Scruffy sat in the car, reflecting on his situation. He was excited when Master and his Friends had decided to take him out with them. But when they came to a stop and piled out of the car, Master had closed the door in his face. Scruffy wondered if he was a Bad Dog, if he was being punished for something. That was the only explanation for why Master would take him out only to leave him here.
When Master left, Scruffy was sad. He was always sad when Master left, but it was especially cruel of him to leave him in the back of the car. What’s more, he had left the window open, so Scruffy could smell all sorts of intriguing things outside, but still was trapped inside.
Sitting upright, he scratched at the window. It was an impermeable force field, but there was a gap just wide enough to wriggle through. The idea made Scruffy uneasy. He could be hurt in the fall, but that wouldn’t be half so bad as Master’s disappointment with him. If Master was disappointed, then Scruffy was certainly a Bad Dog. Scruffy was to stay in the car, that much he knew, and he sullenly accepted his fate.
Making the best of a bad situation, Scruffy pushed his head through the window. There were a thousand scents in that parking lot that were known to him but still exotic. The damp closeness of the fog could not entirely mask the smell of groceries in the nearby cars, or the gasoline fumes, or even the rich smell of fresh blood and Carrion.
Confused, Scruffy took another sniff. There must have been a dead squirrel, or maybe a raccoon somewhere nearby. Yet, for some reason that didn’t seem like enough meat to make such a powerful smell. There had to be more than one piece of Carrion. With each sniff, he could pick out another distinct body of Carrion. Fortunately, he was downwind of the multiple sources, so he had no trouble distinguishing the sickly sweet scent of rot from the night air.
With a whimper, Scruffy withdrew from the window. There were so many Dead Things out there, it just didn’t seem right. He paced nervously in the back seat, once more lamenting the cruelness of Master for locking him up here with so many dead things outside. Worried that he might become a Dead Thing too, he urged Master to come back soon.
Again, Scruffy leapt to the window to sniff out his surroundings. The Carrion scent was more overpowering now, the source must have moved closer. Still whimpering, Scruffy struggled to make sense of this new information. Carrion didn’t move anymore, that was part of what made it Carrion.
Through the fog, the dog could make out a faint outline in the shape of a person. It moved strangely, as if it was remembering how to walk again. Slowly but surely, it approached the car and Scruffy could discern some more details. Its long, dark hair and polka dot dress indicated she could have been a Nice Lady. Normally Scruffy liked Ladies. They cooed at him, pet him, and gave him treats. But the foul odour of decay was upon this lady, which made Scruffy uncomfortable.
Another outline distinguished itself from the fog. This one was a Man, practically sprinting. He was looking over his shoulder, so he didn’t see the Lady. At least, not until she saw him. His scream split the night and once more Scruffy could smell fresh blood.
The sight shocked the poor dog, but not as much as what happened next. The Nice Lady fell to her knees over the man she had attacked, and started to devour him. Teeth gnashed and spittle flew as her hands tore into the man to remove vile morsels from him. Scruffy didn’t regard her as a Nice Lady anymore.
What was happening simply wasn’t right. Carrion was food, Carrion didn’t eat anymore. It went against everything that Scruffy knew. Too much for the noble dog, he barked at the Lady. Distracted from her meal, the Lady turned to face the dog. Blood and offal fell freely from her face as she snarled at the dog.
Scruffy was overcome with fear. He knew that a Lady could open the doors to the car, but he could not. Why did he bark? That was foolish. He was a Bad Dog. The Carrion Lady was going to eat him now. People could open doors where dogs couldn’t, and now he was trapped.
The window! Scruffy knew he could escape that way. He had no trouble fitting
his head through, but it was no small task to squeeze his fore legs through. Practically out of the car now, Scruffy hesitated. Master would be disappointed if he wasn’t in the car when he got back. The Lady snarled as she lurched closer, reminding Scruffy that this was more important than Master’s feelings.
With a push from his back legs, Scruffy tumbled out of the window. He fell heavily to the ground with a yelp of pain. A fiery sensation spread from his left fore leg, which was first to strike the ground. Instinct told Scruffy to get up, to run, to never look back. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Scruffy stood shaking to his feet.
The Lady in the now bloodied polka dot dress was close now, reaching out to snatch the dog. Scruffy limped away as fast as he could, the awkward trot of a three legged dog. Still, despite his injury, he was able to put a little distance between him and the Lady.
Sniffing around him, Scruffy was seeking a safe path away. With a whimper, he realised the Carrion scent was all around him. He continued his flight from the Polka Dot Lady, unsure where he should go, but sure he should be going away.
Miraculously, the wind shifted and with it brought relief to the panicking dog. The Carrion scent wasn’t so bad upwind, so Scruffy altered his course. The dog trotted more to his left, leaving the Dead Lady chasing him behind. It would only be a matter of time before she caught up to him, or before he ran into more like her, but for now at least he felt safer.
The pain in Scruffy’s leg became more insistent. In his panic, he hadn’t paid much mind to it. Running with an injury was going to be difficult, but Scruffy didn’t have another option. He allowed himself to whimper once more.
Scruffy’s flight brought him to a busy street. At least, it was usually busy. Right now, however, it was deserted. Scruffy followed the road, still awkwardly trotting with three legs. He risked a look over his shoulder. The Polka Dot Lady was about a dozen paces behind him.
Running for the rest of life seemed to be what Scruffy was doomed to. His paw pained him terribly, but still he pressed on. His Instinct to survive would always win out.
Another scent greeted him from upwind. It was like the gasoline fumes from the cars before, but with the pungent scent of roast flesh and the nostalgic aroma of Bonfire nights. Scruffy and Master used to enjoy a good Bonfire, whether Master took him into the woods or if they were just hanging out with friends in the backyard. They would roast marshmallows and hot dogs sometimes, and Scruffy would steal Master’s wieners. He always pretended to be upset by that, but he knew Master was letting him have them.
As Scruffy continued to run upwind, he began to see the source of this new combination of smells. A great, flickering light penetrated the fog as Scruffy drew closer. An SUV had rolled over in the street and struck a lamp post, which was apparently sufficient enough to cause an explosion. Scruffy picked his way through debris and broken glass towards the biggest Bonfire he ever laid eyes on.
Pinned beneath the wreckage was another of those terrifying Creatures that smelled of Carrion. This one had been a Man, but beyond that it was difficult to make out any details. The flames had engulfed the Creature, but although it burned it still struggled to free itself from the wreckage. As Scruffy passed by it reached out and growled at him.
Again, the wind carried the smell of Carrion to Scruffy. He risked a look behind him to discover the Polka Dot Lady was still chasing him, although she was a whole twenty metres away now. Scruffy couldn’t very well keep to the road if he was going to find more monsters on it, but he also couldn’t double back into the jaws of the Lady in the polka dot dress.
Scruffy would have to leave the road, but which way should he go? To his left lay more buildings, retail outlets, and eventually downtown. On the other side to his right was less developed. He could flee into the bush, then climb a wooded hill. On the other side lay the suburbs, and eventually the ocean.
Choosing the right, Scruffy plunged into the thicket. He had some slight difficulty negotiating the densely packed trees with an injured leg, but the Polka Dot Lady fared no better. While Scruffy was low to the ground and could take full advantage of his diminutive stature, the Dead Lady soon became ensnared in the brush.
Picking his way between trees and briars, Scruffy panted as he worked his way up the hill. Again he risked a look behind him, searching for the Lady in the polka dot dress. He found her still at the foot of the hill. Although she still made every attempt to pursue Scruffy, she was slowed to what was practically a crawl by the thick vegetation.
Soon Scruffy summitted the slope. He looked about himself, desperate for direction where to flee next. Even though the Dead Lady had slowed, she was still chasing him. He had to get away somewhere safe before she made it through the brush.
The fog wasn’t so thick up here, and Scruffy could get a reasonable picture of the surrounding area. Behind him, the path he had decided not to take, countless lights flickered in the city. Hundreds of Bonfires raged in the heart of the city, and Scruffy knew he’d made the right choice. Looking ahead of him, he surveyed the scene.
Fog City’s suburbs on the ocean side of town were situated in very hilly terrain. Scruffy couldn’t get a complete picture of what took place in the valleys, but it certainly looked a lot better than the city. A flame burned here and there, but otherwise the neat little houses that made up the neighbourhood were what they had always been: quiet.
Pressing on, Scruffy started his descent. He would find refuge in the suburbs. If Master was clever, he’d find him there, were it was so much safer than the city. If not, then Scruffy could live the life of a dog in the suburban middle class. He could run free in the back yards, enjoy barbecues, and maybe play frisbee with a Boy.
Scruffy hoped all those things could happen again. The walking Carrion upset him, it was deeply unnatural, but it couldn’t change the world he knew entirely.
Right?
Tuesday, 11 November 2014
Monday, 10 November 2014
Pathogen - Chapter 5
Battered, but not broken, Vernon sped off into the cold, November night. It was full dark now, with only the car’s headlights and the lights of the street to guide the four friends through the fog. Lurking all around them, unseen but for their imaginations, were dead men that hungered for their flesh.
The silence was almost tangibly heavy, but Grace was quick to break it. “I can’t believe you wrecked my car,” she chastised Cliff and Steve.
“We didn’t wreck your car,” Steve was quick to jump to his own defense, “We just sort of damaged it.”
“Uh huh,” Grace wrinkled her nose in disgust, “I should have just left you to the zombies.”
“Woah,” Aaron interrupted, appalled by his friend’s callow attitude, “You can’t just leave your buddies behind like that. That goes against everything.”
Cliff jumped in too, “Yeah, in times of crisis, your friends are like your family. Didn’t you see how Steve ran off to save Scruffy?”
“Scruffy!” Steve called out, suddenly ashamed that he had forgotten him, “Where is that furry bastard?”
Aaron looked intently around the car. “I don’t see him anywhere,” he stated matter of factly.
Steve couldn’t sit still, “Did we leave him behind? Where’d he go? Did they get him?”
“No, I don’t think they got your dog,” Aaron reassured his friend, “I didn’t see any blood or fur or anything when I got in.”
“So he’s out there all alone?” Steve practically shouted, “Pull over, Gray, we’ve got to look for Scruffy!”
“I am doing no such thing,” Grace disagreed, “You totalled my car. I owe you no favours.”
“What? Come on, please, he could be getting eaten alive by zombies right now!”
Grace regarded Steve through her rearview mirror, giving him an intense glare of reproach that was only partially obstructed by the battered roof of her car. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen to you if you go out there half-cocked to save your dog. They’ll be having Steve à la carte with a side of dog tartare.”
“She’s right, bro,” Cliff tried to soothe Steve with a much gentler touch than Grace, “It’s way too dangerous out there, and we don’t even know where he went.”
“I don’t think zombies eat dogs,” Aaron offered his help, “Besides, he can run like, way faster than them.”
Steve sank back into his seat, momentarily placated. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sullenly agreed with his friends.
“So what’s the plan, friends?” Cliff tried to change the subject, “Where are we going?”
“I don’t really know,” Grace admitted, “I’m just kind of driving around.”
“Okay, let’s pull over while we think of something,” Cliff suggested.
In silent agreement, Grace pulled over to the shoulder. Suddenly conscious of how much gas she had in the tank, and not sure if she’d have a chance to fill up any time soon, she switched off the engine.
“Okay,” she instructed, “Plan.”
“Oh man, I’ve got this,” Aaron started the brainstorming session with genuine excitement, “I always had a plan in case something like this happened, ever since I saw the Night of the Living Dead.”
“Didn’t everybody die in that movie?” Steve raised an eyebrow as he questioned his friend.
“Yes,” he admitted, not in the slightest bit discouraged by his friend’s criticism, “Which is why we’re going to do something that they never did in that movie.”
“Did they not sit around talking about movies while a bunch of angry dead dudes wanted to eat them?” Grace asked sardonically, “Because if that’s the case, we’re doing a great job already.”
Aaron ignored the criticism and kept making headway outlining his plan, “In the movie, they never listened to the black guy. Then everyone else got eaten by zombies, or exploded, or both.”
All eyes turned to Cliff expectantly as he realised Aaron didn’t have anything meaningful to contribute. “We need weapons,” he stated bluntly.
“What are you talking about?” Steve asked Cliff, “They’ve got their knives and you’ve got our frying pans.”
Cliff shook his head, “I thought you had our frying pans.”
Taking a step back in his memory, Steve distinctly remembered Cliff and himself throwing their weapons into the back of the pickup truck. They never picked them back up. “Shit,” he declared.
“No kidding,” Cliff couldn’t help agreeing.
“Okay, so we need weapons,” Grace announced as she started forming a mental list, “Then what’s next? A place to hide out?”
Aaron shook his head, “I don’t think so. Not until we find some supplies first.”
“Why can’t we just get them at the hideout?” Grace asked.
“Scavenging is bound to attract them,” Aaron explained, “We’d be moving around a lot, probably making a whole lot of noise too. Plus, the more we look around, the more likely we are to just bump into them.”
“Don’t squat where we eat,” Cliff summarised.
“Yeah, exactly,” Aaron agreed with Cliff’s analogy.
“Food, water, medicine,” Steve chimed in, “Then shelter.”
“Then what?” Cliff asked, “Do we just try to wait it out?”
Steve shrugged, “I don’t know, this is my first time too.”
“Hey, maybe they have something on the radio,” Grace suggested as she turned on the car enough to get the lights working, “Maybe they’ve got instructions from the RCMP or something.”
She flicked on the radio, which was already tuned to Fog City Rock FM, and was greeted by the sounds of mayhem and screaming. She shut the radio back off.
“Well, shit,” she declared.
“No kidding,” Cliff agreed, “The station is across town from here. Whatever’s going on, it’s spreading pretty fast.”
“Maybe we should just get out of Dodge,” Steve suggested.
“I don’t know if we can,” admitted Grace, “I’ve only got somewheres around an eighth of a tank of gas.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aaron interrupted, “In all the movies, the military quarantines the infected zone, then nobody gets out.”
“Oh yeah,” Grace countered with dripping sarcasm, “I forgot they made a movie about this exact thing happening to this exact city.”
Steve felt a warm tickle above his lip. He touched the warm spot and his finger came away bloody. He struggled to remember when he might have hurt himself. Maybe when that first zombie at the DepartMart knocked him over? Wiping the mess off his face with his sleeve, he wondered if he’d had a nosebleed the whole time and never noticed up until now.
“What about Breakwater Point?” Cliff suggested, “It’s still in town, but I think we’d be pretty safe there.”
Breakwater Point was a tiny island which was connected to the mainland of Fog City by a breakwater. Upon the island was only a lighthouse and the keeper’s home, both of which had long been abandoned. The breakwater itself was a messy pile of overturned stone blocks hewn from the mainland. Impassable by car, the path could be traversed by foot only if one was mindful of its treacherous crags. After passing across the breakwater, the traveller would be faced with a sheer cliff. Fortunately, teenagers who sometimes liked to party on the island had left behind a rope ladder to scale the island. Or, if one was afraid of heights and possessed a boat, they might circle the island to the ocean side, where the slope was considerably more gradual.
“Okay,” Steve nodded, “That sounds like a pretty good spot.”
Grace and Aaron both nodded their agreement. Grace reached up to turn her key in the ignition. Mercifully, Vernon started up on the first attempt.
“Breakwater Point, here we come,” Grace announced.
“Wait, I thought we were scavenging first,” Aaron interrupted.
Grace shrugged, “We can do that on the way. At the very least, we should get moving in that direction.”
“I don’t think we’re sticking to the plan here,” Aaron insisted.
“Step one,” Grace began, contrary to Aaron’s protestations, “Weapons. Step two: food, water, and medicine. Step three: shelter. We only know where one of those things is, and that’s Breakwater Point. So unless anybody has a better idea, we’re going to cruise in that general direction until we find something useful.”
Nobody argued with Grace. After all, it was her car and she could do as she pleased with it. However, as they pulled back into the road and were on their way, Steve was feeling morose. As much as it pained him, he hadn’t made any attempt to get Scruffy back. Even if his dog did survive this perilous situation, there was no way he could possibly hope to see him again if they hid out at Breakwater Point.
Shaking his head, Steve banished the thought. They found themselves faced with a survival situation, and sometimes that meant making painful decisions. He knew that he’d go back for Scruffy if he could, but he also understood that it could mean his own life to do so. As much as he loved the dog, he wasn’t sure that he’d do the same for his master.
The silence was almost tangibly heavy, but Grace was quick to break it. “I can’t believe you wrecked my car,” she chastised Cliff and Steve.
“We didn’t wreck your car,” Steve was quick to jump to his own defense, “We just sort of damaged it.”
“Uh huh,” Grace wrinkled her nose in disgust, “I should have just left you to the zombies.”
“Woah,” Aaron interrupted, appalled by his friend’s callow attitude, “You can’t just leave your buddies behind like that. That goes against everything.”
Cliff jumped in too, “Yeah, in times of crisis, your friends are like your family. Didn’t you see how Steve ran off to save Scruffy?”
“Scruffy!” Steve called out, suddenly ashamed that he had forgotten him, “Where is that furry bastard?”
Aaron looked intently around the car. “I don’t see him anywhere,” he stated matter of factly.
Steve couldn’t sit still, “Did we leave him behind? Where’d he go? Did they get him?”
“No, I don’t think they got your dog,” Aaron reassured his friend, “I didn’t see any blood or fur or anything when I got in.”
“So he’s out there all alone?” Steve practically shouted, “Pull over, Gray, we’ve got to look for Scruffy!”
“I am doing no such thing,” Grace disagreed, “You totalled my car. I owe you no favours.”
“What? Come on, please, he could be getting eaten alive by zombies right now!”
Grace regarded Steve through her rearview mirror, giving him an intense glare of reproach that was only partially obstructed by the battered roof of her car. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen to you if you go out there half-cocked to save your dog. They’ll be having Steve à la carte with a side of dog tartare.”
“She’s right, bro,” Cliff tried to soothe Steve with a much gentler touch than Grace, “It’s way too dangerous out there, and we don’t even know where he went.”
“I don’t think zombies eat dogs,” Aaron offered his help, “Besides, he can run like, way faster than them.”
Steve sank back into his seat, momentarily placated. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sullenly agreed with his friends.
“So what’s the plan, friends?” Cliff tried to change the subject, “Where are we going?”
“I don’t really know,” Grace admitted, “I’m just kind of driving around.”
“Okay, let’s pull over while we think of something,” Cliff suggested.
In silent agreement, Grace pulled over to the shoulder. Suddenly conscious of how much gas she had in the tank, and not sure if she’d have a chance to fill up any time soon, she switched off the engine.
“Okay,” she instructed, “Plan.”
“Oh man, I’ve got this,” Aaron started the brainstorming session with genuine excitement, “I always had a plan in case something like this happened, ever since I saw the Night of the Living Dead.”
“Didn’t everybody die in that movie?” Steve raised an eyebrow as he questioned his friend.
“Yes,” he admitted, not in the slightest bit discouraged by his friend’s criticism, “Which is why we’re going to do something that they never did in that movie.”
“Did they not sit around talking about movies while a bunch of angry dead dudes wanted to eat them?” Grace asked sardonically, “Because if that’s the case, we’re doing a great job already.”
Aaron ignored the criticism and kept making headway outlining his plan, “In the movie, they never listened to the black guy. Then everyone else got eaten by zombies, or exploded, or both.”
All eyes turned to Cliff expectantly as he realised Aaron didn’t have anything meaningful to contribute. “We need weapons,” he stated bluntly.
“What are you talking about?” Steve asked Cliff, “They’ve got their knives and you’ve got our frying pans.”
Cliff shook his head, “I thought you had our frying pans.”
Taking a step back in his memory, Steve distinctly remembered Cliff and himself throwing their weapons into the back of the pickup truck. They never picked them back up. “Shit,” he declared.
“No kidding,” Cliff couldn’t help agreeing.
“Okay, so we need weapons,” Grace announced as she started forming a mental list, “Then what’s next? A place to hide out?”
Aaron shook his head, “I don’t think so. Not until we find some supplies first.”
“Why can’t we just get them at the hideout?” Grace asked.
“Scavenging is bound to attract them,” Aaron explained, “We’d be moving around a lot, probably making a whole lot of noise too. Plus, the more we look around, the more likely we are to just bump into them.”
“Don’t squat where we eat,” Cliff summarised.
“Yeah, exactly,” Aaron agreed with Cliff’s analogy.
“Food, water, medicine,” Steve chimed in, “Then shelter.”
“Then what?” Cliff asked, “Do we just try to wait it out?”
Steve shrugged, “I don’t know, this is my first time too.”
“Hey, maybe they have something on the radio,” Grace suggested as she turned on the car enough to get the lights working, “Maybe they’ve got instructions from the RCMP or something.”
She flicked on the radio, which was already tuned to Fog City Rock FM, and was greeted by the sounds of mayhem and screaming. She shut the radio back off.
“Well, shit,” she declared.
“No kidding,” Cliff agreed, “The station is across town from here. Whatever’s going on, it’s spreading pretty fast.”
“Maybe we should just get out of Dodge,” Steve suggested.
“I don’t know if we can,” admitted Grace, “I’ve only got somewheres around an eighth of a tank of gas.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aaron interrupted, “In all the movies, the military quarantines the infected zone, then nobody gets out.”
“Oh yeah,” Grace countered with dripping sarcasm, “I forgot they made a movie about this exact thing happening to this exact city.”
Steve felt a warm tickle above his lip. He touched the warm spot and his finger came away bloody. He struggled to remember when he might have hurt himself. Maybe when that first zombie at the DepartMart knocked him over? Wiping the mess off his face with his sleeve, he wondered if he’d had a nosebleed the whole time and never noticed up until now.
“What about Breakwater Point?” Cliff suggested, “It’s still in town, but I think we’d be pretty safe there.”
Breakwater Point was a tiny island which was connected to the mainland of Fog City by a breakwater. Upon the island was only a lighthouse and the keeper’s home, both of which had long been abandoned. The breakwater itself was a messy pile of overturned stone blocks hewn from the mainland. Impassable by car, the path could be traversed by foot only if one was mindful of its treacherous crags. After passing across the breakwater, the traveller would be faced with a sheer cliff. Fortunately, teenagers who sometimes liked to party on the island had left behind a rope ladder to scale the island. Or, if one was afraid of heights and possessed a boat, they might circle the island to the ocean side, where the slope was considerably more gradual.
“Okay,” Steve nodded, “That sounds like a pretty good spot.”
Grace and Aaron both nodded their agreement. Grace reached up to turn her key in the ignition. Mercifully, Vernon started up on the first attempt.
“Breakwater Point, here we come,” Grace announced.
“Wait, I thought we were scavenging first,” Aaron interrupted.
Grace shrugged, “We can do that on the way. At the very least, we should get moving in that direction.”
“I don’t think we’re sticking to the plan here,” Aaron insisted.
“Step one,” Grace began, contrary to Aaron’s protestations, “Weapons. Step two: food, water, and medicine. Step three: shelter. We only know where one of those things is, and that’s Breakwater Point. So unless anybody has a better idea, we’re going to cruise in that general direction until we find something useful.”
Nobody argued with Grace. After all, it was her car and she could do as she pleased with it. However, as they pulled back into the road and were on their way, Steve was feeling morose. As much as it pained him, he hadn’t made any attempt to get Scruffy back. Even if his dog did survive this perilous situation, there was no way he could possibly hope to see him again if they hid out at Breakwater Point.
Shaking his head, Steve banished the thought. They found themselves faced with a survival situation, and sometimes that meant making painful decisions. He knew that he’d go back for Scruffy if he could, but he also understood that it could mean his own life to do so. As much as he loved the dog, he wasn’t sure that he’d do the same for his master.
Sunday, 9 November 2014
Pathogen - Chapter 4
The four friends sprinted out of the DepartMart and into the cold November night. Together they came to a stop at the end of the sidewalk, straining themselves to pierce the impenetrable fog. They couldn’t see their car from where they were. In fact, they couldn’t see much of anything in those conditions.
Aaron was the first to break the silence, “Are there any zombies out there?” he questioned.
“Hey now,” Steve chided, “We don’t know those people were zombies.”
Aaron, Cliff and Grace turned to look at Steve in unison.
“Okay, they’re zombies,” Steve admitted, “But I have no idea how far this thing has spread. I mean, we didn’t see any on the way here, right?”
“Yeah,” Cliff agreed, “You’re totally right.”
Grace breathed a sigh of relief, “Maybe that kid in there was like the first zombie, and since we killed him he won’t be able to infect anybody. We’re like heroes or something.”
“I don’t know,” Aaron shook his head, “If there aren’t any more zombies, Cliff might be facing charges for triple murder.”
“What!?” Cliff shouted in surprise as the normally calm giant rounded on his friend, “I didn’t kill people! They were zombies!”
“Yeah, but nobody’s going to believe that,” Aaron insisted, “They’re just going to think you’re some kind of crazy unless there’s a full blown outbreak of-”
A scream pierced the still air. The cry was soon taken up by a number of voices while an eerie, low moaning reached the friends’ ears.
“Thank god,” Cliff exclaimed. It was his turn now to face the ridiculing stare of his friends. “I would not have done well in prison,” he explained.
“Oh man,” Grace whined, rightly fearful of the shambling dead they couldn’t yet see, “Why’d we have to park at the back?”
“You didn’t want to scratch Vernon,” Aaron joked, “Suddenly that doesn’t seem so important now, huh?”
“Oh shit,” Steve suddenly realised, “Scruffy’s out there!”
Without another word, the boy ran into the fog and quickly disappeared in a few long strides. Knowing his friend was putting himself into the jaws of danger, Cliff took off after him. Grace exchanged one last look with Aaron before she too ran into the fog.
“Come on,” Aaron shouted, “It’s just a dog people! We should be running away from the zombies!”
Suddenly aware that he was all alone in the dark, Aaron became uneasy. The screams had died down as swiftly as they’d been sounded, yet still the wailing dead could be heard from where he was. He squeezed his hand around the handle of his knife until his knuckles went white before grudgingly setting off into the fog.
Steve had made it about halfway across the parking lot before he met with the first zombie. The man shambled from out of view around a corral for shopping carts. It was difficult to make out any details in the murky night, but the way he lurched and staggered was a telltale sign of zombification. Without breaking stride, Steve hefted the cast iron frying pan he’d found. Swinging it in full around his body, like he was preparing for the hammer throw, Steve brought his weapon into the dead man’s face. With a sickening crunch, his skull caved in and the zombie fell lifeless once more.
“Motherfucker,” Steve screamed at the once shambling dead guy, “Stay away from my dog!”
“Easy man,” Cliff called from a few paces behind, “Do you want every zombie in town to know we’re here?”
“I don’t care,” Steve shook his head as he started into the fog once more, “I have to save Scruffy!”
Less than a minute later, Steve was at the end of the parking lot. Yet he faced one more obstacle: he couldn’t find Grace’s car. He remembered they parked in the back, but now he thought he must have been in the wrong aisle. However, he couldn’t for the life of him remember which way the car should be.
“Grace!” he shouted into the fog, “Where’s Vernon?”
Straining his ears, he thought he could hear Grace hollering back a short distance away from his left, “Over here!”
Grace shook her head in contempt as she saw the situation Vernon was in. They had only been in the store for a few minutes before things went sideways on them, yet somehow some other shopper had managed to park just slightly in her space on her driver’s side. She squeezed between the cars to unlock her door, then with a grin of delight slammed the door open into the car beside her.
Aaron was just catching up to Grace when he saw a zombie lurch out from the cars beside them. “Grace,” he shouted a warning, “Zombie!”
Grace looked up to see a different zombie just a few paces in front of her. Cursing, she wormed her way into her car and closed the door shut behind her. Aaron was right behind her, trying to get his door open, but it was locked still. Frantically, he pounded on the window. He could see her twisting to reach the lock, but not fast enough. The snarling zombies had made an Aaron sandwich as they cut off his escape from either side of the car. Without a second to lose, Aaron dropped to the ground and tried to crawl under the car.
Cliff caught sight of Steve running between some cars, towards where Grace had shouted from. He also caught sight of a veritable horde of zombies staggering towards them from the other direction. He could only make out their outlines in the mist, but he knew it was more than they wanted to trouble themselves with. Sprinting, he caught up with Steve, yanking him back by his collar.
“What the fuck, man?” Steve snarled at his best friend.
Without a word, Cliff pointed at the zombies coming behind them.
“Okay, that looks pretty bad,” Steve admitted, the sight of the people that would rip him limb from limb sobering his temper a bit, “But it’s not going to be a problem, Grace is just over there, we’ll drive out of here in style.”
As if on cue, Vernon’s engine started but would not turn over. Again and again they heard Grace try, but she didn’t seem to be having much luck.
“Okay, Steve admitted once more, “This looks pretty bad.”
“You stupid, piece of shit car,” Grace roared as she slammed her fists into the steering wheel, “Do you have any idea how much fucking trouble we’re in? Fuck you!”
Meanwhile, Aaron was just emerging from beneath Vernon. It was a tight squeeze, and he was covered in dirt and grease, but he had made it safely to the other side. One of the zombies was practically slobbering on the windshield near Grace. He turned to find the other zombie beside him, outstretched arms inches away. Fortunately for Aaron, Steve had left the window here open for Scruffy. He dove headfirst through the ajar window before becoming stuck. In a panic, he struggled and kicked, trying to wiggle through the window.
Seeing the ridiculous display in her rear view mirror, Grace reached across the seats to unroll the window. It inched down ever so slightly and Aaron tumbled inside. Before she could roll the window back up, the zombie had already stuck his arms and face inside. Trapped, the dead man could only flail wildly as he tried to reach them.
Cliff and Steve were close enough now that they could see Vernon, and the pair of zombies in and around the vehicle. They thought they could make out some more movement in the distance too.
“Shit,” Steve summarised their situation.
“We need a distraction, or else they’re never going to make it out of there.”
Whirling around, Steve was looking for something, anything they could use to help their friends. He thought he was coming up empty until he saw a pickup truck parked nearby. It had an obnoxious, probably illegal lift kit installed and towered over the other vehicles. Red flame decals were plastered all over the blue paint job, making the whole thing look like a giant toy. A blue light flashed behind the windshield, signalling that the alarm was on.
“Up there,” Steve pointed at the truck, already running towards it, “We jump in the bed and they won’t be able to reach us.”
“Okay,” Cliff agreed, “But what about the zombies that are going to eat our friends?”
Without a word of explanation, Steve swung the frying pan into the driver’s window. The glass shattered inward and the alarm started blaring. The zombie trying to chew his way through Vernon’s windshield looked up at the disturbance before lurching towards the truck. Cliff and Steve tossed their weapons into the bed before climbing up themselves.
“Holy fuck, that was close,” Aaron exclaimed in relief, referring to the zombie that was almost the end of him but was now stuck in the window.
“Yeah, but what do we do with it now?” Grace asked.
Aaron brandished his knife at the zombie, “I guess we should just kill him.”
“Oh, hell no,” Grace disagreed, “You are absolutely not getting brain juice all over my upholstery.”
“Really?” Aaron couldn’t help asking, “What, are you worried about the resale value or something?”
“Listen punk,” Grace turned in her seat to face Aaron, “I don’t know if that shit’s contagious or what. But I do know that if you stab that motherfucker in the face, you’re going to be the one who has to sit in it until we figure out what’s going on here. Capisce?”
Aaron gulped, “Okay, we’ll think of something. Maybe we can push him out?”
Grace shook her head, “We aren’t thinking of anything until I get this car running.”
Meanwhile, Steve and Cliff were sitting safely in the bed of the pickup truck. The horde of zombies had staggered over and were trying to reach inside. However, try as they might, they could only barely reach over the high walls surrounding the boys.
“Okay,” Cliff had to admit, “That was a pretty good plan.”
“Right? It’s like a regular old hillbilly fortress in here,” Steve congratulated himself.
“So what do we do when Grace shows up? How do we get out of here?”
“Uh…” Steve faltered, “I have no idea.”
Meanwhile, back in the car Grace was giving Vernon her version of a pep talk. “Listen up,” she addressed the car, “Up until today, you’ve been a pretty good car. But now, you’re not running when I need you, and I don’t need a car that doesn’t run when I need it. You’re an old model, and there are lots of younger, prettier cars that can take your place. So if you don’t start now, you miserable bucket of bolts, I’m going to sell you for scrap and get myself a new car!”
Once more Grace tried the ignition. For a long, uncomfortable moment, Vernon threatened to be insubordinate once more. However, much to the relief of Grace and Aaron, the engine sputtered, then coughed, then finally rolled over.
“Fuck yeah!” Grace exclaimed, before looking up to see a mob of zombies surrounding a pickup. “Fuck no,” she despaired, knowing her friends must be trapped inside.
“What?” Aaron asked.
Without bothering to answer, Grace threw her car into gear. Vernon’s engine roared and they took off like a shot. Aaron wasn’t expecting to be moving so suddenly and tumbled over. Grace took a sharp turn and, sending Aaron sliding over to the zombie. The snarling dead man gnashed his teeth as he struggled to reach the boy. Grace passed near a cart corral on her right without taking into account the zombie hanging out her window. Its legs got caught between the corral and the car, which was already moving at a tremendous speed. The zombie was sucked through the window, leaving a bloody smear as it passed.
Steve craned his head as he heard Vernon driving away. “She isn’t leaving us behind is she?”
“No way, man,” Cliff shook his head, “She’s probably just coming around.”
Risking his neck, Steve stood up. Sure enough, Grace was turning around to meet them from the front of the truck. He also realised there were far more zombies than he thought. A quick count revealed there were about twenty cannibalistic monsters around. Together they tried to grab him, but were still a few inches short.
“You know what sucks?” he asked.
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” Cliff answered.
“If we tried to fight our way out of here, we’d die horribly. But if this was a video game, it’d be like, a hundred points, or something stupid like that.”
Grace pulled up near the truck and rolled down the window a crack. “Need a ride?” she hollered up to Steve.
“Okay, let’s go,” Steve said as he helped his friend to his feet.
“Go where?” Cliff asked, “There’s still a whole pile of zombies here.”
Steve was climbing onto the roof of the cab. “We’re going to have to jump for it.”
“What? Oh hell no, that’s a bad idea,” Cliff argued, but admitted to himself there wasn’t a better plan.
Grace watched as the two climbed onto the roof and made ready to jump to her car. “Oh fuck,” she shouted, “There is no way you two assclowns are jumping onto my car from there.”
“Let’s go on the count of three,” Steve suggested.
“Like, jump on three, or ‘one, two, three,’ wait a second, and then jump?” Cliff asked.
“Shut up, Murtaugh.”
“Oh what, because I’m black I have to be Danny Glover? You think you’re Mel Gibson or something?”
“What? No, of course not,” Steve started to backpedal, “Look, let’s jump right on three.”
“Okay,” Cliff said as he tried not to think about all the zombies below, “One.”
Steve crouched low, ready to jump. “Two,” he counted.
“You two fuckers better not fucking jump on my car!” Grace shouted at the two of them.
“Three!” Cliff and Steve shouted together as they leapt.
The pair of boys soared majestically through the air while Grace screamed obscenities at them. They landed on the roof one after another, which buckled and crumpled under their weight. Cliff and Steve’s momentum carried them somersaulting off the roof of the car and onto the ground below. They fell gracelessly, but leapt to their feet in a hurry. Cliff jumped in the front while Steve hopped in the back with Aaron. The four of them drove off, leaving the zombies lurching behind.
Aaron was the first to break the silence, “Are there any zombies out there?” he questioned.
“Hey now,” Steve chided, “We don’t know those people were zombies.”
Aaron, Cliff and Grace turned to look at Steve in unison.
“Okay, they’re zombies,” Steve admitted, “But I have no idea how far this thing has spread. I mean, we didn’t see any on the way here, right?”
“Yeah,” Cliff agreed, “You’re totally right.”
Grace breathed a sigh of relief, “Maybe that kid in there was like the first zombie, and since we killed him he won’t be able to infect anybody. We’re like heroes or something.”
“I don’t know,” Aaron shook his head, “If there aren’t any more zombies, Cliff might be facing charges for triple murder.”
“What!?” Cliff shouted in surprise as the normally calm giant rounded on his friend, “I didn’t kill people! They were zombies!”
“Yeah, but nobody’s going to believe that,” Aaron insisted, “They’re just going to think you’re some kind of crazy unless there’s a full blown outbreak of-”
A scream pierced the still air. The cry was soon taken up by a number of voices while an eerie, low moaning reached the friends’ ears.
“Thank god,” Cliff exclaimed. It was his turn now to face the ridiculing stare of his friends. “I would not have done well in prison,” he explained.
“Oh man,” Grace whined, rightly fearful of the shambling dead they couldn’t yet see, “Why’d we have to park at the back?”
“You didn’t want to scratch Vernon,” Aaron joked, “Suddenly that doesn’t seem so important now, huh?”
“Oh shit,” Steve suddenly realised, “Scruffy’s out there!”
Without another word, the boy ran into the fog and quickly disappeared in a few long strides. Knowing his friend was putting himself into the jaws of danger, Cliff took off after him. Grace exchanged one last look with Aaron before she too ran into the fog.
“Come on,” Aaron shouted, “It’s just a dog people! We should be running away from the zombies!”
Suddenly aware that he was all alone in the dark, Aaron became uneasy. The screams had died down as swiftly as they’d been sounded, yet still the wailing dead could be heard from where he was. He squeezed his hand around the handle of his knife until his knuckles went white before grudgingly setting off into the fog.
Steve had made it about halfway across the parking lot before he met with the first zombie. The man shambled from out of view around a corral for shopping carts. It was difficult to make out any details in the murky night, but the way he lurched and staggered was a telltale sign of zombification. Without breaking stride, Steve hefted the cast iron frying pan he’d found. Swinging it in full around his body, like he was preparing for the hammer throw, Steve brought his weapon into the dead man’s face. With a sickening crunch, his skull caved in and the zombie fell lifeless once more.
“Motherfucker,” Steve screamed at the once shambling dead guy, “Stay away from my dog!”
“Easy man,” Cliff called from a few paces behind, “Do you want every zombie in town to know we’re here?”
“I don’t care,” Steve shook his head as he started into the fog once more, “I have to save Scruffy!”
Less than a minute later, Steve was at the end of the parking lot. Yet he faced one more obstacle: he couldn’t find Grace’s car. He remembered they parked in the back, but now he thought he must have been in the wrong aisle. However, he couldn’t for the life of him remember which way the car should be.
“Grace!” he shouted into the fog, “Where’s Vernon?”
Straining his ears, he thought he could hear Grace hollering back a short distance away from his left, “Over here!”
Grace shook her head in contempt as she saw the situation Vernon was in. They had only been in the store for a few minutes before things went sideways on them, yet somehow some other shopper had managed to park just slightly in her space on her driver’s side. She squeezed between the cars to unlock her door, then with a grin of delight slammed the door open into the car beside her.
Aaron was just catching up to Grace when he saw a zombie lurch out from the cars beside them. “Grace,” he shouted a warning, “Zombie!”
Grace looked up to see a different zombie just a few paces in front of her. Cursing, she wormed her way into her car and closed the door shut behind her. Aaron was right behind her, trying to get his door open, but it was locked still. Frantically, he pounded on the window. He could see her twisting to reach the lock, but not fast enough. The snarling zombies had made an Aaron sandwich as they cut off his escape from either side of the car. Without a second to lose, Aaron dropped to the ground and tried to crawl under the car.
Cliff caught sight of Steve running between some cars, towards where Grace had shouted from. He also caught sight of a veritable horde of zombies staggering towards them from the other direction. He could only make out their outlines in the mist, but he knew it was more than they wanted to trouble themselves with. Sprinting, he caught up with Steve, yanking him back by his collar.
“What the fuck, man?” Steve snarled at his best friend.
Without a word, Cliff pointed at the zombies coming behind them.
“Okay, that looks pretty bad,” Steve admitted, the sight of the people that would rip him limb from limb sobering his temper a bit, “But it’s not going to be a problem, Grace is just over there, we’ll drive out of here in style.”
As if on cue, Vernon’s engine started but would not turn over. Again and again they heard Grace try, but she didn’t seem to be having much luck.
“Okay, Steve admitted once more, “This looks pretty bad.”
“You stupid, piece of shit car,” Grace roared as she slammed her fists into the steering wheel, “Do you have any idea how much fucking trouble we’re in? Fuck you!”
Meanwhile, Aaron was just emerging from beneath Vernon. It was a tight squeeze, and he was covered in dirt and grease, but he had made it safely to the other side. One of the zombies was practically slobbering on the windshield near Grace. He turned to find the other zombie beside him, outstretched arms inches away. Fortunately for Aaron, Steve had left the window here open for Scruffy. He dove headfirst through the ajar window before becoming stuck. In a panic, he struggled and kicked, trying to wiggle through the window.
Seeing the ridiculous display in her rear view mirror, Grace reached across the seats to unroll the window. It inched down ever so slightly and Aaron tumbled inside. Before she could roll the window back up, the zombie had already stuck his arms and face inside. Trapped, the dead man could only flail wildly as he tried to reach them.
Cliff and Steve were close enough now that they could see Vernon, and the pair of zombies in and around the vehicle. They thought they could make out some more movement in the distance too.
“Shit,” Steve summarised their situation.
“We need a distraction, or else they’re never going to make it out of there.”
Whirling around, Steve was looking for something, anything they could use to help their friends. He thought he was coming up empty until he saw a pickup truck parked nearby. It had an obnoxious, probably illegal lift kit installed and towered over the other vehicles. Red flame decals were plastered all over the blue paint job, making the whole thing look like a giant toy. A blue light flashed behind the windshield, signalling that the alarm was on.
“Up there,” Steve pointed at the truck, already running towards it, “We jump in the bed and they won’t be able to reach us.”
“Okay,” Cliff agreed, “But what about the zombies that are going to eat our friends?”
Without a word of explanation, Steve swung the frying pan into the driver’s window. The glass shattered inward and the alarm started blaring. The zombie trying to chew his way through Vernon’s windshield looked up at the disturbance before lurching towards the truck. Cliff and Steve tossed their weapons into the bed before climbing up themselves.
“Holy fuck, that was close,” Aaron exclaimed in relief, referring to the zombie that was almost the end of him but was now stuck in the window.
“Yeah, but what do we do with it now?” Grace asked.
Aaron brandished his knife at the zombie, “I guess we should just kill him.”
“Oh, hell no,” Grace disagreed, “You are absolutely not getting brain juice all over my upholstery.”
“Really?” Aaron couldn’t help asking, “What, are you worried about the resale value or something?”
“Listen punk,” Grace turned in her seat to face Aaron, “I don’t know if that shit’s contagious or what. But I do know that if you stab that motherfucker in the face, you’re going to be the one who has to sit in it until we figure out what’s going on here. Capisce?”
Aaron gulped, “Okay, we’ll think of something. Maybe we can push him out?”
Grace shook her head, “We aren’t thinking of anything until I get this car running.”
Meanwhile, Steve and Cliff were sitting safely in the bed of the pickup truck. The horde of zombies had staggered over and were trying to reach inside. However, try as they might, they could only barely reach over the high walls surrounding the boys.
“Okay,” Cliff had to admit, “That was a pretty good plan.”
“Right? It’s like a regular old hillbilly fortress in here,” Steve congratulated himself.
“So what do we do when Grace shows up? How do we get out of here?”
“Uh…” Steve faltered, “I have no idea.”
Meanwhile, back in the car Grace was giving Vernon her version of a pep talk. “Listen up,” she addressed the car, “Up until today, you’ve been a pretty good car. But now, you’re not running when I need you, and I don’t need a car that doesn’t run when I need it. You’re an old model, and there are lots of younger, prettier cars that can take your place. So if you don’t start now, you miserable bucket of bolts, I’m going to sell you for scrap and get myself a new car!”
Once more Grace tried the ignition. For a long, uncomfortable moment, Vernon threatened to be insubordinate once more. However, much to the relief of Grace and Aaron, the engine sputtered, then coughed, then finally rolled over.
“Fuck yeah!” Grace exclaimed, before looking up to see a mob of zombies surrounding a pickup. “Fuck no,” she despaired, knowing her friends must be trapped inside.
“What?” Aaron asked.
Without bothering to answer, Grace threw her car into gear. Vernon’s engine roared and they took off like a shot. Aaron wasn’t expecting to be moving so suddenly and tumbled over. Grace took a sharp turn and, sending Aaron sliding over to the zombie. The snarling dead man gnashed his teeth as he struggled to reach the boy. Grace passed near a cart corral on her right without taking into account the zombie hanging out her window. Its legs got caught between the corral and the car, which was already moving at a tremendous speed. The zombie was sucked through the window, leaving a bloody smear as it passed.
Steve craned his head as he heard Vernon driving away. “She isn’t leaving us behind is she?”
“No way, man,” Cliff shook his head, “She’s probably just coming around.”
Risking his neck, Steve stood up. Sure enough, Grace was turning around to meet them from the front of the truck. He also realised there were far more zombies than he thought. A quick count revealed there were about twenty cannibalistic monsters around. Together they tried to grab him, but were still a few inches short.
“You know what sucks?” he asked.
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” Cliff answered.
“If we tried to fight our way out of here, we’d die horribly. But if this was a video game, it’d be like, a hundred points, or something stupid like that.”
Grace pulled up near the truck and rolled down the window a crack. “Need a ride?” she hollered up to Steve.
“Okay, let’s go,” Steve said as he helped his friend to his feet.
“Go where?” Cliff asked, “There’s still a whole pile of zombies here.”
Steve was climbing onto the roof of the cab. “We’re going to have to jump for it.”
“What? Oh hell no, that’s a bad idea,” Cliff argued, but admitted to himself there wasn’t a better plan.
Grace watched as the two climbed onto the roof and made ready to jump to her car. “Oh fuck,” she shouted, “There is no way you two assclowns are jumping onto my car from there.”
“Let’s go on the count of three,” Steve suggested.
“Like, jump on three, or ‘one, two, three,’ wait a second, and then jump?” Cliff asked.
“Shut up, Murtaugh.”
“Oh what, because I’m black I have to be Danny Glover? You think you’re Mel Gibson or something?”
“What? No, of course not,” Steve started to backpedal, “Look, let’s jump right on three.”
“Okay,” Cliff said as he tried not to think about all the zombies below, “One.”
Steve crouched low, ready to jump. “Two,” he counted.
“You two fuckers better not fucking jump on my car!” Grace shouted at the two of them.
“Three!” Cliff and Steve shouted together as they leapt.
The pair of boys soared majestically through the air while Grace screamed obscenities at them. They landed on the roof one after another, which buckled and crumpled under their weight. Cliff and Steve’s momentum carried them somersaulting off the roof of the car and onto the ground below. They fell gracelessly, but leapt to their feet in a hurry. Cliff jumped in the front while Steve hopped in the back with Aaron. The four of them drove off, leaving the zombies lurching behind.
Saturday, 8 November 2014
Pathogen - Chapter 3
Cries of fear and alarm erupted from the crowd of onlookers that had just witnessed a boy biting his mother. Much of the crowd tried to flee all at once, but were basically tripping over each other. Aaron, Cliff, Grace, and Steve stood a moment longer, watching in dumb silence.
A member of the staff ran through the ring of people to intervene. He seized the boy bodily and pulled him off the woman. In the commotion the hood was pulled from the boy’s head, revealing his face. It was definitely the lady’s son, but he was a lot more messed up than when the gang last saw him. His face was now covered in his mother’s blood, and his vacant expression had changed to a bestial snarl. An inflamed vein prominently stood out on his face.
With a cry of pain, the employee dropped the boy. “Motherfucker!” he shouted to nobody in particular as he clutched his arm and stumbled away, “He just bit me!”
“Well, I’m going to go ahead and call the police,” Steve announced as he juggled the chips awkwardly so that the could retrieve his phone from his pocket.
“Is he on drugs or something?” Grace wondered aloud.
“He must be, or else the kid’s a zombie,” Aaron confirmed Grace’s suspicion as the boy crawled over to his mom and started eating her face, “This is like something out of a bad movie.”
“This is just messed up. I don’t think we should just be sitting here watching this,” Cliff weighed in.
Finally Steve managed to successfully dig the phone out from his pocket. Holding a couple of bags of chips in his other hand, he dialed 911. Raising the phone to his ear, he heard an odd tone followed by a voice announcing that the circuits were busy.
“Guys,” he addressed his friends, “Something weird is happening here.”
“No shit,” replied Grace, her gaze transfixed by the boy turned cannibal.
“Can any of you put a call out? Some recording just told me the circuits were busy, like it’s the 50’s or something.”
Together the gang tried their phones, but met with the same obstacle. Nobody could place a phone call, and it wasn’t just to the police either. They were cut off from their phones.
“Well shit,” Aaron declared while he watched the boy to be sure he didn’t get up, “What are we going to do now?”
Grace had an idea, “Maybe they have a silent alarm here. It could be on a different circuit than the phones.”
“Good idea,” Steve praised Grace as he approached the injured employee, “Hey man, is there a silent alarm button at the register? We can’t seem to call the police.”
The employee was leaning heavily against the checkout counter. He looked up at Steve with an expression mixed with pain and anger. Decidedly unhelpful, the man just snarled at him.
“I know you’re hurt right now, but the sooner we get the police here, the quicker we can have them radio for an ambulance,” Steve explained as he eyed the man’s bloody wound, “I know first aid, if you get me the kit I can look at your arm for you.”
Steve reached out to the man, but his advance was met with another snarl. Steve took a step back, but a second later the employee lunged at him. Steve shouted as they locked into a grapple. He was swept off his feet by his attacker’s momentum and fell beneath him. The man started gnashing his teeth inches away from Steve’s face.
“Holy fuck!” Aaron shouted, “It really is a zombie! I’ve seen this movie before!”
“Fuck!” Grace threw in some cursing of her own, “What do we do?”
“Shoot him in the head,” Aaron answered, “That’s what you do with zombies. Everybody knows that.”
“We don’t have any guns, dumbass!” Grace thundered back at Aaron.
Cliff dashed over to a stand of display shelves near the checkout where Steve was being accosted. Seizing a shelf with both hands, he popped the shelf out of the bracket. He hefted the unwieldy instrument with both hands, upsetting dozens of bags of candies and chocolate bars. Swinging the shelf with a fearsome shout, Cliff brought the shelf down on the man’s head. With a wet crunch his skull caved in and the man slumped over Steve.
The dead weight of the man was making it difficult for Steve to breathe. He struggled to roll out from under him, but Cliff stepped in to help. He rolled the body off of his friend and helped Steve to his feet.
“Thanks,” Steve gasped.
“No problem,” Cliff answered, then gestured to the boy with his head, “What do we do about him?”
Steve rubbed his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. “Maybe we could just leave him alone,” he suggested, “He’s not hurting anybody anymore. We can get out of here and let the police handle it.”
“I like running away,” Aaron interrupted, “It’s a pretty good plan. Nice and safe.”
“Holy shit!” Grace shouted as she pointed, “He’s getting up!”
The boy clambered to his feet, blood dripping from his face. He slowly and unsteadily lurched towards the group of friends. A quick look around told them that they everyone else had the good sense to flee for their lives.
“Running is still on the table here,” Aaron announced as he took a step back.
Cliff wasted no time, however, and hefted the shelf once more. He swung the flat edge of the shelf at the boy, sending him sprawling to the ground. Before he could recover, Cliff followed up with a blow to the face. The boy spasmed once, then never moved again.
“This is so fucked up,” Grace declared.
“You’re telling me,” Aaron agreed with her, “Let’s hurry up and get out of here.”
“Hold on,” Steve argued, “What about her?” He was pointing at the boy’s mother.
“What about her?” Grace wondered after Steve’s meaning, “She was a bitch, but now she’s dead. We should just leave her and go.”
Steve shook his head, “What if these guys really are zombies? Couldn’t she get up and hurt somebody?”
Everyone looked at Aaron, who they all knew had seen just about every zombie movie that American cinema had to offer. “Well,” he began, “It’s hard to say. In some of the movies they’re dead people that just walk around eating people, but in others they’re still alive, so they can’t be reanimated after they’re already dead.”
Cliff looked at the unmoving woman, “She looks pretty dead to me.”
“Is she going to stay that way?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know,” Aaron admitted, “I’m just getting this from movies.”
“Is there a way we can keep her from reanimating?” Steve asked.
Aaron shrugged, “Destroying the brain kills them. If you bash her face in, she definitely won’t be able to get up again.”
“Right,” Steve nodded at Aaron before turning to Cliff, “You’ve got to hit her in the head.”
“What? Why do I have to do it? Mutilating a dead girl has got to be a felony,” Cliff argued.
“They call it ‘committing an indignity to a body,’” Steve admitted, “But you’re already up for a double homicide. You’d be a sucker to quit now.”
Cliff shook his head, but took up the shelf anyway. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said between deep breaths.
As Cliff stood over the lady, her eyes flickered open. She lurched upright with a snarl. Cliff stopped hesitating and struck her in the back of the head. The lady was swiftly dispatched, and slumped forward into an awkward sitting position. Tossing the shelf to the ground with a resounding clatter in the otherwise still store, Cliff wanted to wash his hands of the whole situation.
Steve came up behind Cliff and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “You did it, bro. We’re safe now thanks to you.”
“We can throw a party later,” Aaron urged impatiently, “Let’s just get out of here.”
“Wait,” Grace came to a sudden realisation, “What if there’s more of them out there?”
Steve looked at the bloodied steel shelf on the ground. “We’re going to need more weapons,” he declared.
“Let’s go then,” Grace hollered as she took off running down the main aisle, “We’ll stock up in the Hardware department.”
“Hardware?” Steve asked aloud before taking off after her. “Wait a second, Grace!” he shouted after her.
Not wanting to be left behind, Aaron jogged to catch up with his friends. Cliff stayed behind for a minute to reflect on what had just happened. He had just killed three people. Three people that may have been monsters, and would likely have done the same to him or his friends, but he couldn’t shake the fact that just minutes ago they were people, just like him. Yet now, they were just lifeless bodies on the floor. The thought rattled him some place deep within.
With a shake of his head, he pushed the unbidden reflections from his mind. There wasn’t time to worry about that now. If there were more zombies out there, or whatever these people were, they were all still in danger. Resolutely, he trudged across the store looking for his friends.
Meanwhile, Grace had stopped running to catch her breath. “Where is it?” she asked herself, “They’ve got to have a Hardware department around here.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Steve answered from a few steps behind, “They don’t have a Hardware department in this store. Never did.”
“What?” Grace questioned as Aaron caught up to them, “Then where’s somebody supposed to buy a hammer?”
“Probably at a hardware store,” Steve answered, “That’s my guess.”
“Well fuck. What about yard tools?” Grace kept pushing.
Steve shook his head, “They don’t have anything we can use. It’s November, they just those plastic snow shovels.”
Grace ran her hands through her hair as she began pacing and muttering to herself, “What do they have here? Clothes are all on that side of the store. Nothing useful in Electronics, nothing in Toys. There probably isn’t anything in the Pharmacy or Groceries. Oh! A knife! We can get knives in Housewares!”
Running off again, Grace left Aaron and Steve behind. The two exchanged another look before Steve took off after her.
“Really?” Aaron called out before joining his friends, “More running around? We should be getting the fuck out of here!”
The trio arrived in Housewares shortly to find Cliff perusing the kitchenware. “Hey,” he greeted them, “Find anything useful?”
“Nada,” Steve admitted, “How about yourself?”
“Knives and frying pans,” Cliff explained, “Unless you want to tangle with a zombie with a toaster, they’re the only thing we can use here.”
“Right,” Steve agreed, hefting a cast iron skillet, “Woah! This thing is heavy. I guess that’s actually what we want though, huh?”
Aaron pulled a packaged knife off a hook. “Okay,” he declared, “I can do some damage with this thing! I just need to get the package open.” He reached for a pair of scissors nearby, and discovered they were in the same kind of package, which was unopenable without either a knife or some scissors. “Shit.”
“Here,” Grace offered her help with a roll of her eyes. She pulled a penknife out of her pocket and sawed through the package. She gave the kitchen knife back to Aaron before selecting one for herself.
While Grace and Aaron were arming themselves with knives, Cliff and Steve decided they were more comfortable with the heavier cookware. They knew they could really throw their weight behind a blunt weapon to do some damage.
Steve surveyed the scene, “Are we all ready to get out of here?” he asked.
“Like, twenty minutes ago. With chips.” Aaron answered.
“I didn’t even want to come in the first place,” Grace admitted.
Cliff simply nodded. Steve didn’t need to hear any more by that point. Together they left the DepartMart behind them without another word.
Friday, 7 November 2014
Pathogen - Chapter 2
“What’s all this nonsense?” Grace couldn’t help asking aloud while she drove around looking for a parking spot.
Parking at the DepartMart was usually a bit of a nightmare. It was, after all, one of the world’s largest retailers, and one of the only department stores in Fog City. The fact that it was a Friday night didn’t make things much any better either, since so many people were out doing their shopping.
Aaron pointed at an empty space, “How about that one?”
“Nope,” Grace shut it down.
“Or that one?” Aaron pointed at another space nearby.
“Not a chance.”
Aaron didn’t understand what was wrong with the space, so he voiced his question, “Why not?”
“It’s too close to the other cars,” Grace answered.
“So?”
“‘So?’ I don’t want my car getting dinged by another driver,” she explained.
“Are you kidding me?” Aaron couldn’t help himself, “Who’d even notice if somebody did hit this heap?”
Grace glowered at Aaron. She was driving around in an old ‘98 Chevrolet Malibu, which was painted an ugly shade between gray and brown. She believed in function over form, which would explain why she kept her car in good shape yet wouldn’t splurge on a new paint job.
“Don’t worry, Vernon,” she patted the dashboard as she soothed her car, “The mean boy didn’t mean it. You’re a handsome car.”
“We have to park somewhere,” insisted Aaron as he was growing more impatient, “There are chips to be had!”
“Why don’t we park at the back?” Steve suggested, “There should be an empty spot, and I don’t mind the walk.”
Scruffy barked when he heard his master say “walk.” Thus far he had been well behaved and sat between Cliff and Steve. Now he felt the need to bark and clamber over the two in the back. His wagging tail smacked Cliff in the face while he barked in Steve’s ear.
“Okay,” Grace chimed in agreement, “Anything to get away from that mutt.”
Sensing the girl’s displeasure, Scruffy sat back down and covered his face with his paws. Soon they found an empty spot that met with Grace’s approval. She parked the car and everyone piled out, but not before Steve rolled down his window.
Grace wouldn’t have any of that, so she confronted Steve, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m rolling down my window for Scruffy,” he explained, “You can’t keep a dog in the car with the windows rolled up.”
“It’s November though. It’s not like he’s going to bake inside my car.”
“What if he needs some fresh air though?” Steve insisted.
“What if somebody decides to steal my car because the window’s open?” Grace countered.
“Yeah, right,” Aaron cut in, “As if somebody’s going to steal your car.”
Grace crossed her arms, a very dissatisfied expression painted across her face, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because it’s totally, utterly, worth-”
“- So very much,” Cliff interrupted Aaron before he could condemn himself, “Vernon is such a valuable car, that he’d be too hot on the black market. No way you could sell off a beauty like that.”
Grace cracked a smile for the first time that day. She didn’t buy a single word that Cliff had said, but she appreciated the effort all the same.
“Okay,” she relented as she turned to Steve, “You can leave a window open for Scruffy. After all, I don’t want him getting sick in my car or something because he doesn’t get enough fresh air.”
Another crisis put behind them, the gang set off in the direction of the DepartMart. It was after dark and the fog had rolled in. Although the lamps in the parking lot made a valiant effort to light the way, nothing could fully penetrate the gloom of Fog City. The gang couldn’t even see the store from the car, it was so thick. Before too long, however, the retail outlet was fully visible.
Fighting their way through a throng of foot traffic, the gang pushed their way inside the store. They were greeted by the harsh glow of fluorescent lights refracting off the pristine white tiled floor. People were frantically hurrying about, looking to get their shopping done so that they could leave.
The chips were kept near the back of the store, so they started making their way through the crowds. Aaron, Grace, and Steve split themselves up to weave and squeeze around people while Cliff patiently plodded along.
Just ahead of them, a lady was texting on her phone while pushing her cart along. Her teenage son shuffled along a few paces behind her. Neither person was paying attention to their surroundings, and the cart bumped into Grace.
The lady looked up from her phone at Grace. “Watch where you’re going,” she told her as her lip curled in disgust.
“Excuse me?” Grace hollered at the woman, “You just hit me with your fucking cart! Aren’t you going to apologise to me?”
“Why do you want me to say I’m sorry? You should watch where you’re going.” she shot back.
“Mom, just say you’re sorry so we can get out of here,” the lady’s son urged, “I don’t feel so good, I want to go home.”
The boy didn’t look well either. He was wearing a large, thick hooded sweater but he still had the shivers. His complexion was ashen, his countenance haggard. The boy’s eyes didn’t seem to be focusing on anything; he was just staring ahead.
“Geez,” Grace muttered, “Just get out of here and get your kid home.”
“Don’t tell me how to raise my child,” the lady gave one final parting shot before walking away and returning to her phone.
“Sorry,” the boy wheezed as he shuffled by.
“Charming lady,” Steve announced sarcastically.
“Whatever,” Grace shook her head, “Let’s just get out of here.
The gang continued along their merry way on their quest for chips. Finally, they arrived at the promised land: Aisle 17B - Snack Foods. Cliff was waiting for them, perusing the shelves of fried potato goodness.
“How’d you get here so fast?” Grace had to ask.
“I saw you were getting into it with that lady,” he explained, “They can’t make me testify against you if I didn’t see anything.”
Grace scoffed, “She was a bitch, but I wasn’t going to hit her or anything like that.”
Behind her, Aaron and Steve exchanged a look that said they thought otherwise.
Cliff changed the subject, “So what kind of chips do we want?”
“Potato,” Aaron volunteered.
“Obviously,” Grace declared as she crossed her arms.
“Well, no,” Aaron explained, “There’s lots of other chips. Like corn chips, or lentils.”
“I hear they have banana chips now,” Steve joined in.
“Oh yeah? Are they any good?” Aaron asked.
“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged, “I mostly just eat ordinary, god-fearing potato chips.”
“Won’t you guys just pick something?” Grace was nearing the end of her rope, “I just want to get back to the party and kill things.”
“I think we’re agreed on potato chips, so that’s a start,” Steve answered.
“Yeah, no argument from me,” Aaron nodded.
Grace uncrossed her arms so she could put her hands on her head. She resisted the urge to scream and pull her hair out, and instead just walked away.
“Is she leaving?” Aaron asked, “She’s my ride home.”
“She’s just going to cool off,” Cliff explained, “You guys drive her crazy.”
“Hey, what about pretzels? Pretzels are good,” Steve kept looking through the snacks, oblivious to what had just happened.
“Too salty,” Aaron disagreed.
“Okay, so just chips then. Do you like salt and vinegar? They’re my favorite,” Steve tried again.
Aaron shook his head, “I just said I didn’t want something salty.”
“They’re chips, dingus. They’re all salty,” Steve explained.
“Yeah, but…” Aaron mind raced as he struggled to come back with something witty, “Shut up.”
“So what do you like?” Steve asked.
Aaron answered, “I like ketchup.”
“So we’ll get some ketchup chips,” declared Steve.
“No,” Aaron shook his head, “I just mean ketchup. The question wasn’t very specific.”
“Let me rephrase myself,” Steve said through clenched teeth, “What kind of chips do you want?”
“Potato,” Aaron answered without missing a beat.
“How about barbecue? They’re not so salty,” Cliff ventured.
“Sure,” Aaron acquiesced. “I like barbecue.”
Steve reached down to grab the barbecue chips, and a bag of salt and vinegar for himself when Grace showed up.
“Are you morons ready to get out of here?” she asked, “The line up front is a zoo.”
Steve nodded, “It usually is. I try to get rung in at the Electronics counter when I can.”
“Isn’t that kind of rude? Those guys aren’t there to sell chips,” Grace expressed her displeasure.
“It’s only a couple of things,” Steve shrugged, “I bet they won’t mind if they aren’t really busy.”
While they were working out their moral quandary, a woman’s scream pierced the din of shoppers. The store fell quiet as everybody tried to figure out what was going on. Again, the lady screamed.
“Where was that?” Cliff wondered aloud.
Grace looked around. “It sounded like it came from the front of the store,” she declared.
The public address system crackled on overhead, “Attention staff,” a panicky teenager announced, “Code Yellow at the checkout.”
“Code Yellow means there’s a violent customer,” Steve declared from his knowledge of retail experience, “Let’s go check it out.”
Aaron stayed behind a moment while his friends jogged to the front of the store. “Shouldn’t we be heading the other way? Away from the violence?” he called out.
A moment passed while he realised his friends had left him behind. He hurried to catch up to them. As he ran, he bumped into a number of shoppers who were trying to get a better look without getting too close. Aaron was convinced they had the right idea, but he had to meet his friends still. The lady was screaming more frantically now. He wondered why nobody was helping her and doubled his pace.
Aaron caught up to his friends, who had found a place in a ring of people surrounding the scene. He pushed his way to the front to get a better look. The lady who had hit Grace with her cart was screaming bloody murder while she grappled with someone who looked like her son. His head was covered by his hood, but Aaron was pretty sure it was him, since he was wearing the same sweater.
“I love it when bad things happen to people who deserve it,” Grace laughed, “It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.”
The mood took a much more macabre turn as the boy lunged closer to his mom. With a snap of teeth and an arterial spray of blood, the lady gave one final, desperate scream.
“Oh my god, I take it back!” Grace screamed, suddenly wishing she hadn’t said anything at all.
Thursday, 6 November 2014
Pathogen - Chapter 1
“Hey there, rock fans, this is Karen with Fog City Rock FM,” a lady’s voice crackled over the radio, “We’re going to be kicking off our heavy metal power hour in a moment, but first I have a couple of news bulletins for you folks. First up, we all know it’s the middle of flu season, but the delay on vaccines has finally been worked out. So go ahead and make your appointment today, we don’t want to see a whole lot of sick people shambling around town. In the meantime, just be sure to wash your hands, don’t share your drinks, just follow all that super basic advice you learned back in kindergarten and you should be fine.”
Nobody was listening to the radio, however. Four friends were sitting in the living room getting ready to play a role playing game. While everyone else was looking over their character sheets, game master Steve was looking over his notes behind his gaming screen. Once again he didn’t have anything prepared, save for the loosest outline of the plot: kill the bad guys, get the treasure, and save the day.
Not being prepared stressed Steve out. He didn’t know why it was always like this whenever they played lately. It wasn’t long ago that he would spend hours poring over rulebooks and searching for exciting encounters on the internet. Now he was faced with a crippling writer’s block, and was forced to play by the seat of his pants. His closest friends were here to play with him today, and they all regarded him as the best game master, but they didn’t know he was just making it up as he went. Steve was anxious that they’d find out he was just making everything up, and that they wouldn’t want to play with him anymore after that. He wasn’t sure if he could run another game.
“Dude, what’s the hold up?” Grace interrupted Steve’s train of thought from the sofa, “We’re all ready to go here.”
Steve looked at the blank pages in his binder, hidden behind his game master’s screen. “Looks like I’m missing one of my stat blocks,” he declared, not technically lying since he was missing all of them, “It’s going to be a few minutes while I dig it up.”
Groaning, Grace impatiently flopped back on the couch. She was a real brat sometimes, but they all liked her enough to include her into the game. Grace was a clever girl, always coming up with a solution to the problems in their game by thinking outside the box. She was a tall, skinny girl with a boyish figure that most guys teased her about. Her auburn hair was cropped close to her scalp, a punk hairstyle that was anachronistic to her thick rimmed hipster glasses.
“Lay off him, Gray,” Aaron jumped to Steve’s defense, “Have you seen how thick the campaign binder is? It’s jam packed with monsters and traps, it’s no wonder he’s always misplacing stat blocks.”
Aaron was the sort of person who was observant enough to notice the giant binder Steve packed from game to game, but not keen enough to discover it was full of mostly blank pages. He was new to their gaming group, but had quickly distinguished himself by surviving every horrible ordeal that had befallen their party. Like Grace, Aaron was tall and skinny, and he too possessed a boyish figure. His long, black hair fell to his shoulders. Piercings covered his face, with rings and studs in his eyebrows, nose, and lower lip. His prize piercings, however, were his stretched ear lobes, which he one day hoped to be able to hold his beer with.
Sitting in a comfy chair nearby, Cliff laughed at the situation. He was the most mellow person in the group and was completely unflappable. He was always flashing a grin of pearly white teeth that were in stark contrast to his black skin. A few short years ago, when Cliff was still in high school, he had an afro that was the talk of the town. The funny man had since shaved his head, but he had already secured his reputation of being a groovy dude. He was a big man, one could even say an intimidating man, but his friends knew that he had never even hurt a spider.
Steve started to scratch away at his paper. He had to come up with something pretty quick before his friends got too impatient with him. Hunching low behind the screen, he tried to avoid their scrutiny. He needed some bad guys for the players to fight, but struggled to come up with something. The party was originally going to be assaulting a wizard who was ensconced in his tower, guarded by an army of zombies. Steve was having second thoughts about the army of zombies though, they just seemed too cliché to him. Not that the wizard in the tower didn’t too, but the walking dead were quickly becoming overdone.
What Steve really needed was a distraction. Surreptitiously reaching for his phone, he started to type a message for Cliff. “Dude,” the message read, “Need more time. Help.”
Cliff was Steve’s best friend, and the only one privy to struggle he was having running their games lately. He knew he could count on Cliff’s discretion. What he didn’t count on was Cliff’s ringer being cranked to the max on his phone. He practically jumped when the chime went off.
All eyes were on Cliff as he dug the phone out of his pocket. “Who’s that,” Grace butted in, “You got a hot date or something?”
“Joke of the day,” Cliff explained, covering Steve’s tracks.
“Oh no,” Aaron groaned, “I hate those things.”
Grace couldn’t help herself though and asked, “What’s it say?”
“‘What do messy zombies get on their clothes?’” he pretended to read from his phone, “‘Staaaaaiiiiiiiiiinnnssss!’”
Cliff chuckled at his own joke but Grace and Aaron weren’t having any of it. “Whoever writes those puns should just drop dead,” Aaron complained as he buried his face in his hands.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Steve knew he could keep his secret a little longer. He wasn’t sure how yet, but Cliff was going to bail him out. In the meantime, he struggled to come up with a few ideas that were less typical than an evil necromancer in a tower. A couple of minutes passed while he pretended to write out the missing stat block, but his mind was utterly blank. He knew that Cliff had to bail him out soon.
“So, what are you guys going to do with our treasure?” Cliff asked, hoping to distract the other players with conversation.
“My bard’s going to get a new lute,” Aaron excitedly explained, eager for the opportunity to talk about his character, “I’m going to have that dwarf we met make him a Flying V, just like Hendrix.”
“Nice,” Cliff gave Aaron a genuine smile, “That’s pretty awesome. How about you, Gray? What are you going to spend your gold on?”
“I’m going to sell my gold for more gold,” she answered impatiently, “When are we going to get started?”
“Soon,” Steve muttered. There was no chance he’d be ready soon.
Sensing his friend’s continuing discomfort, Cliff tried another approach. “You got any chips?”
Laying his pen down, Steve regarded Cliff. It wasn’t until he winked at him that Steve realised that this was the distraction. “Naw, sorry man,” he apologised, “But you know what? I could really go for some chips too.”
“Chips do sound really good right about now,” Aaron chimed in.
All eyes in the room turned to Grace. “What are you guys looking at?” she asked petulantly.
“Wouldn’t you like some chips?” Cliff asked.
“Not really,” she answered.
“I’d like some chips,” Cliff replied.
“Me too,” Steve jumped on board.
“Ditto on the chip thing,” Aaron weighed in.
Grace glowered at each and every one of her friends in turn. Going for chips would mean waiting even longer for the game, but that wasn’t the only thing she was unhappy about. She was the only one of the gang to have a car, and had driven to the game that day. It seemed to her like every time they got together to play the game, they’d use her to go somewhere first. She was getting to be just about sick of it.
“Okay,” she relented, “But we’re going to play the second we get back, right?”
“Absolutely,” Steve genuinely promised. If he didn’t have a better idea by the time they were getting chips, he’d just have to make it up as they went. It wouldn’t feel right to him, but he’d be sure to throw something in to distract everybody from the cheesy plot.
“Woohoo!” Aaron exulted, “Chips!”
Grace rolled her eyes as they all got up to grab their things, “Where are we getting chips from, anyway?”
“The DepartMart has them on sale,” Steve answered.
“You’re kidding me,” she replied, “That’s like halfway across town!”
“It’s only a ten minute drive,” Cliff came to the rescue again, “You’ve gotta learn to lighten up.”
“Whatever,” Grace gave in, rolling her eyes once more.
“You know, if you keep rolling your eyes like that, they’re going to get stuck that way,” Cliff teased Grace.
Steve lived in a pretty small apartment, which opened directly into the living room, so they didn’t have far to go to get their shoes and coats. Being the informal sort of people that they were, they all donned comfortable running shoes. It was a chilly November evening, so Steve chose to wear his brown bomber jacket. Cliff and Aaron had also arrived in cheap leather jackets, but Grace had brought her olive drab peacoat.
As Steve reached for the door, he heard his dog come running. Scruffy always knew when Steve was leaving the house. The golden labrador retriever jumped on his master with an excited bark.
“Settle down, buddy,” Steve implored, but the dog was losing his mind. Scruffy wouldn’t stop barking and jumping.
“I think he wants to come with us,” Cliff reasoned.
“No kidding,” Grace replied to the question not yet asked, “Too bad there’s no dogs allowed in my car.”
“I didn’t realise it was your parents’ car,” said Steve.
“It’s not. I just don’t want fur all over the seats.” explained Grace.
“You’re not going to let my dog come with us?” Steve asked.
“Nope,” Grace adamantly refused.
“Scruffy, pout!” Steve commanded his dog as he pointed at Grace.
Obediently, Scruffy stopped jumping and barking. He immediately sat and regarded Grace with the most pitiful expression that only a labrador could muster. Grace chewed her lip as she resisted the pooch’s charms. Scruffy took that opportunity to let loose a wretched and miserable whimper.
“Okay,” with an exasperated sigh Grace relented, “Your stupid dog can come.”
“That’s a really great trick,” Aaron paid Scruffy a compliment.
“No fooling. High five, Scruffy!” Steve held his hand up over Scruffy’s head. The dog headbutted him in return, impatient to leave. “We’re still working that one out,” Steve explained.
With Scruffy now in tow on his leash, the gang left the apartment. “You guys go on ahead, this lock keeps sticking,” Steve shooed his friends away while he locked up.
“Shotgun!” Aaron declared as he ran down the stairs to reserve the front seat of Grace’s car. She only rolled her eyes again as she followed him down.
“Thanks for covering for me,” Steve thanked Cliff after he was sure his friends were out of earshot.
“Don’t sweat it,” Cliff clapped Steve on the back with a boisterous laugh, “Besides, chips are on you now.”
National Novel Writing Month
Some of you folks might be familiar with November being National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo is a tradition that started on the internet just a few years ago. In fact, my first novel was inspired by the event. Last year I started writing Live Fast, Die Handsome in November with the intention of finishing it that year.
You know what I learned? Writing a novel in a month is really tough stuff. The goal is to have 50,000 words written in a 30 day period, which works out to 1,667 words per day. When I crunched the numbers the first time, I thought that wouldn't be too bad. Well, I gave up after the first week.
Almost a year later I tried again, and decided I had to start over. I had approached Live Fast, Die Handsome with the wrong attitude, so to start from scratch seemed like the best idea. I gave myself a new outline, a new schedule, and just started writing. No longer haunted by a daily quota, I really enjoyed writing the story again. In the end, it took me just over forty days to write. That's practically a month.
This year I'm taking another crack at NaNoWriMo. Now that I have my first novel under my belt, I'm incredibly confident that I can succeed this time around. In fact, you can check out my progress right here on my blog as I write and give regular updates. The story is called Pathogen and is once more a story about zombies. Sure, zombies are probably overdone, but they're easy to write, and this is a story that I am incredibly familiar with.
Below I offer a couple of tips for people looking to write a novel in a month. You should probably take these with a grain of salt though, since I didn't actually finish my novel last year.
You know what I learned? Writing a novel in a month is really tough stuff. The goal is to have 50,000 words written in a 30 day period, which works out to 1,667 words per day. When I crunched the numbers the first time, I thought that wouldn't be too bad. Well, I gave up after the first week.
Almost a year later I tried again, and decided I had to start over. I had approached Live Fast, Die Handsome with the wrong attitude, so to start from scratch seemed like the best idea. I gave myself a new outline, a new schedule, and just started writing. No longer haunted by a daily quota, I really enjoyed writing the story again. In the end, it took me just over forty days to write. That's practically a month.
This year I'm taking another crack at NaNoWriMo. Now that I have my first novel under my belt, I'm incredibly confident that I can succeed this time around. In fact, you can check out my progress right here on my blog as I write and give regular updates. The story is called Pathogen and is once more a story about zombies. Sure, zombies are probably overdone, but they're easy to write, and this is a story that I am incredibly familiar with.
Below I offer a couple of tips for people looking to write a novel in a month. You should probably take these with a grain of salt though, since I didn't actually finish my novel last year.
Write an Outline
That sounds like a real no-brainer, and probably the most basic piece of advice I can give. You know who didn't write an outline for their first novel? If you said it was me, you'd be absolutely right. I simply dove in headfirst with an idea of what I wanted to write. It wasn't long before I learned that simply isn't enough.
It doesn't particularly matter how you write your outline, but it does matter that it's something you understand really well and can access easily. When I did finally buckle down and write an outline for Live Fast, Die Handsome, I actually wrote two. The format I used is actually very simple too, it's just a numbered list that represents the chapters. The first outline had a single line to summarise each chapter, but for the second outline I splurged on a paragraph.
The reason the outline was such a big help for me was because it didn't leave me wondering what I was going to write next. With an outline, you're not going to be wasting a lot of time wondering "What next?" but can instead just refer to your notes. It saves a tremendous amount of time, and it helps keep a consistent structure to your work.
Keep a Schedule
The biggest obstacle I've faced as a writer is finding time to write. When I finally did finish my first novel, it was actually in thanks to being unemployed and having nothing but time. This time around, I'm working full time, and suddenly I don't have all those empty hours on my side to write. So how can you make this work out?
Find a time that you're able to write, and find out how long it takes you to write. If you know how long it'll take you to write a chapter, it becomes a lot easier to fit it into your schedule. The most important thing though is to stick to your schedule. You're making an appointment with yourself, and it's up to you to honour that. Writing is a job, and you shouldn't let yourself skip work.
When you're following your schedule though, it's a good idea to give yourself some time off too. Just like working, you can't write every day. It takes tremendous mental fortitude to keep from exhausting yourself on a single subject, and if you're exhausted you aren't writing as well as you could be. The simplest solution is to take a day off now and then.
Limit Distractions
You're living in the age of the internet. Now more than ever there are constant distractions around you. Every time you get caught up in a distraction, you're not writing. My roommate likes to show me funny pictures he finds on the internet. It only takes a second to look at it, but then I find myself wondering what I was writing just a moment ago. By the time I remember what I was doing, he has another picture of a cat to show me.
In an ideal situation, you should have your workstation somewhere private. I'm not in an ideal situation, so I make do with something else. Simply putting on my headphones and playing some music is enough to keep people from cutting in. I also keep my writing schedule close to his work schedule when I can, so that the two don't overlap.
Ignore the Word Count
50,000 words over 30 days means 1,667 words every day. You can drive yourself crazy looking for some extra words to fill in, and then you just have to do the same thing the next day. It's also really impractical to obsess over the word count too, because it's not like you're going to stop your story at exactly 50,000 words.
Realistically, it's a lot easier to begin and finish writing with each chapter, or the end of a scene, or something else that feels like a natural place to stop writing. Typically, I try not to take a break writing where I wouldn't take a break reading.
If you're a bit short of your goal at the end of the day, don't sweat it. You can make up that word count later if it's really important to you, or you can accept it as a draft and edit it a later date. But I know that I've found it easier to say "I need to finish this chapter" than to say "I need to write a bunch of words."
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