Dead Rising: Another's 72 Hours

[AGELIMIT]ages 12 and up.This story contains graphic violence and minor swearing.[/AGELIMIT]



So, this is my Dead Rising fic. I've got nine pages of it written and I've yet to really get very deep into the story. I'll be posting the first chapter here, but no more for awhile. Maybe if I get enough responses, the second chapter will be next.

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Chapter One:

Chapter Two:

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-- 8:00A.M.

The alarm rang as the old man slammed his fist onto the buzzer. He never liked days like these. The day had just started, it seemed, as he opened his curtains to find a bright sun and his best friend and neighbor mowing his lawn. He had promised to take his twin daughters to the Willamette Parkview Mall. He had never liked malls. Getting dressed, he walked into the kitchen and kissed his wife.

"Smells like bacon." he said, sitting down next to his daughter, Pamela.

"Morning dad." she said, yawning.

"Morning.." he said, sounding worn-out and tired. His job didn't give him the treat of a decent night's sleep. He hadn't slept like a normal person for years. The job of manager at the local restaurant was an important job. Not because he was the manager, but for the fact that it put the bacon, that he was now chewing on, onto the table.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, taking a chunk of scrambled egg off her plate and placing it in her mouth.

"Yeah, I just need to help Timothy with something. Then, we'll go." he said, wishing they would rather stay home then go to the mall. "He's got some plumbing issues, then I'll take you."

"You'll stay and wait for us, right dad?" Pamela asked. "We don't want to be left alone for too long…"

"Of course. I'll be waiting in the car." he said, feeling a bit more optimistic about going. Pamela had always been the kinder of the two. Never letting her father feel too badly or too unhappy. Heather was the bad egg of the two. She cared more about her internet webpages and boyfriends than her father. He didn't mind. They were 18, nearly old enough to leave the house. Both of them were allowed to leave whenever they pleased. After that, Gerald would retire and enjoy his few remaining years.

-- 8:54A.M.

"Tim! What the hell are you doing up there?" asked Gerald, who had just been hit in the face by two metal screws from above. A hole was visible through the open pipes leading up to Timothy, looking abashed.

"Sorry Gerald. They slipped out of my hands" he said, feeling embarrassed.

Gerald knew that Timothy meant well, but he still couldn't help wanting to strangle him whenever he screwed up. He continued tightening the newly reattached pipes when he heard the metal clunk of a pipe fully in it's socket.

"Thanks a bunch, Ger!" said Timothy, shaking Gerald's hand. "Mind if I tell the wife that I did it by myself? I don't want her to think I'm a wimp."

If only she knew, thought Gerald. "Yeah…sure…do what's gotta be done, eh?" he said, feeling reluctant to agree to this job that he had done.

Gerald left, feeling disgruntled at having let Timothy take his hard work for granted and using it to please his wife. Getting in his car, honking the horn and waiting for his two daughters to get into the car, he thought up a scene of Timothy's wife finding out that Gerald had done the work, coming over and thanking him with Timothy looking solemn and defeated behind her. The sound of a door slamming and his daughter yelling brought him from his fantasy.

"Dad! Let's go! We're going to be late for the movie!" screamed Heather, Pamela's twin. She looked upset and tired. He figured it was from sneaking out at night. He had watched her leave one night, but never spoke to her about it. She was too old for him to be bossing her around now. That, and he didn't care. She wasn't the daughter he used to love. Now she had turned into a hateful girl.

He turned the key, hearing the engine roar. Backing out of the driveway, they all three waved at Timothy, who was back to mowing his lawn; Gerald only waved half-heartedly, Timothy was getting credit for his work.

-- 9:30A.M.

"You two." Gerald said, sounding firm and truthful. "Be back here by 11:30A.M. I won't wait and you can sit at the mall until I'm ready to come and get you." He began rolling the window up when his daughter, Heather, stopped him.

"Love you, dad." she said, looking embarrassed. He knew why. She felt badly about how she had spoken to him when she got into the car. This was the first time she'd said that in years.

He smiled a big smile, with love showing in his face. "Love you too." he said, kindly. He finished rolling up the window as his two daughters ran towards the mall entrance. "Those two..." he muttered to himself. He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He hoped he'd wake before they got back. With the thought of his daughters, he drifted into a sound sleep.

Basically, I love this.
A lot.
Just as much as when you first showed it to me.
<333

<333 Thank you. ^___^

I did make a few changes since you saw it though. :x Just because it didn't make a whole lot of sense.

Shaydeh said:

Yeah, I liked it. You've got a casual way of writing, which makes the story a breeze to read and understand, nothing annoyingly complicated about your narrative. The morning events played out in this chapter seem regular enough, wake up, breakfast, deal with neighbours etc but if I know DeadRising, this ordinary chain of events won't persist for too long. Should make for an interesting read once the real story kicks in, expecting a lot blood, gore, bloodsucking, flesh-eating action coming up in the next chapters!

If everybody leaves in one piece, I get the feeling little miss Heather will obtain a new appreciation for her father <3 I wonder what significance the whole plumbing scene involving Timothy holds (if any). I'm still a little curious about that one. Looking forward to finding out, update soon! I take it this is the prologue of the story, and you mentioned the next chapter will be a lot longer, so I won't comment on the length.

Keep it up. Hope to see some action in the next chapter, maybe a head or two bitten off if I'm lucky. :)

Click to expand...

Thanks a lot Shaydeh! Give me a shout on MSN and I'll give you the whole thing.

I'm going to post more of the chapter tomorrow. So..yeah. :/

-- 11:29A.M.

Waking with a start, Gerald sat straight up. He gazed at the clock to find he had not overslept. His daughters were late. He sighed and turned on the car. "I told 'em" he said, driving away from the mall. He knew it was harsh. He knew they would be upset. Looking in the rear view mirror, he noticed a large crowd around the entrance.

"Must be a mid-day sale at one of the stores." he said to himself, thinking nothing of the mass of shoppers. He pulled out of the parking lot onto Fifth Street, hitting the speed bump and rolling by parked cars.

Turning left on Main Street, he looked down and saw that his daughter had left her cellphone. He turned his gaze back to the street and barely hit the brakes as a small boy shuffled past him. He honked, but the boy hardly reacted, except for walking further into the intersection. Gerald rolled down his window and screamed, "Watch it, kid! You're going to get hit!" The child stopped and turned around. His eyes looked glazed over, his jaw hung open and he looked pale.

"Damn kids and their fancy contact lenses." he muttered as he drove on. Checking the rear view, he saw that the kid was now shuffling in the direction of his car.

"...punk."

-- 11:47A.M.

Gerald pulled into his driveway. He hardly realized he was there, at first. He had zoned out, thinking of his daughters and hoped they were safe. He knew they needed to have their freedom, but they still needed to follow his rules while under his roof. He shut off the car and opened the door. He needed another nap. He looked up to see his front door off its hinges, blood splatter on the welcome mat. He ran and hopped over the broken down door. Springing inside, with horror, he saw his wife, bloodied and glossy-eyed, laying in a pool of blood in the living room. He crouched next to her and checked her pulse. She was gone. Her neck was ripped open and blood still flowed from it. He stood up to call 9-1-1, but his actions were stopped when he heard the newscaster, on the television, speaking in a panicked state.

"Population of Willamette. Those of you left, that is. If anyone is out there still, please get to the gymnasium at 5th and Marriott. A disease has infected citizens of our town and is causing them to attack anyone still unaffected by it. Do not attempt to engage these people. They are insusceptible to attacks and cannot be stopped. Do not stop to pack belongings or valuables. To those that have been bitten, please do not come. All citizens will be forced to go through a cleanup process and any bitten will be brutally attacked and thrown out. Anyone infected already will be shot on site." said the newscaster.

Gerald didn't need to hear it twice. He made a step towards the welcome mat, but froze. He had heard a creaking noise above him. Someone was in his office. Spinning around, his wife had disappeared and left the puddle of blood on the carpet looking lonesome and incomplete. He rushed outside, not wanting to stay with whatever his wife had become. He looked around and saw Timothy standing in his wife's garden, watering the flowers. As Gerald ran towards him, his footsteps echoed through the neighborhood. It was quiet. A gut wrenching quiet.

"TIM!" Gerald screamed. "Tim! We have to go! There's a disease going around! My wife is gone!" He couldn't understand why Timothy was acting so calm. He ran towards him and flipped him around. He backed up, with horror, seeing not the friendly face he knew so well, but a dull, dazed look on Timothy. He wasn't ignoring him or acting calm. He was one of them. They stood facing each other. Gerald, shocked. Timothy, infected.

Gerald heard a voice from across the street. It was the newscaster again. "We have received intelligence of a way to dispatch the infected. If you come into contact with an infected individual and find you cannot get away, dispatch them with a blow to the head. It is the ONLY way. You must strike the brain."

Gerald spun around, looking for some blunt or sharp object. He noticed a pair of hedge clippers lying near the flowers. Grabbing them, he turned to Timothy, who had begun to trudge towards him.

"Sorry Timothy…like I said, 'Gotta do what's gotta be done.'" said Gerald. He lunged towards Timothy, the end of the hedge clippers making contact, first, with skin, then broke through to the skull, cracking it. He stopped and stepped back to look at his immobile friend. Timothy stood there, blood trickling down from his forehead. His legs buckled and his eyes lost their glossiness. With a stab of pain, Gerald saw that Timothy had mouthed the word, "Why?" before he crumpled to the floor, dead.

Gerald slumped to the ground, knees pressing into the watered grass. Wife, gone. Timothy, gone. Daughters, missing. The cracking of a twig snapped him back into reality.

He turned around to find three infected persons shuffling at him. He jumped up and sped across the street to his car. He jumped in and locked the doors. Struggling to get the keys in the ignition, he glanced up to see where they were. But, he found only one infected person in front of him. His undead wife. She was climbing onto the hood of his car. He finally got the key in, started it, placed the car in reverse and sped out of his driveway, flinging his wife's body from the hood, landing her on the concrete below. He stopped and stared at her motionless body. He had just killed his own wife. His eyes watering, he shifted into drive and began to drive away from the gruesome scene. Taking a look back, with a jolt of shock, he saw his wife rise and begin to creep towards his car with the other three.

"God…what's going on?" he muttered to himself, flipping on WNN, the local radio news station and screeching off towards the mall. His daughters were still there. He wasn't going to lose them too.

Thanks a lot, Resa. :D

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-- 12:00P.M.

As he drove, dozens of cars were littered throughout the streets, some had bodies as a part of their decor. Corpses. Bloodied and amputated. What he saw was genocide. The news never explained it, but had a tape replaying the same message: "5th and Parkview Street. All survivors. Trauma to the head is the only possible solution to stopping the infected." He heard the sounds of a helicopter. Gazing up, he saw it. Two men, only two. One flying the chopper, one taking photos.

"Damn punks, taking pictures when I'm trying to fight for my life down here." Gerald said to himself, furious at the nerve of people. "They've got to see me down here…I'm the only damn car on the road!" He honked, but the photographer had turned away and faced the other side of the town. He honked again, but no one noticed. He turned back to the road to see a man in a blue shirt being swarmed by the infected. He had a baseball bat and was on top of a white car. He was outnumbered and looked as though he was running out of energy. He sped up and ran a few over, sending their severed bodies into the air. He hit the breaks, jumped out and screamed for the man to get in.

"Go without me!" screamed the man in the blue shirt. "Get the hell out of here, old man! I've already been bitten!" He whacked an infected man in the head. He crumpled into a motionless heap by the man in the blue shirt's car. "Go! Now! Save yourself!" The man hit another, but it didn't seem to feel the blow to its neck. Two more grabbed him from behind before Gerald had time to warn him and dragged him off the car, biting onto his neck. He screamed, but it stifled as he wheezed, then died.

Gerald jumped back into the car, horrified. Driving off, he saw the man rise and join his new brethren. Gerald could have saved him. He drove for another four minutes without stopping. A gasoline station was in site. Pulling over, he checked his mirrors. No zombies in site. Getting out and sticking the pump into the tank, he rushed into the market, grabbing snacks that wouldn't rot. He didn't bother paying, seeing as the station manager had taken the gun hidden behind the counter and saved himself from this nightmare. Gerald's stomach squirmed. Rushing to his car, he loaded it with the goods he had taken. He got into the car and peeled out of the station, forgetting to put the pump back. It began leaking onto the concrete.

The helicopter was now flying past the gas station, the photographer noticed a fire near the station and suddenly, the gas station exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere. "Holy crap! You see that?" screamed the pilot. "Yeah" said the photographer. He acted as if he had seen things like this before.

Gerald sped on. Coming up to a building he knew well, he hit the brakes for he had seen a woman run to its ledge. The helicopter had caught up to Gerald's car and had lowered itself down to watch the same scene as Gerald. The woman pulled out a gun. She fired once. Twice. Three times more. She seemed to be out of ammo for she threw the gun at someone or something.

Just then, he saw it. Three or four of the infected were surrounding her. They were closing in. She turned around and made to jump, but an infected man, Gerald had seen him working at the local fast food restaurant mopping floors, grabbed onto her. It didn't seem to have control of its speed and fell towards the ground, taking the woman with it. Gerald screamed a cry of, "No!" but it was useless. The woman and the infected man hit the ground with a loud thumping noise. Another of the infected fell towards the ground after them, causing another thump of breaking bones.

Gerald stared blankly at the dead woman. He recognized her now. She was one of his wife's friends. A whizzing of blades caused Gerald to look up. He saw that the helicopter had already began its flight path again. It was heading towards the mall. Gerald hit the gas and sped off in the wake of the helicopter.

Impressive piece of writing, Klippy. Maybe I'm slightly biased because I loved the DR video game, but it would be awesome even if I didn't. You managed to not make this just a "ZOMBIEZ EAT BRAINZ lol" kind of fic. I love the characters. Good work!

:DD Thank you, Nightwing<3 Here, especially for you, is the next part:

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-- 12:30P.M.

Gerald stepped out of his car, dazed. He had just run into a light post in the mall parking lot. He had been watching the helicopter. It was heading towards the rood when three Apache helicopters surrounded it. Gerald watched as the helicopter swiveled and then was situated right above the roof. The passenger jumped out, landing out of site. By this time, Gerald had looked back to the road and had just enough time to cover his face. When he hit the pole, shards of glass and metal flew into his hands that were protecting his face. His hands stung, but they were still usable.

Gerald turned his gaze, once more, towards the sky. The helicopter was flying off. Gerald heard the shuffle of a foot and the groan of a person. He flung around to find himself standing feet from an infected woman. He spoke, to see if it could understand him, "Get the hell away from me!" No response. He ran around the car and opened the back door to find only two things. A golf club and his fishing rod. He grabbed the club, but left the rod. Standing straight again, club held to attack, he found that the infected woman had already shuffled off. He realized why within the second. A woman had been hiding in her car, but had opened the door to see if the coast was clear. An infected man had snuck up and grabbed the door. She was now being dragged from it as two infected people bit into her flesh. She screamed. Gerald ran towards them, hitting one in the skull, which broke the head of the club. He lunged and the rest of the pole slid through the infected man's head. It crouched, paralyzed, then leaned to the left and hit the ground with a squishing thud. They lay motionless. The woman, on the other hand, began to rise. Her eyes were glossed over and her skin began to look pasty and white, already. He kicked her in the face, but she rose again. Backing away, he looked for a way into the mall. There were only two options. Enter through the main doors, which looked to be barricaded from the inside and guarded from the outside by a hoard of infected people. This meant his daughter's might still be safe. His second option was the multi-leveled parking structure situated 30 feet away from his current location.

He turned, grabbing the golf club's shaft and yanking it from the infector's head. It made a squishing sound, but his stomach had already, so quickly, learned to handle this sort of grotesque sight and sound. He stuck his foot on the now infected woman's neck, then gently slid the bloodied shaft into her eye socket. She stopped at once. Gerald's eyes filled with tears. This woman. She could have been saved. He reached down and grabbed the keys to her vehicle from her pocket. He jumped in, started the car and headed towards the parking structure. It was a meaningless drive. He could have walked. But, he felt safer in the vehicle. Even if it hadn't saved its previous owner. But, that was her mistake, not the car's. He reached the second floor, the level with the employee's entrance. Getting out, he pushed on the door, to find it unlocked. Relieved, he entered and locked the door behind him. No infected were getting in because of him. Walking into the Staff Lounge, he sat down and caught his breath. Suddenly, he jumped up.

"No!" he yelled, "I forgot the food…" He was annoyed with himself for forgetting something so important. "Nothing I can do now…I'm not heading back out there."

He looked around and saw a couch. It looked inviting and comfortable. His back was aching and his hands still throbbed from the glass that had cut into them. He washed his hands at the sink, then laid on the couch.

"Just…a quick nap." he said, speech slurring, as he drifted off to sleep.

-- 12:45P.M.

Waking with a start, he heard screams from the Entrance Plaza.

"Madonna!" he heard. "Where are you, Madonna?!" He quickly hustled to the door leading out into the Entrance Plaza. Opening it, he found himself on the second floor. He looked over the balcony's ledge to watch the scene taking place below him.

"Have you seen my baby?" said a woman to a familiar looking man. She spun around and bumped into a balding, heavy-set man.

"Quit screwin' around!" he said, forcibly. He was carrying a trash bin.

She turned, once again, to the familiar man, "I can't leave without my precious little sweetie doggy! Oh, where is my Madonna?"

The familiar man ignored her. He had turned to a beautiful woman standing some feet from him. He lifted his camera to snap a photograph of her, when the balding man stepped in his way. "This is no time to ogle pretty girls, son!" he said, angrily. "You lookin' to get yourself eaten alive by zombies?" The beautiful woman quickly walked away, heading for another plaza.

"Zombies?" said Gerald to himself, "So that's what they are."

The familiar man stared at the other with shock and amazement in his eyes. "Did you just say 'zombies'?" he asked. The other responded by pointing outside and said, "Take a look out there! If those ain't zombies, what would you call them? There's been more and more of them since 11:00A.M. Now they're all that's out there."

The man lifted his camera to snap a picture of the zombies, but he lowered it again. "Look on the bright side" said the balding man, nudging the photographer, "Zombies are stupid and slow. We'll be safe in here." The photographer raised his camera again, but the second man took a step in front of him, "Feel like making yourself useful? Take a look around the mall and find anything we can use for the barricade. Andale! C'mon! Pronto!"

The photographer shook his head and began walking off towards the back of the Entrance Plaza.

I love it!! <3
It's so awesome, I can't think of anything to say to describe it.
Good work Klippy. <3

Here's some more. And, thank you Kazumi! ^__^;

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-- 12:48P.M.

Gerald sat with his head in his hands, thinking. He was sitting on the topmost stair of the second floor of the Entrance Plaza. Where could they be, he thought. He figured they either ran back to the movie theater or were hiding in their favorite store. He stood up, stretching then turned around. A man, looking official and important, walked past him. "Hey, excuse me" said Gerald, "What the hell's going on here?"

The man stopped and looked at Gerald, thinking. "I don't know. I'm from the Department of Homeland Security though. I'm here to find out what is going on. The name's Brad." He stuck out his hand. Gerald grasped it and shook. He had a tough grip and Gerald's hand throbbed when he let go.

"So, Brad. Are these really zombies?" asked Gerald, taking a look towards the mob outside. He didn't look like he wanted to answer, but nodded. "I've got two daughters. They're somewhere in this mall. Have you seen them?" he asked, hoping Brad had answers.

"No, I haven't." he said, as he reached into his pocket for something. "Here." he said, handing a yellow walkie-talkie to Gerald. "It's to keep in contact with us. If you find your daughters, radio me and let me know. Bring any other people to this location. We'll keep everyone safe"

Just then, the woman from earlier, began to scream. Gerald and Brad looked down to see her breaking down the barricade that was just made. She was screaming, "Madonna! My Madonna is out there! Oh no! Madonna! Come to mommy!" A poodle was outside. It sat, calmly, and barked. Two men grabbed at the woman, but she tore from their grip. "Wait, baby! I'm saving you baby! Wait for me, my sweet Madonna!"

The barricade was down and she flung the front door to the mall open. She was grabbed by a zombie and bit her in the neck. She screamed, then collapsed. Zombies flooded in, some dropping to take bites out of the woman who screamed and howled until she breathed her last. Brad, shock setting in, screamed to the twelve or so people on the first floor, "What in the hell are you people doing!? Run! Quick! Get over here! Everyone, move this way! Quick! To the stairs!"

Gerald watched as the people tried to fight their way to the stairs. The balding man ran towards the stairs, but tripped. He fell and his head smacked into the bottom stair. Blood tricked from his head as he struggled to climb the stairs. A zombie grabbed him and bit into his arm. He screamed, then died. But, mere moments after, he rose again and joined the slaughter. Two other men ran, but the zombies surrounded them. They were taken down as zombies began to feast on their precious new meals.

Another two men attacked the hoard. One carried a baseball bat; the other wielding a shotgun. The batter swung and hit a zombie in the face. It broke the zombie's jaw, but otherwise was ineffective. The jawless zombie marched on, but was struck again by the batter. Its skull cracked and it dropped to the floor. The batter raised the bat in triumph and cursed at the zombies. The man using the shotgun shot three rounds into the crowd of zombies. None of them collapses nor did any retreat. They grabbed hold of the man and piled onto him, devouring any portion of him they could. The batter wasn't far behind him. He ran backwards, but bumped into a zombie, which gladly tackled him and bit into his neck.

Six people remained. Two women huddled together and waited to die. They didn't even defend themselves when the zombies grabbed hold of them. A man and his wife fell next to the flood. She had a head injury and lay motionless as the zombies attacked and killed her husband. She seemed to snap from this trance when her husband's body hit the floor. She stood up and pushed a zombie down, but two more grabbed her and she was killed.

The photographer was the only person alive downstairs. He grabbed a bench and flung it at the zombies with tremendous strength and force. Zombies flew everywhere, splattering blood on walls, stores, and other zombies. The photographer picked up a trash bin and threw it towards the hoard. It crushed two zombies, but the flood didn't stop, nor did it even realize it had lost two of its number. He, finally, picked up a baseball bat and began to strike down zombie after zombie. Running towards the stairs, he grabbed the shotgun and a bag of chips. Gerald was amazed by this man's tact. The photographer then kicked a zombie. He sent it flying through the air and it crashed into the wall.

-- 12:51P.M.

A door slammed and Gerald turned to see that Brad had already ran into the Security Room. Gerald took two steps forward, heading straight for the door, when a hand grasped his shoulder with brutal strength. He knew it was over.

"Oh God! Someone help me!" he screamed. But, when he turned to fend off the attacker as best he could, he saw no zombie. Only the photographer. He shoved Gerald to the ground and ran for the Security Room.

"Hey, you damn punk!" Gerald screamed, as the photographer turned around to look at him.

"Tough luck, old man!" he yelled. He raised his camera up and snapped a photo of Gerald. He smirked and slammed the door. Gerald heard the door click and lock. He jumped up and ran to the door, hoping the sound had only been in his imagination. He tugged at the door, but it really was locked. He turned around and with a pang of defeat, he saw zombies climbing the stairs. He slumped down to the floor, defeated. He thought of his daughters and his now-dead wife. "This…can't be happening." he murmured to himself.

"Be happy while you're living, For you're a long time dead."​

-- 12:53P.M.

Gerald sat, hopeless. Tears streamed down his face. The shuffle of a zombie's foot and the groan of delight at its next meal. The sound of a blade whizzing through flesh startled Gerald. Looking up, an African man had just sliced the heads of seven zombies off, their bodies falling to the floor, blood spurting from the newly opened wounds. Gerald jumped up in shock as the man continued taking down zombies. He looked like a warrior. Tough, strong, and unafraid. He mercilessly tore through 20 or more zombies. He kicked each body down the stairs and after minutes of this, the body pileup stopped anymore from getting to them.

"Thank you, son." said Gerald, shaking the hand of his savior, "I…owe you one."

The man shook his head and motioned for Gerald to follow. "Hey, I didn't get your name." said Gerald, who followed after the warrior. He said nothing, but took a glance back at Gerald. "So…" said Gerald, trying to make conversation, "Do you live around here?"

"No." said the warrior. He had pulled out his katana and stood ready to attack. He motioned for Gerald to hang back. Gerald listened, without hesitation. The warrior ran forward, towards the end of the Entrance Plaza, turning around and saying, "Stay here." He ran to the balcony, swung over the barrier, and disappeared.

African Warrior-dude from the last section kicked some ass. fer srsly. Although I would have chosen a different weapon for him to wield instead of a Katana. That's really a more...asian weapon. >_<

Itsuki said:

African Warrior-dude from the last section kicked some ass. fer srsly. Although I would have chosen a different weapon for him to wield instead of a Katana. That's really a more...asian weapon. >_<

Click to expand...

Well, in the game, katana are just about as good as you get for weapons. Aside from the battle ax and any gun, that is. (Though the pistol is really pathetic) It's a relatively effective weapon, taking out mostly anything with speedy results.

-- 12:56P.M.

Gerald waited a few moments before uprooting his eyes from the spot at which the warrior had vanished. Gerald heard zombies groaning from the stairs. They had broken through the body pile finally, but Gerald was far enough away to not worry yet. There was no doubt in his mind that they would reach him eventually. He looked for a store to hide in or grab a weapon from. He dashed into Ned's Knick-Knackery, the antique store.

He opened the door quietly as the bell made a tinkling sound. Swords were everywhere, rows of them, shelves full. Vases were stacked randomly about, along with mirrors and a suit of armor. He grabbed two katana off a shelf. He swung them over his shoulders. He walked out, feeling safer. If the warrior wasn't with him, he still wanted something to protect himself with.

-- 12:57P.M.

Standing there, looking neither upset nor angry, was the warrior. Gerald thought he saw a smile on the warrior, who had just noticed the katana on Gerald's back. "Err, ready to go…?" asked Gerald, walking to the warrior, "I didn't catch your name."

"Feli. Feli Lehmkuhl." said the warrior. He didn't like talking, Gerald could tell this much.

"So…" started Gerald, beginning to walk alongside Feli, who had begun walking again, "What brings you to the mall? You don't seem to be from around here." He tried his luck at a conversation.

"My sister. She is lost." Feli said, with a tone of anger. He wasn't mad at Gerald. But, he must've known who…or what she was with.

"Oh, my…where is she?" asked Gerald, taking two steps for every one of Feli's.

"If I knew that, she would be with me." he said.

"Well, yes. Of course." stumbled Gerald, taken aback at the bluntness of the warrior. "Where are we headed?"

"To get her." Feli said. He pulled out his blade. Two zombies had just shuffled out of view.

They were hiding in a store labeled Kathy's Boutique. It was a woman's store, having dresses, sun hats and handbags strewn throughout the store. The walls were pink; the floor wooden with interesting designs across it. The two zombies were women or at least Gerald assumed they were. As he stood frozen alongside Feli, he wondered why they had hidden. Perhaps they knew that two fresh treats were just around the corner. He imagined, with disgust, their mouths drooling and oozing a mixture of blood and saliva, craving the meat that would be theirs in mere moments.

Feli crept along the wall, back facing it. He had his machete out, ready to strike. Gerald unsheathed the right katana. He stood back and ready, in case he needed to charge or flee. His head was throbbing. He needed to rest. Zombies, he thought, what the hell could make this day any worse?

One of the zombies crept from the store, wondering where its prey had gone, when Feli's arm went down, slicing its head clean off. The second came trampling out of the store, but Feli spun and chopped it's leg cleanly off. It fell to the ground, with a grunt and a thud, then pulled itself towards Feli, ready to bite. He took one look at it, placed his foot on its skull, the stepped. The air was filled with a loud cracking and crunch sound. Gerald vomited over the ledge.

That last little descriptive part was obviously my favorite section yet. ^_^

Seriously, this fic has grown on me. Can't wait to read future entries.