Survival Diary

**Ruukil** · 12-08-08, 06:16 PM

Originally Posted by FragRaptor

Originally Posted by Ruukil

OOC: this si what you sayw hen you have an out of context comment just put 'OOC'. Also, TICK the following takes place in your vicinity.

I like **comment** better :P. More noticable IMO. 

OOC: It spams up the story. Don't do it if it's not vital. Lol irony.

**Allane** · 12-08-08, 06:24 PM

December 8th- Early Evening

Very close by I've heard a very loud screeching creature. I think it's hopping from building to building. And it's been following me for quite a ways. But now, I can't hear it any more at all. The quiet now is only punctuated by the occasional zombie scuffle.

I think something is going on around this area of town. I see signs of people having been through this area. There are dead, sometimes mutilated bodies all around here. After making sure the area around me was free of those infected, I took a closer look at one of the dead bodies. The eyes were milky white, without any pupils at all. The look they had in their eyes was actually very eery, as if the thing was only resting, and not dead. I smacked it a couple of times with my boots to make sure it was dead. All it did was just fall over into a bigger pile of zombies. I don't think they see in a conventional way, they might be relying more on their senses than their eye-sight, as you can sneak past them, but if you shine a flashlight on them, they seem to react and come after the source of disturbance.

The cold is starting to get to me now. My fingers ache. I left behind a pair of gloves back at that greenhouse - damn I wish I had those right now. The long December nights are not helping at all either. Traveling in the night has proven to be very dangerous. The noise of the infected seem to grow louder, and they travel in larger groups. Sticking to the alleyways has helped. They tend to pack themselves together in streets, rather than alleyways, and they create a nice funnel should a horde of them see me.

-NOTE-
That screeching creature has been silenced... I think something's happening.

Oh shit, someone just fired off a shotgun and tripped a car alarm. Ground Zero is NOT where I want to be right now. Time to bolt!

-

Ok, I suppose this isn't too bad right now. I was running through the various alleyways when I saw what looked like a red house with a cross painted in the center. I followed the arrow and it led me to a room with a large, steel door. I quickly slid into the room and closed the door. I searched the room and found a long pole to bar the door. Those things don't appear to be smart enough to take the bar out of the door, for which I am very glad.

The room seems to be pretty well stocked. There's food, water, a restroom (which after that car alarm was set off I surely needed to use), and on a table there's a big pile of ammo. I've made the decision to stay here for the rest of the night. There's no point in moving through the city any more now that I've got a safe haven.

I must keep moving though, so I'll grab whatever needs to be refilled, and move out in the morning.

-Al.

**Walkerxes** · 12-08-08, 06:45 PM

** Comment**

Guys, I think it's great so many have gained interest in it. You'd be amazed at some of the PMs and Xfires I'm getting.

However.. I think we should pause to think of adopting a few simple rules, as we've somewhat turned this into a pseudo fan-fic RPG story:

(Borrowed from an RPG site a certain White Tigress used to run)
#1  NO GODMODDING. Basically: if you want to do or describe something that will affect someone else's character, make sure their player is cool with it first.  ..IE: If you're gonna fuck up an author's character, ya better be sure the author is ok with it.

#5  Drama is frowned upon. If you have a problem with another player, try to work it out like civilized adults. If you can't, please take it to the mods for mediation.  IE: Save your arguments for PM

Can we agree on this?

**End Comment**

[edit]

OOCC (How's that, Ruuk?

): Just in case you didn't catch IronStomach's edit into the OP

Originally Posted by Flea

Update: Ground Rules for the future of this thread

1. If you intend to seriously screw with another character (hurt, kill, leave the group, get into arguments over looting that result in serious group issues, etc.), clear it with the rest of the people in your group first. This should be done via PM, so as not to clog up the thread with commentary and ideas. Likewise, if you intend to have your character killed or infected, talk to people first!
2. Don't be a jackass and create drama. If you have a problem with another player, try to work it out like civilized adults. If you can't, please take it to the mods for mediation (currently, the mods for this thread will be IronStomach, Adsartha and Walkerxes).

-----

I heard movement outside my gates and disabled the motion sensor lights while putting on my mask and gloves. I grabbed my CAR and went outside to investigate the area. I saw a strange man in civilian clothes stumbling up the street bumping into my rock wall at random intervals. Looked alot like those corpses on the TV (the way he walked). I'm not taking any chances, nor am I going to get "commando" fever. I shall remain silent to avoid being seen or heard by anything alive or dead. I feel like a fucking idiot for not stealing some NVGs from the squadron when I had the chance. They would have come in handy in this situation. Good night journal.

**Flea** · 12-08-08, 07:09 PM

Today I heard shots fired outside the west side of my building and what sounded like a diesel engine somewhere in the distance. The very chance that there are other survivors near me has spurred me into making my attempt for escape this morning. I mixed the tannerite in my 5 gallon shit bucket and attached the radio receiver and speaker to the outside of it with some duct tape. Tannerite is one part sugar, one part fertilizer and one part aluminum oxide. With my IED in hand I crept up the stairs and peaked out the door. What I saw was horrific.

Near an overturned semi truck there were nearly 200 of those things. They were about 80 meters away and didn't notice my intrusion. I opened the door up enough to chuck the tannerite out but one woman noticed me. She might have been very attractive once, but now, with her shirt torn and her insides hanging out, I could only joke about "eating her out." She looked at me and I swear she said something. The rest of them turned just as I threw the tannerite towards them. I managed to get it about 40 meters (the bitch was heavy) away from me and lined up on it just as they neared it. I fired.

I woke up at the bottom of the stairs with the door above me wide open, which would have been very dangerous had the zombies above me not been shredded like salad. Above the pain of my still ringing ears I swear I heard human voices and the sound of the diesel engine. As I walked up the stairs, a 12 gauge duck gun swung into my view, a little too close. The first words out of my mouth were "shit." This, apparently was convincing enough. As I caught my breath, I focused on the man holding the double barrel on me. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was friggin Cleric, from TTP. Of all the people to run into in a zombie apocalypse, I ran into a good friend. I could see he shared my recognition as he lowered the gun and asked me if I was ok. I told him about Tick and the basement and my homemade tannerite. As he helped me limp towards the truck I saw tractor sitting in the front seat holding a m1 garand between his lap. I knew these guys would come through for me. Family is whose got your back.

As we jumped in the truck and headed for Tick, I couldn't help but notice the zombie bits were all covered in my shit, as I hadn't taken the time to empty my toilet before turning it into a bomb. Fitting I suppose. It will be good to see my brother.

**Tractorpull** · 12-08-08, 08:06 PM

The Story of how Tractor and Cleric made it north to Huntsville.

Dec 3rd

When I first saw what was happening on the news I knew had precious little time. Mom and Dad said they were heading out west and they left early. For once Dad actually listened to me. They should be fine. But I now have myself in a fine mess.

I didn’t realize how little I actually have here until I broke all of it out. One of the first things I did was head into Bishop to the outdoors store. Picked up all of my gear, Bedroll, Kimber .45, a M1 SOCOM, a new pair of boots, high band radio, other essentials. The guy asked me how I was paying…….credit card. Visa probably won’t even exist once this is all said and done. I hadn’t seen or heard of any infected down here at this point. The news people were still baffled, but I saw the videos, I knew what was going on. They started to say to evacuate south but the TV’s went dead when the power died. The automated message on the radio still says the same thing.

Kingsville was a ghost town within a few hours. Police came by to make sure everyone was gone. I laid low. I still had work to do. Once the coast was clear of the fuzz I moved all my gear to the county precinct building. They had what I needed.

I swapped out vehicles, getting a Ford F-350 crew truck. It had a double cab with plenty of room, plus it had a Diesel nurse tank in the back already. It was an older model, but perfect for me. I settled down in the precinct office overnight. The broadcast radio was still plugging away saying to evacuate south. I switched on the high band to see if I could pick up any chatter. Nothing. I was all alone here.

Dec 4th Morning

The next day I checked the broadcast radio again. The message had changed in the night. They now said don’t go south. Highway 77 was a graveyard below Kingsville. The automated voice now said to head to Naval Station Ingelside, Coast Guard Station Port O’Connor or Coast Guard Station Raymondville. The voice also urged to avoid major cities at all costs. Of all the places to evacuate, the only real choice was Ingelside, and lay just on the other side of Corpus Christi. It would take a little navigation but I could make it. I loaded my gear in the truck, filled up the diesel tanks, plus 2 55 gallon drums for even more fuel. I also filled 2 40 gallon poly drums with clean water. I found a small generator in the shop and hooked it up to the water well, and bam, clean water.

I had Transport, Fuel, Water, and Medicine after raiding an ambulance at the fire station next door. But I was short on food. I would need it before I traveled. I had to hit up the grocery store in Kingsville. I had yet to even see an infected, but that was about to change.

**Various Authors** · 12-08-08, 08:26 PM

OOC:
1st collection (from OP to Dec 5th entries) submitted.
http://www.texasteamplayers.com/index.php?topic=50814.0

- Walkerxes

**33knight33** · 12-08-08, 08:31 PM

******comment bear with me here, this is meant to set up my character, who is becoming an infected. after this post, the rest will be anecdotes of his vicious exploits.*******

Lit Assignment: Personal Diary, Topic: Control.
Mr. Geraci
12/08

I keep control by maintaining balance in my mind and body. My daily life shows that:

what a long day today. early school, went to work. had a bit of relaxation with my girl and played a couple rounds of Frisbee and darts with some buds. all about finding the balance right?

gotta remember to pick up that new handgun i just ordered from the local gun shop today... should be a fun little plinking partner to add to my collection... gotta remember to finish that job application so i can quit washing dishes... gotta try and finish up this damn lit assignment (can i say how much i hate meaningless homework in said pointless busywork. its on my personal thoughts right? i mean why would i ever want to keep a journal Mister Geraci?)... gotta quite being such a smart ass to my teachers... gotta find the balance...

damn this pressure is getting to me. gotta find some better ways of blowing off some steam than my normal smoking and shooting and/or my working out/partying combination... i can justify it to myself because its all about that balance... but i know its not healthy for my mind or body... but what is living if i cant find that personal nirvana and be happy? ... am i really happy?

its just so hard... ever since that surgery. saying goodbye to those i had loved and my earned responsibility. dying, did i really die? or did i quit? waking up from death. watching it on video all over again, so that the doctors could learn from it... what could they learn as they will never know... but it made me who i am... gave me insight on things i had been oblivious to before, if dying meant i was no longer just another sheep- then it was worth it... right? how much do i think about this or let it affect my daily actions? or should i move on from it and consider myself one of the chosen lucky ones? or was it just blind luck? or was it just a skilled surgeon? gotta find the balance... gotta find my answers....

gotta get some sleep.

well so much for the line above... some fucking crackhead broke into the house. guy had the balls to go through the window and come straight for me. idiot didn't even try and conceal himself or make off with any of the expensive stuff, just came and tried to beat the damn door down... which he did, i mean i live in an 80 year old house... shit of it was i hadn't been able to get my Mossburg out in time so the douche had the chance to get a hold of me before i was able to kick him back, he luckily tripped over the dumbbell i leave on the floor. must have been high as hell because he struggled on the ground like a turtle on its shell. he started to stand up and lunge at me again. it was obvious there was no dealing with this guy if racking a 12 gauge slide wasn't enough to make him piss his pants or at least back off.

so i shot him. nice blow to the center mass. nuff said. no human lives through a dose of lead from the twelve gauge mage. i go to flip the switch on the lights, stepping over what i knew would be a hell of a mess to clean up and a lot of explaining to the cops, damn i hate paperwork. as i am about to reset my right foot in front of the body, i am quickly grabbed around the calf, i am stunned needless to say and cannot react to what i firmly know is not this guy still alive and dragging me to the ground. i awkwardly fall to where my back is on his chest. the guy starts bludgeoning and digging around with one hand at my sternum. the pain of what i assume to be my sternum re breaking is crippling. i reach back and bring the dumbbell into my grasp. fumbling with it i attempt to strike him with it. as i am raising the dumbbell up he bites me sending a searing pain into the wound in my jugular between my neck and shoulder. he then quickly vomits all over my face. what the fuck, the acidic cringe of what can only be compared to lime juice in my eye causes me to loose my already weak grip on the dumbbell. it comes crashing down over his face.

i roll off of him, well what used to be him. dumb shit shouldn't a come looking for trouble, cause he sure as hell found it- welcome to the thunder dome bitch. knight brings the pain... what the hell am i saying? i got owned, look at me. well you cant dumbass, you cant even stand up to face the mirror... no... don't.... i cant go back... the way things were... i beat this addiction... then i beat the withrdawal... you didn't beat shit man, look at yourself, how you treat others; look at what your hubris bought you. when presented the chance to run you had to try and fight. this guy wasn't playing around...

i drift off into the night... succumbing to the bitter sorrow, giving up on trying to make amends to the hurt i have caused myself....................returning to consciousness or what i perceive to be so i wonder:

speaking of this bonafide badass, who was he? probably some dick i cut off in traffic with anger management. i motion to stand up. realize my injuries arent as bad as i thought them to be... never were... no one is handicapped unless they cop-out and give up, i sure as hell never did.... then why did they give me a sticker?... gotta find the balance... with the lights on, i let my eyes adjust, but apparently not for long enough, the sight i see is a man whose skin is blacked, but not charred, in appearance... he is missing an arm... his face isn't just bruised from the weight... but completely pulverized, i mean it is just a forty-pound dumbbell...

once i am completely sure i have returned to sobriety, i still cannot believe my eyes... and the taste... i also cannot tell where this taste is coming from, it must be the smell, or.... after recollecting last night i cannot abstain myself from purging. god that is disgusting...

i feel like i have a gallon of adrenaline in my veins, heart beating fast, pupils dilating, i feel like a prizefighter ready to fuck up the next person who comes through my door... in duality... i know i am utterly exhausted to the bone, with all surpluses of manna tapped from my body, i am running on empty, its almost as if i can feel my body depleting itself for its own ironic nourishment... gotta find the balance...

...though, i have been here before. those weeks in the ICU. the hourly shots of morphine and pills of Oxycontin, being withheld to a bedpan and not even being able to wipe my own ass. the sense of anger at my own feelings of despair and sorrow. the instinctive shadow of my mind condemning the coddling thoughts of self pity... gotta find the balance...

i snap out of the transe. i realize those times are behind me. i realize i am clearly not on relapse and simply to to get some rest to shake off this hypnosis... though i can still feel, without knowing, the urge of seeking action. of hitting the streets to fuck up the next person i see, just like this guy almost did too me... no i wouldnt fail like he did... i knew i had to satisfy these primal cravings, or else loose myself, my true and happy identity that is, forever...

but this was all, just disorientated rambling, i needed to sleep. get a good nights rest then i would worry about deciding who i really was. i didnt even care about the guy in the floor. he could show himself the door. i was down for the count.

that night i return to my new self. unconsciously my mind begins to embrace the change my body has already irrevocably sustained. my mind begins vividly depicting and fantasying the indulgences my body will soon have.

i Have The Bloodlust.
i Lost The Balance.
Without It, i Cannot Abstain.
Without It, i Shall Slaughter.

**Cleric** · 12-08-08, 08:54 PM

Journal Entry 1

God damn cell phones! I was hoping to stay on the line with my girlfriend just a little longer, but the signal cut out. The news continued to report on the mysterious infection as me and my Dad watched from home. Reports continued to poor in of these "infected" attacking other people, tearing them limb from limb. That was all me and my dad needed to hear. We boarded up our windows, armed ourselves with 2 Bushmaster AR-15's as our primary weapons, being they were the rifles we had the most ammo for. We had plenty of food and fresh water that could last up to 2 weeks if we rationed well.

I continued to check my phone for hours for any signs of signal, but there was no luck. Then, a beep echoed out of my phone from my pocket. Quickly taking it out it said i had a voicemail. With one bar of reception i listened. Tractor had called to tell me he had gone to Ingleside and was now heading to his house for more supplies.

God damn.....i hope he makes it, he is our way out.

**Walkerxes** · 12-08-08, 09:42 PM

Dec 8th - A short time later,

Ficet and I agreed to catch some rest while we're here in the safehouse. I decided to take the first watch. He's sleeping now... and finally he looks a bit less like my effing hero and more like a 15 year old kid caught up way over his head. His sleep is fitful. Surprising out of him, considering he's always smiling and cracking wise when he's awake, like he's not got a worry in the world.

I took a gaze through the diary he's keeping as well. Even his entries are rife with wry humor. He's pulled some crazy shit, this kid.

He's still my fucking hero. He's already saved my ass 3 times, and I'm twice his fuckin age (um.. plus a few).

It's funny to me, though. We're both keeping journals. Neither of us kept one before this. How many more are there out there, alive, running scared, and writing it all down?

Is it all for posterity? Are we trying to warn those who come behind us?  ...somehow I don't think that's the case.

In a way, I think it's our way of spraypainting "Tony <3's Melissa" on the railroad overpass, or scratching "Jeff was here" behind the statue of Lincoln in the Lincoln Memorial. A way of saying "I was HERE. I mattered. Don't forget me!"  ... we just want someone to remember. And in days like these, it's pretty up in the air just who and how many will be left TO remember.

But it's the hope. That our race will continue, and someone will memorialize us. That our lives will have meant something.

Fuck, I'm tired. I hurt. Worse than I'm letting on. ..and I think some of these cuts are getting infected. ..NOT THAT KIND OF INFECTED! Jesus.. never that way... Just the run-of-the-mill infection; no less deadly, but far less... terrifying.

But which is better? Keep moving or stay put for the night? I certainly notice the pain less when we're moving and the adrenaline is pumping...

Maybe Ficet will have some ideas when its his turn to take watch.

**Tick** · 12-08-08, 10:00 PM

*** Note, that Tractor and Cleric's posts are leading up to the events on and after December 8th ***

December 8th, late evening (note to self, find new watch asap!)

Can't see the car parked outside anymore. Whatever that guy was looking for, I don't think he found it. Fucking scared the shit out of me when a laser flashed across my face, though. Was expecting a bullet between the eyes, instead it was just the guy waving a laser pointer around, trying to signal someone. Sorry fella, whoever you were, but I'm staying locked up tight for now.

Today's earlier experiment with the pipe bomb has given me something else to focus on besides Flea's absence. Need to figure out some way of increasing its effect while decreasing the concussion wave. That damn bomb had enough force to knock me off my feet from 20 yards away, but I doubt it'd do much to slow down a zombie. What I need is more shrapnel. You could probably liquify 90% of their organs and they'd still keep coming at you. You need to hit the brain stem, or sever their damn heads completely. Maybe sever their spinal column. Pretty sure their mouths would still work, though.

More shrapnel, less concussive force, greater velocity... Going to risk the flashlight tonight and read up on some of my reloading manuals, see if I can't get some ideas. Gotta make sure the blackout curtains are airtight. After the initial exodus, there seem to be less and less survivors poking around, but I'm not taking any chances. Dunno how long until Flea gets here, but I'm gonna wait it out.

Ration notes, starting tomorrow (IMPORTANT):
1/4 MRE or 1/2 can of soup
1.5 bottles of water
PER DAY