PDA

View Full Version : The Dead Roam Free Chapter 1



JonEd
January 28th, 2014, 12:10 PM
Chapter 1: Stan
Stanley Savage slept silently. Sleep brought peace in the time of pure hostility. A time where survival is tested and the enemy does not rest, shows no mercy, nor any fleeting shred of humanity. Or any human emotion for that matter.
Bullets tear through their flesh, blades slice them open, and burning fire singes their skin. Yet on they walk, with a persistent, everlasting and unquenchable hunger. Pain does not falter them, it eludes their sensory perception. In fact, they feel nothing. The dead do not feel, they do not socialise, they do nothing but feast and feed. They are driven by hunger, a monogamous, animalistic instinct which controls their every action of their life of death.
The city is overrun, controlled by the ones who have perished. Living people are forced to live like the dead. Boarded up, hidden and buried from the outside world.
It is out of necessity for the conscious to stray from the minute shred of safety they gain from the darkness of the indoors. But darkness breeds maliciousness. The dead roam the streets, infest most buildings and rule the entire cityscape.


Stan woke to the moans and groans of the dead who walk the streets in search of food. He rolled out of bed, weary and sluggish, taking the pistol kept hidden under his pillow, and cocking it to assure it was ready for action.
His stomach rumbled loudly, aching for a meal, as he walked into the kitchen. He opened the cupboard, to his disdain and utter disgust, the cupboard was empty. Stan grunted with frustration, screwing his face up at the thought of what had to be done to quell his grumbling gut.
He collected his knife off the kitchen bench, as he made his way out of the room, attaching it with its sheath to his waist.
Stan crept up to the front window of his house, covered with bars and boarded up to almost completion. Carefully pulling back one of the curtains, he peered through a small crack in the wood and bars, carefully checking for the dangers that loomed in the world beyond his house. Two men stumbled slowly in the street. The man at the front was a medium build. His skin was grey and clothes tattered. There was a large hole where his right hip should have been, forcing him to walk with a heavy limp.
Followed behind him, was another grey skinned man. He was of a larger build, standing tall, approximately six feet and four inches tall. His jaw was hanging, by the smallest thread of muscle and ligaments. Blood dripped from his broken jaw. His face was battered, bruised and beaten heavily, causing his right eye to hang lower on his face.
Stan reached to his side, releasing his recently sharpened, bayonet style knife from its sheath. He placed one hand on the door knob and sighed deeply as he began to turn it.


Bursting out of his house, Stan charged at the first dead wanderer. He launched, tackling him to the floor. A loud, piercing screeching emanated from the mouth of the zombie, as Stan lifted, and drove the knife through the left eye of the living dead man. He went limp as his life of endless death faded. The other turned slowly, and roared charging towards Stan, who stood, waiting for the dead to strike. He stepped forward, brought his knee to his chest, and drove it down into the leg of the charging zombie. A large snap echoed, and the femoral bone of the dead man pierced through the skin of his leg. He dropped to his knees, unable to keep walking on the broken leg. Stan raised the blade high above his head, and swung his arms down with a deadly force, catching him directly in the skull. The knife split through the bone and struck the middle of the brain. A last gurgle of air escaped the limp zombieís throat, as Stan released the blade.
The zombie dropped, as Stan cleaned the dark blood off his knife and sheathed it by his side. He breathed a sigh of relief as he started walking further into the city in search of food. He released his pistol from its holster, and spun it around his finger. A loud screech erupted from behind him, and Stanís stomach dropped in despair.


Stan turned on the spot and met the gaze of no less than twenty living dead. The leader of the pack had her mouth opened wide, screaming from deep within her throat, a screech which pierced the ears and sent chills down the spines of all conscious people who heard it. She stared at Stan with a great and lustful hunger.
Stan began shaking, his jaw dropped low, and he was paralysed with fear. His mind went blank, and he stared at the crowd of dead people waiting to feast on his flesh. He snapped out of the paralysis and slowly raised the pistol, shaking vigorously as he aimed at the leader.
He breathed heavily, finger heavily shaking on the trigger. She stepped forward, preparing to charge. Stan panicked, and pulled the trigger, missing her and collecting one of her zombie lackeys square between the eyes.
Stepping backwards, Stan continued to fire rapidly. The crack of gunshots echoed around the city as he fired bullet after bullet, aimed with little care. The bullets tore through her body, hitting her in the chest and stomach, but she walked on, taking each bullet like nothing more than a mosquito bite.
She let out a low grunt, and began to charge towards Stan, the rest of the living dead crowd followed suit. Stan turned, breathed heavily, and began running from the hunting pack of the dead.


Sweat poured off Stanís face as he ran down the street, panting heavily, fuelled only by desire for life. The zombies were stumbling with a great speed behind, slowly gaining on him. Their screams and growls were enough to chill Stanís blood, but he continued on, persistent and determined to not become like them.
He looked ahead, and saw the building he was searching for. The supermarket. He burst through the doors, tripping and falling down, to which he recovered quickly, springing back to his feet and closing the doors.
He grabbed anything he could find, chairs, shelves and trolleys, to reinforce the door.
The dead reached the entrance, and started banging on the glass of the door, pushing forward like a crowd surging in for the Christmas sales.
He breathed a sigh of relief, and looked down the dark aisle of the market. It had been looted, but only by Stan himself. He walked down, and heard the groan of a living dead in the next aisle. He bent down, and stalked around the aisles to find the source of the groan.
Peering through the gaps in the shelves, Stan saw him, hunched over a freshly killed man, feasting on his entrails. Blood splattered out as the zombie tore at his flesh with teeth and claw.
Stan crept up behind him, making little to no noise, except the occasional clack of his shoes on the marble floor. Stan drew in a deep, silent breath and lodged his knife into the back of the manís skull. He dropped and Stan stepped over his body to search the body of the freshly mauled man. Tapping the pockets of the manís blood soaked pants, Stand found nothing, to his distaste.
Walking past him, Stan found a trolley full of baked beans and canned food. He pocketed a few tins, and filled his bag with as much as he could bear to carry on his back.
He began walking to the door, almost forgetting about the army of dead waiting for him.
Stan was quickly reminded, as the sound of glass shattering echoed around the near empty supermarket, and the growls of hungry dead men and women sent chills down his spine. Stan froze, and crouched down to the ground. The zombies walked in, searching for their feed as Stan had just done. They did not want beans or canned pasta, they wanted flesh. Stanís flesh.


If you guys enjoy this, please let me know. I have a fair bit written, it's from multiple perspectives. If you want to see the next chapter, comment and I'll post it. Thanks :)

Theglasshouse
January 29th, 2014, 01:50 PM
Sounds as if it needs a way to entice the reader into being convinced that way you have written can satisfy them. Because I only understood from the plot that zombies were attacking and there was no inner conflict or turmoil.

JonEd
January 29th, 2014, 01:55 PM
Remember this is only chapter 1, there's obviously going to be no inner conflict or turmoil in the beginning chapter

Theglasshouse
January 29th, 2014, 02:00 PM
Ok well it maintained my attention, I think then you can manage the narration as is. I was worried it was veering of course.

JonEd
February 10th, 2014, 05:27 PM
Chapter 2 has been posted, please check it out:
http://www.writingforums.com/threads/144926-The-Dead-Roam-Free-Chapter-2

Roobearrr
February 18th, 2014, 08:21 PM
I agree with theglasshouse, this piece maintained my attention however i felt it lacking with feeling. My heart didn't race even though there were flesh-eating zombies right outside the door, most likely because the MC's didn't.
Granted however, i found the descriptions well written.
Sometimes i would probably replace the many short sentences for longer ones. But that could be just me.
I'll read the next one to see if i get the goosebumps that were lacking in this chapter.