Ok , this is a bit from my book. I tend to write in bits and pieces, it never flows. It seems to come in bits and scenes. Its all my own and creative property still is mine and blah blah..
My friends and I always joked about what we'd do in of some kind of zombie apocalypse. We never thought we would have to test those ideas. Don't really know why I'm recording this,there's not many of us left. Should these words outlast me, outlast this Armageddon, I want someone to remember us.
Remember that we didn't surrender to barbarism. We didn't surrender ourselves to mere survival. We were not all survival experts, great strategists or military genius.
We were officers at a small time county jail. A handful of odd characters and cop wannabes on their way up the ladder. We used this place as our last refuge.
When the zombies arose, most people lost their mind. One of them decided the inmates should be allowed to greet the end of the world as free men and let them out. The resulting panic that followed didn't help in any way...
Except for us. This place became our refuge, a fortress and a haven. Concrete and steel never felt so much like home.
At first we believed the cause had been some kind of government thing. That's the way it worked in the movies, some kind of disease or genetic tinkering gone wrong. But things got, well... Weirder is the only way I can put it. I'm not so sure what caused it all. Maybe hell became over crowed and vomited forth all the extras.
Everyday I get the feeling that worse things are lurking out there. And I don't mean gun toting pyscho's, I've got one of those for a friend. I mean things a bullet just wont stop, no matter how many head shots you pile on. They think I'm losing it.. As if I ever had it.. At least they've given me a little space so I've been able to work on my gauntlets. I get an idea to build something and I cant get it out of my head till I build it. Kinda explains some of the things we've got around here.
Well, we've got another 22Run in an hour and I've got to go over the Chuckwagon and make sure the cutters are in working order.....
Ogre out.
My friends and I always joked about what we'd do in of some kind of zombie apocalypse. We never thought we would have to test those ideas. Don't really know why I'm recording this,there's not many of us left. Should these words outlast me, outlast this Armageddon, I want someone to remember us.
Remember that we didn't surrender to barbarism. We didn't surrender ourselves to mere survival. We were not all survival experts, great strategists or military genius.
We were officers at a small time county jail. A handful of odd characters and cop wannabes on their way up the ladder. We used this place as our last refuge.
When the zombies arose, most people lost their mind. One of them decided the inmates should be allowed to greet the end of the world as free men and let them out. The resulting panic that followed didn't help in any way...
Except for us. This place became our refuge, a fortress and a haven. Concrete and steel never felt so much like home.
At first we believed the cause had been some kind of government thing. That's the way it worked in the movies, some kind of disease or genetic tinkering gone wrong. But things got, well... Weirder is the only way I can put it. I'm not so sure what caused it all. Maybe hell became over crowed and vomited forth all the extras.
Everyday I get the feeling that worse things are lurking out there. And I don't mean gun toting pyscho's, I've got one of those for a friend. I mean things a bullet just wont stop, no matter how many head shots you pile on. They think I'm losing it.. As if I ever had it.. At least they've given me a little space so I've been able to work on my gauntlets. I get an idea to build something and I cant get it out of my head till I build it. Kinda explains some of the things we've got around here.
Well, we've got another 22Run in an hour and I've got to go over the Chuckwagon and make sure the cutters are in working order.....
Ogre out.