MONOLITH

As the title says, if you've clicked on this thread you now have to write a creepypasta concerning the inevitable Zombie Apocalypse. Or if you've written one copy and paste it here. I wrote mine for a thread on /x/ a few months ago, and then reposted it here in the "I would like to play a game" thread. But I'm reposting it again just to get this thread rolling...I love zombies, and I want more zombie pasta.

The only rule of this thread is that the creepypasta has to concern zombies...I'm drawing no distinction on whether they walk or run, or even ride jetpacks and shoot lasers. Please contribute! :D

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Our Own Little Hell

It’s only been a week now, but everything’s completely changed. We don’t know how it started, whether it was just a virus in the air or the water (if so then why haven’t we caught it already?) or if it’s just some contagion. All I know is that the local hospital had to be quarantined because the patients went into a psychotic frenzy. The military thought that would stop the outbreak but that apparently didn’t work.

I was watching the news when it happened, they came from the woods, and they looked just like anyone else…except they tore into the soldiers at the barricade like rabid animals. The news team held their place, recording as the soldiers opened fire on dozens and dozens of what used to be Athens’ citizens. Every time a body hit the ground there were 2 more to take its place, and for all their superior firepower, they were surrounded.

I could hear the camera operator scream as he realized he too was surrounded, and I could barely hold my lunch in when I watched the camera hit the ground. The reporter, a beautiful young Asian woman named Samantha Chung, already lay dead with a gaping hole in her shoulder. Then they surrounded her and I could hear as flesh was ripped from bone.

They switched to studio feed after that, and the visibly shaken anchors promised to keep us informed on the situation by the hour. A half hour later, before they could give any further updates on the spread, the signal went out, and I flipped the TV off.

The doorbell rang a few minutes after the broadcast and I went to it to find Corey on the other side. I let him in and he immediately started in on “how cool” it all was, and talking about George Romero and Shaun of the Dead, etc. I quickly reminded him the percentage of “zombie movies” that end remotely well. He shrugged it off and we went back to the living room to watch the TV.

It was about that time my little brother came downstairs. He was only twelve and would spend most of his time in his room playing video games or whatever, but whenever Corey came over his attention seeking instincts kicked in and I could hardly get him away.

“Daveeey,” Corey said as he shuffled over to the stairs with his arms outstretched. “The zombies are coming to get youuu!”

“Zombies aren’t real,” Davey said with a laugh. Corey playfully grabbed him then carried him over to the couch where I sat before the television. 26 News were learning where channel 12 went wrong, and they were filming from a helicopter high above the city streets. There were literally hordes of people shuffling through the streets, tearing people from their cars and smashing in windows.

Quickly they panned left and I watched as a car roared down the street and slammed into the horde. The zombies did not move, they did not flinch, they were simply crushed as the car slammed into them, and then flipped up on its side. The remaining denizens wasted no time smashing in the windows to pull the driver and his passengers out. The camera only turned away as they pulled the little girl out of the backseat and began eating her too.

“That’s not real,” Davey said.

“It is,” I said, disbelieving myself.

“Then why haven’t we boarded up the doors and windows yet, Robbie?”

“Mom and Dad are still out, we can’t leave them out there! Besides, we don’t have any boards.”

“We can break down my bed and use the wood from it,” Davey said. Corey was grinning at me, and all I could do was nod my agreement.

“Dude, I have my old man’s credit card,” Corey said. “I’ll just run to the store really quick and get some supplies.”

“Wait, you can’t go out there,” I snapped.

“I’d better go now before the zombies get here, shouldn’t I?”

“The store’s probably overrun anyway.”

“Listen, the first zombie I see I’ll haul ass back here right away.”

“Well just stop calling them that okay?”

“What?”

“Zombies! Those are people, man.”

“Not anymore,” he shrugged, and left just like that. I put it out of my mind as my brother and I went upstairs and started taking his bed apart. We only had enough wood to cover one and a half windows, and there were at least 6 windows downstairs, so we improvised, putting one or two boards across each window. I knew that wasn’t enough to stop a determined horde, but all I could do was hope we didn’t attract the attention of an entire horde.

It was just starting to get dark and all the local stations had gone out, so I flipped through the national news channels to see if there was any news on the matter. Apparently nothing yet…it was as if we were in our own little hell. Then came a banging on the door. I got up to go answer it but Davey grabbed my arm. “Don’t, it’s the zombies.” More frantic banging, and I pulled away from him.

“It’s probably mom and dad,” I said as I ran to the door. It wasn’t.

“Open it, quick,” Corey snapped at me, and I yanked the door open. He stumbled in with three bags on his arm and slammed the door behind him, panting and sweating.

“Where the fuck have you been? I thought you were dead.”

“The store was deserted, man,” he said as he started towards the living room. “So I went inside and started just scooping shit off the shelves. Mostly canned meat and stuff you know, perishables.”

“Non-perishables,” I corrected.

“Right! So I’m heading out when I notice there are other shoppers there. They’ve been there all along and I didn’t hear shit. Thing is…they’re not shoppers. They’re zombies, and once they see me, and see that I see them, they start moaning really loud, like this cacophony and they start shuffling towards me. So I take my fucking bag and I jet. But when I get back on my bike and get to the road I notice this huge fucking roadblock of zombies—like the one we saw on the news, you know—staring right the fuck at me. So I turned the other way and pedaled like hell.

“So I get onto the highway and there’s this huge pileup stretching on for miles. I mean cars completely fucking flipped. So I start back your way, weaving in and out of the cars, and I see no one anywhere for as far as I can see. No survivors, man.”

He finally leaned down to put the bags on the floor and that’s when I noticed the blood. His sleeve was ripped from the elbow down and he had a nasty gash. “He’s been bit!” Davey yelled, and he was absolutely hysterical. “He’s gotta go! He’s gonna turn into a zombie!”

“I wasn’t bit,” Corey yelled over and over until Davey stopped screaming, “relax, I’m not gonna turn into a zombie. You have to get bit to turn, and I didn’t get bit.” I asked him what happened as I followed him to the bathroom to help him find the gauze and alcohol. “Well like I said, I had to weave through the wreckage. And I was right on first impression, there were no survivors…but the highway wasn’t exactly deserted. I was halfway to the turn off when they started crawling out of the cars, almost simultaneously. One grabbed me and yanked me right off my fucking bike, man. His grip was like steel, and he just held on to me, hanging halfway out of his driver’s side window staring at me. I kicked the old man in the face probably twenty times before I ripped free of him, and he gave me this nasty scratch down my arm to remember him by.”

“Holy shit,” I gasped as I pulled up his sleeve. The cut went all the way from the inside of his elbow to his wrist and the blood flowed freely. I damped a wad of cotton swabs in alcohol and started rubbing the wound.

“I barely got back alive, man. I had to cut through one of the shops ‘cos they were all in the road at that point. I ducked into an alley in the back, setting off a fire alarm in the shop. I ran like hell. And I circled around the long way so I’d have time to lose them before getting back here.”

“Well I’m glad you made it. It was stupid for you to go in the first place.”

“We’re gonna have to wait this thing out,” Corey said as he stared at me pleadingly. “We can’t just go about life like nothing’s happening, we have to survive on what we can.”

He had rinsed the blood away and I was wrapping his arm with a length of bandage when I noticed Davey out of the corner of my eyes. He had the most haunted look on his face I’d ever seen as he just stared at me.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

It took me a moment but I heard it. It was a cacophony of wailing. It was like some morbid concert was playing out in the street as loud as it was. They were getting closer.

“Turn out the lights,” I said as we rushed through the house gathering everything we could, the food, knives from the kitchen, a broom, the toilet paper from the bathrooms both upstairs and down. I even grabbed the can sodas from the refrigerator, and we all went down into the basement. Just in time, too, for as I was running down the hall to the basement door I could hear the pounding at my front door.

I don’t know how they knew where we were (my only guess is they followed the scent of Corey’s blood) but I knew they wouldn’t relent. We listened in absolute silence as they smashed in the large picture window in the living room…the one we couldn’t board up completely. Then they were upstairs, shuffling around, and moaning…incessantly moaning.

It was okay for the first day, we sat in absolute silence hoping they’d go away, and for a while we thought they had. The next morning Corey came back from the bathroom, flushing the toilet upon leaving and that’s when the banging started. It was on the walls at first, then about thirty minutes later they found the cellar door and the banging started there, concentrated.

For days the banging continued unabated. I don’t know if it’s the same few, or if they take shifts or what but it didn’t cease for days until the oak door started to splinter under the pressure. Davey was on the verge of tears and Corey was nearly catatonic. His skin had lost all its hue and he was sweating profusely. I looked back up the stairs to see a chunk of wood come flying down the stairs, and an arm shot through the hole.

There were no windows in the basement. No doors. There was nowhere to go except the bathroom. So I scooped up the remaining supplies and led Davey there. Corey wouldn’t follow, kept saying to “save yourselves,” as if that were even an option now. My only interest was surviving long enough to write this.

I don’t know what type of wood this bathroom door was made of, but I know it isn’t the strong oak that the basement door was made of. They just started banging on it, and I don’t know how long it will hold out. Fortunately once they broke into the basement I didn’t hear them go to Corey and begin to devour him. Unfortunately that means he’s one of them now. As I write this to the sound of banging only a few feet away from me I’m sitting in the tub with the meat knife in my lap and I’m hungry, and I’m sleepy. I don’t want to become one of them, but every time I look at Davey and realize what I must do I’m filled with dread. I think he knows what has to be done too, but he won’t say anything. He just cries.

Mom and Dad, if you find this, please forgive me. It's for the best.

Shoulda gone upstairs.

I'm in between.

One of them bit me. The bastard took a chunk out of my upper arm. The fool probably didn't even know it was an arm. He probably saw me as a walking turkey leg or something. Oh, but he got his dues. I whacked his useless head off with a crowbar I stole when shit got serious.

It got serious about a month ago, and let me tell you, it happened just the way everyone thought it would happen. Some "contained" little outbreak, then BOOM, everyone I know is staggering around like kangaroos tripping on dextro. Not me, though. I knew I was going to fight it. I did well until about a week ago when Mr. Slobbermouth munched on my bicep.

It amazes even me that I'm so coherent. God, I wish I wasn't. I'm not like them, but I'm just like them. I have the hunger they have, but I have all the guilt and love of humanity that is going to keep me from surviving.

I'm not even sure that I want to survive anymore. I see them do horrible things, things that are starting to drive me mad, and I either get sick to my stomach or find my mouth watering. I don't want to live if living means I have to watch the destruction of my kind every day.

But then, this means no more hiding. It's as if they can sense something in me, like they scan for a zombie membership card and find it on me. They leave me alone. I can walk freely among them.

You know how I said I'm just like them? Well, I'm better than them. I'm smarter and have the ability to gain the trust of humans. I found one yesterday, I know where all the good hiding spots are, you see, and Lord was it happy to see me. It grasped my arm and looked into my eyes, saying it was happy to have found someone to fight with. Making sure none of the no-brains were around, I took it with me and hid with it in a storm cellar. I let it fall asleep, then I broke its neck, busted open its head like a coconut, and tore into its meaty brain. The blood complimented it nicely.

For a few moments, I felt bad for what I had done. I saw his body in that stagnant pool of blood, looking as if he was still sleeping, and felt some remorse for the poor, trusting boy. I wondered about his life before the disaster. Was he happy? Did his family love him? Would he have survived anyway?

That acidic guilt rose in me, a constant reminder of my humanity. But there's at least one thing zombies and humans have in common: the will to survive. And I'm about to do a much better job than either one of them will.

That's probably the first time I've read anything from the perspective of the undead. That's pretty nifty there, I tell you what.

I'm supposed to be working, but...

Clarissa, really good job.

Definitely a new recipe of zombie-pasta, to me. Tangy!

Keep it coming, people!

Thanks, everyone! So glad you like it.

Send it for the main site, I say.

Done and done, good sir.

Send mine too, while you're at it.

Public Information Flier, found in the ruins of Grand Central Station:
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Ten Things YOU should know about the current disease outbreak:

If you want to defend yourself and your family from this current outbreak of disease, then it is imperative that you understand exactly what the disease is, and exactly how it spreads. For that reason, we have compiled this list of information about its spread, what to do if you find yourself near an infected individual, and what to do if you become infected. Hopefully, you will never need to know some of this information, but if the time ever comes that you do, then you may find it very helpful.

Two Common Misconceptions that can get you killed:

1.) The current disease outbreak is NOT viral in origin.

This cannot be stressed enough: despite what you may have seen on television, or read about in the newspaper from misinformed reporters, this disease is NOT viral in origin. There are three types of common disease causing agents; bacteria, viruses, and prions. While the last category is not as frequently discussed as the others, it can be much, much more dangerous. The current outbreak of disease is related to a prion, which is a very simple type of infection, in which a misfolded protein, in this case, PrP, causes other proteins formed by cells to fold incorrectly, resulting in the formation of plaques between nerve cells. A similar prion is the culprit in mad cow disease.

Prion borne illnesses result in biochemical impulses in the brain being mistransmitted. In this case, much of the early damage occurs in the Amygdalae, where emotional meaning is attached to stimulus, and in other parts of the lymbic system, resulting in hyperactivity and aggression, followed by dementia. Because of the nature of prion born illness, this inevitably spreads to the higher functions of the cerebrum, causing the victim to lose all ability for high level reasoning, and causing impulsivity to increase greatly. This leads the infected to be very dangerous to themselves and to others within a matter of weeks after infection.

Prion illnesses can only be spread by contact with infected fluids, or through consumption of infected tissue. Any bite can spread the prion implicate in the current disease outbreak. There is NO CURE or vaccine for the current infection, and there probably never will be. Bacteria can be treated with antibiotics, viruses can be treated with antiviral drugs, but prions CANNOT BE TREATED. If you believe yourself or a loved one to be infected, call 911 immediately. This is an issue of public safety and health, and is not to be taken lightly.

2. The infected are NOT slow or sluggish.

While the motor skills of infected individuals may dull during the later stages of infection, and continuing damage to the amygdalae may result in increased docility, this common myth among those who have never seen an infected individual is just that; a myth. Infected individuals are just as fast as you. Even docile infected can turn on you in a minute, so you should ALWAYS keep your distance. Alert emergency personnel promptly to the presence of any infected individuals.

Three Facts that can save your life:

3. Infected have no fear response:

Because of damage to the amygdalae, which are implicate in emotional processing and in the attachment of fear to various stimulus, the infected cannot be intimidated. They will initiate a fight or flight response after being attacked, but due to their increased aggression, this will, more likely than not, result in a fight to the death. DO NOT attempt to intimidate or frighten infected away from you if you are surrounded. If you wish to live, carry a gun with you at all times while outdoors, keep one with you in your home, and DO NOT be afraid to use it.

4. Infected can be killed just as easily as any other living thing:

After two large fires were started in Chicago and Los Angeles in an effort to stop infected, it became clear that some individuals are under the impression that the infected can only be killed by fire or by a shot to the head. THIS IS NOT THE CASE. If any normal animal would be harmed by an injury, then it will also harm an infected human. Remember this. Fires do a great deal of collateral damage, and headshots are difficult for an average person to pull off. These can both get you killed.

5. Emergency personnel are here to help:

Despite recent rumors that the prion illness was deliberately engineered to affect the poor and ethnic minorities so that policemen could terminate large portions of the population, ALL EMERGENCY PERSONNEL ARE HERE TO HELP YOU SURVIVE. All of you. Not just the rich, not just white individuals. Prion particles do not discriminate. If you are infected, or suspect that someone else is infected, call 911 immediately.

Five Frequentley Asked Questions:

6. Was the government/a corporation/a terrorist group related in any way to the release of this illness:

No. As far as we can tell, the infection resulted from natural causes. The epicenter of the infection seems to be a small town in rural Idaho, far from any military bases, corporate research labs, or likely terrorist targets. The first infected individual likely had a genetic mutation, leading his or her body to produce infectious prion particles instead of normal PrP proteins. This was probably spread through sexual contact initially, and eventually grew into the form of infection currently seen. It would have spread out like any infection, carried by people who did not know themselves to be infected. The prion particle was not identified until three months after the first infection showed up in a hospital in Boise, Idaho.

7. Should we evacuate New York City immediately?

NO. This would only lead to civil breakdown, and possibly further spread of the infection. New York City is currently under quarantine, as are all major areas where infection is suspected or confirmed. If you attempt to break this quarantine, you WILL BE SHOT.

8. Can the infection spread to other animals?

Yes, but only to mammals. Currently, infection rates among animals are very low, due to the necessarily direct nature of contact. Normal inspection procedures for mad cow disease have prevented the infection from entering the food supply, so there is no risk of infection from meat products, including beef and pork.

9. What will happen if we go to the hospital because of a suspected infection?

You will be placed under strict quarantine and monitored for signs of infection. You will also receive a blood test for the infection, but you will not be released until three weeks have passed, regardless of the result.

10. What is the government doing to stop the infection?

With your help, the government is isolating those who are suspected of being infected, to prevent the spread of disease. Areas where infection are present are being quarantined, and patrols are being sent out through neighborhoods to find any infected who are not in isolation.

Within a matter of weeks, this infection should be under control.

Center for Disease Control, Atlanta, Georgia. December, 2009.

Very well-done. One thing I'd like to point out though, is initially you specify this is a virus but later you state there are 3 disease-causing agents, bacteria, viruses or prions. Assuming these 3 are separate (as they were listed separately), this infection is either caused by a virus or a prion, but not both. Which is it?

lol, sorry about that. I meant to write that the infection is not a virus. I'll go back and edit that.

RUNNING ZOMBIES
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE

I know, I know. But I did say any type of zombie-pasta was welcomed.

Are Space Zombies better?

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Peace

Huddled inside of my room, sitting in the reeking dark, I stared at the door. Outside, in the hallway, I could hear them shrieking; probably two of them, they always hunted in groups of two. It was the most terrifying moment of my life. All that was between me and death was a thin aluminum door, and even though I had bolted it shut, I had enough sense to know that it wasn't going to save me if one of those damned things decided that it wanted in.

So, I waited. Waited for what, I don't know. The air filters were out, the water purification system went down with the electricity. There I was, past the edge of the world, hovering in the dark at the first Lagrange Point, surrounded by those monsters, and no one was going to come to save me.

The two outside in the hall passed by quickly enough, but there would be more. I clung to the back wall of my room, trying to calm my beating, weightless heart. I thought that my head was facing up, toward the ceiling, but whenever I found the courage and presence of mind to turn on my flashlight, I found that I was actually dangling upside down, like a terrified bat. It was disorienting. I hated it.

Without the electricity aboard the station, the smell was bad, the dark was awful, but without the gravity, it made things a thousand times worse. For some reason, the animals my crew had become were able to get around just fine, pulling themselves by the handholds, by the light fixtures, by anything they could reach with their filthy, bloody hands.

I stifled a laugh. It had been me who suggested turning down the power when the auxiliary laboratory was penetrated by a micrometeor three days before. I hadn't known what would happen, of course. I didn't know, even though I was supposed to have the highest level of security clearance on the station. Evidently, someone higher up than me was trusted with the important information about what was being tested in the labs, while I was left in the dark. Well, maybe they should have told me, since I had all the keys anyway; since I had the shutdown codes for the electricity, and indirectly, through that, for every security precaution that they had in place.

Without the security systems up, something had gotten out of the main lab, and had started spreading its disease among the crew. I had never actually seen it, other than just glimpses out of the corner of my eye, but from what I heard, it was pretty obvious why they wanted to keep it as far from Earth as possible.

And there I was, thinking that the ship was just supposed to work with dangerous viruses. Gullible, wasn't I?

Through the flashlight's beam, I stared at my door for about a minute before realizing what I had to do. I was scared, though. Absolutely terrified.

There was one escape pod, going out of the station, but to get to it I would have to go through the main lab. Was it even still there? I didn't think that anyone would have been willing to risk what I was considering, but I wasn't sure. It didn't matter, anyway. I would either die there, or I would die in my room, clinging to the wall like a scared bat. I wanted to go down with some dignity, and maybe take a few of my infected crewmates with me.

Opening the door, I swung myself out into the hall. The motion was disorienting, and I almost dropped my flashlight more than once. I crept along the corridor, moving across metal gratings and copper piping like a man crawling through the cellars of his nightmares.

No one else was alive; I could tell that from the blood covering the walls and floating in places in disturbing bubbles in the filthy air. I didn't bother checking any of the other rooms, I just headed straight through the crew quarters, into the kitchen, and through that into the gym.

The gym was the most haunting part of the station, I thought. If there were anywhere that I would get ambushed, it would be there. The pool was sealed off, two stainless steel doors automatically slid over it before the gravity shut down. Two rows of treadmills and stationary bikes, bolted to the floor, looked like gravestones for the few corpses still floating through the air, half devoured by the people who they used to know as friends. I washed over the room with my flashlight, knowing that, if any of those things were around, they could see me even without the light. I checked all around me, but there were still some shadows where something could have been lying in wait.

Were they really smart enough to ambush me, I wondered? Or would they have torn into me by then if any of them had been around? I really didn't know. All I knew was that I had to figure out a way to cross the broad, open space and get the door across the room.

Slowly, I remembered the emergency handholds on the ceiling, and as much as I hated to do it, I flipped myself over and pulled myself up to them. I was almost dizzy enough to throw up. For someone who had worked in space for his entire life, it seemed almost ironic that I hated weightlessness with a passion. I guess technology had spoiled me.

Cautiously, afraid, for some stupid reason, that I would somehow fall to the floor above me, I pulled myself along. Halfway across the room, I found myself floating over the last of the stationary bikes, knowing that I was almost there. After the gym, it was just the short way across the lab. Then, I was home free. The escape pod branched right off the side of the lab module. If, I told myself, it was still there.

It was there, hanging in the stillness, that I heard something moving behind me.

There was no way that I could tell myself it was only my imagination. I was the last human being on the ship, and nothing else would be moving in the stillness, except, of course, for my former crew mates.

I didn't know whether to move slowly, or fast. I felt like a deer in the headlights. How far behind me was it? I couldn't let it know that I knew it was there, or it would jump me immediately. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't stop, and I couldn't look behind. It was stalking me, like a lion stalking a gazelle.

I kept going. Slowly at first, but as I got closer to the door to the lab, I sped up. There was definitely something behind me, and it was keeping pace. Not more than two handholds behind me, I was sure. Less than four feet.

My heart beat fast. I was going to die. I was sure of it. Still, it let me down, and it let me open the door to the lab.

It was only once I did that, that I knew why.

One of the things was behind the door. I saw it briefly, in my flashlight beam; a man in a white lab coat, soaked with blood and holding onto the back of the door frame. Then, almost as soon as I noticed it, the man thrashed out with his feet, and knocked me backward into the gym.

I kept going through the air, spinning over and over until my back smashed into a stationary bike. My flashlight fell out of my hand, floating seven feet ahead of me, spinning in the air and casting its light in a random, fast pattern.

I could see them both, a man and a woman. The woman was hanging from the ceiling and the man was floating toward me from the doorway, his clawed hands outstretched and covered with gore. Both of them screamed in the dark, a terrifying cry in a higher pitch than any human vocal chords should have been able to reach. I screamed almost as loudly, pushing myself away from the stationary bike, and out through the row of exercise equipment.

Behind me, I heard the man crash into the bike, and I knew that he wouldn't be far behind. I had to think fast. I had to reach the lab.

Kicking off from the sidebar of a treadmill, I launched myself forward into the dark. I reached down and scrambled across the floor, back toward my flashlight. I got to it before either of the creatures, just in time to shine it in front of me, toward the laboratory, and see the woman standing there, blocking my path. She knew where I was going, and she was trying to stop me.

Behind me, I knew that the man was coming. I spun around and saw him, kicking off from the same stationary bike I had struck, and flying quickly toward me, his mouth open, his teeth bared.

I hit him. Hard. In the jaw.

Both of the creatures were heading toward me again in an instant, but the man was disoriented enough to allow me a moment to turn around and force myself toward the laboratory door, kicking at the floor like I was running in place. I careened forward, striking the woman in the doorway and forcing her through with me, into the empty space beyond.

Together, locked in a kind of awkward embrace, we fought through the laboratory tables, knocking over vials of chemicals and spilling their contents into the air, where they formed into different colored bubbles, glistening in my flashlight's beam. The woman screamed in rage, reaching for my throat with her teeth. I struck out at her with my flashlight, hitting her more than once, and finally managing to shove her off.

The woman floated back into the dark, and, suddenly, I was hit with another body, the dead weight of the infected man. He slammed into me with enough force to knock me almost to the back of the lab module, where a set of chemicals sat in a glass cabinet, lined up in Velcro ties against the steel.

We fought, me with my hands and my flashlight, him with his claws and teeth. He raked at my face, drawing blood, but thankfully, he never had a chance to dig his poisonous teeth into my flesh. I spun around, and shoved him into the glass cabinet, shattering it on impact.

Small bottles and canisters of chemicals flew out, released at last from their bonds and sent flying into the station. Breaking free from the man for long enough to take one in my hand, I turned the flashlight on it and read the label. Alpha Conotoxin. Coneshell venom. More than enough to kill an elephant.

The man struck me again in an instant, grappling me to the floor, but this time, I had a strategy. I shoved the bottle of poison into his mouth and, with my flashlight, I shattered it.

The man continued his attack for a moment, but soon he broke off, stammering. His mouth started to foam, and soon, he was left paralyzed and dieing, his body hanging limp in the air.

Screaming, the woman pushed herself off of a table and toward me, but I shoved the man's body in front me and knocked her back with it. I started searching the back wall, looking for the escape pod.

And there it was.

A circular opening led to the emergency escape, still open. Beyond it was the blackness of the small escape pod's interior. I was almost home free.

Behind me, the woman kicked off of the floor, and sped toward me again. I raced her into the escape pod, barely managing to make it into the small module before she could.

The woman got halfway through the hatchway before I reached the front, activating the small pod. The interior was bathed with light, blinding me, and shutting the airlock hatch. Behind me, I heard the woman screaming, and I turned around. Barely able to open my eyes against the suddenly intense light, I watched in mute horror as she was pinned by the two doors of the hatch, and as they squeezed tighter and tighter, slowly tearing her diseased body in half.

Turning away from the sight, I pulled myself back to the controls of the escape pod. It automatically launched from the side of the station and sent out a distress beacon. In less than ten days, I would be found by someone, and I had enough food and water to last until then. Finally, I was safe. I thought.

Then, in the back of my mind, I heard something speak. Something from beyond the stars. Something ancient, something cold, something thinking terrifying reptilian thoughts, making horrifying calculations in a brain I could not and would not comprehend. "Good, my child. Good. Do not worry. You will be happier soon. I am nothing to fear. I am silence, I am eternity, I am tranquility. I am peace."

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I know. Longpasta is long. Think of this as a short story.

Oh my God, this thread is incredible! *Bookmarks*




The entire populace of Fir Cove was gathered into the town hall, where the mayor was about to make his inspirational, fear-assuaging speech. That’s what he was there for, after all. That’s why they elected him.

It wasn’t too hard, fitting the entire town into a building the size of a high school gymnasium/ The whole of the population had been a pathetic seventy-four (on a good day) before the last epidemic, and was now at sn even more manageable thirty-two. Besides, everyone had come in willingly once the sirens began.

Fear coursed through the crowd like an electric current, passing from person to person until it had gained enough momentum, enough strength to become its own invisible entity, hovering just above the hearts and minds of those gathered. Some citizens of particularily poor constitution sat in the back, sobbing and gibbering among themselves. Others stared stoically before them, lost in though and reliving terrifying moments from the last Reckoning.

Roger Ashton, Mayor extraordinaire, adjusted the mike to suit his height and tried to calm his voters.

“Everyone, please, please! Calm down. I would like to point out that we are in a state of emergency-“

“Damn right!” shouted Arty Millbury. He had been the town’s only pub owner before the last contamination broke out, and he still retained a small group of loyal drunkards who did his biding and swelled his ego for him.

Roger cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “there had been a break out from the Incurable’s Research Facility, and we have reason to believe the enemy is among us.”

The murmured whispers developed into a full-fledged wave of voices that rose up before crashing down around Roger’s ears.

“How do you know?’ Asked one woman.

“How many?” Asked another.

“So far we have reported sightings of only one-“

“But that don’t mean much when they reproduce like rats!” Said Millbury to the general approval of those around him.

“We believe that it is a Feral, a lone incurable. What we do know is that it is hostile and dangerous- but please!” He cried as the crowd once more began to panic.

“Listen to the man,” Said a stern voice off to the right. Dale Emerson was the town law, and he demanded respect.

The room went silent.

Dale nodded to Roger, indicating that he should continue, and began nonchalantly picking his teeth.

“Citizens,” said Roger in his best mayoral tone, “I am certain that if we all simply wait here, the danger will pass and the Feral will not find us-“

Hell decided to break loose then as Arty began calling for an immediate evacuation, as Cynthia Hobbs (former librarian and the all knowing reference woman when it came to apocalyptic affairs) began shouting that the feral should be captured for observational purposes, and as Eric watersmith (Town hothead) began calling for a hunting party to go out and ‘get it before it gets us’.

Just as Roger was wishing that he had a gavel (to call for order and to beat in Arty’s skull), a woman screamed.

“Something’s outside!’

Immediately the room stilled. It was still dark outside, and there was no way to tell what was out there, if anything. After a tense few minutes, people began to tentatively relax.

“The wind?” Said one person by way of explanation.

“Tree branch,” said another with more authority.

“Me,” said a previously unnoticed young man who was leaning against the back wall. Before the citizens of Fir Cove could react, he leapt into action, ramshackle homemade armor clanking defiantly. Waving two sharpened golf club, one in each hand, he expertly cut into two of the slower citizens. His cook-pot helmet gleamed in the lantern light.

Dale quickly put his teeth back into his mouth and tried tackling the young man, but was neatly decapitated for his efforts.

Old Wilson tried to beg for mercy when the boy fell upon him, but was somewhat hindered in his lacking a jaw. With all the nearby citizens dispatched, the boy turned to the remaining civilians.

The boy brought out a rather large gun, and everyone ran.

Well, tried to.

The more agile ran towards the Feral, hoping to stop him, and their heads were reduced quickly into only so much gray sludge on the walls. The others, the slower and the weaker tried to escape, to shuffle out the exits, only to have the same fate befall them. Roger tried to cease the madness, but was at the distinct disadvantage of having no legs.

“Eat lead zombie scum!” shouted the youth as he finished off the remaining citizens of Fir Cove.

Once it was obvious that everyone in the building was either dead or certainly not going anywhere soon, the Feral began dousing the place with gasoline from an old canister, giggling while he went. On his way out, he spat at Roger’s base.

“Brain sucking scummer.”

And he was gone.


Thirty seconds and one match later, the remainder of Fir Cove went up in a blaze of glory, and Todd Masters, age seventeen, looked upon his handiwork with pleasure.

Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all, especially since it’s only my first day out of the clink.

The self styled last free hope for humanity packed up his clubs, checked his gun and made his way north. Away from the smoldering remains of the luckless little town, and away from the Research Facility, where he and all the other toxin-resistant humans had been imprisoned for observational purposes. Face turned towards the new day, and heart full of hope, the boy set off, smiling vaguely.

His eye only twitched slightly.

DigtalMadness, you win. Knowledge of prions AND use of space zombies? Glee~

I think all of the stories here are made of win. Astonished Lemons' pasta made me think of I am Legend (the book, not the completely unrelated movie). It really amazed me in the end, because I was expecting it to be just another story about a town barricading down against zombies. Really interesting turn of events.