perfectlemonade

Uploaded chapter two! Sorry I didn't update last week, I was in San Diego. And sorry this chapter is kinda boring, but just wait until the next one. Crazy shit is going down.

Author's Note: I wrote this a long time ago. It was an assignment for Creative Writing, and we were supposed to copy an author's structure. I chose 'Boys' by Rick Moody. Once you read Boys, you'll know what I mean! Thanks! By the way, it's supposed to be a whole paragraph. The Citizen Awakes The citizen awakes. The citizen awakes after an 8-month sleep with a heart the size of a grape. The citizen awakes when he cries because that’s all he can do. And after he’s done crying and he’s all full and his parents are asleep and he cries again, the citizen awakes. The diaper reeks when the citizen awakes. The citizen awakes and he wants—needs—that new Power Rangers action figure, the blue one with the dragon sword, because it’s just amazing and his mom won’t even consider and he cries and he screams. He decides that mom is so not fair, and he sprints into the living room and grabs the picture of the old man holding his mom as a baby and smashes the frame on the ground, and when mom sees she says words that he’s never heard and didn’t hear since; after that he goes upstairs to his room and doesn’t come down for the rest of the weekend, and the three weekends after that, and when he finally comes down, he gets the Power Rangers action figure, plays with it for a couple hours, and it soon becomes lost in his endless mound of Power Rangers in his closet as it has been replaced by the yellow one with a laser spear; immediately following this the citizen awakes. The citizen awakes with a Power Rangers shirt on a day when his mother had to drag him out of the All-American minivan made in Japan, bright blue and dented and loved oh-so-gently. The citizen, thinking the girls are icky, sees one so beautiful that he knows what the other boys say about them are lies, awakes. The citizen awakes and he still thinks about the girl, and she’s an angel; he sees her everywhere he goes and he knows her voice her eyes her smile her hair her hobbies her. While he does things that don’t belong on paper he thinks about the girl and he thinks about the boy whom she’s with; suddenly the citizen doesn’t like the boy and suddenly he wants to cry—the citizen awakes. The citizen awakes with perfect grades and the girl goes off to do things that he’d cut off his right arm to participate in; he takes a walk with the sun to his back and this will be his last one. The citizen awakes with a knife in his hands and he doesn’t know where he’s at; he knows damn well where he’s at yesnoyesno he has to say something he says something to her. The citizen awoke a few days ago and he found him at her house and they were still clothed but they might as well not have been; get the hell away, the boy said and the citizen went nowhere and there was a fist and someone was on the ground; where did the knife go; it’s stuck in his arm; whose arm not the citizen’s arm. The citizen awakes with grades a memory, and she doesn’t look at him anymore; the boy is in the hospital and the citizen walks the halls with the people parting like he was Moses; he might die from the citizen and his f*cking crazy ways, they say all around him. The citizen awakes with a needle in his arm, her face plastered into his mind just one kiss just one word pleaseplease help me it’s goneitisgone. The citizen awakes, frozen in time and it’s wonderful; who is she and she doesn’t exist but he does and he loves himself. The citizen awakes with tears in his eyes, and he feels bad about it and it’s all about her again. The citizen awakes to visit the hospital and tells the boy he’s sorry. He tells the boy that he loves her with all of his heart, and he just cries after the citizen awakes. The citizen awakes after he tells her that he loves her and the police are called but he’s gone anyways and jail is just jail it’s not the end of the world anyways and what the hell are grades? There is poison everywhere. When the citizen goes to the city miles away from suburbia and he still has to sleep under streetlights because he can’t sleep in the dark, the citizen awakes. The citizen awakes and he steals money from suburbia and his parents and Indian-owned grocery stores and pancake shops and drug dealers for more needles filled with funny liquids. The citizen awakes to stick more needles into his arms and soon his arms don’t cut it anymore. When he’s hungry, the citizen awakes and raids trashcans and takeout windows. The citizen awakes for more needles. The citizen awakes for two years of needles in his veins and he’s on the corner begging for pennies, telling the pedestrians that he’s hungry but he’s not, not really. The citizen awakes and sees pictures of himself in Walmart. At night, the citizen awakes and thinks of the girl and mother and father and even the boy and they all think he’s dead; he should be dead. The citizen awakes six months later and there are more needles and then he sees the girl and the girl sees him with Abercrombie bags in her hands; the girl cries the citizen cries they all cry and the citizen hugs her and the girl hugs the citizen; the girl smells like flowers and the citizen smells exactly like a person in his situation should smell like; the girl tells the citizen that the boy and the girl were engaged to be married, but she broke it off: the boy was sleeping with ‘like fifteen girls’ and the citizen laughs because the citizen knew that the boy was an ungrateful pig. The citizen awakes and he laughs some more and then they tell each other that they’ll have coffee on Thursday evening and so they have coffee on Thursday evening, in a dimly lit internet cafe. The citizen had awoken earlier that morning and showered in a public shower and went to a thrift store to buy new clothes a size too small because that’s all they had and she tells him the truth—about everything. When he hears what she has to say; the citizen awakes and the citizen hurt her on that day, when he drove a knife into the boy’s arm and she cried about that for two weeks but in the end she never figured out why she was crying—maybe it was over the boy, or maybe it was that she was frightened, or maybe, just maybe, maybe it was because that there was this underlying voice telling her that the citizen was just misunderstood and he just wanted to be loved, and a part of her would always love the citizen no matter what the citizen did. And the citizen awakes after they stare into each other’s eyes and it’s beautiful and the girl asks the citizen to drive back with her and he agrees and so they go and when they get back, he kisses her and she doesn’t fight it because it’s just f*cking how it’s supposed to have been since day one and, for some unknown reason, the citizen thinks of Power Rangers again. The citizen awakes and he knows that the knife years ago has been forgiven she forgives him she forgives the knife she forgives everything that has ever been in doubt of being forgiven. This is what the citizen awakes for, this is why he’s been awake for so long and he loves her and she loves him, or she thinks she does, at least, and there is nothing in this world that could ever be greater than this. The citizen awakes to see her lying next to him in suburbia, and the citizen looks at his arms and he loves her so much. The citizen, shaking and wanting to cry, awakes to write her a note about how a citizen such as himself is not a positive impact on society and being with her would just ruin everyone in her life including herself and she is going to do big things in her life and the citizen is just too far gone and has done too many unspeakable things to ever change and to ever show the girl the love he feels for her and she deserves and this will be the last time she will ever see him, alive at least, and that he’s loved her since the first time he saw her with a Power Rangers shirt on the first day of kindergarten and that, no matter what, do something with your life, because you only get one and the citizen realized that too late. The citizen awakes with a PS to tell his parents that he’s sorry for what he’s done to them, but he’s at peace with himself and he wishes them nothing but the best. And with that, the citizen awakes, walking out of the door and pausing once more to see the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and he hopes that she truly does do something with her life, and she truly will end up in the arms of a man that loves her as much as the citizen does. He closes the door, the citizen awakes. Four more weeks pass, and the citizen moves north, where one cold night he falls asleep under a streetlight having stuck countless needles in his legs and his neck and his hands and he is ready to go to sleep and never wake up, and the citizen sleeps. The citizen sleeps, he watches from above, in the bitterly cold winter clouds, as they lay his body into the ground and the girl cries on the shoulders of the citizen’s mother. The boy is there too, but he doesn’t say anything, and he can’t decide if he should be angry or happy or sad or hurt and while he’s just staring at the citizen’s coffin, the girl approaches him and rips the diamond-studded ring off her left finger and places it in his hand, the citizen sleeps as he watches. The citizen sleeps, and the girl drives off with a clear mind and a clear soul, so incredibly awake.

The worst situations often bring out the best qualities. Damn I just made that up on the spot. ANyways, excellent work, Tom. This is the best Zombies video I have ever seen, and you are the best Zombies Youtuber I have ever seen. Like, the quality of your videos blows everyone else out of the water. It's not even a contest at this point. I just wish you would try and get your name out there more! These videos deserve 100,000 views, dude!

I'm considering that, actually.

Oh my goodness, so last night and today I've been trying to get into a MW3 game, but the lag is simply too extreme. At first I thought it was just my connection, but Black Ops is working fine, and I saw MinnesotaBurns' new video about the update messing up his game, then all these comments about the same thing as well. Regardless, something is up with the MW3 servers—and I am officially getting sick of this game. Anyways, has this happened to anyone else? And if so, is there a way to fix it? I tried turning off theater mode and all that stuff—only made it worse, really. :(

Wow, extremely good stuff! Very scary stuff! Great work! Personally, I enjoy a story where there is a character that you can kind of relate to, with an actual protagonist, but I found this to be an exception. Really stellar stuff. You should look into trying to publish this. If you want to, I can do a full critique. Awesome read, Brief! -perfect

Just think, only 51 more weeks until Blops 2!

This is what it said (and I quote this from the actual interview): Asker: The Zombie maps are always a fan favorite. Would Treyarch be open to developing a stand-alone zombie game if Activision allowed it? 3arc: We think it’s really cool how excited everyone gets about this topic. As we’ve said before, nothing is ever off the table. Considering that when asked if the old maps would return in a DLC to which they responded "nothing is ever off the table", then they reiterated the same thing in this question, I'd say that this is just positive reinforcement that there is going to be a standalone Zombies game in the future. I don't mean to flame ya here, but I honestly haven't the slightest clue where you got the idea that 3arc was saying anything about there being no Zombies in their next game. :facepalm:

Same. But with the gore, they must keep it at its current WaW coloring.. looks better IMO. And if they did do this, they should keep the original zombie maps, not the BO style, because there were so many things that made no sense in the BO version, most of which I hated. WaW zombies (engine-wise) is horrible in comparison with BO. I hate the exponential increase in zombies per round, I think it should max out at, oh, say 250 zombies per round, or about a solid 10-15 min per round, but other than that, BO zombies engine was almost flawless. Glitching was cut down at least two fold, and Revive turned out to be insanely useful, in solo at least, and you didn't get superglued to zombies if you got hit by one. That was the real Godsend in Blops IMO. Can't tell you how many times I've died from BS downs because I got stuck on a zombie while it hit me.

Link or it didn't happen.

yo lol if you have ps3 ill add you my username is kontolefaschris and ps if thos are all your good strategies i would like to add you on google so you can join my website thnks cool shit bro by the way can you send me the moon map pack That's illegal yo. We don't do that here. And I would suggest you try and use proper grammar/punctuation. People will respect you waaaaay more. :)

1) They did that with only WaW maps and Ascension. Shangri La may have had some elements from Jungle, but not enough to be considered actually based off it IMO. 2) I can't tell if you like the shrink gun or hate it. If it is the latter, well, you're not using it right. You can take at an entire train with it. It has the capability of the Thundergun with 2x as much ammo. #winning. 3) Eh... this could go either way. I WOULD like to see more solo easter eggs, maybe all 7 perks (but not perma perks) or bring back another weapon like they did the wunderwaffe. But it gives the maps more replay ability. If you want the achievement, go through the steps on each map first. 4) I think this is what Blops 2 will be all about: the storyline. 3arc will make Zombies even more storydriven in Blops 2, and that is what we all want, right? 5) All of them are relevant. Just sayin. ;)

Name: Pulse Cannon Upgraded name: Neptune's Trident Effect: Shoots a wide radius of extremely high pressured water, which rips the skin from the zombie's bones and makes their guts splatter all over the place. Infinite damage. Ammo: Here's where it gets tricky. I'm hoping for a water map in Blops 2, where you can travel in the water. In the water, the gun would have infinite ammo, but the water greatly hinders your movement and you only have a limited amount of oxygen in your suit (you can be more for x amount of points). But out of the water, it has 4 shots per clip, with 20 in reserve. Pack a punched it has 6 shots per clip with 36 in reserve. That's all I've got. I'm thinking about writing a letter to Treyarch, with a detailed layout of the entire map, and all the features of it and stuff. Sorry, I have a gift for digressing.

If someone steals zombies from my window, I just wait until the later rounds, where they will go down pretty constantly. I always run over to revive them, and back off just as the revive bar is getting full. I usually do this to them three or four times until they bleed out. I have a sick mind. :D

I make unnecessary risks for drops I don't particularly need, like insta kills, double points, carpenters (200 points. yummy), especially in the early rounds. Can't tell you how many times I've gone down on round 4, right before jug because I wanted a double points when I had more than enough points to begin with. Oh yeah, and when I get double points, I get very greedy and make stupid risks like trying to repair windows with 20 zombies coming at me from behind me or trying to knife on double points without jug. I wish I could replace double points with another drop. Like a bowie knife for a minute. How great would that be on round 3? It would be amazing.

There's a good way to prevent that. Don't leave crawlers lying around. no shit i couldnt figure that one out thanks Lol, just messin around with you bro. Sarcasm doesn't transition well over text. There needs to be a sarcasm smiley or something.

There's a good way to prevent that. Don't leave crawlers lying around. :P

Well, goodbye. I'll be seeing you around this time next year. Don't worry, you can run from Zombies, but you can't hide from it. (Do you see what I did there?) But no, in all seriousness, if this is goodbye, well, it's been real. I wish you the best luck in your life and I can understand how you feel. Team Wunder Waffes saved Zombies for me haha. Gave me a lot of new friends too. But yeah, I'm cutting back some because I really need to be working more on my schoolwork.

Nah you don't need to apologize! Im taking an astronomy class, and we're going over this stuff right now actually, so I guess I should know about this stuff! It's not exactly common knowledge though Haha Like stonedshooter said though, no one really knows for sure. There is evidence for all kinds of theories.

The generally accepted theory is that it's an asteroid which was pulled in by the gravitational pull of the Earth. All I can say is that I've never heard either or your two theories. And that video has been on this site for a while Gonna be an astronomy prick/nerd here, but actually the accepted theory is that, way back in the early days of the solar system, a planet collided with Earth and the remaining bits of the planet formed the moon. You can read about it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giant_impact_hypothesis

I can't finish this right now, but I really like it so far! Loved the news scene at the beginning, felt very real. Great job, hellhound! [brains] for you!

I've had an Xbox Arcade for at least four years. Not a single problem. I actually got an Elite back when they first came out, but the surge protector failed on it when my house got struck by lightning. My Xbox Arcade had been gathering dust for three months or so, and when I busted it back out it worked magnificently. Still use it today, and I got my money back for my Elite. 95% of the time, it's on you when your Xbox messes up. You need to keep it elevated and keep it off carpet. That's a big one. Carpet will overheat your Xbox in only a couple hours. The other 5%, well, accidents happen. Albeit, the surge protector should have worked, but again some of it was on me because I had it on during a storm. Anyways, yeah, that's just my take on it. Btw I've never had the red ring of death. Never.

Author's Note: I, myself, am a writer. That's what I want to do in my life, believe it or not. I'm currently working on a full length novel that is currently at 74,000 words, or around 250 pgs, and hope to get it published one day. And yes, there are zombies in it, but that's not the main storyline... for the most part. I have also gotten many poems, short stories, etc. published in magazines and literary journals. SO, that being said, I take this stuff seriously. I want constructive feedback, because I plan on committing myself fully and wholly to my writing, and to do so I want to get as good as I possibly can at it. This piece in particular, which I have hesitantly titled Sinking, started out as an English assignment and has turned into one of my favorite works to date. I'm just starting to really expand it from its original three-page English story thing, but whatever. I'm going to post just the prologue here. If y'all enjoy it, I'll start posting weekly updates. Oh yeah, this is about zombies on a cruise ship. It has absolutely nothing to do with Black Ops Zombies or anything, though. Sorry. I guess. btw, sorry if I came off as pretentious or whatever. I just wanted to get the point across that I really like writing, and I want to start taking full advantage of this section haha. So, here it is: __________ Sinking I can hear them. I can hear them everywhere. My flesh. Wonderful. “Yeah,” I say. It comes out so flat, so lifeless. “It’s like the vuvuzelas from the World Cup. They make me want to kill myself.” Emily is blonde. And hot. But she’s also blonde, so I guess that speaks for itself. “No,” I say. I don’t feel like teasing her right now. I would’ve two days ago, when I had dreams of scoring with this chick, but now it just seems inappropriate. My mother is probably dead or zombified. I can’t be thinking about hot blondes now. “The zombies.” Why is she giggling right now? Is she that oblivious? “Why are you in a good mood? There are zombies out there. They will eat you. Do you not get that?” “No,” I snap, holding up my index finger. “Just stop. Just leave. Go talk to the captain and let him ‘comfort’ you.” I put the ‘comfort’ in air quotes. Because she’s trying to come onto me… nevermind. And then I’m alone again. I watch my little brother is playing his PSP in a corner, his ear buds up at full blast to keep out the moans. It makes me feel sick to my stomach when I see him like that. Alone. Isolated. Scared. I love this kid with all my heart, with everything I have. I’d gladly break the glass that separates us from the zombies and leap out headfirst if it meant his survival. I’d do it without thinking. “Daniel?” “Yeah, buddy.” I look down at him, grasping his hand firmly and kind of disappointed with such a thing. “What? Of course we are, Colin. The captain got on the radio and told all the other ships in the area about what happened. Soon the military is going to come, and we’re going to find Mom and get out of here.” “Yeah,” I answer, smiling. “Like what Dad is in.” And suddenly I get this overwhelming image of our twelve hours of hell. This has happened a few times since Colin and I reached the bridge. It’s just a replay, a hallucinogenic torture of what we went through. The first time, I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t, not really. Now I just let it happen. I let the images, the emotions, the sensations flood my head. I let myself go back. ___________________________ One It starts like this. “Colin? Mom?” I stumble out of bed, yearning for sleep again. But my head is clear. Okay, so maybe it hurts a little, and maybe I participated some underage drinking last night, but for the most part I’m thinking straight. And something doesn’t feel right. There’s the sound of glass shattering through the door. That’s never a good sign. But I’m intrigued, and slightly scared, so I slowly creep towards the door. My hand wraps around the cold metal knob. Suddenly they’re shaking. Suddenly my whole body is shaking. There is something going on. Crap. I take a few seconds to figure things out, sitting down on the side of my bed. S*it. S*it. There are zombies. And we’re on a freaking cruise ship. However huge a cruise ship may be, there aren’t many places to run from zombies. It isn’t like, a field or something. It’s a boat. It’s finite. Somehow, I fight back my freakout mode and return to semi-calm mode. My first thought is Colin and Mom. Oh God. What if they went outside? What if one of them got Colin? What if Colin is one of them? I burst through the flimsy door connecting their room to mine, the hinges yelping and, finally, breaking and falling to the floor. “Mom! Colin!” “Mom!” I repeat, this time louder. “Mom. It’s Daniel.” I shake my head. “Mom, we have to get out of here.” There’s a sudden chorus of inhuman moans, deep and agonized wails. I know that sound. I’ve seen enough Romero to know what those are. “Zombies. There are zombies outside.” “I’m serious.” Mom suddenly looks confused, eyes glazing over. “What… what is going on?” She’s shriveling up. She can’t handle it. “Oh my God. We’re going to die.” Wow. I’ve actually fantasized of this moment before. Zombies have always been my thing. Zombie books, zombie movies, zombie video games. I’ve done it all, and I know everything there is to know about zombies. I mean, I’ve dreamt of having to deal with a zombie invasion. But now that I’m like, doing it in real life, it’s kind of really freaking scary. “Okay!?” I exclaim. “Good. Just keep calm. We can survive this if we work together.” But hey, if I go down, at least I go down like a hero. There’s no shame in being killed by zombies. S*it. In a Romero movie, this is where the hero (or heroine, I’m an inclusive guy) would prove himself to either die in the first thirty minutes of the movie by the hands of a mass of zombies, or maybe have a decent chance of survival. But, then again, this isn’t a Romero movie. For all I know, we may be the last people alive on the ship. Later, Daniel. Suck it up. You can throw up after you get the hell out of here. “Oh. Hi. I suppose you won’t let me pass by, right?” “Well, um, okay. If you want to stop, you’re welcome to.” Maybe reasoning with him will help some. “Ah. That doesn’t surprise me.” But it’s okay. I’ve prepared for this. I’ve read the Zombie Survival Guide. See, the three most dangerous parts of the zombie are both hands and its mouth. If you can stay away from those, you’re basically safe. So what you’ve got to do is just make those three things move out of your way. If you do that, you’re fine. I take a second or two to celebrate, then sprint over to the axe and knock out the glass with my elbow. Immediately fire alarms sound. Wow. The ship has become infested with zombies, and no one had the sense to pull a fire alarm yet? Sometimes, the stupidity of people really disturbs me, even if they are faced with a threat as unexpected as zombies. I’ve already decided that it’s not muscle that will get us through this cluster f*ck, it’s brains. I turn around, and suddenly there’s an arm on my shoulder, tugging at my Coldplay shirt. (Yeah, I like Coldplay. Don’t judge me.) Everything kind of slows down. I only get a glimpse of an open, bloody mouth heading straight for my neck before my axe has driven into its skull. The thing is so heavy and sharp that I don’t even really feel an impact. There’s not even much of a crunch. It’s just a clean slice, right above the ear. I look up and realize the zombie has gotten in. The door is now nothing but a pile of wood. I can’t imagine the pain that must have inflicted on its fingers. I mean, Jesus. Nothing is going to stop these things from getting some meat. Nothing. I haul a*s into the room, leaping through the door like some Usain Bolt s*it. There’s not much time to think about what to swing the axe at. I make a split second decision and slam the blade of the axe into a figure standing over Colin’s bed. The blade cuts like a knife to butter. I’m gonna spare the details in here, but basically the axe cuts the zombie in half. It’s like, Mortal Kombat stuff. Finisher. Good night. “Oh my God, Daniel! What the f*ck just happened?!” Mom screams. “Mom, Mom, it’s okay,” Colin says. He was hiding in the bathroom. She doesn’t answer. “Yeah,” Mom answers. Her lip is quivering. Give me a break. And I do just that. ___________________ Two “Okay, so here’s the plan. We don’t know how badly this zombie thing is spread out, but until we can find out, we have to assume that the entire ship has been overtaken, and everyone on the ship has been infected besides us.” I cough. I wish I could ask Romero about what he would do right now. I mean, I’m just trying to succeed in what I’ve dreamt about for countless nights. Zombies. Yes, I dream of zombies. Some would say my obsession with them is unhealthy, but who’s the one that knows what he’s doing when he’s faced with a ship full of zombies? “So we’re going to have to take some alternative routes to our destination—” I give her a deathly stare and pause for a few seconds. “I was getting to that.” I shake my head. Even in a situation as dire as this, she still finds a way to get under my skin. Wow. “We’re heading for the life boats. They stock supplies on there. We can lower them into the water and radio for help.” There is no way this woman is my actual mother. “Yeah. Okay. So, back to what I was saying, we’re going to have to take some alternative routes to the life boats. We can just prance around the ship and run up the grand stairs. That’s where all the zombies will be and, frankly, a great way to get trapped and killed. We have to try and make it to the elevators so we can get to the 2nd deck, where the boats are. If not, well, there’s some employee stairs that shouldn’t be too cluttered. Any questions?” “I think we’ve got it,” Mom says. She’s actually calmed down a lot in the past few minutes that we’ve been sitting her, getting ready. Colin hasn’t really made much of a noise. It’s not like I expect him to, though. He's always been quiet and kind of weird, not much for confrontation. “Okay,” I say, standing up and taking Colin’s hand. “Let’s go. The employee stairwell is just a few doors down, if I remember correctly.” “Is it clear?” Mom asks. It’s more like a whisper, which I don’t get. It’s not like we’re hiding from Nazis or anything. It’s Zombies. I doubt it will make a difference if we whisper or talk normally. I mean, Jesus. Mom snatches up Colin’s arm, who is kinda jerked out of the room. She looks like she’s about to break down in tears at any second. Colin and Mom follow me into the stairwell. I brush off some dust and look up. It’s awkwardly quiet here. Still. Peaceful. To be completely honest, it kind of worries me. With a zombie outbreak, the last thing you’d expect is quiet. “All right, let’s go down the stairs. The boats are on the fifth deck. That’s only four flights of stairs. It’s gonna be easy.” I don’t know what happened, but suddenly there is smoke everywhere. And heat. And, over the crackle of the fires on the fifth deck, the moans of the undead. But the smoke. It was suffocating, carried by the raging wind above the ocean. It was like walking into Hell, except there were zombies around us too. “Oh my God,” I wheeze, collapsing to the floor. Mom is coughing, and Colin has somehow already gotten out his video game. Wow. “This ship is going to be engulfed in flames in a matter of hours.” “There’s nowhere to go.” Redundant much? I shake my head. We’re hopeless. Even if the zombies don’t get us, the smoke and the fire will. Along with the entire ship. You know, I’ve always thought that it would be cool to die in a shipwreck. It’s honorable, prestigious. And if we do, at least the zombies the zombies will go down with us. Oh God. That look in her eye that she gets when she gets really ecstatic about something has appeared. This could either be a horrible idea, or a brilliant one. “There are radios there,” she continues. “We could radio for help, if it’s not already on the way. The military could rescue us.” “S*it, Ma. You’re right.” And she’s sprinting down the stairs when I run into her, a bent metal rod glued to her shaking hand. She comes at us so fast that I almost panic and slice her head off. Damn, that’s a good line. “Daniel. It’s great to see you.” She lowers her metal rod held above her head, ready to bash my brains in. She begins to ease up some. “You guess?” Her eyes flash something sinister. I think she’s trying to tell me to just give her a little acknowledgement or I’ll be feeling the wrath of every single detail of our little excursion last night into the vast unknown of touching lips being revealed to my mother. Ha. “Er, I… I mean—” “How do you know about the fire?” Mom asks. “Our?” I inquire. Our is plural, and that means multiple people, and that means more survivors! “Why did you go through the Atrium? That’s where everyone hangs out so that’s obviously gonna be where all the zombies are.” “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” I’m quiet for a while, trying to think of something to say. Truth is, I can’t. I’m a Richard sometimes. Even when we’re being slowly swarmed by a sea of zombies in a sea of stairwells and dead ends in a sea of hopeless water. After a few seconds, I just decide to take the easy way out and bust open the door behind me. I take a step forward, but then stop in my tracks when my brain registers what I’m seeing before me. Well, that’s one way to put it. The roof is gone. Well, it’s not gone. But it’s fallen in, steel beams jutting out from the would-be ceiling like broken teeth. Mounds of glass and metal pile up on the floor. Streaks of red blood are painted across the mountain of death and rubble. A rapid drop of water or blood or something falls from the edge of the gouged out roof. And on the far side, a glass elevator that looks to be in relatively good condition. I take a deep breath. We’re standing above the Atrium right now, gazing out a service door with a ramp leading down it that’s camouflaged by being painted the exact same color as the wall: this God awful maroon color that makes me want to vomit. We have a panoramic view of the entire place. We can see everything. And the collapsed roof has encircled us. No one is going anywhere without going through this wasteland first. “How are we going to get through?” Mom asks. She shakes her head. “No. And I didn’t even go through here that long ago. This must be new.” “What are we supposed to do?” Colin asks to nobody as he studies the roof. She shrugs. “Jump off the side of the boat.” Emily doesn’t say anything back. I think I hurt her feelings. To be honest, I don’t care. We’re cornered right now. Feelings are the last thing on my mind. And it’s quiet for a few moments. To contemplate our deaths, I guess. But then, out of the blue, Mom says, “I’m going to make a run for it.” “What? No, Mom… no. You can’t just give yourself up—” Ish. I want to cry, but I can’t. Instead, I drop my axe and it clatters to the ground and I hug her. I hug her so tight. I wish I could just hug her forever because, honestly, she’s all Colin and I have left. “I will,” I answer, pulling away. Mom looks back at us for a last time as she plunges into the war zone of limping zombies and rubble. They start to pay attention to her, staggering away from us. She climbs over a broken metal beam and disappears down a set of stairs, into the movie theater. I feel like curling up into a ball and crying the day away, because I DON’T HAVE A FUDGING MOTHER ANYMORE, but I decide that doing such a thing won’t be very productive and wouldn’t exactly be the outcome that Mom would’ve hoped for when she sacrificed her life to just give us a chance to survive. Thousands of miniscule shards of glass slice through my pants, cutting up my ankles until they’re bleeding and raw. Every step brings with it blinding pain. But I’m not stopping here. Fudge no. Not after what Mom did. Before I even realize it, we find ourselves staring at the elevator that rises up and down the ship. All of the zombies seem to have disappeared. They’re probably swarming Mom right now. They’re eating— Emily presses the up button. “Get in,” I tell Colin, kinda shoving him through the doors. I feel like a Richard the second I do it. “Sorry,” I answer, mashing in the 14 button with my fist. The doors close just as the first few zombies stumble up the stairs. I want to be angry at them, but I can’t. They’re just ill. They don’t know what they’re doing. If anything, I’m angry at Mom. Or myself. We could’ve gotten through that alive. Damn. But no such a thing comes today. “Oh my God,” I say, my stomach dropped down to my ankles. We’re dead. There’s absolutely nothing that can stop them we’re just… dead. I look up, past the endless hordes of zombies, and see the bridge up a set of stairs, situated at the highest point on the ship. And people in there. Yes. Through the cracked and faintly tinted glass, I can make out the silhouettes of people walking about. A couple dozen people. Walking around, interacting. With fluidity and motion. But she doesn’t. She just stands there. Her eyes have fudging glazed over. No. God. NO! Not now! Don’t lose it now! The zombies are slowly turning our direction, and the first ones are just feet from us. Colin starts to cry because that’s about the only thing there is to do when you’re about to be torn to bits by a horrifyingly large amount of zombies. We will never escape this ship. In a few hours or maybe a few days or maybe even in a week or two, it will sink. And we’ll sink with it. We’ll sink down to the depths, ghosts forever trapped to this goddamned piece of scrap. I start to cry. I hug Colin close, and I feel his heart beating fast. Is this how the victims of genocide feel? Being led to a black van, to a gas chamber, to an open field? I want to say that at this point Emily screams, and so do I, and so does Colin. I want to say that I feel their hands around my neck as the sink their teeth into my face and everything goes to sleep as I become one with the ship, one with life, one with the zombies pulling me into Hell. I want to say this because, honestly, I kind of wish that we had died right there. In that elevator. No, instead there’s a long, seemingly endless roar of automatic gunfire from beyond the pools. Yeah, that’s right. Gunfire. The zombie that was so close to me I could feel its breath on my neck moans in agony and explodes. Bits of flesh splatters onto my shirt. Dammit. That’s two shirts today. “Come on!” I shout over the roar of the gunfire. Emily nods and leads the way, sandwiching Colin between us. We break out into a crazed sprint from the elevator. It’s fifty yards to the bridge. The guys with the guns are covering us well, but there are so many of them. So many zombies. The little gap between the zombies is closing fast. Emily will make it through pretty easily, and so will Colin. But it’s going to be tight for me. My legs kick into overdrive, refusing to slow down as we dash across the shallow end of the pool. Bloody water soaks my clothes and my skin. But I don’t care. That’s secondary at this point. We step out of the pool. We only have about, oh, ten yards to go before we reach the stairs. But the zombies are closing in, and closing in fast. I suddenly realize that I won’t make it without getting bitten. I raise my axe up high into the air. I had forgotten that I had picked it back up in the Atrium. But I don’t slow down. It’s like Braveheart or something. I make this crazy sound and I bring the axe down on the zombie’s skull. It hits the deck instantaneously, and I prance up the stairs and get pushed into the bridge by one of the gunmen as the other slams the door closed behind me. ________________ Four I push myself up onto all fours and the roll over onto my back. Ish. That guy pushed me too hard. I think I may have broken something. My wrist, maybe. “I gotta say, ma’am, I didn’t think y’all would make it through at first. That was very impressive,” says one of the armed men. He has a Southern accent so thick it makes me cringe some when I first hear his voice. This is a cruise ship, sir, not a half-sunken dingy in the middle of an alligator-infested bayou. “Impressive things happen when a zombie outbreak occurs,” she replies. Forcing myself up onto my feet I say to the men with the assault rifles slung over their shoulders, “Thanks. For helping us get through the zombies.” Oh. That’s nice. “Well, thank you.” Colin sort of sits down in a corner and pulls out his PSP. Jesus. Not five minutes ago was he about to get swarmed by hundreds of zombies, and now he’s gaming. I swear, that kid… The captain walks forward, a young Italian guy probably no older than 25 with sleek black hair and this suit splashed with dots of blood. He looks like a Jackson Pollock painting. I’m sure he owns a couple Pollock’s himself: he’s the son of the CEO of the cruise company, after all. The black guy takes a step back into the ring of survivors that has congregated to ogle I shake his hand. “I’m Daniel, this is my brother Colin, and the girl is Emily. Emily and I are just friends. We grouped up this morning at an employee stairwell. Emily lost her parents, and Colin and I lost our mother in the Atrium.” I suddenly feel a sick pang of weightless mourning in the pits of my stomach. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the reality of the situation is sinking in. Everyone is dead. I mean, Jesus. What will my Dad read in the papers? An engine explosion that caused everyone to die? Or will someone catch wind of what actually happened—that zombies took over? “My condolences. We’ve all lost someone today.” “Hey,” I say, trying to fight back my disgust and urge to gag. “What can you expect in a zombie apocalypse? It hurts, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. They’d want us to be strong, you know?” That’s so untrue, though. All lies. It works in theory, but not in practice. Once the dust settles, the guilt you feel for allowing a loved one to die is paralyzing. No, instead, we’re trapped in this room. And the more I look around, the more I watch these people do absolutely nothing but sit around and sing campfire songs, the more I think that maybe we were better off out there. Just running around. It’s premature, I know, but this is my first impression. I look over at Emily. She’s busy staring out the window. Dang, she is moody. One second she’s spazzing out and doing some childish victory dance, and the next she is immersed in the hopelessness of being confined in a relatively small room surrounded on all sides by hundreds upon hundreds of zombies. “All right. Amanda, offer Emily and Colin some water.” I can’t decide if Emily is really badass, or really hopeless. After debating this thought for a few seconds, I come to the conclusion that we would’ve been better off without her. What she’s done isn’t exactly tough or anything—it’s more like a normal human reaction to the undead. Fight or flight. I think she’s better at flying than fighting, so… yeah. “At 0948 hours, we sent out a distress signal and told them about our situation. A United States carrier, the USS Ronald Reagan, was dispatched shortly thereafter to our general location, but since we have lost GPS positioning, we have no idea as to what our exact coordinates are. It could take days for help to arrive.” They still haven’t left me a day later. And I think that’s the worst part of this entire thing. The moans. Unescapable. You could, I guess, escape the zombies. But not their sounds. Those stay with you forever. “No, it’s not.” “Perhaps even a week. If we make it that far.” He sort of tenses up. “Well… there’s a system. Hurricane Charlotte. We don’t know the exact path it will take, but it may hit us. This ship is designed to be able to survive winds of up to 95 miles per hour, but out here, on the open seas, and the ship being torn to bits by the, whatever you called them, zombies, well, it may do some damage.” “Unfortunately, yes,” he says bluntly. Like he doesn’t care. Like he still thinks that, for some reason, it’s normal. That my sole concern is whether I’ll make out with Emily again. He shifts his weight uncomfortably. I think we both know where this is going. “Well, yes, but I thought we were going to be able to move—” “Please, Daniel.” “All right. So, like I was saying, we’re not able to move because the engines are overheating. We’ve cut down output to zero percent, but in order for them to be shut off completely, and emergency shutdown lever must be pulled. In the engine room.” “It’s suicide. Plus, there’s the fire.” The captain shrugs. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW THIS KIND OF STUFF, DUDE. “It could be a couple hours, or a day. Or it may not hit us at all. Since we lost our Doppler radar, we’ve had to revert to forecasting tactics that haven’t been used in 50 years.” “Um, excuse me?” That’s what I am. That’s what Colin is. And that’s about it. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past day. Just sitting here—watching the sunset and the clouds lazily drift by, getting mad at Emily, chilling with Colin. Every speck of condensed water vapor I see makes me jump to conclusions. The suspense is killing me. By the time I ‘wake up’, the sky has started to turn orange as the sun creeps closer and closer to the horizon. “What’s that?” he asks. There’s a low buzz of the mumbles of worried survivors. “What’s going on?” “What’s happening?” I do a slight facepalm. Like the crew is going to tell us anything. “Have any idea what’s going on?” I ask Emily. “No,” I say. “I don’t.” Some muted gasps from the audience. I shake my head. Well, I had a good run. There’s no getting out of this one. I give Emily a look. She returns the favor. We both realize how incredibly preposterous this sounds. How the stars must align in precisely the right manner, so the flames can be extinguished, so the ship won’t be engulfed in the hurricane, so the zombies won’t snatch the brave men that risk their lives to save our sorry asses in their foaming mouths. “I know.” She smiles crookedly. For a couple seconds, I feel a wave of this unmistakable attraction to her. Well, attraction is too scientific, too animalistic. But it’s not love either. I think it might be appreciation. But with a romantic finisher. I dunno. This is getting weird. She kind of shifts her weight on her feet like cute girls do. She has on new jeans that belonged to some woman’s daughter. I think she came up here infected. They threw her out to the zombies when they found the bite. At least, that’s what I heard from the whispers of the survivors. I take her hand in mine. This is not happening. “I thought you were just another chick, Emily. But the way you came down those stairs with that bloody metal rod, and you told me that you lost your family and that you just kept going, well, that showed me just how incredibly brave and strong you are.” I take a step closer to her. “Then don’t. It’s hurting you more to keep it in than it will do let it out,” I tell her. The first tears are starting to come out, and she’s shaking her head at me. I bring her into my arms and we stay there for a while. I hold her for a while, not knowing what to say. “You made a mistake—” I take a deep breath. “They wouldn’t do that, Emily.” “Because my dad is one. And I know them damn well. They value human life. Though it may not seem like it, soldiers aren’t these dumb, square-headed Neanderthals. They have morals. And we’re the center of their morals. They wouldn’t hurt us. Ever.” “Those are a lot of maybe’s.” I touch her arm. She doesn’t pull away or back off or anything. My hand slides down her arm and then I’m holding her hands. She looks up at me, eyes gleaming with tears. “It doesn’t have to be that way. You made a mistake, okay. But we’ve all lost things, Emily. We all have. We’ve all had to do things we regret. But we have to keep going. We have to think positive. We have to find something to live for.” “You do. You have yourself. Your friends. Me. My brother.” “I know you well enough to know that you’re strong. You’re stronger than I’ll ever be. If I lost my brother too, I would go out there, lay down, and wait to be consumed. But you? You kept on going. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling right now. It must be indescribable. But you keep on going. You refuse to let them take you down. Because you’re stronger than this entire situation. You’re stronger than everyone on this ship.” “You’re not going to die.” But no. That would suck. The bulletproof windows creak under the immense pressure of the wind outside. The image of the glass shattering, letting in both the elements and thousands of famished undead in, becomes painted in my mind. I wonder what would get us first: the zombies, or the storm? There’s a huge rock of the ship as a humongous wave slams into the port. Emily and Colin both awake at the same time. Immediately, there are tears as Colin scurries over to me. I take him into my arms and he buries his head in my chest, crying his little eyes out. I take Emily’s hand. She’s still, calm. Expecting to be dead by the night this is over. I look into her eyes, and I realize then that whatever I felt, romantically, at least, towards her is not true. A caught in the moment thing. And she knows it too. And we’re cool with that. We’re cool with dying like that. I force myself back up. Lightning strikes one of the exhaust pipes atop the ship, a blinding flash and a deafening roar. My ears ring and I close my eyes, keeping them shut for as long as I can. I feel Emily’s hands sweat in mine, and Colin’s tears soak my shirt. I feel the ship rocking back and forth, a city on the sea slowly being consumed by the endless world of water that is forever threatening to end our lives. My life. The fish are not biting today. They usually do. This is our pond—our secret pond, hidden in an undeveloped patch of forest miles from the city. They always bite. Always. Well, almost always. “Daniel,” he says again. I set down my rod, leaving the bail open. Clouds drift in front of the sun, casting a long shadow over the pond. But I don’t. “I’m going back to Afghanistan next month. For a year this time.” I exhale, balling my fingers up into fists. “It’s to serve my country, Daniel. Our country. To make it safe. So you, your brother, and your mother can be safe.” “Huh?” I can see the hurt on his face. People always said I looked like him. “Daniel, you know that’s not true. I don’t leave you…” “That’s just not true, Daniel. You don’t understand what you’re saying. I’m going to Afghanistan—” I turn away and ran into his truck. That was the last time I so much as looked at him. I didn’t speak to him at dinner, when he offered to take me fishing, and I sure as hell didn’t speak to him Mom and Colin whisked him off at the airport. Actually, I think I stayed in the car for that one. When I come out of my dream thing, the storm has passed. Chairs are flipped over, the glass is cracked in some places, but we’re alive. The sun shyly ventures up the horizon, and we’re still freaking alive. Don’t even ask how. This ship is falling apart. It’s a miracle it lasted night. “Hello, everyone, yes?” De Luca announces to the group, gathering everyone’s attention. “We have some good news. Smoke detectors have detected a drop in smoke and heat levels to the point that they are capable of sustaining life. The path to the engine room should now be clear.” He smiles and raises his arms, as if he expects us to bow down to worship him or something, like the fire being extinguished is somehow his work. The gesture is met to a few muted claps. Some of the crew snickers in the back. I furrow my brow and count the able bodies, the bodies more able than mine. There’s only a few. Slowly hands begin to raise. Six, seven, eight. Nine. The hands stop rising at nine. I sigh. I know who’s going to be the next person to raise their hand. I’ve stood up and walked forward, a hop in my step. Already, the adrenaline is pumping. I don’t want to do this. I really don’t. But the idea of getting out of this room, this box, well, that’s better than sitting around and waiting for something to go wrong, for something to finally snap. The captain looks at me disapprovingly. “Oh, Daniel. You can’t. You’re just a boy.” “You can’t, Daniel.” “Shut up!” Emily and I both yell at the same time. She bites her lip and nods. “Yeah… I figured. But what about Colin? Huh? What about him? What is he going to do without a brother to help him through this?” The irony. But I have the eyes to see what I’m doing. Dad, he didn’t know. He did, but he didn’t really get it. He didn’t really get that I need him, that I need my Dad. He was institutionalized, and I do not doubt for a second that he loved—loves—me with all he’s got and he would do anything for me, but he didn’t know how to express it. How to express a father has for a son. Nothing except a father a million miles away and world wanting to eat him. Colin can’t lose me. mily smiles softly. “You’re making the right choice, Daniel,” she says and kisses me on the cheek. It’s more of a thank you than an action of endearment, if you will. “Thank you all for doing this,” Captain De Luca says, voice teetering on the edge of cracking. He’s looking them up and down, inspecting them like he’s the president or something. I’m not sure where he got the idea that he had absolute power, and him giving us—them—this motivational speech means anything to anyone here. “Everyone doing this is the embodiment of human strength that we see come out time and time again when faced with difficult situations like this. You are saving us all by doing this. We thank you all from the bottom of our hearts. Godspeed, my friends.” And it hits me like a freight train. No one expects them to come back. I’m the only one that has even given them a chance at survival as I weigh out the odds in my head. Looking around, I see the somber looks on all these faces. On Xavier’s, the man who killed his own son. On Amanda’s, the woman that gave Colin and Emily water. And even on Emily’s face. I can see that she’s holding back tears. “You’re going to be okay,” I tell her. “You will. I swear. I swear that you will be okay.” I laugh. Girls. “I feel your pain,” I say. But, really, I don’t. I just said it to lighten up the mood some. “Jesus,” Emily whispers. We’re standing close to each other, so close I can feel the warmth of her body on mine. “I’m going to die.” She glances up at me. “This isn’t a storm, Daniel. This is worse.” “Well… bye.” I should tell her that I love her or something. But that would be a lie. Loving someone here is impossible. You can’t love someone when you’re worried about dying. Then Emily is pushed from behind by one of the men, lurching forward. I stare at her shuffle through the open door, the moans louder than ever. Shots are fired. I try to look away, but I can’t. She is my only friend on this ship. Sure, there is Colin, but he’s different. Part of me wishes it would happen. However, if we weren’t being hunted by these things, constantly teetering on dead and alive, it could be different. I think I would feel something more than confusion towards her. But that’s wishful thinking. That’s what got my mom killed. Blood pools around the elevator, scarlet and shining in the sunlight. Emily pulls out her pistol and efficiently dispatches three zombies herself. She is surprisingly lethal with her weapon. It would be an understatement to say I am impressed. I don’t think I could ever shoot like that, and I’ve spent countless days on the range with my dad. I decide that it’s for the better if I don’t think about her. Period. I stay at the window for the rest of the day, observing the undead fall over fallen comrades. I wonder what their names were. What did they feel when they got bitten? Did it feel like death? Or was it something worse than that? Or maybe I’m just imagining things. I hear sometimes you do that when you’re on vacations. Tricking yourself into thinking you’ve seen someone before, but they’re really total strangers. But that’s not true. Not really. I’ve seen her before. When I killed the zombie in the hallway outside my room. When I drove that axe into his head. When I saw all those undead shamble off after Mom. I saw her in them. They are not living. They are organic machines. They serve no purpose except to kill. There is no reproduction, no pain, no sensations, and there sure as hell isn’t any humanity in them. What is the point of them even existing? God. If you’re there… If there is a God, he’s not going to listen to me. I pull myself off the window, like someone peeling a dead insect off a flyswatter. My God died as the undead rose. My God died when my mother disappeared behind the mountain of rubble. My God died when the elevator door closed shut, sealing Emily from the rest of the world. I have never been particularly religious, but I’ve always believed that a God existed somewhere, and it was a good God. But with death, comes hopelessness. Hatred for putting me through this Hell, when I’ve done nothing wrong. What kind of God would do this? There is nothing about undead in the Bible. The Torah. The Quran. Great… I realize that I’m crying. Shit. Hurriedly, I wipe away the tears with my sleeve and kneel down to meet his eyes. “Sorry, Colin. I was just… I…” But I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t know what to say. Everyone is dead. “I get it, Daniel. I see things. I don’t like to, but I do. I know that Mom is… you know. Dead.” “Yeah,” he says confidently. “I am not that little kid anymore, you know. These things, they hurt you. Not just on the outside, Daniel, but on the inside. And I can see that. And I also know that if I tried to do something, I’d just hurt you too. So I don’t. I stay out of your way.” “There are lots of things you don’t know about me.” He hands me his PSP promptly. “My PSP has been out of batteries since we left the room. I only pretend to play it so you won’t have to worry about me.” “I just told you why, Daniel.” “That means a lot. Thanks.” I think about that for a while. The kid is ten. He talks like he’s fifteen. He goes to an academically gifted school. And yet, we have always called him antisocial. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve always thought of him as. But maybe that’s not true. Maybe he’s not antisocial. Maybe he’s not immature. Maybe he just chooses to be that way to stay out of the way. And I’m not just talking about this cruise ship thing. He’s always been like this; he’s always been immersed in his games and such when he’s at home. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that, with Dad gone, he just does it to make it easier on me and… Mom. No. I begin to tell him that he’s wrong, that I couldn’t do the same if I were in his shoes, but he’s already returned to his PSP. Radio chatter has picked up recently. Even as I zone out with my back to the window, hopeless and quiet like so many other survivors up here, I can faintly make out the conversations between the Ronald Reagan and the Magnificence of the Seas. All those people gone… Is this what we have come to? Looking at the ultimate sacrifice Emily and all the others have made as a plus because we have more water? “Very good. …Close… triangulating the radio signal. But we cannot approach until the engine… taken care of. The blast would…one-mile radius. Predator drones loaded for bear are awaiting take off. Ship…scrapped…survivors evacuated.” I look around and notice the worried looks on all the other survivors’ faces. They heard it too. They know that, when that missile hits the ship, everything they once were will go down with it. Their lives. Their relationships. Their belongings. Their… their psyches. “Captain,” I hear another crewmember tell Captain De Luca as I shift my focus away from the disturbing radio chatter. “It has been over four hours. Night is coming. Do you think…?” Dinner is served—a bag of pretzels and some beef jerky—and soon, the sun begins to set. But it’s not beautiful like I’ve seen it in the past. The sky has grown hazy with smoke and gases from God-knows-what. What could be beautiful in times such as these, anyways? With Emily gone, Mom gone, the engines still threatening to explode, and a whole bunch of zombies with only one goal in mind: killing everything. If Emily and the others have survived this far, they will not make it through the night. _______ Eight It’s the lack of a constant alarm, not unlike the moans of the undead and yes, the incessant vuvuzelas of the 2010 World Cup, that tips me off to the fact that the 10 badasses have succeeded. Curious, I stand up and stroll towards the crew. Captain De Luca is whispering to the co-captain (first mate? I don’t know ship titles…) when he notices me walking up to him. De Luca nods. “Yes. They have done their jobs well. For the time being, we are safe. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten.” He shrugs and turns away, staring out the front window into the night. “They helped save my ship. And they saved all of us. When I get back and achieve fame for this, I will be sure to mention them. That my survival would not be possible without them.” It was only a matter of time before it came out. “You sick fuck,” I mutter. My fingers ball up into fists. “I said,” I growl. “You’re a sick fuck. How can you think about your fucking ship and your fame and fortune when everyone around you is DYING?” “Listen, kid—” “That’s what you get, you prick! You selfish bastard! You’re no better than those things outside!” “Shut UP!” he groans, applying a towel to his nose. “How dare you disgrace me so much on my ship, pig.” The captain stands up, shaking off the crewmembers trying to help him. I try to meet him, but I realize that they’ve handcuffed me to the leg of a table. Great. The handcuffs rattle like bells as I try to escape them, but to no avail. Flashes of red spark before my eyes. “Do not call Colin that.” He lifts his foot and kicks me. Straight in the gut. It feels like an anvil being dropped on my stomach. I hack a bloody loogie onto the carpet. “You sick fuck.” “Okay, okay,” I mumble, fading into unconsciousness. “I get it, man.” The guy is like, only 10 years older than me. I’m 16. I’m not even a kid. 16 year olds go to war sometimes. “You’re… you’re not my father. You’re a kid that’s been given everything he’s ever wanted and you never questioned it. And now that something goes wrong, look at you. You cracked, man. You’re done. And you shouldn’t be in charge of this fucking piece of scrap.” They just watch because they’re scared. And this is what separates us from them. Selfishness. Fear. That is our humanity. Not love. But not saying anything—not stopping this—when this guy is beating me half to death. That is who we are. And that is who we will ever be. The captain takes a knee so we are at eye level. “You really don’t learn, do you?” “You know, Daniel, normal people don’t act like this. What if… what if you’re infected? What if you’ve caught the disease? Maybe you’re putting us in danger by being with us.” “You can’t do that,” I answer quietly, so quiet only he can hear it, and look away. I chuckle once, my gut burning with every breath. “If that’s what we have come to, then I’d rather take my chances out there.” And when they start dragging me to the door, I know what’s going to happen. For not surviving. And to think, it wasn’t the zombies, but the crazy captain of this ship that was my downfall. “Please. Don’t do this.” “Do it,” De Luca says, coldly. One of them reaches for the doorknob, and that is when I see the blur of blond hair and a blood stained Kingdom Hearts shirt from out of the corner of my eye. A few seconds and a lot of pressure points exploited later, both men are brought to their knees, moaning and wondering what the hell just happened. Without anything to support me, I immediately collapse, the pain in my gut too much to bear. Everyone gasps, stunned at the shit that has gone down. But I’m not. I mean, he has had four years of jiu-jitsu, after all. “Glad Mom made me,” he answers, patting me on the back as I struggle to stand back up and face the awestruck Captain De Luca. “He kicked their asses, that’s what,” I moan, still unable to stand up straight. But I manage to give Colin a well-earned fist bump. “An antisocial kid,” Colin corrects. I can’t help but to crack up at that. The Captain, stonefaced, produces a gun. A pistol. A pistol that one would think would only be used as a tool for slaying the undead, not living, breathing people. And yet, here we are. A 25 year old man with a Glock pointed at a 16 year old. I squeeze Colin’s hand. I am not scared or panicked or crying anymore. I have met my match. At least my death will be unique on this Godforsaken ship. I will be the only one that’s been murdered. “You’re all I’ve got left, Daniel.” The Captain considers, and eventually nods. One of the crewmembers gives him a couple of AAA’s. I stare down the barrel, ready for it. Ready for that bullet. Ready to die. “Goodbye, Daniel—” De Luca and I share a tense stare as we are brought back to reality. To society. To our humanity, and away from the inner animal. I can see him debating on whether or not he should shoot me dead. Like a wounded dog. Safe from that psycho captain. That night, I dream of going home. Want to read the rest? Click here: viewtopic.php?f=14&t=18002&p=225216#p225216

Haha damn Yeti, you go from making a thread on 28 solo to #1 in the world on a tough map in a matter of months. This should go to all beginner-intermedite players out there: if you want to get better, there's nothing stopping you, just gotta keep trying.

Wow, my strategy is very different from yours!