Extra Writing, Zombie Pg 5 part 1 (Vulgarity, Grotesque Imagery)

We ran up the desolate streets, carabiners holding rope and saddlebags jingling for every step. We approach the hotel door and get ready for the breach. Brando checks his Mossberg 500's safety I unslung my R-25 and reached for the doorknob with my left hand. Yanking the door open Brando stepped through.

*Blam*

The first shell hit the floor just before the Shuffler

*Blam*

Two down, Brando stepped in and knelt into a firing position. I swung the Rifle into the opening and stepped in. One shot, no more head on the rotting bastard.

"Light" Brando said calmly

"Got it" I replied then turned on my Mag light.

Two more zombies were standing off to the left of the room near a hallway. Instead of shooting them I slung my rifle over my back and grabbed my kukri machete sneaking up behind them. I swung the hefty blade splitting the first shuffler's head like a piece of firewood. The second Zombie spun around just in time to get the pistol grip of Brando's Mossberg in it's forehead.

"Wipe that clean, don't want that gunk on you"

I said to Brando, pointing at his Shotgun's handle.

He wiped it on the Zombie's tee shirt then shrugged.

"Clean enough"

I raised an eyebrow but figured it was fine.

"Alright. That hall should lead to the Maintenance room for this place, we can get our tools and haul ass."

Brando nodded at my vague plan. I drew my pistol and slid the mag-lite into an old hollowed out rail mount, fastening the screws so the thing wouldn't fall out.

"You ever gonna get a real rail-light for that thing?"

Brando inquires.

"Yeah let's just hit up a Cabella's sure they have them in stock."

Sarcasm, it's easy to understand in these times.

I went out in front, shining the light down the hall. There were a few bodies visible and it looked like someone went down the hall spraying red paint with a garden hose. A fluorescent tube flickered at the end of the hall. There was a sign stuck on the door, Maintenance, jackpot.

We stacked up on this door, same as the door to the building, but something was off. I reached for the handle and the door burst to pieces! Brando was right in front when they poured out, he was instantly knocked to the ground and swarmed.

"GOD DAMN IT NO!"

I fired an entire magazine into the crowd as they swarmed him, When I ran out of bullets I beat them over the heads with the gun itself. It was hopeless he was being torn apart right in front of me.

And I couldn't do anything. I stood there and watched, Stunned.

The beasts kept coming out of the damn doorway and were starting to take notice of me. One of the Fuckers lashed out at me but I was able to side step it turn around and run. I ran as fast as I could, away from the body, away from the zombies, away from everything. Unfortunately I ran into a completely different problem.

"Oh shit no, please!"

I ran into an open gallery where there were a good 20 small people standing around. I knew exactly what they were but I couldn't think of it, I didn't want to think of it.

"Little girl?"

The sad looking child turned to look at me and I almost started to cry.

"Oh god"

Her entire right arm had been gnawed to a stump and her Optical orbit o the same side was bone and a punctured dangling eye. I gagged. She lunged.

Instantly the girl was on me, she was small enough I could throw her off but when I did the entirety of the group started towards me. I drew my Kukri and brought my arm up.

They charged me, all of them, all in school uniforms, they charged me. My brain was screaming at me to swing but every fiber of my being wouldn't let me. I couldn't do it. I JUST CAN'T!

"AGHHH!"

Sharp pain from my shoulder, warm liquid poured from the wound as I was shaken from behind. The Shufflers that tore apart Brando, they caught up to me .

"LET GO OF ME YOU SON OF A BI-"

Sharp pain across my stomach, the children started to tear into me, pulling the organs from my body. I prayed to black out, I prayed for death or shock but it never came. I watched as the children tore my insides away. I watched as my legs were chewed to bone. I watched a particularly putrid monster tear my face apart. I watched until my eyes were torn from me.

I watched.

Joe Klein: Underwater in Detroit

Americans have been doubting their decision in electing President Obama, at least in Detroit they do. They believe that Obama has his heart in it but just isn't doing it right, even though they can't think of any better ideas.

One man asked why Obama continued to push bills that had no republican support and whether he was thinking straight.

The biggest problem they could see though was with people letting banks foreclose on their houses and just walking away, devaluing the surrounding houses.

These people have a right to worry, they don't know what the future will bring and what plans will be enacted to correct our countries deficits. Everyone is a little worried.

Extra Writing, Zombie Pg 4 (Vulgarity)

"Well this is going to be a fun one"

As I stood outside of the car about 250 yards away from Brando's house I wondered how I'd cross the kill zone without being shot.

Before me was an almost impassable blockade of bodies. Strewn about the road and most of the side hill were hundreds of headless

monsters.

Brando had been keeping himself busy evidently.

"Well I guess If theres no going around maybe I can go over it."

I got back into my truck started her up and put her in 4 wheel drive. Slowly crawling over the zombies I felt every snap and compression of the bodies under my tires. It made my stomach lurch.

*THUNK*

A bullet slammed straight into the hood of my truck and It instantly starts misfiring.

"Fucking Christ!"

I instantly got out of my Truck and flailed my arms above my head trying to wave off another assault. He didn't fire again so I started to walked closer to the building.

Suddenly the sound of scraping boots and gargled moans seemed to come rushing up behind me.

"You've gotta be shittin' me"

Amish Zombies.

Well I don't think they are still religious and adhere to their Amish beliefs but semantics aside these bearded farmers were steaming right at me with bloody intent.

*CRACK!*

A bullet flew through the air and smacked one of the simple folks square in the forehead. It was gruesomely awesome watching his head fly to pieces. With that I knew that at least I wasn't the enemy anymore.

Quickly I unslung the Remington R-25 and took aim. Before I could shoot another Zombie fell to the ground which was only a slight distraction. I squeezed the trigger and my rifle spat out it's vulgarity at a violent decibel. Another zombie dropped with mine but there were just too many.

I turned my ass around and ran as fast as I could. Thank god for my height, if I was a short chubby guy my legs wouldn't have been fast enough. Still these zombies were hot on my heels chomping at the air behind my back with every step.

Every second it seemed another crack rang out and shortly after a satisfying thud was felt behind me. A mere 100 feet and I'd be in a fortified structure with a good friend and , thankfully, military supporting, gun loving, registered republican. More Cracks, More thuds, closer to safety but then something went terribly wrong.

One of them managed to get close enough to me to tackle me to the ground. It made a bite at my backpack and tried to get at my neck but I just kept moving so It couldn't get a chance to sink it's teeth into me. More of them were coming it was all over, I'd seen thins in movies. They would huddle around me clawing at my insides, hungry and voracious. I'd be helpless.

No it wasn't going to happen!

"FUCK YOU DEAD FUCKER!"

I rolled to my back and faced the creature, She would've been pretty if it wasn't for her left eye being bitten in halve. I pushed her away so I could draw my pistol but as she reeled back someone kicked her square in the chest. The person pinned her to the ground with his foot and blasted her head off with a shotgun, I was too dumbstruck to recognize the model.

"Get Up!"

A voice shouted at me as a hand was shoved towards my faced.I grabbed It instinctively and with a strong tug I was pulled to my feet. I had time now to pull my .45 and shoot a few before continuing to run. Two more down but that didn't make much of a difference. They were right on us so instead of trying to make an epic stand we ran.

We quickly made it inside and the man put a Two by Four in front of the door, this was his safety measure.

"God damn that was fun" Said my ass saver.

"Well maybe for you man, that bitch was going to eat me." I proclaimed through winded breaths.

"Well Mason at least some girl wants your meat." He said with a Chuckle.

"Fuck you Brando"

I was still out of breath.

"What's Up What's up?" queried Brando

"Well nothing really just came down here from town for a few things."

"Well what do you need bud?"

"Let's get something to drink first" I wanted to sit and catch up before I asked for a firearm or supplies of any type.

"Okay bud no problem, we got kool-aid and beer."

You never drink the kool-aid, It might actually kill you.

"I'll be set, I brought my own. here take one."

I gave Brando an AP and it had the same effect on him as it did with me.

"Pure fucking win right?" I said to him.

So we sat down drank the AP's and started in on the beer when I asked him.

"Hey if I get a gun from you Sheila will give you supplies."

Instead of asking for the firearm I posed it as a fact, an open arrangement he would be stupid to ignore.

"Okay" he stated as he reached into a desk pulled a Berreta M9 from a drawer and a small box of ammo.

"Alright dude thanks"

The Berreta sat on the table as we spent the night getting pissed.

Extra Writing, Zombie Pg 3 (Vulgarity)

Georgetown

Man this place brings back memories, mostly uneasy thoughts now.

Georgetown had been my childhood home. My Nirvana that would stay forever in it's tranquility. Mr. Dale would always be fixing his mower and handing out Christian pamphlets with Halloween candy. The town hall would clamor every Wednesday with arguments about lawns and garbage. And those Kelly kids would be chopping wood or playing basketball at the elementary school.

Except that's not how it is anymore. The Kelly's all grew up and Mr. Dale had passed from a Heart condition long ago.

This was no longer my childhood haven. No. It had lost it's splendor and yes the zombies had found it.

Driving into town I could see the buildings, boarded up or burnt down, all abandoned now for the 100 yard sprint to the Fire department. It was evident that there were people to be found in the firehouse, there were zombies pounding against the bay doors and a few staggering around the old general store. The first pass confirmed my original thoughts, the kind old neighbors I had once greeted daily had now become insatiable bloody creatures.

"Pruit you there man?"

"What? yeah Ryan we're here. how is it out there?"

"Man this is some shit, it's at least 10 people thick at the bay doors. Anyone missing you think are still around?"

"Well Sheila's boarded up the general store and the Coyes are holding their own from what I hear."

"Alright man I'm gonna swing through and make some pick ups then"

With that I swung the truck around and hit the accelerator all the way back into the center of town.

"FUCKING DIE!!!"

Maxing the truck to 110Mph turned it into a viable battering ram. The rotting corpses stood no chance, the more decayed the easier they tore in half. None of the undead I hit rolled over the hood, no Hollywood here, they simply splattered and bashed their brains off my hood.

"Good fuckin' chunk" I muttered to myself.

I swing my severely trashed truck into the gas station's bay, running over yet more of these dead shits. Wasting no time I unholster my .45 grab my machete and open the door. Instantly a zombie clamors towards me with outstretched arms. The Bastard almost clawed my face off! I kick into his lead leg, snapping his knee, causing him to fall into the open door frame of the truck.

*CRUNCH*

His head smashed into paste when I slammed the door on it two or three times. Turning around I bring my machete up prepared for another mindless corpse, there was none.

I take the few steps from the truck to the door and knock where a window pane used to be. It had since then been replaced with plywood that was obviously reinforced on the other side.

"Got damn cocksuckers get out of here!" Shouted a rather ornery old woman.

"Sheila I'm not a zombie"

"I know you're one of the other cocksuckers looking for gas!" She replied quite angrily

"Sheila it's Ryan I need in quick come on they're starting to get closer!"

I noticed many of the zombies had started up the road from the firehouse and some crossed the street from the Inn. I took three down with a few shots at about ten paces.

"Sheila!"

This wasn't going to be an easy one. There were too many zombies and I had too few rounds in my pistol. Suddenly I notice some cables leading to the front of the store and before I can put it together I hear a click.

It was like someone fired a thousand cannons into the coming crowd of zombies. When in actuality it had been about eighteen full propane tanks being electrically detonated from inside.

"Don't just stand there with your thumb up your ass GET IN"

I hadn't realized Sheila opened the door for me, further still it had yet to dawn on me she was the one who set of the improvised explosive. I hurriedly stepped into the store and stood in front of the counter.

"Well Ryan how are you doing?"

I was baffled by this question.

"Um I guess pretty well, how about yourself" I replied kind of confused with the question

"Well I'm just dandy, all these shit heads trying to get in here but I've got 'em kept out. What brings you over to here"

I assumed she meant the store seeing as how she had to have seen me drive through town already.

"Actually I came to get you and any supplies over to the firehouse"

"I'll be fine" Sheila replied quite matter of factly

"So you are just going to stay in the store and wait it out?"

"Actually yes that is my plan, I have a generator running so all the milk, meat, and fresh stuff will stay that way for awhile. My only problem now is defense seeing as I blew all my tanks to save your ass"

"Yeah thanks about that by the way" I said kind of embarrassed I needed help

"Look if you can give me a good gun I can be willing to trade for some supplies, All the canned food in the world isn't much help if those dead bastards are gnawing on you."

Infinite wisdom, you could expect that from Sheila. Well that and more cuss words than a sailor could shake a stick at.

"Alright Sheila I'll get you something but before I go do you have anything to drink?"

"Yes I still have three cans left, in the back where they usually are"

"Sweet! Thanks Sheila"

I'd be damned if Sheila didn't always have a few Arnold Palmers somewhere in the store at all times.

After I grabbed the last cans of AP I step back to my truck and realized the zombie was still slumped in the frame of the door. I brushed him off checked the inside of the truck and hopped in, closing the door so nothing else could get in.

"Well let's check up on old friends"

With that I turned the key to the truck she sputtered to life and I was on my way to the other side of town.

"Wonder how Brando is fairing"

Taliban and Womans rights

Women being stoned to death, Having their body parts cut from them, and being murdered for the sake of family honor. Sounds like medieval times right? Sadly this is a problem in current day Afghanistan.

The Muslim regions of the world are already not too keen on human rights let alone womens rights. The religion literally outlines how poorly to treat women, In the Muslim faith they ARE property. 

Of course you cannot pin this on the entirety of the Muslim people right? It's the Taliban that is doing it, those fundamentalists who take everything the scripture says too literal right? No. The complacency shown by the rest of the peoples towards the actions of the Taliban mean they are just as much to blame. Because there is no attempt from the people to stop the actions of the Taliban the Taliban can do what they please.

Of course there will be no attempt to stop the violence of the Taliban for many reasons. The Taliban use violence to enforce their control, using firearms purchased illegally and American Training. Along with the obvious violent control the Taliban use the religion of the area to justify the violence, no one wants to offend Allah.

A chilling question posed by President Karzai (President of Afghanistan) "What is more important, protecting the right of a girl to go to school or saving her life?"

Extra Writing, Zombie pg 2 (Vulgarity)

"Fucking Christ"

The truck sputtered and died on the side of the road.

"God damn Fucking 15 Mile per gallon Piece of shit!"

Cussing a blue streak would usually not happen if I ran out of gas. Unfortunately the truck died in the middle of a town where the shambling undead were quite abundant.

"Those fuckers aren't gonna get me here"

I open the door to the truck, a zombie was about ten feet away. From what I'd seen they were slow and awkward so I had plenty of time to kill it. Instead of drawing my pistol I unslung my machete and took a jump step before I swung. The thick blade cleaved the zombie's face in twain.... nearly. The brain had been split in two but last bit of skin and fat kept it's dome attached to the rest of it's skull. A macabre Pez dispenser.

A quick jog over to the gas station and I'd get some gas and peace out. Taking care not to get within reach of and Shufflers I reach the open sliding electric doors, Held open by a unrecognizable pile of gore and organs, and peer inside.

"Shit"

Three zombies were tearing into the cashier's remains while two more were standing over an overturned shoppingcart, the contents of which made me cringe.

"I think I'm gonna be sick. Fucking Christ"

A toddler was under the cart long dead more than likely of starvation. I hold the machete in my left hand and liberate my pistol from it's

holster and prepare myself mentally.

*shhhffff*

I spin around in place and face the noise

"Shit!"

The fat fucker snuck up on me but didn't reach at me but instead falls into the gore pile. The fucker went after the gore! Must not have been able to discern me from the organs, but it quickly learned which was fresher and took a snap at my leg.

"Fat fucker!"

This time it was a clean cut with the hairy skin covered bone spun off and landed open end up.

"Kinda looks like a bowl" I thought to myself.

My words must have alerted the zombies inside because the two one's over the cart made their way towards me. I fire two shots into these slow shits and entered the store. I sling my machete, grab a Jerry can, and go to exit the store but I hear a shriek and spin on my heels to face the three shufflers. They were flying towards me!

"What the fu!?"

*BLAM BLAM BLAM*

Three shots, two hit home and the last shaves an ear. The Last one sprung at me, I spin out of it's way and it bodyslams the floor. Before I can grab my machete it spins on the ground on all fours and lunges again. This time Instead of reaching for the machete I smack it with the jerry can already in my hand spinning it to the floor long enough for me to place a shot in the back of it's head.

"Gas"

I jog to the gas pump, cleaning myself a path and clearing some room so I could pump and not be attacked. This refuel was taking far too long, I heft the can and it feels heavy enough. This time I waste no time sprinting to the safety of my truck. I pour the can into my truck, constantly looking over my shoulder and around the truck for more fucking shufflers.

"Shufflers? I should really use another name for them"

Giving the fact that these three random zombies became Olympic sprinters whilst the other ones that weren't snacking still shuffled along. I'd think about it later, the can was empty and I needed to bug out quick before they made their way to my truck.

I open the door swing myself in, check my Bag to see if it was still in the back seat, close my door, turn the key and speed off.

"Wonder what's on the radio?"

I turned the car stereo on and look for working channels. Besides the Pop hit stations that are all pre recorded garbage nothing was working. Static. So I turn on the Emergency scanner that was A switch away from being tuned to the local police, firefighters, and ambulance stations respectively. The police scanner gave off a loop saying to stay indoors and board up your houses, the Ambulance dispatch was giving off static, but the firehouse base scanner had an operator asking if anyone was still on. I responded to him.

"This Pruit?"

"Who is this?" said the dispatcher.

"Pruit it's me Mason"

"Shit get over here now son. We got some undead bastards at the bay doors come in through the back."

"Can do Pruit see you in a bit"

Well now I knew where to go, just over the hill into G-town. Hadn't been home in Awhile, wonder who's all dead.

"Wow that's pretty cynical"

Extra writing, Zombie Novel.

"Seriously. It had to be zombies didn't it?"

I thought to myself

"Oh well" i said aloud

I Grabbed the bowl and spoon as I get up from the breakfast table after watching the news. Washing the dishes would have been the

next thing on my list but not with shufflers roaming the streets. No. I had to get ready.

I go upstairs into my room and grab several items instantly; I start with my tactical harness, a rigid hikers pack and a small satchel, I begin packing. First I grab a change of clothes, it's Winter so the heavy double thick carpenters pants and Light coat worked well enough

"Armor later"

I say again to no one in particular. The Idea of a kevlar vest and riot helmet was entertained in my head for only a small time.

"Wouldn't help much"

I continue to pack my gear. In the tactical harness I throw five handgun magazines into their respective pouches, thirty-five .45s in those plus the ammo I threw into a ziplock bag in my satchel. Two Mags for the Remington, these held a bit more so about another Forty bullets on the ready all .308's the rest into the satchel the same as the .45's. I turn to look around my room trying to remember where I put it

"A-ha there you are" 

I say as I reach for my Machete under a pile of magazines.

"You're gonna come in handy"

I slide the chunk of hard carbon steel into it's sheath and put it on my belt and continue packing. quickly grabbing some utilities; a Leatherman Charge into the satchel, an aloksak first aid kit into the backpack, filled the waterbag in the backpack and threw in a few bottles as well, a roll of plastic rap and a few non perishable food items from the kitchen, a single person tent, another change of clothes and some boots finished off the backpack. Just for preparedness sake I grab a few carabiners and clip them onto the harness.

"Duct tape"

I grab a role and hook a large carabiner to the ductape and onto the backpacks handle.

"This bag is gonna be heavy"

I say as I put my Kimber 1911 into the holster on the harness. I look at my gun cabinet and think if I need more guns.

"Too much weight"

Except for my Remington AR platform all of my guns were for hunting and were too unwieldy so I decided less was more. Still it would suck to leave all this ammo so I throw ten of each kind into my satchel, leaving some for anyone who'd need it. Slinging my backpack over my harness and grabbing my satchel I head for the door. I put on my running shoes grab my Remington and car keys and open the back door.

"Oh Shit!"

As soon as I open the door I'm charged by a zombie. It knocks me down trying to bite my neck, thank god for my Backpack's straps. It gnaws briefly at the polyester before pulling it's head back to make another lunge. I snake my hand under it's chin clamping it's jaws shut with my forearm and grab it's head. It struggles heavily but it's not very strong. I roll the zombie over onto it's back and sit on whats left of it's chest still holding it in place. I take my hand off it's head, still pushing it's neck with my other hand, reach for my Kershaw every day carry knife and thrust it in through his eye socket upwards into the brain.

"Thank god for paranoid preparedness"