Post by john on Jun 1, 2011 22:53:09 GMT -5
A city that used to be so alive that people called it the city that never slept, day in and day out. Now it was deader than Christmas after people decided it was too offensive, so it should be called Happy Holydays instead. The thirty four year old man walked through the streets of Queens with weapon in hand, a clear distinctive military posture about him. His back turned straight, his right hand tightly holding his Glock while his left held an extra clip just in case. Everywhere his eyes went so did his aim, the small firearm being pointed straight to where his eyes rested on. With a careful step as not to draw too much attention to himself, sticking to the shadows as best he could, this was urban warfare at its best. This was unlike any conflict he’d ever been in, here anyone could be the enemy, at any street corner anything could jump out to bite his head off.
Needless to say his adrenaline levels were through the roof, thank God for all the massive training he had been through. Mason wasn’t sure how many hours he had gone without sleeping, just wandering through the streets trying to survive. He was on pilot mode, his training taking over his body and directing his actions to ensure his survival. He had met or seen very few people, alive that is. Those who were beyond saving were quite a lot, constantly preying on those who roamed the streets as he did. John had been avoiding them to the best of his abilities, trying to steer clear from major clusters of hostiles. He had been trying to get somewhere safe before dusk settled in for nearly an hour now, but everywhere he went something warned him to keep on moving.
Maybe it was paranoia that was seeping through his skin and into his bones, but he could swear he was either being followed or watched. Deep into the back of his mind he knew that sooner or later he’d have to crash, otherwise if he ever found a friendly he’d probably shoot it on sight. The only way he had survived thus far was through caution, avoiding contact with anything he came across which could probably mean the end for him on the long run. As he neared the end of the street he looked to a sign, his eyes squinting as the sun nearly scorched his weary sight. Travers Park was nearby, he knew he was in Queens but he had no idea how to get to LaGuardia Airport, after all directions were very few.
His goal was simple, get to the Airport and try to find some kind of aircraft or perhaps some kind of communications device. Only problem was getting there, it wasn’t exactly a straight line in the least. Estevens had been in New York only a few times before, this last one being relatively short he hadn’t learned all the routes to anywhere. All of those empty vehicles made his skin irk, it was all so damned eerie to behold. There wasn’t anything dangerous he could perceive at that moment so he continued on, taking cover on those parked cars eyeing the environment around him the entire time. This had been the quietest place he’d been on in quite a while, not a soul in sight but that was precisely what worried him. The stillness before a storm was usually quite the precursor to a whole lot of trouble.
Looking on to a door to what seemed to be a repaired building, he wondered if it would be the ideal place to take some shuteye. His head popped up from the cover of the black sedan he was taking cover on, his eyes scanned for any movement around him and once he was satisfied with what he didn’t actually see he went for his mark. Not a long time ago he would have probably either try to kick the door open or just use some sort of explosive, nowadays he wanted things to be done secretively. With haste he placed the extra clip on his pocket and tried to get something to pick the lock, ending up with a metallic clip he’d use previously for the same effect. Before he started doing that however, he took one last quick glimpse around him, a tense expression plastered all over his face.
A minute hadn’t passed and already he could hear the locking mechanism being opened, a smirk greeting his small success. It still wasn’t over though, he’d need to see if the building itself had no surprises in store for him. The door was opened with a gentle touch, the rusty bolts making more noise than he would have liked. A frown of displeasure was seen as he stepped in, his gun ahead of him as he closed it shut once more. His bag pack had a wide variety of useful items to ensure his survival, although there were more hidden all over his attire. It was all a matter of improvisation, the mantra he was taught so long ago in the Military in his early days. Improvise, Adapt and Overcome.
Shortly before leaving his basement, which he now thought had been a mistake, he had prepared for the long voyage ahead of him. That was how he worked, then his mind had to adapt itself to the environment around him, knowing everything and everyone could be detrimental to his health. And with every single day the last objective had to be achieved somehow, overcoming whatever obstacles appeared in his way. It was the perfect trifecta, there was no doubt about that. The air around him was stale and mouldy, as if no one had been in it for quite some time. Probably everything had been sealed inside as people tried to evacuate somehow, that could also mean that dangers were behind lock and key too. It didn’t matter though, this was about sheer survival and finally getting some well needed rest. The former Special Forces operative walked cautiously through the wooden floor, making crackling noises as he did so.
Nothing appeared to react to those sounds, nothing reached his ears and that eased a bit of his tension but not all. He was still ready for anything, good thing too. A sudden bang caught his attention, someone or something was trying to get through a door without using the handle. Instantly he knew he was not alone in this building, whatever it was he knew these doors wouldn’t withstand the pure brutality he discerned through the sounds. With haste he retraced his steps back towards the door from which he had entered the structure but just as he was about to open it, something startled him. He could have sworn he had heard a muffled cry, there was someone else inside and whoever it was it had to be one of the living. His mind was still trying to process this new development when the crashing sound of wood littered the atmosphere, whoever was trying to get out had achieved his or her agenda.
Had he imagined it all? John couldn’t be too sure, his mind was shot by now, relying solely on his survival instincts to get by. He now heard someone running frantically into another door. Or at least he assumed it was another door, it made no sense running into a wall. “Why isn’t it going after me?” he thought to himself as he stood completely still by the main entrance. Then just as another sound of the same thing happened, something changed the entire scenario before him. Someone screamed for help and it didn’t seem the voice of an adult, no way in hell that was the voice of one. “No! Stop!” the bellow was heard through those halls. That only sent whatever was trying to get inside into frenzy, Estevens listening to what seemed like a flurry of fists being sent against the wooden structure.
“Stop, daddy, stop!” he heard once more that helpless voice. His mind went into a spiral, the former soldier instantly was faced with an horrible decision. Should he try to save some kid’s life in detriment of himself or avoid this altogether. This was one of those times were instinct lost with a landslide. John began moving towards the sound, hoping to get to it before it was too late. The screaming was getting louder, crackling sounds of wood being heard and just as he moved inside an apartment he saw a figure breaking through what had been previously a door. The trigger on his Glock was pulled but he had missed his chance, he had been too late.
From there on out everything went into slow motion in his head, his light feet touched the carpet on the floor. A yelp heard in the next room and as soon as he pointed his gun towards what seemed to be a bedroom of sorts he saw a disturbing image. What seemed to have been a man, probably the child’s father was ripping the little girl’s neck open. A gush of blood streamed on below, making the creature all the more docile as it feasted on its new meal. Sure, Mason had seen a lot happen during his life on this world but this was just too much for his mind to bare. Why the infested zombie hadn’t turned on him after hearing the gunshot he had no idea, but he now hoped the creature had. But just like that his wish turned a reality, with the likely father figure turning its head to gaze on yet another meal. Its mouth opened, a row of blackened and reddish teeth showing, blood all over its mouth.
BAM! His Glock went off, a bullet planting itself in the cranium of the undead monster before him. Taking a few steps inside he looked around, John was mesmerized with what he was seeing. A lot of love had been put into this room, toys and dolls lying around, the walls painted with a fairy tale look to it. Mason’s eyes rested on the small figure on the ground, a small girl still in her PJ’s lifeless. His mind wasn’t keeping track of time anymore, this was just too much of an experience to go through. His face was completely void of any emotion, there was nothing there whatsoever. One of his personality trademarks was being put to the test, casualties of war were to be expected but like this? Then just like that, the little girl gasped for air but in a rather unnatural way. The weirdest sound he had ever heard escaped her lungs and small mouth, sending chills down his spine. This child who couldn’t be more than six or seven years old tried to stand on her own two petite feet, a blank stare on her face. Her eyes had changed, those just weren’t normal to begin with.
A tear rolled down his cheek, knowing what he now had to do. The hand that held his firearm instinctively raised itself towards that little girl, carefully aiming to her head. The moment she hissed, once again it went off. There were no more sounds after that, apart from those he made as he slowly walked towards the main entrance once more. After all the shit he had gone through, every mistake, every mishap, every friend lost in the battlefield he did the worst thing he could have done. A sense of dread and failure crept once more to the core of his soul, he was no fucking hero, he couldn’t even save himself let alone others. Opening the door that led to outside he simply sat down on those steps, clearly hearing the door closing shut behind him. Looking on into the distance he didn’t perceive a thing, his eyes stared at the ground for a few seconds before he busted out crying. The face of that little girl filling his mind in such an overwhelming way he just placed the end of his Glock against his chin, wondering if he should just end it, right there and then.
Needless to say his adrenaline levels were through the roof, thank God for all the massive training he had been through. Mason wasn’t sure how many hours he had gone without sleeping, just wandering through the streets trying to survive. He was on pilot mode, his training taking over his body and directing his actions to ensure his survival. He had met or seen very few people, alive that is. Those who were beyond saving were quite a lot, constantly preying on those who roamed the streets as he did. John had been avoiding them to the best of his abilities, trying to steer clear from major clusters of hostiles. He had been trying to get somewhere safe before dusk settled in for nearly an hour now, but everywhere he went something warned him to keep on moving.
Maybe it was paranoia that was seeping through his skin and into his bones, but he could swear he was either being followed or watched. Deep into the back of his mind he knew that sooner or later he’d have to crash, otherwise if he ever found a friendly he’d probably shoot it on sight. The only way he had survived thus far was through caution, avoiding contact with anything he came across which could probably mean the end for him on the long run. As he neared the end of the street he looked to a sign, his eyes squinting as the sun nearly scorched his weary sight. Travers Park was nearby, he knew he was in Queens but he had no idea how to get to LaGuardia Airport, after all directions were very few.
His goal was simple, get to the Airport and try to find some kind of aircraft or perhaps some kind of communications device. Only problem was getting there, it wasn’t exactly a straight line in the least. Estevens had been in New York only a few times before, this last one being relatively short he hadn’t learned all the routes to anywhere. All of those empty vehicles made his skin irk, it was all so damned eerie to behold. There wasn’t anything dangerous he could perceive at that moment so he continued on, taking cover on those parked cars eyeing the environment around him the entire time. This had been the quietest place he’d been on in quite a while, not a soul in sight but that was precisely what worried him. The stillness before a storm was usually quite the precursor to a whole lot of trouble.
Looking on to a door to what seemed to be a repaired building, he wondered if it would be the ideal place to take some shuteye. His head popped up from the cover of the black sedan he was taking cover on, his eyes scanned for any movement around him and once he was satisfied with what he didn’t actually see he went for his mark. Not a long time ago he would have probably either try to kick the door open or just use some sort of explosive, nowadays he wanted things to be done secretively. With haste he placed the extra clip on his pocket and tried to get something to pick the lock, ending up with a metallic clip he’d use previously for the same effect. Before he started doing that however, he took one last quick glimpse around him, a tense expression plastered all over his face.
A minute hadn’t passed and already he could hear the locking mechanism being opened, a smirk greeting his small success. It still wasn’t over though, he’d need to see if the building itself had no surprises in store for him. The door was opened with a gentle touch, the rusty bolts making more noise than he would have liked. A frown of displeasure was seen as he stepped in, his gun ahead of him as he closed it shut once more. His bag pack had a wide variety of useful items to ensure his survival, although there were more hidden all over his attire. It was all a matter of improvisation, the mantra he was taught so long ago in the Military in his early days. Improvise, Adapt and Overcome.
Shortly before leaving his basement, which he now thought had been a mistake, he had prepared for the long voyage ahead of him. That was how he worked, then his mind had to adapt itself to the environment around him, knowing everything and everyone could be detrimental to his health. And with every single day the last objective had to be achieved somehow, overcoming whatever obstacles appeared in his way. It was the perfect trifecta, there was no doubt about that. The air around him was stale and mouldy, as if no one had been in it for quite some time. Probably everything had been sealed inside as people tried to evacuate somehow, that could also mean that dangers were behind lock and key too. It didn’t matter though, this was about sheer survival and finally getting some well needed rest. The former Special Forces operative walked cautiously through the wooden floor, making crackling noises as he did so.
Nothing appeared to react to those sounds, nothing reached his ears and that eased a bit of his tension but not all. He was still ready for anything, good thing too. A sudden bang caught his attention, someone or something was trying to get through a door without using the handle. Instantly he knew he was not alone in this building, whatever it was he knew these doors wouldn’t withstand the pure brutality he discerned through the sounds. With haste he retraced his steps back towards the door from which he had entered the structure but just as he was about to open it, something startled him. He could have sworn he had heard a muffled cry, there was someone else inside and whoever it was it had to be one of the living. His mind was still trying to process this new development when the crashing sound of wood littered the atmosphere, whoever was trying to get out had achieved his or her agenda.
Had he imagined it all? John couldn’t be too sure, his mind was shot by now, relying solely on his survival instincts to get by. He now heard someone running frantically into another door. Or at least he assumed it was another door, it made no sense running into a wall. “Why isn’t it going after me?” he thought to himself as he stood completely still by the main entrance. Then just as another sound of the same thing happened, something changed the entire scenario before him. Someone screamed for help and it didn’t seem the voice of an adult, no way in hell that was the voice of one. “No! Stop!” the bellow was heard through those halls. That only sent whatever was trying to get inside into frenzy, Estevens listening to what seemed like a flurry of fists being sent against the wooden structure.
“Stop, daddy, stop!” he heard once more that helpless voice. His mind went into a spiral, the former soldier instantly was faced with an horrible decision. Should he try to save some kid’s life in detriment of himself or avoid this altogether. This was one of those times were instinct lost with a landslide. John began moving towards the sound, hoping to get to it before it was too late. The screaming was getting louder, crackling sounds of wood being heard and just as he moved inside an apartment he saw a figure breaking through what had been previously a door. The trigger on his Glock was pulled but he had missed his chance, he had been too late.
From there on out everything went into slow motion in his head, his light feet touched the carpet on the floor. A yelp heard in the next room and as soon as he pointed his gun towards what seemed to be a bedroom of sorts he saw a disturbing image. What seemed to have been a man, probably the child’s father was ripping the little girl’s neck open. A gush of blood streamed on below, making the creature all the more docile as it feasted on its new meal. Sure, Mason had seen a lot happen during his life on this world but this was just too much for his mind to bare. Why the infested zombie hadn’t turned on him after hearing the gunshot he had no idea, but he now hoped the creature had. But just like that his wish turned a reality, with the likely father figure turning its head to gaze on yet another meal. Its mouth opened, a row of blackened and reddish teeth showing, blood all over its mouth.
BAM! His Glock went off, a bullet planting itself in the cranium of the undead monster before him. Taking a few steps inside he looked around, John was mesmerized with what he was seeing. A lot of love had been put into this room, toys and dolls lying around, the walls painted with a fairy tale look to it. Mason’s eyes rested on the small figure on the ground, a small girl still in her PJ’s lifeless. His mind wasn’t keeping track of time anymore, this was just too much of an experience to go through. His face was completely void of any emotion, there was nothing there whatsoever. One of his personality trademarks was being put to the test, casualties of war were to be expected but like this? Then just like that, the little girl gasped for air but in a rather unnatural way. The weirdest sound he had ever heard escaped her lungs and small mouth, sending chills down his spine. This child who couldn’t be more than six or seven years old tried to stand on her own two petite feet, a blank stare on her face. Her eyes had changed, those just weren’t normal to begin with.
A tear rolled down his cheek, knowing what he now had to do. The hand that held his firearm instinctively raised itself towards that little girl, carefully aiming to her head. The moment she hissed, once again it went off. There were no more sounds after that, apart from those he made as he slowly walked towards the main entrance once more. After all the shit he had gone through, every mistake, every mishap, every friend lost in the battlefield he did the worst thing he could have done. A sense of dread and failure crept once more to the core of his soul, he was no fucking hero, he couldn’t even save himself let alone others. Opening the door that led to outside he simply sat down on those steps, clearly hearing the door closing shut behind him. Looking on into the distance he didn’t perceive a thing, his eyes stared at the ground for a few seconds before he busted out crying. The face of that little girl filling his mind in such an overwhelming way he just placed the end of his Glock against his chin, wondering if he should just end it, right there and then.
