Creep World: The End (Part One)

[Tasselfoot]

Mal... that is MAYBE 30 pages of book print, tops... less, IMO. I've felt that it has moved way too fast already, and jumps from one action sequence that is not well explained to another, with no time for character development in between.

[MalReynolds]

In an attempt to prove Tass wrong, I pulled out a hardback copy of Hannibal and typed a page.

That translated into a little under half of a page on word. Meaning that front, back and part of the next page would all fit into one Word page.

So, he's right. It's not 100. It's somewhere in the ball park of seventy. My bad.

I do find his points valid, though. It's very fast paced, and once I finish section 10 (this is 8), I'm going back and doing some rewrites on all of the parts. So as of Sunday, there won't be an update for a little while. Once I re-edit, the full text will go into a new thread with the next section. So, yeah.

Mal

[natetheffrer]

Awesome stuff mal, I should do a reader response on this for english class, its better than rereading the harry potter books.

[Tps222]

I have to agree with Tass somewhat. It would be nice to go into more detail when they switch scenes. Character-wise, do what you want. Mind Melder was pretty cool, can't wait to see the real action.

[MalReynolds]

The first tendrils of daylight entered into the station lobby through the glass doors and over the eyes of Eric, who was fast asleep. In the middle of his second shift, he had passed out mid-sentence, talking to Gopher.

�Which is where I learned to shoot like that, you se-“

Gopher had summarily nodded, then went back into the offices to find a blanket. Finding a quilt, he returned to the lobby and covered Eric, sitting back and keeping his own eyes open on the doors.

Nothing happened. There was no thumping against the glass doors; the metal handles were still attached as morning approached. The Mind-Melder’s body sat in the parking lot, unmoving. The wind shuffled the trees, knocking leaves down, but that was the most excitement that night. In a word, it was quite boring.

As the light crept over Eric’s eyes, they opened with a flash.

“I wasn’t sleeping. I was checking… My mind… For… Shit, I was asleep, wasn’t I?�

Gopher nodded.

“Alright, Goph, what are we going to do? Where are we going to go?�

“I dunno. We’ve got a car. We could try and find a boat like Steven said. Do you think that’s a good idea?�

Eric paused. He didn’t quite know what to say. Steven, in Eric’s eyes, wasn’t much of a planner. He wanted to go to some island. Maybe that would work. Eric didn’t know. But Steven just seemed so happy about everything.

“I guess. Couldn’t hurt, could it?�

Gopher smiled. “I’m going to go to the back and get everyone up. I’ll be right back.�

The large man ambled to the back. Steven was holding Angela on the floor, and Iggy was stretched out over the counter. Fichter was slumped in the corner with one arm over his head, crooked against the cabinet, his other arm behind him.

“Hey everyone!� Gopher boomed. “Time go get up!�

Iggy rolled off of the counter, onto the ground.

“Ouch.� He said, seconds after impact.

“Come on, grab some stuff,� Gopher said, walking over to Fichter. “We’re gonna get out of here. Grab all the cupcakes you want, because we don’t want to come back. Wake up, dude.� Fichter stirred, and opened his eyes.

“Could you get me a cup of coffee, sugar?� He said, sleepily.

“Haven’t had a fresh cup myself in about three weeks,� Gopher said, helping Fichter to his feet.

The group slowly made their way down the dim hallway to the front door, where Eric was standing, his form silhouetted against the world outside. His forearm was against the door and he was resting his head against it.

“Alright,� he said to the glass. Everyone stopped. “We’re going to go find a boat, and try to find an island. As much as I think that’s a bad idea, it’s the only idea we have right now. So that’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to pile into the car. Gopher, Iggy and I will take to the back. Angela, you sit on Steven’s lap, and Fichter, you drive. We’re going to find a marina, and then we’re going to get the hell out of dodge.� He turned around. “Any questions?�

There was a long pause.

“Could we get bananas anywhere?� Steven asked.

There was another long pause as everyone contemplated the question.

“Not sure,� Eric finally said. “I think they’re all rotten, aren’t they?�

Steven frowned. “Alright, bad idea.�

Eric opened the door, stepping out into what was left of our world. He took the steps two at a time, hitting the sidewalk, turned around and motioned for the others to follow. They all stepped outside, drowsily, and walked to Fichter’s car. Eric opened the door for Angela and Steven, before climbing into the middle of the back. Gopher clambered in on his left side, Iggy on his right. There wasn’t much room to move around at all, and Eric tried unsuccessfully to situate himself in the back.

It reminded him of bus-rides through New York as a child. It was going to be bumpy, he thought to himself, reaching for a safety belt. There was no belt for the middle, he deduced as Gopher and Iggy strapped themselves in.

“So, Dad, the paramedics never have to remove people from safety belts in car accidents?�

“Nope, Eric. Because most people live if they wear seat belts.�

“So if they die, they leave them in there?�

It was one of the few times he had ever seen his father laugh. It turned from a laugh into a guffaw; his face beat red with a tear brimming in his left eye. It rolled down his face and past his moustache. Eric was embarrassed. He had been genuinely curious about the fate of those who died in seat belts, but now, retrospectively, the answer had been obvious.

Fichter started the car, and Eric started to laugh. He finally got it.

Angela turned around and looked at Eric. “Something funny? Tell me. I could use the laugh,� she smiled. Oh was her smile beautiful.

“It’s nothing.�

“Well… It wouldn’t take much to make me laugh, all things considered.�

“Alright, well… I asked my dad if anyone who died while wearing a seatbelt was left in the car they died in. Because he said… Uh… Paramedics never had to take people out of cars in body bags that had their seatbelts on.�

The car moved backwards.

“And?�

“Well, that was it. My dad laughed at that when I was a kid, but I didn’t understand why it was funny until now.�

“Oh,� she said, turning back around.

Steven turned his head, trying to look back at Eric, but unable to fully turn because of his wife.

“What made you think of that? Thinking about car accidents is morbid when we’re in a car.�

“Oh, I don’t have a seatbelt.�

“That’s even more morbid,� Steven said, facing forward again.

“That’s not morbid, is it, Iggy?�

“Yes. Yes it is very much so morbid, and now I’m uncomfortable sitting next to you, Mr. Morbid.� Iggy said, smiling.

From the front seat, they heard a laugh. It was Angela. Her laugh was even more beautiful than her smile. To try and describe it would be doing it a great injustice.

“Alright, that’s enough, Iggy.�

“What are you going to do? Wear MY seatbelt? Cause I don’t want to die, Eric. Don’t you go taking my seat belt. I mean, look out there! This is rush hour traffic! I’ll be surprised if we even make it to the corner without getting hit by some other vehicle.�

Angela’s laugh grew louder. Steven began to chuckle, and Fichter pulled out of the parking lot, carefully shifting gears.

“Okay, Iggy. I get it. I was bein-“

“Oh no, look out! There’s a speeding car heading right towards us! Whatever shall we do? Well, I know what you’re going do to, Eric. You’re going to get killed, cause you’re not wearing a seat belt.�

Gopher started laughing, and Angela began gasping for breath.

“Iggy, I get it. I was worried over noth-“

“This is the hay-day for drivers, Eric. I’m not sure you understand just how much danger you’re really in! Crazy drivers everywhere! Remember how many we saw on the way to the station? At least seven… MILLION!�

Iggy started laughing. Eric began to chuckle and Fichter tried to concentrate on the road. His eyes were beginning to water; trying to stifle the laughter he had growing inside of him. It blurred his vision, and soon enough, he had driven off of the road, clipping the side of a building. Eric had flown forward a tad, hitting his shoulder, but it was low impact. Fichter had been going at less than ten miles per hour when he clipped the building. He shifted down and stopped the car, to laugh.

Everyone in the car was laughing, even Eric who was nursing his bruised shoulder blade.

“Oh, well I’m glad I had a seatbelt on,� Iggy said through laughter.

“Me too!� Gopher said, clapping Eric on his shoulder. Eric winced.

When it finally died down, Fichter stepped out of his car to look at the damage. There wasn’t much. The paint on the front right hand side had been scraped; there was a tiny dent, but nothing to really worry about. Nothing that would shut his car down.

He stepped back inside of the car, slid the key into the ignition, and turned. The car didn’t start. He tried again. Nothing. He looked around at his gauges, and tried again.

“What’s wrong, Fichter?� Angela asked.

“It would appear that we’re out of gas.�

“So… We walking?� Eric said from the back.

“Hardly. You three are. I’m going to shift into neutral. There’s a station up the road for gas. A gas station. I think I might be able to get some fuel there,� he said, turning around. “You boys ready to push the car?�

It wasn’t right down the road. It wasn’t two blocks. It was fifteen blocks. They pushed the entire way, although Gopher was more than capable of doing it himself. They were sweaty and dirty again by the time they got to the gas station. Gopher ended up pushing the car to the pump when Iggy fell to his knees.

“Fifteen blocks I can handle, Eric. But up-hill? That’s just… It seems so unnecessary. Why didn’t we just get a gas tank to bring back?�

Eric helped Iggy up. “Hindsight is always 20/20 isn’t it, Iggs.�

Iggy half laughed, half coughed. Angela and Steven got out of the car and helped him to the bench outside of the convenience store. Fichter began to work on the pump, figuring out how to get fuel without electricity. Eric surveyed the scene.

The store was empty in that there were no people inside. There were chips and cases of soda. Big cases of water stacked by the front door, creating a half barricade the extended halfway to the ceiling. Low enough to see inside of the store. There was blood on the floor, but no visible body. There were also spent shotgun shells on the ground, which interested Eric.

“Guys, there’s a gun inside. I’m going to go take it.�

Before anyone could say anything, Eric had taken a flashlight and opened the double doors.

It was rank inside. The air was green with the stench of fetid and rotten flesh. Whoever had the gun was long gone. They wouldn’t mind Eric taking it at all. He made his way around the aisles, keeping his hand over his mouth to keep the air from getting in. It was a futile attempt, but the placebo effect was the only thing stopping him from dry heaving. He grabbed a pre-packaged item, stuffing it into his pocket, walking around to the counter.

The thing behind the counter still clutched the gun in his hand, but he wasn’t dead quite yet. He was breathing, with a paper towel pressed firmly against a wound in his neck.

Outside, Iggy was bashing the payphone box with the receiver, trying to get it to drop coins. Gopher was inside the car, trying to rest his eyes. Angela and Steven were standing at opposite ends of the lot, looking down the hill and up the hill. And Fichter was still trying to figure out how to operate the damn pump.

Fichter was a problem solver. He had done some extra study when he was in High School, for higher-level thinkers. He was sure he could get the pump to work: Physics was somewhat of his specialty from college as well. Fichter was growing impatient.

And inside, Eric was crouched over his man. He removed his hand from his mouth, and gagged. The smell was emanating from the wound in the man’s neck. Eric pulled the paper towel away and heaved. The flesh around the wound was rotting, ready to drop off. It would have already if the man had been lying at an angle where gravity would have been affecting the skin in a downward fashion.

He noticed behind the man a corpse that was missing the top of its head.

Eric lightly slapped the man. “Hey, hey.�

The man stirred.

“You’ve been bitten.�

His eyes opened. “No shit.�

Eric sat on his haunches trying to conceive the best way to tell the man that he was going to turn. He didn’t quite know how to phrase it. Luckily for Eric, while he was facing this moral dilemma, the man stood. Unluckily for Eric, the man was now but a shadow of his former self. The gun clattered to the ground as the thing lurched forwards. Eric used its weight against it and threw it over the counter.

In the parking lot, Iggy’s head began to hurt.

From behind the building, a Mind-Melder floated around the corner.

Eric dove to the ground, grabbing the shotgun. He stood as the man-thing began to try and climb back over the counter. Eric unloaded a shell into the things face and it flew backwards into the rack of potato chips, dead.

He searched under the counter for shells and found a box of fifty. The box said there were fifty inside, but it looked like there were only twenty or so left. Eric stuck the box into his pocket on top of the pre-packaged food and made his way to the front door. He swung it open.

“Don’t worry about that shot that was fired inside guys. Don’t rush to me all at once, it’s cool.�

He noticed Iggy passed out, face down on the ground. He noticed the Melder standing at the end of the parking lot, back to Eric. In its short stubby claws stood Angela and Fichter. Steven was being pulled towards it.

“Oh, shit.�

Eric walked up behind the Melder quietly, but still couldn’t get a bead on its head. He pulled the shotgun up to his shoulder and fired one round into the things back. It jerked forward, and began to turn around, throwing Angela and Fichter to the ground. Eric cocked the shotgun, the crisp sound cutting through the still air, and fired one more shell as the creature turned around to face him. Its head and sad eyes disappeared in a fine spray, and the thing collapsed to the ground in between Fichter and Angela.

Summarily, they began to snap out of it as Eric was walking back out of the store with warm bottles of water.

He tossed one to Steven, who was the first to break out of the mental lock. One flew at Fichter, bouncing off of his chest. One flew at Angela, bouncing off of her forehead.

Iggy was already to his feet, when Eric tossed the bottle to him.

“They’re not going to remember me throwing water bottles at them, are they?�

“Yes, we most certainly are,� Angela called from behind him, holding back a laugh.

Fichter walked back to his car, shaky, but finishing the fueling.

Eric turned to him. “How did you manage to fuel the car without electricity?�

Fichter smiled. “Long, complicated, you wouldn’t understand either way.�

Eric shook his head. “You’re probably right."

“Oh, I know I am.�

Eric, Angela and Steven began work their way back to the car, when Eric pulled Steven aside.

“They didn’t have bananas, but they did have this,� he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the shotgun shells first.

“Not quite the same, Eric.�

“Oh, shut up. Those are for me. This is for you,� he said, reaching into the cargo pocket and crinkling the shrink-wrap. He pulled out the banana-nut muffin and handed it over. Steven smiled and began to walk back to the car.

Eric slid some shells into the shotgun, and set the gun down on the floor of the car. The shells went back into this pocket, as Fichter started the car and began to pull away.

“I didn’t say anything this time, did I?� Angela asked.

“Oh, I heard it all. You’re madly in love with me and we’re going to get married on a hilltop,� Eric said from the back.

“Did I really say that?�

Eric smiled. “No, I was in the store the entire time.�

Angela began to laugh. Soon the car was filled with laughter, cutting through the air and heading towards the coastline.

[natetheffrer]

In the beginning you spelling mid wrong, you put min. Also I think that is was odd that eric did nothing too the guy on they ground.

[Tasselfoot]

“I didn’t say anything this time, did I?� Angela asked.

Except... Angela wasn't told she said anything about Eric. Unless you went back and edited the story.

[MalReynolds]

In the other section, she's told that Eric killed the Melder before she had a chance to say anything. Both times, she didn't know what she said, but she's under the impression that it makes you speak. Lemme pull the quotes up.

Mal

The first encounter:

Originally Posted by MalReynolds

“She already knew about that.�

Angela turned.

“Is there anything else I should know about?�

Steven shook his head.

“No.�

She turned to face Iggy.

“Did I say anything?�

There was a long pause as Iggy thought about the question.

“No. You didn’t. Eric killed it before you had a chance to speak.�

At the Gas Station.

Originally Posted by MalReynolds

“I didn’t say anything this time, did I?� Angela asked.

Hope that clears things up.

[Eyoshi]

I thought the short transition from present-time to the past was a little unnoticable, as it just didn't seem that obvious when I looked through for the first time.
However, I thought that this part was a nice interlude between the "bigger" installments. The humor didn't seem to have been put there just for the sake of trying to make people laugh, which is good.

[MalReynolds]

They continued down the deserted roads, through the noonday sun, following the signs that would lead them to the Jersey Shore. Past signs advertising the fun escapism of Atlantic City; now was no time for fun escapism. They only followed the roads that had signs with the words “docking� or “marina�.

Several hours passed in the car with Iggy continuing to make seat-belt jokes. Gopher was trying desperately to sleep, but couldn’t sleep though Iggy’s almost continuous laughter. Angela and Steven were growing frustrated. Eric was resting his head in his hands, a bolt of pain shooting through his skull. All the while, Iggy kept on.

“Cause you NEED a seat-belt! Get it? It’s the law! Ha!�

Angela groaned, Steven sighed and Iggy started laughing again.

“Come on, guys, that one was classic! Classic! There is no law anymore! Get it?�

Eric turned and looked Iggy in the eye. “Yes, we get it Iggy. Some things just aren’t funny. Hey, Fichter? You want to take us to a farm so Iggy can beat a dead horse for real?�

Iggy’s face turned bright red. He shut up and quietly slid back into his seat, turning to face the window.

They rode in silence, Iggy embarrassed. Eric’s conscience began to gnaw on him as they approached their exit.

“Iggy, I didn’t mean it. It was kind of funny.�

“No, it wasn’t at all,� Gopher chimed from the other side of Eric. Eric shot him a look, and Gopher one again nestled and tried to fall asleep.

“Iggy, it was kind of funny. Right guys?�

No one answered, save for Fichter. He grunted, although that might have been a sneeze. Iggy turned to face Eric.

“Don’t try and make me feel better. I know it was stupid. Don’t worry about it.�

“Really, Iggy?�

“Yup.�

“Good man. You’re a better man than I am, Ig-“

“Don’t worry about it, cause if we get into a car accident I’m going to live.� He began laughing again. There was a simultaneous groan that rode throughout the car, not quite reaching Iggy’s ears through his own laughter.

The sign loomed in the distance, hard to see behind the sun. The glare made it look like a black rectangle. Fichter pulled down the sun-visor and squinted.

“CLARK’S LANDING; EXIT 218B.�

Below that, “POINT PLEASANT, EXIT 218A.�

“Look, Iggy. Point Pleasant. That sounds fun, doesn’t it?� Eric said in a futile attempt to raise the downtrodden spirits in the metal cage.

“Sounds fun. Won’t be,� he said, turning away from Eric and back to the window.

Fichter pulled the car onto the exit and rode into the once thriving beach-front community. Deserted hotels played guard to the beach as they drove through, trying to find any indicator of Clark’s Landing. Most of the signs in town had been taken down, scribbled over. Amateur graffiti artists had run rampant after hearing news that the military and police forces were summarily being decimated. Instead of helping others, they helped themselves by painting over any helpful indicators that would lead Eric and the others to Clark’s Landing.

Fichter pulled the car over.

“I think we need a map if we’re going to find Clark’s Landing,� he said, not directly to anyone.

“Well,� Eric started from the back, “Why don’t we just drive over the beach in one direction for an hour, and if we don’t run into it there, we can always double back. It’s not like we have any shortage of time, do we?�

“No, but I can’t take this car onto the beach. That’s running an enormous risk in and of itself. What if the car got stuck? We’d be waylaid here in this deserted tourist local. Not exactly the most safe or secret place to be stranded, either. Hotels, motels, beach houses. Inconspicuous, this place ain’t.�

Steven nodded. Angela turned to face the others.

“Fichter’s right,� she said, as he did a silent fist pump. “We need a map. There’s got to be some kind of tourist information center somewhere. Hell, maybe a hotel lobby would have a map or at least a phone book with an address.�

“I take it this means Iggy, Gopher and I are going to be doing some legwork while you all sit in the car and keep it running in case something happens?�

“Well… Yes,� she said.

Eric let out a heavy sigh. “Alright. Guys, let’s go. There’s a hotel right there,� he said, indicating to the dark monolith beside them. “Let’s get a map and get out. Won’t be more than a few minutes in there.� Eric leaned over to Iggy and whispered in his ear, “We going to run into any trouble in there?�

He nodded. “But nothing we can’t handle,� he opened the door and stepped out, leaning town and touching his toes.

“Fichter, pop the trunk.�

Iggy reached in and pulled out his bag of supplies. Eric took the shotgun from the floor and Gopher picked up a tire iron out of the trunk. Iggy handed a flashlight to Eric and Gopher, tossing a role of tape to Eric.

“Tape the light to the gun. Make things a little easier. Flash-light mod, anyone?�

Eric chuckled as he used the duct tape to make the flashlight a semi-permanent addition to his shotgun.

The doors to the hotel swung open quietly as Eric stepped through the door, light emanating from the barrel of his gun. The floor reflected the light poorly; what was once polished marble now sat covered in dust and blood. The wooden reception desk bathed in the eerie light from Eric’s gun as he approached.

Iggy scouted the ceiling for any sign that would point them in the direction of acquiring a map faster. Eric set his gun down on the counter and vaulted over.

“Showoff,� Iggy said, stepping through the employee entrance.

Eric grabbed his gun and began to look through the papers on the desk. There were some about safe-house locations that had been compromised, military installations that had been wiped out, guests in room 47 that were having sex too loudly and a band in the roof-top suite that had taken a penchant to throwing hotel property from the roof. Nothing useful. Eric stepped away from the counter, and Iggy approached shining his light. He closed his eyes and opened a drawer, pulling out a single sheet of paper.

“MEMO: To the information staff. Subject: New Map Shipment. We have to get these new maps distributed, and to the best of my knowledge, they’re still setting in a box in the back room. Could anyone care to explain why they haven’t been put in the tourist information stand yet? These maps need to be distributed today or else heads will roll.�

“Eric, I found something,� Iggy said, crumpling the memo and tossing it over the counter.

“Guys, there’s nothing here,� Gopher called from the kiosk. Eric turned his light to Gopher, who was standing the center. Eric saw a Creep climb up behind him.

“Gopher, behind you!�

Gopher swung around, bringing the tire iron across the creatures head. It fell the ground.

“Nice shot, Gopher,� Iggy said, coming out from behind the counter, catching a splinter in his finger. “Ow, Dammit.�

“I meant to do that, too,� Gopher beamed.

“Alright, according to this memo Iggy dug up, they should have some maps in the back room. Where the back room is, I have no idea. I think we should split up.�

Iggy and Gopher began to protest when Eric cut them off.

“Just kidding. Alright, let’s think about this logically. Down that hall,� he shined his light above the door on the placard, “are the elevators and stairs. Down that hall,� he turned his light behind him, “Is the gift shop. There’s a door at the end of the gift-shop hall, which I can only assume is the storage area? So, let’s get cracking.�

They made their way down the carpeted hallway, past the glass wall that separated them from the gift shop. Iggy stared through the glass, watching Creeps dance around, throwing books into the air.

“Just keep it quiet, guys. We got company on the other side of this wall.�

Eric nodded, reaching the door. The sign next to it claimed Eric was correct.

“Storage room.�

He tried the door, but no dice. Gopher stepped forward, and tried pulling the handle down harder. He only succeeded in breaking the handle off at the turn, leaving part of the knob.

Eric watched the things in the gift-shop climb to the top of a shelf, and three of them begin to push it down. He trained his shotgun on the door, and when the shelf hit the ground, he fired a shell into the handle.

The shelf hit the ground, and the Creeps jumped and began to laugh. One of them looked out the glass wall and saw the door to the back shutting. It thought nothing of it and began to rip the head off of a teddy bear, throwing the fluff into the air.

The room was dank and carried an air of wetness. There had been an AC leak in there a few days prior, and when the power shut down, the water fell out of the unit in torrents, soaking many of the card board boxes.

“Alright, guys. Start opening shit up. We’re bound to get a map sooner or later.�

It was later rather than sooner. There was much in the way of assorted crap in these boxes, mainly hotel amenities. One box had been filled with soft-core porn, ambiguously titled. More items for the gift shop, including a box of Scuba-Knives, which Gopher helped himself to. Iggy took one to get the splinter out of his finger when they had light. Eric continued to tear the room apart.

“Well, this sucks,� he said in defeat, sitting down. “Anything you can do, Iggy? You getting a feeling about where the maps are?�

Iggy closed his eyes and tried to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t with the splinter in his finger, but he could see something in the corner of his mind.

“Oh, yeah. You’re sitting on them.�

Eric stood and turned around quickly, pointing his light at the box. The top was clearly labeled “POINT PLEASANT MAPS�. Eric opened it with one of Gophers knives, and grabbed four maps.

The Creeps had grown disinterested with the gift shop. They had taken back to the hallway when one noticed the handle to the door of the room they couldn’t get in was missing. He hissed to his contemporaries and motioned at the door. They walked up, one of them pushing the door open.

“Iggy, get down!�

Iggy ducked as Eric fired at shot at the door, knocking it back shut.

“Gopher, start moving shit in front of the door. Iggy, let’s hold it shut.�

They pressed themselves against the door as Gopher began to slide boxes of books across the floor. Several books fell out as he slid it into position, and he hastily kicked them away as he slid another box. He lifted this one over and on top of the initial box, and went back to get another.

Iggy and Eric stopped holding the door and began to move boxes of lighter material with him. Iggy picked up one of the books, as the last box slid into place.

“Alright, we’re safe in here,� Eric said breathlessly. “Now, we just wait until they lose interest. Or we could go out and fight. You guys, it’s your call.�

“I got a better idea,� Iggy said. “Let’s go out of that fire escape, right over there.�

“We need to vote on the motion,� Gopher said.

“Shut up, Gopher,� Eric said walking to the escape. He slowly pushed it open and daylight poured into the room. A Creep stood squarely in the doorframe and Eric promptly shot it in the face.

The group made their way back from the alley and to the car, which was idling. Fichter had his window rolled down and was leaning out, swinging his arm back and forth with his gun.

“Fichter, what are you doing?�

“Keeping… The area secured?�

The three climbed back into the car and handed the stack of maps to Fichter.

“One would have sufficed, you know.�

“So would a ‘thanks’,� Iggy said.

“We were going the wrong way,� he indicated to the map. “It’s a couple miles back thattaway.�

Fichter threw the car into reverse and took off down the alley, backwards. He ran over the corpse of the Creep before putting it into first gear and gunning it, taking off out of the alley like a bat out of hell. He took a sharp left and began to drag down the strip.

“Is there any reason you’re going so fast? It’s not like we have a shortage of time, Fichter,� Eric called from the back.

“I hate it when people say that, Eric. Besides, this is our salvation we’re heading to. The sooner we get there, the better.�

It was a matter of a few hundred seconds before the sign for Clark’s Landing came into view. The sign itself was sky blue and was almost camouflaged against the clear sky. Fichter slowed the car, and took a left into the landing. He parked professionally in a handicapped spot before turning the car off.

“Let’s go find a boat, guys.�

They all filed out of the car, Iggy opening his new book, “The Quilt and Other Assorted Tales,� to the jacket, reading about the author. Something caught his eye.

They made their way down the pier to the boat landings. It was barren. There were no boats.

“There are no boats here,� Steven said.

“Yeah, thanks, I hadn’t noticed,� Eric retorted as he walked down one of the docks. He gazed down into the water and noticed the staff of one boat sticking above the surface.

“Correction, Steve-o. There are plenty of boats. Only problem here is, all of em’ are sunk.�

Steve collapsed to the wooden dock, crying.

“Good plan, good plan,� he kept whispering to himself.

Iggy stood at the back of the group, reading through the jacket and biting at the splinter before he finally spoke up.

“I have an idea.�

Steve stood up, furious.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WITH YOU AND ALL OF YOUR IDEAS? WHY DO ALL OF THEM WORK OUT? I DON’T GET IT! EVERY TIME IT WORKS!�

Iggy looked at Eric and then back at Steven.

“It’s strange, and even if I told you you wouldn’t believe me.�

“Try me,� Steven said.

“Alright… Well… I think I’m a psychic.�

Steven stood speechless. Fichter turned around.

“Like, you can see the future?�

Iggy bit at the splinter. “Somewhat. I didn’t know this idea was going to bust, though. It’s odd. I can’t see everything that’s going to happen. But when I was reading this book jacket, the author is from Virginia. I got a good vibe off of that. I think that’s where we’re supposed to be headed.�

“Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?� Steven said, beginning to calm down.

“Like I said, I can’t see everything. Something usually has to set it off. As much as this is like Final Fantasy, it’s not quite there yet. There has to be a trigger. Like seeing my sister again. I think that did something. But most of the future is blind to me until I find the trigger.� He started smiling.

“Alright, guys, let’s get back to the car,� Eric said.

Iggy’s lower lip overflowed with blood. His smile had changed very quickly into something else, a sick grin. A tear slid down his cheek as his tongue changed from red to silver, a blade being pushed through his mouth. His legs gave out, and he slid to the deck. Behind him, a Creep stood, pulling his sword out of Iggy’s head.

Without thinking, Eric ran at the thing and tackled it, pushing it to the dock. He blindly beat at the creature, breaking its neck with the first blow. He continued to beat its head until nothing was left but a body and a neck that gushed the blood of the Creeps. The body made a splash as Eric threw it into the ocean. He ran over to Iggy’s unmoving body.

From the far dock, the distinct cackle was heard. Fichter gazed down the pier to the end, where a dozen of the creatures had emerged from a sea-shed. They were quickly making their way down the dock towards everything good.

“Eric, we have to go now. We have to go NOW!� Fichter cried out, running. He pulled Angela, who was beginning to weep and Steven who was standing speechless. Fichter had to physically pull Eric away from the body, and they began to run. Eric turned around and ran to the dock, picking his gun up, double stepping back to the group. He looked down at Iggy’s body, picking up the book, and all he could think was, “I’m sorry.�

They piled into the car and set off towards the interstate silently. They were all sorry. Eric opened the book to the first page and began to read.

[natetheffrer]

Wow everybody is dieing, also why does the car not run out of gas?

[MalReynolds]

Fichter refuelled in the section before this.

And yeah, Iggy died. Poor poor Iggs.

Mal

[Eyoshi]

Wow, I thought Iggy was going to be one of the characters that will stay with Eric until the end. It was also pretty strange how you've eliminated one of the strongest characters even though the story has yet to reach the end.

[MalReynolds]

It was something I had planned from the beginning, to offer up a psychic character and then kill him off. I'm going to be re-editing the first 10 parts and posting them in a new thread once I finish, then keep adding. I'll also start doing character pieces called "Everyone Has A Story: 'character name here'" that details characters lives prior to the invasion up until the day of.

Mal

[talisman]

dunno if you've heard about http://www.nanowrimo.org but basically it's a site where they declare november national novel writing month and have a competition to see who can write the best 50 000 word novel starting in november and finishing in november. I figure you've probably got at least 10 - 15 thou here, you might as well start updating it there and see what happens. couldn't hurt anyway and might motivate you extra more.

[MalReynolds]

Well, you piqued my curiosity and I did a word count on my material.

20,000. 19,823 to be exact.

And that site looks interesting. I'd have to look over the copywrite information first. But it's definitley worth looking into. Thanks.

Mal

[MalReynolds]

I decided to do back-story sections for some of the characters. This one is going between chapter 5-6, and it's called "Everyone Has A Story: Wheels". The Everyone Has A Story things comes from Iggy asking people that. But yeah.

-

Ignatious Volter was born roughly twenty years ago and was an only child, records indicate. He wasn’t confined to a wheel chair his entire life; an accident when he was a small child stole away the use of his legs. His mother was driving and had installed the child-safety seat in the passenger area, negating its effectiveness. Within the span of ten seconds, his mother had been taken from him, as were his legs.

He had resided in an assisted living community for a while, his father unable to look after or take care of him due to the urgency of his job. Ignatious’ father was a marketing director for the radio station WXRP in New York, and with time, Ignatious’ father Ken forgot that he even had a son.

Ignatious was an unruly child, dissatisfied with life and what it had taken from him. He was bussed around from home to home, his father putting him up for adoption after two years. His life never changed dramatically, until one late December in 1995. The snow outside of the house was thick, the top layer ice. The wheelchair ramp had been cleared off the night prior so that he could go out and play in the yard with the other boys.

During the night, the ramp had become coated in ice. Ignatious was unable to maintain control of the vehicle as it went down the ramp; eventually, he crashed into the railing, being thrown over and into the snow. His chair stayed on the ramp, falling over.

He had cried out for help for hours. There was no one. Not even the other children were outside. Snow began to fall.

“I’m beginning to lose the feeling in my legs!�

No one was there to laugh.

Ignatious rolled over and began to claw his way to the ramp. He managed to pull himself to his chair using the hand railings. He grabbed onto one of the wheels, flipping the chair over. He sat down in it, but couldn’t make it up back the icy incline into the house; he kept rolling backwards.

He abandoned the chair and began to crawl up the ramp, finally reaching the front door. He rang the doorbell, but no one answered. Smoke began to pour out of the windows.

Ignatious was the only survivor. He was put into government care until he became of age. They helped him acquire and apartment in Manhattan, near the radio-station where his father worked. He had hoped one day to surprise him, coming into the building with a catcher’s glove. Clichéd, yes, but he was sure it would work.

It took nerve to go to the station. The rickety elevator was tough enough to brave. The tenants in the building always kept an eye out for him, lest he hurt himself or let himself be hurt.

Few had tried to talk him out of going to the station that day, but he wouldn’t have it. If Ignatious was one thing, it was determined. Once he had his mind set on something, you couldn’t deter him even for an instant. One of the qualities of being in a chair was his steely will.

He didn’t enter through the revolving doors; he entered through the side door that swung. The receptionist had been having an exceptionally bad day; Ken was sleeping with her, but refused to leave his wife. When Ignatious came through the doors, her smile brightened and she was reminded that there are other people in life that are worse off than she.

She loved helping the disabled as well; it gave her a feeling of superiority that rang in her voice.

“Hello, sir, how can I help you today?�

“I’m here to see Kenneth Volter.�

She blushed and nodded, flipping through the Rolodex of numbers on her desk. It was a façade, trying to find the number. She had it memorized; the one office the building she knew by heart.

She called up. “Hello, is Kenneth there? There is a young man here to see him.� She paused. “Do you have an appointment?�

“No. Tell him his son is here.�

She nodded. “Yes, he says his son is here.� She looked at Ignatious. “Yes, you’re son is here. All right, James, go on up. Floor 30�

He was unfazed by being called James. Could have been a mistake. She could have been reading some kind of label on his clothing or wheelchair. He rolled into the elevator, pressing the button for 30. The muzak over the loudspeaker was something familiar, sounded something like “Mr. Blue Sky� but with a heavy synthesizer and no lyrics.

The doors dinged open and he rolled down the hall, looking at the names on the doors, the carpet green save for the shadows that were constantly being cast over it. By the water cooler he spied his fathers name on the door, and knocked.

“That you, son? Come on in.�

Ignatious opened the door and rolled through. His father was slightly balding, blonde, sitting behind the desk. He wasn’t trying to hide the baldness; he was accepting the futility of the situation with an air of Bruce Willis.

“Who the hell are you?�

Ignatious was taken aback.

“I’m your son. Ignatious Volter.�

Ken didn’t move.

“You put me up for adoption a while ago.�

Ken still sat, unmoving.

“You’re my father. Martha was your wife. She was killed in a car accident.�

“Yes, yes. I know who you are.�

“Then why did you ask me who I was?�

The door opened behind him and a young child ran through, same blonde hair as his father. A woman stepped through the door.

“You might want to put in a word to have that receptionist removed. She was giving me quite a bit of sass,� the woman said, leaning over the desk, kissing her husband. “Who is this?�

“Oh, this is Ignatious. He’s Martha’s son.�

“I’m your son.�

“I’m sorry, not anymore. I’d forgotten about you a long time ago. Mary, could you take James into the hallway? I have to clear up some things in here.�

They left, standing by the water cooler. James played with the wax cups, crumpling them and tossing them aside.

“I’m your SON, Ken! You can’t just forget about me!�

“I didn’t want you. Didn’t you ever wonder how I could let you go so easily? I begged Martha to have you… Taken care of before you were born. But she wouldn’t have it. I’m sorry she died the way she did; I truly loved her… But I didn’t love the choices she made. You were one of them… I wasn’t ready for a child.�

Ignatious began to roll his chair backwards, towards the door.

“So that’s it? I have no father?�

“And I… I have no son. Except for James.�

“I expected you to get remarried, but I didn’t expect…� Ignatious’ voice caught in his throat. He turned the chair, opened the door and rolled down the hallway, tears falling down his face, onto his defunct legs.

People back at the apartment had tried to cheer him up, but he was inconsolable.

“I can’t believe I moved here… I moved here trying to get closer to him, thought we could start…� He couldn’t talk about it without bringing tears to his eyes.

Since that day, he surrounded himself with people in the building, creating relationships that were almost entirely false. He didn’t care for them; he just cared to be around them. He didn’t want to be abandoned, but had no problem abandoning.

The first day of the invasion, he was making soup.

The first time he heard of the things attacking was via his father’s radio station. It was advising people the flea the city, to try and escape. People in the building urged Ignatious to leave, his best bet was to head to Canada.

He sealed himself in the pantry while people, his protectors, tried to secure the building. They all perished. He felt almost nothing for them. Of course they would leave. Everyone did.

When the sounds died out, he took the elevator to the roof just in time to see the New York City skyline blink out, the power dieing save for a few offices that were running on generators. One by one, he watched them blink out. He turned the radio on his lap to his father’s station, but there was nothing but static.

The gunshots rang true from the adjacent building. He sat and watched the young man kill several creatures. Ignatious was filled with adrenaline. It was exciting watching someone able to fight back.

There was a click on the radio.

The door was locked. He moved his chair to a dark corner and began to listen intently for any signal coming out.

There was another click.

Someone was at the station.

[natetheffrer]

Gosh mal, you have all of the stuf tie together so well, I would have had wheels on the roof then him go down some ramp that was made for a rollercoaster. Then the story would end because I would give up.

[MalReynolds]

Bert Elman was born on Sesame Street. He did appreciate the irony but didn’t appreciate the horrible jokes that followed him for most of his life. One thing he wanted more than anything else was to have a new name, a proud name that people wouldn’t make fun of. When he turned 18, he planned on going down the courthouse, paying a nominal fee and changing his name to something that wasn’t Bert from Sesame Street.

His sister, Gina, had thought the notion of him changing his name was all together silly. Of course, she was Gina from Sesame street, a name that had an air about it of a prostitute, not a puppet.

Their father had gotten a job in Manhattan, supervising the construction of several buildings and parks near Wall Street. The Elman family relocated to New York in the following months, Bert losing interest in his name change now that he was away from Sesame Street.

He had moved to Manhattan when he was ten. His parents were happily married, having two children: Bert and Gina Elman, Gina being the senior of the two by four years. It was a large age gap between the children that made Bert often question whether or not his parents really intended to have him.

Gina wasn’t the best of siblings; she constantly would make fun of Bert, shooting down his ideas, but he didn’t mind. He looked up to her; in his eyes, Gina was the cat’s pajamas. Gina knew this and used his admiration to her advantage whenever she could.

Somewhere around his fourteenth birthday, Bert realized this as well. But he didn’t mind. It became a mutual idea that she would no longer use him, rather “get his help� wittingly or un.

Bert’s high school had several motivational speakers come and go, as well as Drug Awareness Resistance Education officers who would come and talk about the dangers of starting illegal substances.

Bert usually didn’t pay attention to the motivational speakers; he was happy enough as it was. But the DARE officer caught his attention when he came to speak to Bert’s class.

Officer Ned was dashing in his uniform, a moustache covering his upper lip. He seemed to be constantly blushing, friendly rather than frightening. He wasn’t portly, but built, his eyes almost shut from smiling all the time.

Gina had been dabbling in drugs ever since high school. Bert knew this, Gina knew this, but Gina didn’t know Bert knew this. As far as Gina was concerned, the only people that knew were the people she bought from and tripped with.

Officer Ned began his rhetoric at the front of the class, talking about how he joined the police department, how he had lived in Manhattan for most of his life and how he had at one point considered becoming an undercover agent, but the birth of his son changed his mind. “Too dangerous to have a family and be snitching on powerful families, you see.�

The class sighed. Everyone was bored, save for the wiry young diabetic looking kid in the back. Bert pushed his glasses up, rapt with attention, his pale skin glowing in the sunbeam that was pouring through the window.

“Which brings me to drugs and why you shouldn’t do them,� Officer Ned began. “The first thing to worry about is addiction. Getting addicted to any substance can off set your life, legal or not. I used to be addicted to caffeine, and when I didn’t have any for a long period of time, I would get a headache and my hand would start to shake. I shot a hostage one time because of than.�

There was an audible gasp from the mass of students.

“Just kidding, glad to see you’re all still alive.�

The students once again nestled in the chairs, trying to get comfortable. But as all students know, it’s impossible to truly relax in the hard plastic chairs.

Bert’s shrill laugh came from the back, alarming his classmates. Bert didn’t know why that was so funny; it just seemed like a good ploy to get the class to pay attention.

“Sorry, continue,� he said, regaining composure.

“Thank you, young man. There are several ways to get addicted to substances; physical and mental addiction being the primary two. The mental addiction is more of a craving than anything else; you can crave a chocolate bar and that would be considered part of a mental addiction. You can also crave marijuana mentally. Everyone in here know what marijuana is?�

Several students raised their hands.

“Anyone in here seen a picture of marijuana?�

The same students kept their hands up.

“Anyone in here know what it smells like?�

The hands went down.

“Anyone ever have some in brownies?�

Two hands went up.

Officer Ned laughed. “Alright, so we have some people in here more knowledgeable about the substance. It’s not my job in here today to bust your balls, so I’m going to forget your hands were up, but you know what it’s like.�

The hands went down and the students didn’t move.

“Physical addiction is pretty gross. Heroin, for example, has a huge physical addiction. You start to shake, much like caffeine, drool, and become unintelligible. This stuff can destroy your life if you’re not careful, and it will. Which is why,� he wrote on the board, “It’s good to stay away from the hard stuff.�

The bell rang, cutting the rhetoric short. The class grabbed their bags, fashionably swung one strap over one shoulder and began to file out of the class room quickly in Friday formation. Bert was the last one to leave, looking at Officer Ned on his way out the door.

“Glad you thought it was funny, son,� he said, smiling and waving.

Bert couldn’t get a ride home; no one really cared to be seen with him. It didn’t alarm him any, he knew he looked strange and gangly, especially for a teenager, so he didn’t mind riding the bus. That’s where he began to worry about Gina and what she might be doing to herself with the drugs.

When he got home, she had the familiar glare in her eyes, seated in front of the television with a bag of chips and a container of dip, a can of orange soda on the side table sans coaster.

Bert began to get genuinely worried about her.

“Any big plans tonight?�

“Going over to Erin’s. Spending the night. Can I borrow some money?�

Bert reached for his wallet. He knew in the back of his mind what she was going to spend it on. He gave her forty dollars anyway.

Gina spent the night in her room after her parents picked her up from the police station. Someone had tipped them off anonymously. When they walked through the door, she was in tears. They were angry but understanding.

As a first time offender, she was let off with a slap on the wrist and five hours of community service to be filled. She wasn’t allowed to leave the house, either; “grounded� is the term for it.

Bert was happy about it. He really felt he had helped her. As she was grounded, there was more forced interaction between the two. Mom and Dad noted how well they were getting along together, finally seeing eye to eye on things. Gina also stopped using him.

She would go on to die at the hand of her brother, never knowing he was the one who turned her in. Years passed and the bond between Bert and Gina grew.

The initial day of the invasion, Bert was at school. Gina was at home. Mom and Dad were at work, Mom a teller at Bank of America.

New reports swept in of the western coastal cities being attacked. The US army was mobilized and we sent word to other countries that we needed help. None came.

Bert and Gina hid in the basement of their building behind stacks of boxes, leaving a note for their parents should they return home. Bert doubted they would; he had a gut feeling… And his gut feelings were usually spot on.

They heard the things ransack the lobby and upper floors. Most of the people in the building had fled, but there were still screams. Maniacal laughter mixed with shrill glass shattering waves of terror. They waited for two days in the basement, making as little noise as possible, hearing the tiny patters of their feet finally leave the building.

At the next light, they went back to their apartment. It was torn apart, but there was no sign of Mom or Dad. Bert looked out the window towards the construction site where his dad worked. A plume of smoke rose from the framed skeleton of the building.

They stayed in their apartment for a few days, eating and mainly remaining quiet, hoping their parents would come walking through the door. The door remained closed.

Bert saw the flier from the window, three stories up. He actually saw a large grouping of them blowing down the street. He nudged Gina and pointed down. They carefully and quietly made their way to the ground level, stepping outside briefly, grabbing a flier.

“Big Apple Print Shop…�

“There’s a survivor there, Gina. He’s got candy, too,� Bert said, smiling. His voice had cracked, the first time he had used it in several days.

“There’s a survivor there, Gina. He’s got candy, too,� Bert said again, deepening his voice. A gut feeling again, telling him not to go.

“We’re not going. Alright, Gina?�

“Yes we are. What made you change your mind like that?�

“I just have a bad feeling about it is all. We shouldn’t go.�

“Well, I’m older. Your vote doesn’t really count now does it, little brother,� she said, ruffling his hair.

“Alright… Fine. But if we go, I’m changing my name.�

“To what?�

“I dunno. Something cooler than Bert. Lemme check the phone book.�

He opened the book to the middle, closed his eyes and dropped his finger on the page.

“Ignatious Volter.�

“That last name is retarded, Bert.�

“Fine. Just Ignatious.�

She sighed and shook her head, smiling.

“It does sound cool. Had a nice ring to it,� he said, as they began walking down the street.

“Ignatious.�

“Alright, Bert, keep it quiet. We don’t know if there are any of those things anywhere.�

He smiled and whispered, “Ignatious.�

-

Mal

[Fungishroom]

I've been reading them, just all my questions and comments on the stories are already answered by someone else.