbed. I tried to get up and felt sharp pain stab through my ankle. I sucked a breath in through my teeth to keep from crying out. Tears pricked my eyes as I flopped back down. Norman rushed down. He came into view on my left side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” “It didn’t bite me.” I wanted that to be very clear. “I hurt my ankle when I fell. I don’t think I can walk on it.” He looked down at my ankle and grimaced. I knew it had to be bad. “It’s already swollen and bruised. It looks awful.” He carefully lifted my leg. “I’ll have to help you walk.” He decided after even the tiniest pressure on the joint made me wince. “Norman, there’s no time for that! You need to get to Moira.” “I am not leaving you behind. I have to make sure you get back to your little girl!” I could tell from his tone there was no point in arguing. “I need a way to stabilize it. A splint or something. All I have is an ace bandage and some gauze in my first aid kit. Then maybe I can put some weight on it.” I tried to pull my toes up which earned me a wave of hot pain that cascaded up my leg from my ankle. “Hey!” Norman reached into his back pocket and pulled the map back out. “There’s a medical supplies closet just past the nurse’s station. Think there’s something there we could use?” I shrugged and frowned at him. “I don’t think you should go in there by yourself.” “Come here.” He helped me to my feet and guided me to the top of the stairs. He had me sit against the wall, facing the door. He jogged back down the stairs and grabbed my flashlight. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He pointed to my guns, “Keep those handy.” I took them both out and rested them on my lap. “Be careful in there.” He nodded then slipped through the door. The silence in that darkened stairwell was deafening. As I waited, I fought back tears. I worried that he’d get hurt. I worried that we wouldn’t get to Moira in time. I worried that I’d never see Michelle again. At one point a walker leaned against the door, which failed to latch behind Norman. I shot it and the four that followed. Their bodies kept the door wide open, but I couldn’t move them. I saw a zombie fly backwards, an arrow embedded in its skull and breathed a sigh of relief as Norman came into view. He took the bandage from my kit and carefully wrapped my ankle first. He fit a stiff ankle brace over that and then a walking boot before helping me to my feet. I took a tentative step and while there was still a great deal of pain, it was manageable. “This will work.” We entered the cardiac ward. At one point most of these people were someone’s grandparent, husband, wife. Bodies littered the floor as we made our way to the staircase that’d take us to the sixth floor. We were nearly there when a walker launched itself from behind a curtain and latched on to Norman’s arm. “Son of a…” He fell backwards, as it snapped at him. I limped forward as quickly as I could and drove the blade of my hunting knife to the hilt into the base of its skull. Norman panted, his eyes wide. I took hold of his arm and pulled back his sleeve and examined it carefully. There were indentations where the teeth had tried to penetrate, but the skin remained unbroken. “Thank God,” I whispered. “I guess you and Daryl don’t share the same luck when it comes to sleeves.” “Ha!” He smiled and shook his head. I helped him up and we walked over to the door that would lead to Moira. He signaled on the walkie-talkie that our wing was clear and we were heading up the final 3 flights. “God, I hope she’s alright,” Norman breathed. “Me too.” He opened the door and we began our ascent.
Zombie Survival Crew command has been working on the appropriate strategy for mobilizing the crew in the event of a Zombiepocalypse or other global cataclysmic event. Honorable Brigadier, JL Coburn (SAPPED), has amassed a great amount of data and provided it to the Oracle for her to sift through to come up with the best plan.
We’re now looking for volunteers to help take this to the next level. In order for you to see how you can help Mission: RESUPPLY, you must be registered for this site and logged in.
To ZSC Brigade leaders and 1st Lieutenants: I’m sending this from a tiny town outside Moab called End of The Line. I’ve holed up in an Old West museum with a Navajo named Joe Holiday. The walkers have thinned out, but that won’t last long. I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, so— We Take Care of Our Own is about a tight-knit family dealing with survival amidst the Zombie Apocalypse in a small Midwestern town and was inspired by the The Walking Dead. The treatment of both the graphic novel and the TV series inspired this tale because it’s brilliantly complex, poignant, and shockingly real. We Take Care Of Our Own examines the human reaction in the shadow of the Zombie Apocalypse. I’ll be moving on in the morning with Joe. We’ll be heading to Monument Valley, where his people are. In the meantime, keep up the good fight…I know I will.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt may have some strong language.
My brother and I are the only two left in Churchville, Illinois, population once 112. I’d say last two alive, but that’s not really right. I’m alive, but my brother, Tom Nolan, is very dead. He’s a zombie now. An undead man walking. Tom used to call them flesh-heads, like the towel-heads he fought over in Iraq, but that was before he got bit. I know I’m supposed to put him down, but he’s my brother, and we promised Dad that we’d take care of each other no matter what. Dad always said, “Us Nolans, we take care of our own.” It’s the six hundred and sixty-sixth day since we stopped using calendars. I only know because 665 is written on the little chalkboard I keep up here. Beneath it are the thin remnants of all the numbers that have been written and erased. I take up the nub of chalk, erase the 5 with my finger, and draw a 6 in a looping motion. 666…the number of the beast. I think of the Iron Maiden song. It was one of my brother’s favorites. I remember their mascot, Eddie; tight dead skin pulled over his skull face. In one of their posters Eddie was dressed like Uncle Sam, grinning and pointing his rotten knife of finger. That’s right; UNCLE EDDIE WANTS TO EAT YOU! Welcome to The Zombified States of America! I lie still for a minute, breathing in the warm attic air; wood and dust, mixed with my own stink. I’ve long taken to sleeping in my clothes. Tom used to say they’d stand up on their own if I bothered to take them off. I don’t sleep very well anymore. Mostly because my mind always goes back over all the things that have happened, and partly because of the Metallica that plays all night long. I play it for Tom, and for me. They were his favorite band, and it helps to drown out the racket he makes the minute darkness falls. I don’t know what it is with flesh-heads, but the night wakes them up, like rats or coyotes; gets their zombie engines runnin’ full throttle and sharpens their senses. Even though Tom is walled up in Grandpa’s bomb shelter, he always knows when night has come. I sit up on my mattress. My butt sinks down through whiny, shot springs to the wooden floor beneath. The emptiness in my stomach howls. Man, I’m hungry. Maybe I’ll find some food today in town. Maybe. The lone window in the attic glows white hot with sunlight that blots out Illinois farm country below and beyond. I pull on my boots, and remember buying them with Dad and my brother. I reach for my brother’s belt and stand up, careful not to whack my head on the low eaves thick with shadows and cobwebs. I thread the belt into my jean loops, and pulling it tight, see I’ve punched six new holes in its cracked leather. My brother used to say I looked like one of those starving children on TV. I take up my shotgun that stands against the wall like a cowboy leaning on a post. It’s a Remington 870 express pump action. Dad gave it to me when I turned thirteen. I’m seventeen now, and I miss being thirteen something terrible. I start down the attic steps, each one creaking its own note like piano keys.
The basement is cool and dark as a moonless field. Morning quiets my brother, and all the Metallica albums on the mp3 player usually run out about four in the morning. I snatch the mp3 player, with its cracked plastic face, out of the speakers it spends the nights docked in. Mom gave us the mp3 player and the speakers. She bought them right after she got herself a eBook reader. Mom said we shouldn’t be afraid of technology, especially if it helped a person appreciate the arts. I guess Metallica, Tom Petty, and Bruce Springsteen are as much art as Mom’s books. I stare for a moment at the thick steel door that keeps my brother safe. I touch my hand to it, wishing I could still touch my brother. I wish I could still muss his hair, or try and make him flinch. He stirs behind the door. I hear the slow clicking and clacking of his teeth, tired from gnashing all night, followed by a low, growling grunt, then silence. I slip the mp3 player into the front pocket of my jeans and bound up the steps, thinking of Mom instead of my zombie brother.
The sunlight leaks into the kitchen around the edges of the ply boards that cover every window on the first and second floor. I hate it because it makes the whole house feel like a cardboard box, lit by seams and cracks, but without them, there’d only be a pane of glass between you and death. Not that plywood keeps death out, ‘cause it doesn’t, but it’s a good first line of defense. I set my rifle on the kitchen table, next to the boxes of shells, and go to my bike angled against the counter. I check its chain and return to the table. Man, I’m tired. I sit down. Just for a minute.
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To read more and find out the depths to which Lord Henry Abercrombie falls, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Sometimes we have a really hard time keeping track of our Orange Brigade Commander, RC Murphy. We don’t call her a ninja just for fun, folks. She’s good at what she does.
Just when I was certain that the ZSC commanders would allow me to rot in my cell, they slid a DVD case under my door. Will it never end? Some idiot once said that death brought around ultimate peace, like going to sleep for the rest of eternity. That idiot lied. But at least this time around, my captors weren’t too horrible about my review assignment.
If that weren’t enough…a 
Zombie Survival Crew command has been working on the appropriate strategy for mobilizing the crew in the event of a Zombiepocalypse or other global cataclysmic event. 