View Full Version : The Colony (rough draft beginning)

Dave Karnes
April 17th, 2012, 03:52 PM

What was at one time, a public transportation school bus, is hurtling down the highway. Random pieces of scrap metal and wood, fencing, and tin sidings cover the entire bus from front to back. Its grill is smashed and dented in, and it’s caked in a dry, red material. Pulling behind it is an eight foot wooden trailer.
Strapped down on the bed of the trailer are two dear carcasses, each one with a single gunshot wound to their bodies. Right behind the front leg, the kill shot, instant and painless. Roped to the wood siding of the trailer are about different types of gasoline cans and water jugs, all tied together to insure they don’t move.

The other vehicles on the road are all at a standstill. Their motors aren’t even running. In fact, there isn’t even a single person occupying a seat inside of them. It’s as if everyone got out of their cars, and simply, vanished into thin air. Some of the abandoned cars have been pushed to the sides of the shoulders, forming a makeshift, one way path in the middle of the road.

It’s a barren wasteland of vehicles as far as the eye can see.
Inside, the back half of the buses seats have been removed. In their places are now tables, bolted to the floor. Racks are screwed into the walls above the window frames. A few random boxes and old milk crates are scattered along the floor. On these tables and racks are various weapons and random boxes of ammunition. A few rifles and shotguns, at least five handguns, and different styles of axes, machetes, and knives with their used, dull blades caked in a dry, red matter.

Sitting in the first few rows of the cracked and worn out seats are four men. They sit motionless. Their heads gently sway side to side with the rocking of the bus. Their faces remain expressionless as they barrel down the highway without a single word exchanged between them. They are tired, and they are worn down. Their hair is ragged and unkempt. From the looks of their facial hair, they haven’t shaved or even showered in at least few days. It’s almost as if they’ve been through hell, and are on their way back. Well, maybe they are.
The driver, the fifth man, is George, easily in his mid-sixties. He’s covered in gray hair. A cigar rests in between his first two fingers as his hand holds onto the oversized steering wheel. He’s the only that seems even remotely aware of his surroundings. He raises his right arm and looks at his watch.
“Fifteen minutes fellas.” He yells back, a hint of a southern accent. He glances in the oversized mirror, making sure he’s heard.
“Almost home.” He says more quietly this time, as if reassuring himself that their journey is almost over.
The trees surrounding the highway begin to fade as it turns into a clearing, with huge fields on both sides. It’s a beautiful sight, with the tall grass swaying back and forth from the occasional wind gusts. Well, it would be beautiful, if there was anyone around to see it.
One of the men sitting in the front right seat is Danny. He might be twenty five, but, from everything he’s had to deal with in the last year, he could easily pass for being a few years older. He’s staring out through the fenced window, although he’s not really seeing what his eyes are looking at. He’s daydreaming.
He’s dreaming of the life he once had, and all that could’ve been. The perfect girlfriend. The too expensive, but just couldn’t pass on it apartment on thirty fourth and seven, with the great view of the city. The engagement ring he had just bought with the promotion from work, still packed away in his coat pocket in the closet where she would never look. At twenty four, the world was his for the taking.
Something pulls him out of this serene, state of mind.
Now he sees the swaying, grass field. But it’s not the field that catches his eye.
It’s the two figures, slowly walking through it, near the tree line that he pays attention to. It’s a man and woman, too far away to tell their age though. For a brief second, he imagines that it’s him and his girlfriend, slowly striding through this grass without a care in the world.
But that seconds gone, and it’s back to the cold, heartless, reality that this world has become.
“Slow down George, three o’clock.” Danny yells.
With a quick glance to his right, George applies the brakes and the bus comes to a stop. This sudden change in momentum brings the other three men out of their day dreams and back inside the metal confines of the rough riding bus.
Michael, in his mid-thirties, is sitting in the seat behind Danny. The bags under his eyes and his short, scraggly hair make him look beyond his years. He slightly lifts his head up from the journal he’s reading.
“What do you see Danny?” Michael asks.
“Two Dead. Danny replies, still looking out through his window.
With the bus now in park and shut off, George is looking through these old, green, metal binoculars. They look like he brought them home from a tour duty in Vietnam.
“Looks like it’s just the two of em, far as I can tell.” George says.
He scans the tree lines near the edge of the field, looking for others.
“I don’t see anything else within at least a few hundred yards or so.” He adds.
Kevin, in his late thirties, gets out of his seat across from Michael and starts walking towards the weapons in the back. His head is shaved, and he’s wearing these over sized, police style chrome classes, although he doesn’t look much like a cop. His jeans are ripped and torn, and are covered in dirt and grease. His sleeveless flannel shirt is unbuttoned revealing a dirty, white tee shirt. Tattoo’s cover his arms.

“Alight then, let’s get this shit over with.” He growls.
Danny stands up and leans into the seat across from him, giving the fourth man, a teenager named Nathan, a good shake to wake him from his sleep.
“Come on man, we got two Dead.” Danny says.
“Where we at? We aren’t home are we?” Nathan asks while rubbing his eyes with backs of his hands.
“No no, about fifteen minutes out though.” Danny adds, looking somewhat concerned.
Danny walks towards the back where Kevin is deciding on which weapons he wants to use off of the tables and racks.
Nathan raises his head up and looks out through the fenced windows, squinting from the sun. He’s young, maybe eighteen, he’s exhausted, but he seems pretty upbeat. He leans over to where Danny was sitting and gets a better look at the two Dead.
“Damn George, their getting closer and closer huh?” Asks Nathan as he gets up and walks to the back to join the other two who are getting their weapons.
George replies, “Yup, they sure are.” With his southern drawl, still looking out through his binoculars.
Kevin, slightly raising his voice from the back of the bus, making sure he’s heard. “Not good boys, not good at all.”
He checks a clip to make sure it’s full of rounds, and shoves it back into the 9mm in his hand, sliding the handgun down into the front of his pants.
Michael, the last one to get up, closes his worn, leather bound journal and puts it into the backpack that’s beside him. He zips it up and places it against the side of the wall below the window where he was sitting. He stands up and walks over next to George.
“What do you think?” Michael asks.
“Looks pretty straight forward, just those two.” George replies.
Michael, looking out through the bigger windows in the door, nods his head in agreement.
The other three men in the back are each carrying their preferred weapons of choice and are now walking towards Michael and George. Nathan, the youngest of the bunch, is carrying a two foot long blade machete, and a bolt action rifle strapped around his shoulder. Danny, lover boy, as Kevin calls him, is carrying his beloved M-16 that seems far too heavy for his skinny arms. Kevin has an axe laid across the front his shoulder. He’s also carrying a double barrel shotgun, and the 9mm stuffed in the front of his pants is the last one to arrive at the front of the bus. He hands the shotgun to Michael.
Michael says, “Same as before alright, George will stay inside here and be our eyes.”
George nods in agreement. He reaches down and grabs the turn handle pulling open the folding side door. The four men begin to descending the steps exiting the bus. Michael being the last one turns to George.
“Be back in five, ok?” Michael asks.
“Never underestimate, Michael, remember that.” George says with a slight look of concern.
Michael gives a slight smile and the four men start the steep decline from the road down through a ditch and into the huge open field. George gets a rifle with a scope from the back, and slides open a side window just enough to stick the barrel through. They have done this same act, this same routine, so many times now that it feels almost mundane. It’s boring. But they know, especially with it being so close to the colony that they have to do it. They must dispatch of these two dead, with perfect precision, to insure the safety of their loved ones.
About fifty feet out, the figures start to become clearer, more human, like their past forms.
“Ahh shit man, really?” Danny asks out loud, at the sight of them.
They are, or were, a bride and groom, still dressed in their wedding day outfits. The groom’s left arm has been ripped off at the elbow. His black tux is shredded everywhere and his shoes are gone. The bride’s lower jaw is hanging by its hinges. Her hair is matted with dried blood and dirt. Her arms are covered in scratches and bite marks.
“Come on lover boy.” Kevin remarks.
“Their dead Danny, you know that.” Nathan adds.
“Still, it’s sad. They didn’t even get to go on their honeymoon.” Danny says sympathetically.
“Let’s keep it quiet alright?” Michael asks as the other three nods in agreement.
Around thirty feet from the dead is where they begin their formation, with Michael and Danny in the middle, and Kevin and Nathan on the outsides. They start by spreading out, side by side, with about six feet between them. This is enough room to be able to swing a weapon, without worrying that they might hack into their living counterparts, but also just enough room to where it’ll be hard to separate them in case shit goes bad.
The bride and groom are now ten feet away. Their heads begin to rise and their arms extending with the presence of human flesh. They are walking straight towards Michael and Danny who, being in the middle, are the closest meal. Danny has his M-16 pointed straight at the bride. Michael raises his 9mm as a precaution, aimed directly at the forehead of the dead groom in front of him.
“Come on guys, hurry the hell up!” Danny yells anxiously as the dead are now five feet away.
As they’ve done so many times before. Kevin and Nathan close in from the sides, their weapons held high. And without the dead ever knowing what hit them, their blades strike. With one swing of the axe, Kevin removes the dead man’s head from its shoulders. Two distinctive thuds hit the ground.
Nathan swings his machete as hard as he can at the dead woman, but he misjudges its landing. She slams face first into the ground from the sheer velocity of the swing. The machete is lodged deep into her collarbone, near the base of the neck. There’s no blood spray since her blood has long since been coagulated. The dead bride instantly tries to stand back up. The stuck blade doesn’t register pain to her. Nathan stomps down on her upper back, shoving her face back down into the tall grass. He twists and turns at the handle trying to pry it free. Her fingers are clawing at the ground, tearing at the grass and digging up dirt. The machete breaks free from the crushed collarbone. And with another hard downward swing, just like chopping at branches trying to clear a path in the woods; her head is removed from her shoulders.
The four men stand there looking at the two headless, lifeless forms. Loving, living, just married, human beings that had their lives taken from them in a matter of minutes.
“You know, I bet she was a hottie.” Nathan says while tapping her body with his boot.
“Seriously dude?” Danny asks him, looking almost disgusted.
“What? I bet she was.” Nathan adds.
Kevin squats down and grabs her left hand. He studies her engagement ring. With some hard twisting and pulling, he slides the ring off her bloated finger.
“Am I the only one left in this damn world that has any decency?” Danny asks, clearly disgusted with Nathan and Kevin’s actions. “You guys kill me.” He adds, shaking his head.
“Maybe one day we will.” Kevin says as he stands up, still looking at his new ring. “Wife’s gonna like this one, huh?” He asks Michael.
“We’ll know soon enough.” Michael replies. “Alright let’s go.” Michael says to the guys.
Without another moment wasted, the men turn and head back towards the bus, where George is still watching through his scoped rifle. He sets the gun down and opens the door for the guys. They file in and unload their weapons, then return to their seats. George closes the door, gets back into his drivers chair and starts the engine.
The bus and trailer lurch forward, gaining momentum. The men inside are already resting their eyes. They know that once they get back to the colony with their families, they will want to know every detail of the supply run.
With the bus almost out of site, a figure walks out of the woods near the two headless bodies. It’s a young boy, maybe eight years of age. Another figure walks out behind him, an old man. And another figure. Two more. Six more. A crowd. Now, at least twenty dead are walking through the field where the four men were just standing.
They see the bus heading off in the distance, and begin walking after it.
Excerpt # 10 from Michael Smythe’s Journal

Two months…
God, has it really been that long since I’ve wrote you guys? I guess it has. Well, I’m still alive, for the most part anyway. I’m still with the same group of people I was the last time I wrote you. Life here is about as normal as you could imagine, given the circumstances. Our colonies supplies are diminishing too fast though. So our weekly supply trips have basically turned into daily runs. Which are now getting longer and longer due to the fact that we have to travel further away from camp to find anything of use. So lately our daily runs have turned into over-nighters. These are getting tough on most of the families left in the colony. Not knowing if their loved ones will return or not.
God I miss you guys so much. The pain from losing you guys still burns inside of me like a wild fire. I’m certain it will never cease, not until I take my final breath, as a human anyway.
My past still haunts me every single moment I’m awake. The sins that I’ve committed will never be forgiven, this I know. But, I’ve came to the conclusion that there is humanity in this world worth fighting for. That this group of people, these strangers, they are my new family. And I know, I’ll never get you guys back, but I’ve now changed my outlook on life. With nobody here knowing the secrets of my past, I think I will be able to restore some good in this world.
I miss you guys. M.S.


A long dirt road surrounded by a dense forest on either side leads off of the main highway. The grass and weeds on the sides of it are so overgrown that it looks like it’s never been traveled down. But that’s not the case. This long, lonely road actually gets used almost daily now. This is where the bus and trailer hauling the five men and their belongings turns.
The bus travels down it, kicking up dust and small rocks behind it. They pass a wooden sign nailed to a tree, with the words NO DEAD PERMITTED spray painted on it. Michael, seeing it, gives a faint smile. He knows they’ve made another successful supply run, once again. Even though he doesn’t have anyone to hug, to kiss, or just to embrace once they arrive, he’s content with knowing the other families are grateful for his help.

Dave Karnes
April 17th, 2012, 04:00 PM
My idea is to let the story unfold from middle to end. But after each chapter, have a page of his journal go from middle to beginning. So at the end of the story, I have the climax at ending of the storyline, but also have the first page of the journal, which reveals the main characters true intentions, which will be a twist ending.( i hope, lol)

April 21st, 2012, 10:50 PM
Could you indent this and make it look neater? Maybe put spaces between the paragraphs? It's extremely hard to read as is.