Quote:
Originally Posted by dredmorte
An m14 is the best kind of rifle. Small, lightweight, accurate, easy to handle.
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Running from the zombies you approach a strange closet. The closet door looks very sturdy as if to protect something important. Bloody hand marks cover the door. The former lock lies at your feet, still attached to part of the door. You are afraid of might be inside but sounds of ghouls coming from your left compel you to kick the door open in anger; although with the lock broken a gentle push would have likely achieved the same.
In the closet you find weapons and ammunition. On your right are handguns and light ammunition, on your left is a M16A4 and cartridges for it. With no bag in sight and no time to pack both in your clothes, you frantically pick the M16 and shove some cartridges in your pockets. As you run out your eyes catch a glimpse of a book on the shelf with the handguns. The book is covered in blood and from the distance you can only make out the word "guide" in the title. You pay no attention to the book and run out in a state of panic.
As you run though the door, you wonder what a room like this would be doing in a highschool, but those those thoughts are quickly replaced by horror as you find you've been surrounded on both sides of the hallway.
Since the ghouls on your right are closest you take the rifle, tilt to your right and holding the rifle parallel to you with both hands aim and squeeze the trigger. Nothing happens. You turn the gun frantically and luckily remember you have to turn the safety off. You try again, aiming for to the left, and hoping to mow down the unholy creatures in one swing. Your shot hits three but under strain of the recoil jumps to the sealing, wasting ammunition. Two of the three slowly crawl back to their feet, the wounds from the 5.56 mm rifle would make some people sick just seeing them, but are nothing to the zombified corpses.
Feelings of helplessness fill you but you gather your courage and collect your thoughts and remember from old movies you need to aim for their heads. Deciding your current Rambo position would yield even worse results if you tried to aim higher you take the gun and mount it on your shoulder. Determined you take aim and fire. Because of your inexperience you can't properly control the rifle and you waste two or three rounds per zombie, but that does not bother you as you snicker at their heads exploding. The rifle shakes violently and if not for your will to live you would have probably dropped it by now.
You feel it will be a close call but you will be able drop them all and escape. Incapacitated zombies slow down the advance of the still moving. Thoughts of optimism swirl in your head, and you start talking to yourself, telling yourself you can do it. But growls and footsteps remind you of the thread from behind. Panicking you turn and start shooting at the now equally close zombies from the other part of the hall, then shooting back at the ones from before. Its a miracle you don't loose your balance from the weight of the weapon but your aim is getting worse and worse. Even though they are now closer you hit some zombies in the mouth, which has no effect on their progress.
Zombies are now getting closer, your sholder is in pain and you start to get really clumsy at reloading your rifle. Soon you realize you are at your last cartage, but zombies are now so close you don't even understand what that means anymore. You yell and swing your rifle around but it hits stopped by a zombies shoulder. Enraged you squeeze the trigger, the gun shakes violently and you empty the cartridge cutting the zombie sholder of. This however doesn't even phase the zombie.
With your hand on your aching, and now also bloody, sholder you run to the window. You see another survivor, a police officer, with two hand guns knocking two zombies at a time. With your pockets empty you think to yourself how ammunition for those weapons is easier to carry and share with others too...
Quote:
Originally Posted by dredmorte
But personally, because I am so awesome, I would try to go to a museum or something, find a spear, a sword, a buckler and ancient/medieval armor. A chainmail would be worth a ton in gold.  |
You enter the school history club. There you find a replica of medieval armor. It takes a while for you to put the chainmail and armor on. You also pick a strange pointy helmet on the table nearby.
You move out to the hallway to find some legless zombies crawling their way to you. You try to run but its impossible in the armor. You try to walk fast but get tired quick. Soon you strain your muscles and feel like you can't go on. Its not long until you realize the legless zombies have made more progress then you.
You muster up some will power and do your best to claw your way forward, since your feet can barely hold you anymore. The legless zombies however take hold of you. You're afraid, but try to calm yourself with words like: "I'm safe in this." However, the zombies, though their unholy strength, tear easily though the sheet metal and chainmail. Somehow you feel stupid...