Series
Class of 2013 - 5
Chapter Five James had been at something of a loss when he first left the classroom. He knew that he needed to be a distraction, but just how exactly was he going to do that? Well, how was he going to do that and not get eaten, anyway – that was the real question. There were all kinds of ways to be a distraction, but most of them involved becoming a snack, and not really distracting that many of the living dead that were filling up the school grounds. Taking a moment to think, he tried to think of the layout of the school and all the possible places that he could get to that would keep him out of the reach of the zombie hordes. Abruptly he wondered why he hadn’t just gotten on the roof himself and gone around out of their reach the entire time.
By Bastian Falkenrath4 years ago in Fiction
Class of 2013 - 4
Chapter Four There was silence for a long moment, or so it felt, after those six words passed James’ lips. And then a smirk came to his lips, and I couldn’t help but grin back. It was then, at that precise moment in time, that I knew everything was going to be okay. I just knew it. I didn’t know for how long it would be okay, but I knew that at least for today we weren’t going to lose anyone else.
By Bastian Falkenrath4 years ago in Fiction
Class of 2013 - 7
Chapter Seven Never before in all my life had I thought that my own house looked so foreign to me. In the looming hours of twilight, such as it was after having been at Chien’s house so long, my own home looked as if it were ground zero for the zombie infestation… or at least the set of a horror film. There was no blood, no gore, no death or destruction. In fact, everything beyond the locked front gate seemed to be perfectly fine. It was all just the way as it had been this morning when I left, aside from the fact that the grey Cadillac that normally sat in the driveway – alongside our family company’s patrol cars – was absent.
By Bastian Falkenrath4 years ago in Fiction
Class of 2013 - 6
Chapter Six A single shot, a short pause, and then another, and another, and two more after that – each with a short pause between them – and followed by a thunderous metallic BANG. Faster were the shots than the typical firing speed that one would expect from our resident long range sniper, but I was able to figure out why quickly. Lea was doing her trick shooting and using her angles of deflection to take out targets. It was strange, really, at least I had always thought so. Trick shooting was Lea’s art; she could have the same, or even improved, accuracy and fire a little quicker than when she was just going for long distance shots. She could only do it out to certain ranges though. Past that the bullets just didn’t have the energy that they needed for the tricks anymore.
By Bastian Falkenrath4 years ago in Fiction
Class of 2013 - 8
Chapter Eight The night passed without any further incident after we loaded the truck with supplies and the reloading bench, though Chien and I did have dinner and talk about how things might end up going from here on out. We came to the basic conclusion that until the military showed up, any survivors were going to be on their own. Thankfully, the survivors of P.M.A. at least had weapons and plenty of ammunition due to the School’s own stock, and all the weapons and ammo that was at my place. Chien’s place had given us some ammo, but not too much more than we had. The stock that was at my house probably increased our total ammunition count by five to ten percent. Once we were able to raid Big 5 and Wal-Mart, I was sure that we’d have at least enough ammunition to clear the city, with any luck. We could hope, at least.
By Bastian Falkenrath4 years ago in Fiction
Class of 2013 - 10
Chapter Ten The city was like a graveyard. That’s how Lea would describe the mess that they had to drive through as they left the school and headed for the freeway. Out of the parking lot and to the left, taking A-street down to the intersection across Highway 74, then taking another left to go down the main drag toward the overpass. Up one side and then over to the other, they decided to get onto the freeway going south… but taking the northbound lanes. The southbound side was blocked by some sort of obstruction – probably an accident of one kind or another. They couldn’t see it from the overpass. All they could see was that the freeway had become backed up for miles as people tried to head south – be it for the border or for other towns and cities along the way, who knew? By now, their former destinations were kind of pointless.
By Bastian Falkenrath4 years ago in Fiction
Class of 2013 - 9
Chapter Nine It hadn’t taken long for everyone to hear of the news once we left Sweet’s office. The saber and S&W 629 showed that he was serious about going, as did James and Lea grabbing their weapons. To top off what they had, I also gave James one of the 1911’s and a shotgun, and gave Lea the two Beretta 9mm’s. To Sweet, as much as it pained me to let it go without ever getting to shoot it, I gave the AR-15 – though I made him promise to bring it back. I made sure to give them all plenty of ammo too. I knew that they would need it. As I was doing that, Chien was checking their vehicles over to make sure that they were all fit and ready to go. Between Sweet’s ’69 Cutlass, and Lea’s ’67 GTO, I knew they wouldn’t exactly be quiet, but I also knew those old cars could take a beating if they had to.
By Bastian Falkenrath4 years ago in Fiction
Connection
Horick had never been much a fan of pub songs, and this one was worse than most. The singer was drunk, the lyrics were terrible, and the music uninspired. The audience was all three. Tonight, however, his thoughts were loud enough to drown out the rowdy bard, seated atop a wobbly stool and strumming at the strings of a small kalili. He missed the instrument entirely several times, causing the less intoxicated patrons to laugh raucously.
By Kristen Slade4 years ago in Fiction
Followed
"It's always one thing after another with you." Carmine shook his head sheepishly. One of his hands gripped only barely to the 1 o'clock of the steering wheel, while the other put pressure at the back of his ear. He appeared to be timid, but I had the feeling that it was a reaction to cover up his anger of how troublesome I was to him. Nothing made the Carmine Jung timid. The reason would have to be pretty extreme.
By Shyne Kamahalan4 years ago in Fiction
