Outline 2 **finished Thursday, Aug. 19, 2010**

If you want it, say so.

Outline III... coming soon.

Oh Yeah !!!

Wow - 2007 join date and you wasted post # 35 on me?

I feel honored!

I will read anything you write, so write more

I would enjoy reading it.

Thanks

Do it . Do it NOW.

CHAPTER 1

The rain was pouring down. Everything is soaked. I am wet and uncomfortable. But comfort is something that is not seen much any more. I am huddled under a small tree in the parking lot of what was once a busy shopping center with a grocery store as the main establishment.

It is inside this grocery store I want to travel, but there are dangers everywhere now.

What few people that are left are dangerous. They steal from one another. They lie to one another. They use one another. They kill one another. The few I’ve seen since the comet strike that were decent people have been killed by the savage people. Or the former people.

The “former people” are a dying breed. Radio communications calls them “Biters” because they like to bite regular humans. Pop culture from before the comet strike would have called them zombies. But they aren’t entirely what I would have thought a zombie would be like. They can die just like regular people – no need for “headshots” any more than usual. They also still breed. That’s where the fun begins.

The offspring of the biters is a race the folks on the radio call the Outliners. Not sure why they call them that – except, perhaps that they are but an outline of a human being. They came to be when the biters – who are humans infected with something from the Comet dust – bred. Some change in the DNA made the offspring into monsters. These things look more like an alien or a demon. They have elongated tubular heads with a crest at the end. They have large mouths, almost like an orca. They have very tough bodies with some sort of exoskeleton, almost like an overgrown insect. And then they have tails, ridges with sharp spines like a dinosaur might have had, and tipped with a foot-long barb on the end that resembles a spear. They are barely humanoid.

The outliners are the real threat. You can’t take one without a weapon. And it helps to have the element of surprise. Even then, they are more than a match for an ordinary man. Because of this, and the biters, and the bad people all over, I go armed. I am never without my rifle. Or my sidearm. Or my knife.

I stand there, holding Beth – the tool of my trade. She is dripping wet. My trade has become simple survival. My dress is designed to be rugged and ready for action. Action happens in my life when I least want it or expect it, so I stay ready for it. I carry spare ammo, basic utility tools, and little else on my person. I travel light, and I pack on purpose.

A little bit away is my pack. It is in my vehicle. My pack contains spare clothes and essentials should I find myself away from my place of solitude for an extended period of time. It contains things that are very handy, but not essential. If it is essential, I do not put it down.

Beth is basic. Spartan. She has iron sights (but not a carry-handle), a flashlight, and a sling. I do not need any more than that. I carry one mag in place and six more in a pouch that hangs from my neck and shoulder. My sidearm is on my belt to the right, my knife to the left.

I move Beth’s stock to her most compact setting. I will be going indoors and the mobility will be needed. This type of situation is the only drawback to Beth – because of her twenty-inch barrel, she is not as maneuverable as a carbine. But I go indoors infrequently… only when needed. Outdoors are where I spend most of my time and that’s also where Beth shines her brightest.

I can make effective placement at well over a quarter mile with Beth. No scope. Nothing fancy. Just me and Beth. If I rest her on something, I can take things all the way out to 800. When everything first went down, I couldn’t do half that. But, practice makes perfect and I’ve had a lot of practice. Beth has been a great teacher.

An idea! Before I enter the building, I should check these cars in the parking lot. Not likely I’ll find anything, but really likely that if I do, I can use it. And, if there are any zombies or aliens about, they will hear the racket and be drawn out of the building. Fighting out in the open against them is far better than in enclosed spaces. Especially when I have a gun, and all they have is their teeth and claws.

I look around, and find a brick nearby. It was probably thrown just after the rains and riots started. Definitely thrown before the change. I tie the brick to a length of a short, thick stick laying on the ground near my feet. My makeshift hammer should bust car windows pretty easily.

It does.

I smash car windows – working from near the store to further away. It takes the zombies a little time to move about. Sound of the rain must be slowing them down. And I’ve been here before and not seen any signs of an alien nest. The aliens always leave signs of themselves. They are territorial and like their nests. And they don’t really care for their parents – the zombie people. They will kill and sometimes eat the zombies. But they prefer human flesh more than that, and they only eat their parents if stressed for food.

I look through a half dozen cars. There are others, but they looked like they were looted long ago, when there were still people left and they still fought each other. I check them, too, of course. But my suspicions were confirmed. No ammo, knives, guns, or other useful things out here.

Damn! I hate fruitless searches.

But I did happen to draw two zombies out of the grocery store. That means there’s probably more in the store. And living zombies confirms my suspicions that there are no Outliner aliens around.

I estimate my range as I’m at the far end of the parking lot from the zombies. I’m over 200 yards, but closer to 200 than 300 yards. I leave my sight set for 200 and figure my POI will tell me more after I shoot the first zombie. I check my adjustable settings on the rear sight. It’s set for 200. Perfect. Stock out to the 4th position. Perfect.

I go prone.

Rifle up. Elbows in. Breathing in check. Steady. Find my NPOA. I’m off by about 30 yards. Shift. Now I’m almost right on them. Small shifts. They are really close to 200 yards. Moving at about 1 mile per hour in a broken gait, this will be a piece of cake.

Breathe in and out. Hold. Squeeze.

Recoil.

My mental snapshot of the sight picture was a POI of right at the zombie’s forehead. When I find the zombie again after the shot, he is falling backwards. I see blood spurting everywhere. Can’t see his head for his body, but I know that shot was what I wanted. The body hits the ground and convulses a bit in the death throes.

The zombie’s friend keeps coming, undaunted by and uncaring of the loss. So I shift my NPOA and settle on his uncaring self. Purple ooze is coming out of his eye-sockets. Really, this is a mercy what I am doing. This poor fellow looked to have been a mechanic in life. Too bad he couldn’t fix what was wrong with himself now.

Man, I need to get out more.

Sight picture. Breathe. Hold. Squeeze. Recoil. Man, my rifle is accurate today. Another dead-center head shot. I must have been right at 200 yards.

When all this started, there’s no way I could have made those shots, even with all 30 rounds I had in the magazine, even from a bench-rest and all the time in the world. Now, it’s pretty standard. I can do it, dropping from a standing position in less than seven seconds and not feel rushed at all. At the rate a zombie walks, 7 seconds translates to about 20-30 feet. 10 yards. Not enough to throw off my distance estimates.

Now, if these had been aliens, I’d have to take a much different tactic. At this range, I’d probably still have shot prone, but I’d have hurried up a bit, just to make sure I could threat-scan for their buddies. The aliens travel in packs. Two would be really unusual except as a scouting party.

I scan all the same. No more zombies out and about right now, but I must be careful to not let my guard down. Stock back to its shortest position. 200-yard position on the rear sight. Perfect. Everything as I need it to be. I tactical load a full mag into my rifle. I know if all hell breaks loose, I might like having the two extra rounds. The partially depleted mag goes back in the pouch.

I move at a steady, but cautious pace toward the building. I am in no hurry. I’ve got five hours of daylight left. The aliens don’t necessarily prefer to move around more at night, but they are more effective, I think, when it’s dark. I admire my handiwork as I walk by. Very clean kills. Both shots to the face.

I near the store. Switching my flashlight on, I take a last scan before entering. Nothing to be seen now, but that will likely change. I do a forward roll into the store. If there had been any demons in here, they would have come out after me when they heard the shooting. Zombies are a little slower. They also lack the general motor skills to change directions and bit at things lying at their feet that quickly.

I scan all about. There they are. Four “biters” in the back of the store. They are somewhat barricaded in by some corpses on the floor, which is why they did not come out after me. I put my earplugs in my hand. I wanted to make sure the rest of the store is accounted for, first, but then when the shooting came, there’s no need to hurt my ears. Not many doctors around these days!

I scan the aisles and walkways. Generally the place is a mess. It has been looted before. I still might find some things that I can use. No other zombie biters. No alien demons, as figured, too. Well, now it’s time to do the dirty work.

Ear plugs in.

Shots ring out as I shoot from a modified offhand position as I walked toward them. I nail each of them. One shot-one kill in each case. I can usually go a few weeks against biters without needing follow-up shots. Aliens are different. They move quick.

I make sure they are dead. They are. I look at that end of the store for more. No more to be found. I go back to the front of the store and find some of the cheap flashlights and batteries. Loading one up so as to save on my favorite flashlight, I proceed to get a cart and go shopping.

Lots of crap in here. The place smells. Rotted food can be found – but it is nearly two years old, so the smell is usually not that bad any more. The bad smell comes from the rotting corpses. It would seem this place was visited some 6-8 months ago by some folks who were either ambushed, or were not as careful as I am. Given the fact they lasted a year after the shit hit the fan, they were probably ambushed. Careful people lasted longer and careless people got killed pretty quickly.

Six cans of SPAM, a dozen cans of vegetables, and some old packages of chips. Not the most nutritious, but it will do. I grab some vitamin supplements, too – eight containers – that will last me for a couple of years. Thinking of it at the time, I open one and pop two vitamins and some water. I grab the few bottles of water left and some bottles of old sports-drinks. Those really tasted good when you’ve been out salvaging all day.

Three more hours of light left. Just enough time to take my time getting home and enjoy the scenery. I hop into the car after loading it up. The drive home was uneventful, as expected. I kept the window down and set my boonie hat in the seat next to me, beside my rifle.

My olive drab sleeve blows in the wind as I drive back. The drive is a comfortable one-hour trip. I always try to “shop” away from home. I know the aliens can follow your scent and track you down. It took me a long time to eradicate them in a wide enough radius from my place. And almost as long to reinforce my place.

Yes, I read the book, I Am Legend. I don’t really think it applies completely in my existence, as I know there are other people alive, and Neville never thought there was a single sane person left. I know there are people out there. I don’t really want to have anything to do with any of them. That’s the difference.

So my place is set up to be unattractive to other people. I farm small plots in remote areas that would be impossible to see from major roads. I try to move about only when necessary. I am almost completely self-sustaining in my little section of the world. What I scavenge now are things to prolong what I already have. I keep duplicates of duplicates of things I use. I have two duplicated residences – each an hour away – with these things piled up, just in case.

Each location has over 100,000 rounds of my major calibers – 5.56mm, .308, .30-’06, .30-Carbine, 9mm, .45 ACP, 7.62x39. .22LR. I have redundant models of each platform – AR15 (to my specifications), AR15 (regular carbine), M1A, M1 Garand, M1 Carbine, GLOCK’s, M&P’s, SKS, AK47, 1911’s. I keep lots of them. I’ve found even more.

But I’ve shot a lot more with the AR15 than any of them. It just makes sense. And anybody who ever questioned the effectiveness of 5.56 mm just never saw it in action. If they did see it in action, they did not see it hit the enemy. I’ve seen time and time again what it does. It does the job and does it very well, thank you.

I get to my place. From the outside, it looks like a run-down shack. That’s what I want it to look like – nothing special. Nothing anybody would want. The only drawback is that it is not but a couple dozen yards from the road. But the road is not frequently traveled, and I have a one-mile view in one direction, and nearly that in the other direction. There is a row of unkempt hedges in front, near the street.

I have a plot of land behind me that rises and dips. Over the rise is one of my crop spots. Then I have a few others in a star-pattern around the general area. My place is at one of the tips of the star, not in the center, so as to give me a little of an edge if someone found it all from the air.

The doors appear to be boarded up. In reality, the boards have hinges on the inside and the nails on the outside do not sink deep, so unlatching and kicking one open from the inside is entirely possible. There are three doors to the outside, but they all are covered in boards, as are the windows. The windows of the upstairs have boards on them, but they are irregularly shaped, and on the inside, so I can see out – even if I forget and leave them open, the glass that had been there is broken and adds to the abandoned look. From the road, one cannot see the one strip of the yard I keep mowed – about six feet wide, leading back to the back door.

That door is the hardest to enter from the outside. The real entrance is on the other side of the house, through the cover to the external well-housing. I go in, walk around a corner and go through the floor – locking the trap-door behind me once inside. A brief underground trip brings me to the cellar of the old farm house. I lock that door behind me, too.

A staircase leads to the main part of the house, through a reinforced steel door. I lock it behind me, too… just in case I’m followed. There are three types of two-legged predators out there now, one cannot be too careful. The house has a second cellar on the other side, and there is an exit that way, too. I park in back, under an old carport that also looks like it might fall down.

I climb the ladder into the loft at my place. This is where I spend my time when I‘m home. It is the former attic, plus some additions and windows. The ladder up has a trap door at the top which I shut and lock. In the event the place were over-run with the demons, I would still be safe on the second story. And of course, I have emergency exits.

I pull a heavy rope that opens all my windows. It’s set up to where I can open any single window, or all of them at once. I scan all around – 360 degrees – with my eyes first, then with my binoculars. No signs of biters or outliners. I pull up a chair, and grab a beer from my small refrigerator. Beth is sitting close by.

Dusk is here. I know this is the time deer come out. I keep my eyes in the direction they usually appear, as I grab a scoped .30-’06. I keep it for the long range hunting shots as it is far more accurate and better suited for making clean shots.

Tonight, there is no luck. Not a single sighting. I realized this after my third beer. That many, and I know I don’t need to be handling Beth or her kinfolk unless something major goes down.

I sit in my reclining arm chair until sleep overtakes me.

Noises draw me from my sleep. Horrible noises. Howling and growling and screams of terror. Generally nothing good. I rise from my chair and stumble, but quietly so, to the windows. I see by the light of the moon a horrible scene.

YES!!!!

Chapter 2 please!

Can you give us (me) a link to the first part? I've searched but cannot find it.

Nevermind. I found it!

Great first chapter. Can't wait for #2. Keep it up.

" Wow - 2007 join date and you wasted post # 35 on me?

I feel honored! "


I read a lot. I don't post a lot. I've sent a lot more private messages than I have public ones.

More honor - consecutive posts.

Great stuff, keep it up.

All right, lets roll!!!

Oh yeah !!!!!!!!

CHAPTER 2


Some demons have cornered a coyote about fifty yards from my house. The poor animal is terrified and ready to fight for its life. It is already battered, and shredded and bloody. Four of the creatures stalk the poor animal. Normally, I’d have little or no sympathy for vermin like the coyote, but these aliens have no place here and I have no time for them.

The inevitable happens. I watch as one of the 5-foot tall demons lunges at the beast and misses. As the coyote dodged out of the way, another one caught the coyote with its forearms and claws and stabbed it through with the barb on its tail. The pack then shredded the beast and devoured it on the spot.

However, all of this action takes time. And that time I use to arm myself and take aim. It is difficult to take aim in the night, so I flip up my wide aperture sight. I take aim on the nearest and squeeze my trigger.

The report of the shot alerts the other monsters to my presence, but it may be too late. I take aim again and squeeze. Another monster down. The commotion clears and the remaining two do what outliners do – they attack.

But I am up in the air, on the second story of my house, and they cannot figure how to get to me at first. They try jumping, but that lets me put down the third alien. The fourth tries climbing, but I make a high speed lead injection before he gets five feet off the ground.

Then two things dawn on me.

First, I need to dispose of the bodies. And that needs to be done tonight. The other outliners will smell these – even though it is only a scout team. Then they will come to my area and try to find their fallen pack-mates. I must move them to a place that is well away from me, and I know just the place. But moving them at night will not be a safe thing, so I will get them packed away for now, and then I will do the disposal tomorrow. Good thing, too, as I had intended to be in the same general area as I will be going to dispose of the aliens.

Second thing that dawned on me was the fact that the last outliner was able to climb – albeit a short bit – up my house. If others figured that out, I could face potential trouble. I thought about this for a moment and came up with an idea – iron bars. It would take me a while to build what I was thinking of, but it will be worth the effort. I could get some supplies on my trip tomorrow to dispose of the “trash” and I’ll still have plenty of time.

*****

I eventually got back to sleep. I slept late, and that was to be expected, but it would not hamper me today. I could easily do the things I needed to do.

Last night, I had wrapped up the remains of the aliens and brought them inside my house into the downstairs area. This morning, I pulled them out the front door and locked it back up. I went around behind my house and over the rise to the stash of vehicles I had there and selected the pickup truck for today’s work.

A few moments later, the “package” was in the bed of the truck. I had my Beth, my ammo pouch, and my normal array of supplies in the cab. As always, I am in my olive drab BDU’s complete with boonie hat. I am not a big fan of camo, at least for me to wear. I don’t care if someone else wears it, but it’s not me. As usual, my shirt is a heather-grey color sporting the logo and mascot of my alma-mater. It’s boring, but it’s me.

The drive takes a little while. A little over an hour. I get to Pickwick Lake in southwest Tennessee. The place never had many people at it when there was a population. Now it is completely abandoned. As I arrive, I do scan the area. I’ve been here before, and even eliminated a small nest of outliners before they got mature. Because of this, I don’t really worry much… but I’m always cautious.

I drive around to the dock area, where people who used to live and used to own boats kept those boats. On a previous trip, I had searched the boats and obtained key to almost all of them. Makes for a fun day to go out fishing. Too bad there’s nobody for me to share this with.

I pick the boat out. It is large – but I don’t know what you call it. It is not a fishing boat, but not exactly a ski boat, either. But I presume one could both ski and fish in this boat. I pick it not for those features, but for the fact that I can walk in and out of it without encumbrances, all the while carrying my “cargo.”

I also selected a boat because I know something of the behaviors of these aliens. I study my enemy. They investigate their dead. They find out why the dead died. They mourn them. Since I know this, I want to do an experiment. I am going to put them on an island I am aware of. This will require other aliens to swim to the spot to see their dead.

I have never seen the demons swim, nor any proof of them doing so. But I know that one way to find out – safely – is to make them an offer they cannot refuse. If they can swim, it will be good to know that they can. If they cannot swim, I will have proof they can’t and will then have an additional way to kill them.

I have done many experiments like this over the years. It is how I learn about them. I figure the more I know, the more effectively I can combat them. Most of the time, I like to set up easy and safe experiments. No need to get into trouble just to learn something.

One thing I learned from all this research is to combat them aggressively. These demons do not back down, they only attack. That is their greatest strength, but also their biggest liability. I am aggressive by nature, too, but I have learned to temper that with intelligence when combating the alien killers.

As I have relayed this information to you, I have put the remains of the demons in the boat and pulled out of the harbor area. The cool wind from the speed of the boat and the spray of the water is refreshing in the heat. Today is hot and humid – unlike the cool rain yesterday. It’s also getting near mid-day, so the heat seems worse out here in the direct sun.

Before too long, the island I am looking for comes into view. It is far enough from where I cleared the nest at the harbor that there’s a good chance of another hive living nearby. In this regard, my experiment is not complete, as I do not know for sure that there are aliens nearby. But I will hope. And if none are nearby, then it will not matter. I can do the experiment later. More will attack. They always do.

I pull up to the island and run the boat up into the sand a bit. Just enough to park the boat, not enough (I hope) to get it stuck. In short time, I get the bodies of the alien demons unloaded from the boat. The mid-day heat beats down and before long, I am drenched in sweat. But, as the task is completed, I decide to sit and sip a bottle of fresh water and rest for a moment.

I’d been sitting and resting for a while when I noticed something. It looked like… a person. Whoever it was, they were standing several hundred yards down from me – on the bank of lake, not on the island. I could not quite make out many details because I wanted to look away quickly so they did not notice me looking in their direction.

I figure if they don’t know that I saw them, they might stay visible a little longer and that would give me some time to see if they were friendly or not.

So I get up and board my boat, paying little attention to the person’s general direction. I keep watch out of the corner of my eye and make out that they are partially hidden by some shrubs and trees there on the bank. I board my boat and go into the covered portion. Inside, I have my pack. Inside my pack is a pair of binoculars. Out they come and I find a corner from which to be able to look without drawing attention.

I pick the person up quickly. From inside the boat, my angle is a bit better, so I get a very good picture. This person is female. She is looking toward the part of the boat that I would be on to step on to shore. Meanwhile, I am on the other side of the boat. I estimate she is about a decade younger than me; early twenties or so. She is wearing what I would describe as runner’s attire – compression shorts and top. Not camouflaged. Her physique seems to match her attire – she is likely a runner or swimmer.

She has a gun, but it is no AR or other mag-fed semi-auto. It looks like a pump shotgun, and it hangs by a sling from her shoulder and neck. She wears a pouch or pack around her waist and one from her other shoulder. The one hanging from her shoulder looks to hold ammo for her weapon. The one around her waist looks to be a basic supply pack of some sort. Naturally I am curious as to what sort of supplies she carries.

Her dark hair is tied back in a practical style and she wears sunglasses. I should be wearing some, too – but I didn’t bring them today. By the way she is trying to hide and keeps behind the leaves and branches, it is obvious she thinks she is completely hidden by the plant life around her, so my assumption from a moment ago was correct – she did not notice that I saw her.

And like that, she was gone.

She turned into the brush and moved out of sight back into the wooded environment. Nothing seemed to have spooked her, but that might not be accurate as I cannot hear anything as far away as she is. If it was a sound that spooked her, it was not gunfire.

From the way she acted, I concluded she was likely alone. That was curious. Though I am not sexist, I would not have figured a lightly-built female to be a lone survivor type. This intrigued me. My curiosity is centered around what type of personality and physical and mental characteristics a person in her situation would possess.

My initial guess is that, being athletic, likely a runner, she has probably survived by way of her ability to run and hide. I figure she is no fighter like me. She carries a gun, but my gut tells me that’s to fight with only when cornered. Hence the pump-gun.

Nonetheless, my time here was finished, and I need to get moving back home. There’s still enough light for me to hit up the home-improvement store and get those metal bars for the windows.

Still, my thoughts were focused on a single event… on a single person. For some reason, she did not strike me as the type of person who would be mean and evil and cruel. I would like to find out. And if she were… well, I’d handled those types before, too.

I drive the boat back to the docking area. My thoughts were all about the person I saw on the river bank. Since the world had ended, all of the people I’d seen were travelling in groups. I had always assumed that any lone survivor types would have been aggressive like me, but she did not seem so.

I park the boat and move to my truck. There’s still plenty of time to get the materials from the home-improvement store. I might even have time to start some preliminary work on the project. I realize there are some design flaws with my current setup and I need to overcome them.

First, all of the windows open based on a rope and pulley system using a lever at each window to open it. They do not have locking mechanisms. They are either all open or all closed. At first I was proud of my mechanical prowess on the design, but now I see the design in terms of its tactical flaws and limitations and as more of a liability. I will address this by re-doing the levers so that the windows do not all open at the same time and such that the lever I use to open them will serve as a locking device when they are closed.

The second design flaw is that I have no current means of preventing entry when my windows are open. I will fix this by putting steel bars in the windows. As a means of escape, I will make sure these bars are on a hinge and have a latch, much like the windows.

I work these details out in my head as I make the one hour trip back to the nearest town to my residence. The home-improvement stores are one of my favorite stops, and I have been to one particular store frequently. I know the layout, how to clear it quickly and effectively, and it ha large double-doors that I can pull my truck up to in an effort to make loading easy.

As surely as I think about the details of my project, my mind is also drawn to thoughts of the woman I saw earlier today. I realize that there may also have been a physical attraction, at least on my part. Realization of this makes me blush. I admittedly hadn’t had thoughts like that since…

Back to the task at hand. No need to talk about things that will upset me. I pulled up to the store, cleared it, and got my merchandise. I leave an “IOU” just in case things ever return to normal. That IOU is stacked on top of several others I’ve left, and they total over $150,000. I really hope things don’t return to normal, at least from this point of view.

I drive the forty-five minute drive back to my place. My mind switches between the lady I saw earlier, and the project at hand. I have to mentally smack myself several times for not being as alert as I might normally be. Understand: I do not fear the new horrors of this world, but I do respect what they are capable of doing. Being caught off guard is the only way they would be able to do anything to me.

I get back home and begin the tedious task of moving the supplies inside. This takes longer than I originally had planned for, so I skip starting work on this today. Instead, I make myself a simple supper, and work on plans to redo the windows. And idea comes to me that is easier and more practical than my previous ideas, so I jot it down and make sure to sketch what I want to do so I don’t forget.

My wooden window covers already open upward, from hinges at the top of the window. Right now, they are pushed open with multi-jointed wooden levers attached to a rope and pulley system. What I will do is take off the jointed levers and replace with a single straight rod that will prop the window open, and lock it closed. I will give up the ability to open all of the windows at once, in exchange for the ability to secure each one and have bars over each opening, preventing the aliens from being able to climb inside.

As I eat my supper upstairs, looking out my open windows with a slight sense of dread, I see a band of cars coming in the distance. Moving into action, I shut all my windows and open a peep hole in one facing the way the cars are coming from.

This happens from time to time, as the small groups of people will go out and about, looking for supplies or whatever. This group is heading back towards town, probably to seek shelter for the night. I just hope they don’t try to see if there’s anything in this house worth taking… I’d hate to have to take them all out.

If only people would be sensible, and not be out to get one another.

The car passes – too slowly for me, but not really anything to worry about. I’d be driving slowly if I were them, too. Not just the risk of hitting a deer, but collisions with zombies and aliens were distinct possibilities, too.

Thanks for the update Usagi

Another really good story shaping up! Thanks for the new chapter

Awesome. Great start!!!

Very nice addition, waiting for next chapter.

i cant find it could somebody post a link please?

damnit i found it too guess i overlooked it the first two times

Chapter 3

The next day, I realized I would run out of supplies and needed a few more to get the project done correctly. The trip to the home improvement store was uneventful, right up until the point when I needed to leave.

As I get in my truck, I see something that’s not quite right. There’s a car in an adjacent parking lot – formerly a book store – that looks out of place. I do not remember it. Now, I could have missed it when I drove up, but I am unsure if that is the case. I know a few pockets of people live in and around the town I’m in, but most of them stay away from this area as it is a bit more heavily populated by the bad guys now.

It takes a solid forty-five minutes for me to get from the home improvement store back to my place. That is by design. I live away from what had been the more populated areas. Those places now have more likelihood of having biters and outliners. Those things are best avoided, except on one’s own terms. Out where I live, there was a much smaller population, so eliminating the nasties was easier than it might have been elsewhere.

I will use that 45-minute drive to monitor whether anyone in that car follows me. And, as usual, my gut feelings are correct. The car moves when I do. The driver keeps a generous distance – hoping, I’m sure, to keep from being detected. But now I am aware of their every move.

The trip to where I live is an unusual one, and I take a few more back-roads to ensure that’s the case. The car keeps a distance, but struggles to keep enough distance yet still keep me in their sights. This guy is a pretty good driver.

My mind is racing much more than my vehicle, though. I don’t know this guy at all. I figure he’s someone that was driving by in that car the other night. He must have followed me here this morning and I did not see him. I wonder if he wants to follow me so that he can find out where I live and steal from me or do me harm? I figure if he wanted to harm me now, then he would have done so. He must have an interest in where I live.

I decide not to let him find out where I live.

But if he followed me here today, he would know where I live… unless he was already moving when he saw me moving. That makes the most sense. Now he wants to find out where I live and take my things. I will stop that in a hurry. Two possibilities cross my mind.

On one hand, I could try to lose him and then return home once I was sure I was safe. On the other hand, I could corner him and capture him. That way it would be easy to find out what he wanted. If necessary, I could end the threat right there and then, too. Although age and the ability to survive has brought wisdom, I am still aggressive with my choices. I choose to end this here and now.

I speed up, in an attempt to get my adversary to drive more aggressively, as well. As I drive, I make sure Beth is ready for action. Sure enough, the driver speeds up to match me.

I take the chase on to some side and back roads. I know these roads pretty well, but I don’t know if he does. I have a plan, too.

I turn into a subdivision that has only one road in and out. This will end here. Sure enough, in the distance, the other driver follows me in. I am already on a side road by then, however. I get to another roar which loops around.

The other driver reacts accordingly and turns and turns again to get on the same road. By this time, I am back at the opening of the entire subdivision. I park my truck lengthwise in the middle of the road, blocking the exit.

In a hurry, I am out of the vehicle, Beth in hand, and in a ready position. I put the truck between me and the potential attacker, just in case, and raise my Beth to engage. The driver follows around the turn and stops dead in his tracks. He has seen me and that I am ready.

There is an uncomfortable moment as we stare at each other. I am waiting for him to move and he is waiting for me to move. I move to a stable position on top of the truck, resting on the magazine of the rifle for stability. I put the driver in my aperture sight and click to the estimated 400 yards that he is sitting from me.

Suddenly, the car moves quickly in reverse, speeding back around the corner so as not to be seen. I scan the area, looking for signs of where the car is going, but it does not get past the first house. He must have stopped behind the house for concealment.

A long moment passes.

Longer still.

Suddenly, the car bursts out toward an empty field next to the subdivision. The path is not easy, but the driver is desperate. I see that the objective will be to get to the main road through the grass and weeds.

I hop in my truck, determined to pursue. Now that he’s on to me, I must catch him and find out what he’s up to. If he escapes, it would be very dangerous for me. However, if he escapes, at least he won’t know where I live.

I turn around and head out to the side road that took us into the subdivision. Moving on to the main road will be easier on pavement than on grass. Especially since nobody has mowed in a couple of years! By the time I get to the main road, I see the other driver has already made it and is speeding off.

I give chase.

The driver heads for the interstate. I realize that they wish to try to outrun me. Maybe that’s a good idea. I am in a truck and have supplies in the back.

We get to the interstate and my gut feeling proves true. It is a race. He floors it, and I follow suit. It becomes clear that his car is better built for speed, as he opens up a lead and creates a lot of distance. Finally, he is no longer in sight, and I lose desire to keep up the chase. It would burn too much gas for me to get back safely. And I am more than an hour from home at this point.

I go home and start back on my project. My mind has been focused on the events of the week. It has been a busy couple of days. More has happened than usually does in a month or more. I don’t like it one bit. I need more stability.

Thanks for the update!

Great so far, keep it coming please.

Toad

Nice update. Interesting style to this story. It seems rather impersonal but interesting just the same. I can't wait for the next one.

ost

Thank you for pointing that out.

I have recently been hired by a new company. Part of the sales training was a study in certain behavior styles.
I already had an outline made for the story and thought a certain behavior style might be a bit more fascinating to many readers, so I wrote around that kind of person.

Google Ron Willingham's "Integrity Selling." First poster with the correct behavioral style for my main character wins 1,000,000 internet points and a surprise look into the future of this book (ie - a pretty good spoiler).

Interesting, i'll have to research that.............

CHAPTER 4

A week has passed, and I have all but finished the project on my house. I have driven into town a couple more times to get the last few supplies needed. The building went well and the windows are much better now for a defensive stronghold than they had been. More importantly, no sign of the mysterious driver that followed me.

It is now time to return to the lake and check my experiment.

I also want to look around and see if I can find the lady I saw there last week. I’d like to meet her and maybe get to know her. Being alone has its advantages, but that does not take away the need to interact with other humans. Humans that don’t bite you, that is.

So as I pull up to the boat docks, I see signs of “friends.” The kind of “friends” that bite people and look rather like disgusting overgrown insects. Several of the boats have been damaged. The damage looks like a general frenzy in concentrated areas. It looks nothing like the measured damage done by people who vandalize.

Beth is at the ready and I throw on my shooter’s jacket. I focus on the damaged area, my sights scanning with me, left to right in a sweeping pattern.

Suddenly, it happens.

An alien attacks me from behind with a leaping lunge, knocking me to the ground and roaring in a triumphant predator’s snarl. Beth is thrown from my grasp by a few feet. I roll face up to face my attacker. Teeth and claws are flashing. I get my hands up in time and use a choking motion to keep the demon at bay.

The outliner switches tactics and flicks its tail up and over the shoulder, aiming for a stab straight at me as I lay on the ground under the creature. I bob my head and avoid the strike.

I realize that continuing the grappling match is not in my favor, as this beast likely has friends nearby.

I realized this because I heard the “friends” roaring and heading my direction. But I couldn’t risk taking a look to see where they were – I was in a fight for my life. So I decided to do something about it.

Keeping my left hand on the throat of the monster, I dropped my right hand to my belt and drew my pistol. A couple of shots to the cranium and I was soaked in monster blood and free of my attacker. Scanning around, I realized I’d better get to my feet as the “friends” were coming on fast.

I rolled the demon off and scrambled to get Beth. Upon retrieving her, I reflected absently for a split second that I used my pistol to fight my way back to the rifle I should not have set down. I worked the charging handle to make sure she was ready. I scanned a full 360 degrees, and realized I was in for a fight. There were at least four beasts coming from several directions.

The closest monster was to my right, so I turned, aimed, and fired. It took two more shots, but I brought it down. I turned to the next one, and it was getting too close for comfort.

I spun away and started moving. Realizing I might not have time to move if I shot one more, I ran to some cover, which was out on the dock where several boats offered a varied terrain for the upcoming fight.

My wild card was whether the creatures could swim. I was not sure if they could, and I was not about to be the test-dummy to find out. If they could swim, it was likely to be faster than I can, so why risk it?

I ran to the dock and leapt onto a boat. It had other boats next to it, so I could maneuver if need be, without getting into the water. I took cover, minimizing how much of my body the demons could see. They cannot shoot, but it is a solid tactic nonetheless. I braced Beth on the edge of the boat for stability in aiming my shot. I’ve found that one cannot miss fast enough to win – only hits count.

I fired on the nearest beast.

My shot found its mark, and dropped the creature in its tracks. One of the others leapt high at the sound of my rifle and was in the water in an instant. It swam, faster than I could have, straight at my boat.

Well, shit; that answers that question.

The last beast on the ground was running on all fours. It took me several shots. Too many shots. But I brought it down.

And the demon under the water swam up and leapt out of the water at my boat. I rose, and was stumbling backward, firing all the way. My shots were hurried and I missed many times. I hit it several times, too. No good head shots, just square shots to the torso, so the creature kept coming at me. It was like ice-picking the beast to death.

Let me pause the action for a moment and describe a problem I was having, and why it was happening. Normally, for the zombie-like biters, a 55-grain or larger bullet is ideal. That is because they were regular humans at one point, and they are generally the same size, shape, and ruggedness of an ordinary individual.

The outliners, however, are a different story. 55 grain just pokes holes as they are not very broad. Their bodies are like that of an insect – longer and narrow, with an exoskeleton covering that is very hard. Their limbs are relatively thick and strong. Their heads are smaller around than a human head, but nearly three times as long. They have long tails, usually longer than their body. The spike on the end of the tail is a weapon, too. Their strength surpasses that of chimps and gorillas. A full grown outliner weighs 180 – 200 pounds, and is much stronger than a man. Teeth, claws, and a barbed tail are the tools of their trade.

I have found a fmj bullet weighing 45 grains is optimal for hunting outliners. The 55-grain selections just do not fragment quickly enough. Still, a spine shot or head shot will put one down immediately. And since I need enough power to take out the thicker biters, I load out with 55-grain ammo when I go out and about. I only use the 45-grain stuff when I know I’m going to hunt outliners.

Back to the action.

My 55-grain shots were poking through this last outliner. I stumbled back onto the dock and the monster was in hot pursuit. I knew that outrunning it was not going to be an option. So I kept shooting. It got to the point that the torso of the creature looked like it was oozing blood form all over, as it had over a dozen holes in it.

Then Beth went “click.”

And just then, I realized I’d left the extra ammo in the truck. I dropped Beth, and she swung freely, kept close by the tactical sling looped around me. I drew my pistol and fired. Good hit.

Another shot, this time it was aimed much better, and the creature was down.

I scanned a full circle and verified the threat was over. A second scan, looking further out, put my mind at ease. I re-holstered my pistol and made my way to the truck. A mag change with Beth and I was a lot more at ease. Then it dawned on me I had fired thirty shots against just four monsters.

I have engaged these things in close quarters before, but my shots were more accurate and I did not use that amount of ammo. This bothered me. I needed to work on some of my tactical drills and get my close-quarters skills sharpened a bit. Time to get out the ol’ .22 and work on it!

I sat in the seat of my truck, resting with the door open for a good 30 minutes. No need to venture into another potential war zone while tired. It was one of the few luxuries I had – to determine when I would fight. That and an advantage in intellect was what separated us from these monsters.

Eventually, I selected a boat. This time I got one that was smaller and more nimble. I wanted speed and maneuverability over space this time. Since I was just checking up on the experiment, and had no plans to be moving anything other than myself, there was no need for extra space.

As I drove the boat out to the island area, my mind returned to the lady I’d seen there the last time I was here. I wondered if she would be back today. Surely, if she was in the area, she had heard the gunfight. Perhaps that would draw her out?

To be truthful, my mind had wandered to thinking about her many times since I first saw her. I couldn’t help but focus on how docile she was, especially compared to other people Id run into since the comet struck. Most people would have attacked, not watched. And she ran off at the slightest hint of danger. I can’t deny I had felt feelings of protectiveness for her. Though it was apparent she could fend for herself.

And so my thoughts went on and on centered around the female, until I reached the island. Again, I pulled up onto the shore and brought Beth to bear – leading the way for me to explore the island.

What I found confused me for a bit. The remains of the creatures had been moved. Not only that, they had been burned in a pile. I found tracks of other aliens there that had not been on the island when I’d visited previously. Those tracks had been centered around the spot I had originally put the bodies of the monsters.

From there, it looked like some person had come in, moved the bodies, and set them ablaze. There were more bodies burned than I had disposed of. There were also some spent shells on the ground. They were .30 Carbine. This person wore a shoe that was several sizes smaller than mine. Likely female.

Hmmm.

There were drags marks on the ground where remains of the creatures had been dragged to the blaze. Whoever had moved them was not strong enough to pick them up like I do. Either that, or didn’t want to touch them anymore than necessary. Both options suggested the same thing.

I looked over the island for more evidence, but there was none. After looking, I sat and rested for a half hour. I kept my eyes on the same area that I’d seen the female in before. There was no movement. If she was watching me, she was concealed better than before.

As I sat and rested, a thought occurred to me. I almost slapped myself for not thinking of this before! I raced to the boat with a renewed level of energy and started up the engine. A few moments later, I’d reached the spot where the lady had been hiding, and watching me. It took a moment, but I pulled the small boat up to the edge of the water, tied it to a tree, and got my Beth and my supplies.

I searched around for evidence. Footprints, litter, anything. It took a few minutes, but I found what I was looking for. Now I had a problem: the footprints went up the hill that was the bank. The area was heavily wooded. I was concerned I might not be able to find my way back to the boat.

To solve the problem, I took a length of rope that is colored red. Tying it to a tree and unwinding it behind me as I walked, I left a trail to follow. As I reached the top of the short hill, I tied the remainder to a tall branch so I could spot it easily on return.

I scanned the area in front of me. The land opened up in a level field that had once been farm land. Corn was grown here most recently. There were a few of this year’s corn plants here and there, but mostly the field was grown up. Off in the distance was a house. The area around the house was well kept. As soon as I saw this, I lowered myself to the ground. The growth of the wild weeds and plants concealed me from view of the house, but also concealed the house from my view.

I decided to proceed to the house and carefully check things out. It was a bit before noon, so I had plenty of time. Plus, I doubted any outliners would be around here with an house that was being kept up. People and outliners do not mix.

Keeping low, I made my way through the field. Beth was charged and at the ready. I was still tired from my earlier fight, but I carried on. As I reached the edge of the tall overgrowth, I realized there was about 30 yards of mowed lawn between the field I was in and the house. I could hear a faint sound coming from the back of the house, so I moved back 10 yards into the field and made my way around back very quietly.

Moving quietly took longer than usual, but I didn’t want to surprise a group of people and get in over my head. The sound became clearer as I approached. It sounded like a waterfall. I stopped for a moment and reached into my bag. My ACOG was in there. I wanted some magnification, just in case. I wasn’t that far out, and could easily make the shot – but I wanted to see details. Maybe I might see something that might help out.

I inched my way as close as I could get to the edge of the high grass. I still had an angle and just enough distance to remain unnoticed. At the same time, I was close enough to see what I needed to see. And when I inched to the point where everything came into view, oh what a view it was.

I realized I had come to the house of the female that I had seen some time before. The waterfall sound I’d heard before was an old-fashioned hand-washing setup and a rinse barrel, and another larger barrel from which flowing water would be a final rinse. All of these barrels were obviously rain fed, though I thought I also saw a link nearby to what might have been a well.

In another setup, there was another rainwater collection barrel up at roof level. It also had a tube to feed from a second barrel at ground level, and a pump to send the water up. I figured that was a backup way to fill the barrel in case the first one up on the roof was low on water.

From the top barrel was a pipe that ended in a shower nozzle. This was staged over a concrete slab of what was once just an ordinary back porch. A standard on-off lever activated the water flow. The water flowed primarily from the pull of gravity. There was a hose from what I figured was the well ending in the barrel on the ground. A set of pumps, one from the well hose, and one from the ground barrel to the roof barrel, completed the scenery.

No, that’s not right. Those things did not complete the scenery. Not even close. The scenery was completed by the lady I’d seen on the river bank several days ago. She was in the middle of a shower. It had been two years since I’d laid eyes on that sort of sight, and I’m not at all ashamed to admit that watching her was very pleasing.

I watched carefully as she would turn the water on for a moment, then turn the water off to lather up, then turn the water on again to rinse off. I was being treated to a show and I enjoyed every minute of it. I viewed her as she shaved her legs. I enjoyed the sight of hair being washed.

She had an athletic build. Very nicely proportionate, but none of her features were exaggerated in any way. She was slim, but not overly so. She stood about 5 feet 9 inches. Maybe 5’10.” 130 pounds at the most. Long chestnut hair with occasional lighter shaded highlights. She was strong and toned, but not overly muscular. Her angular face was distinctly feminine, but not round, nor cutesy.

I watched as she did all of the things I used to enjoy watching Bethany do. Bethany used to like me watch her, too, saying it was reassuring to her. And, yes, I named the rifle after her. But that’s not important right now. None of it is. I should keep my focus and tell you more about what I saw and did.

After the shower, she went inside and milled around or a while. Twenty minutes later or so, she came back out of the house, dressed for a hike, and set out straight for the river. I knew this was my chance, but that my time would be limited.

I waited until she got halfway through the field before I made my move and slipped into the house. I watched to see which way she would go. Fortunately, she was heading upstream from where my boat was, so she might not see the boat. Then again, she might. In that case, I figure she’d run back this way quickly, so I would be in and out of the house in fifteen minutes – which would be much less than the twenty minutes or so it would take her to get to the boat and back.

When she was halfway through the field, I entered the house. Still in a state of exhilaration from the show I’d just witnessed, I made sure to cleanly sweep the rooms. I did so with Beth, even though she is a bit longer than a carbine with her full 20” barrel, I still prefer Beth over some pistol.

House was clear. I had 13 minutes left. I began looking around, careful to put things back where I found them. There was a crocheted linen in a frame on the wall with the name “Amanda” in pink threads on it. A keychain on the table bore the same name. A school photo on wall had the lady’s picture and the name Amanda, as well. I put the obvious facts together. Amanda was her name.

The school photo was recent – taken the year that the comet hit, according to the number in the lower right corner of the photo. It did not indicate what graduating class, but few wall sized photos do, especially for college years – unless that year was the graduating year.

The rest of the house was a mix of things necessary for survival, and things that an ordinary female might have – stuffed animals, dress clothes, perfumes, etc. I was impressed with the collection of firearms – an AR15 was there, an M1A, and I knew already she had an M1 Carbine… or at least I figured that from what I’d found at the island.

Now I know why she burned the monsters. She lived so close, she didn’t want any monsters coming around her place and finding her. Makes perfect sense. I checked my watch – 4 minutes left.

I looked around some more, and found mostly usual things. The carpets had old blood stains in them that had been cleaned out, but a slight stain remained. Amanda had suffered through the same turmoil I had, apparently. The place was in generally good repair. There was no stench at all to the place… in fact, it smelled as any female’s domicile might – of perfume and flowers.

I saw no evidence of anybody else living here. She was on her own. No doubt, she had run into less than nice people, too. Too bad. She seemed like a nice girl.

One minute left. Not worth the hassle, I went ahead and left the house, picking a spot back toward the river a bit – hidden by the tall overgrowth of the field, but off to the side a bit so Amanda would not run right into me when she came back. I wanted to watch her get back before I left. That way, I would not run into her out in the woods, or on the lake. I could control whether she would see me.

And time passed.

And it started to grow dark, because many hours passed. At that point, I knew I needed to head back. I hurried to the edge of the field, found the tree with the red rope around it, and followed the rope back to the boat. In a few minutes, I’d made it back to the truck, and was on my way home.

ok not to sound like an ass, but from other posts I've read I guess this is the 2nd part to another story?


ETA- nevermind lol. i was a ra-TARD.

Another good chapter!

CHAPTER 5

As I drove down the road, I hadn’t driven far past the marina when I noticed some headlights in my rear-view mirror. They were far off. I decided to see what they would do. I kept my course, as if I did not know they were following me. The lights followed at a great distance the entire forty five minutes of the trip back to my place. It was completely dark before the trip ended.

I had a problem, though. I couldn’t just go home. They could easily follow me, and I did not know this person, nor what they wanted. If I let them follow me, it could be a mistake, or a trap. But I didn’t have any places to corner them out here in the country.

Finally I decided on a course of action. I turned off my lights about a quarter mile from my place, and increased my speed. I whipped into the yard and around behind the house quickly. The truck was at least mostly hidden behind the house.

I scurried through the maze that was my back door entrance, then ran to the upper level to look from the window as the car passed. Beth was at the ready with me the whole time.

I watched the car, a dark green or blue sedan, pass by after a few moments. He was driving cautiously, probably because he could not see me. I wondered if he noticed the driveway was well used and the path through the grass behind the driveway that I have for the cars and trucks I own.

He must not have, because he never slowed or stopped, just kept going on down the road.

After finishing my nightly routines, I headed to bed, content that I had not been discovered by this guy in the car. I had no doubt he was the same one I’d seen before,, but I wondered over and over again how he figured out where I was when I went down to the lake. I figured he must have followed me down there.

I relaxed in my bed with the windows open, and thoughts centered on two major events of the day. Seeing Amanda and learning about her, though she did not know of me. Also, this mysterious man who had been following me in a car. Who was he and what did he want?

Sleep overtook me.

I remember awakening a few times in the night as a thunderstorm rolled through. The design of my window flaps on the house prevented much water from entering. And the flooring was waterproof – I’d made sure of that. So the wind through them was very refreshing and I never had trouble getting back to sleep after being awakened by the thunder.

Then I awoke in a cold sweat. I had the feeling of being watched. I rubbed my eyes and tried to clear them. I had sat straight up in the bed when I awoke. I looked around the room, but it was still pitch-black. It was impossible to see anything. The lightning illuminated the room for only a moment now and then, and I used this time to quickly scan for intruders.

Then I realized how ridiculous this thought had been. Nobody could have broken in without alerting me. The doors downstairs were all reinforced and had bars over them. I’d taken the proper precautions. Still, I moved my legs to the edge and prepared to stand. I figure I’d go get a glass of water.

As I stood, the lightning struck again. And what I saw frightened me more than I had been frightened in a long time! A dark figure bolted from the far side of the room. It was certainly human in form – so it was no outliner; but it also moved fast – unlike a biter.

It was a person and in the time it took me to stumble to my bedside table, the person bolted across the room and leapt out of the window!

It was no desperation move, though. The person caught hold of some sort of rope, which somehow lowered the decent to the ground. Whoever it was had long hair, and was a light build at about five feet and nine inches tall.

I got the pistol and ran to the window, ready to fight. But the person had made it safely to the ground, and was sprinting away. I made my way across the room to get Beth, but realized I’d never get a clean shot in lightning conditions. So I used the flashlight to spot the person as they ran away.

Something in the way the person ran looked very familiar. It was puzzling. And the size and shape…

Then it hit me… Amanda had been the person in my house. But how had she found out where I lived me without me knowing? She would have had to have followed me…Then it all came together.

She was also the person in the car.

It made perfect sense. She had seen me at the river. She had followed me before. She had run away when discovered. She was taking a very tactful approach to finding out about me.

I watched her run. Eventually, some distance down the road, she ducked into the bushes and emerged a moment later in a car, driving away. Again, she ran. She seems to be alive because of her ability to run.

It took a while to calm down and get back to sleep. She likely had the chance to kill me had that been her desire. She had no interest in killing me. I was unharmed. These thoughts raced through my mind as I eventually fell asleep.

The next day, I reflected on the events of the evening before. It was fairly obvious that Amanda had not been there to steal from me or to harm me. She had plenty of chance to do either, yet she did not. As best I could figure, she was trying to take a measure of me – learn about me, as I had with her.

For all I thought, it was still a shame I had not stayed longer at her house. But hindsight is always 20-20. She was waiting for me to leave, I really had all the time in the world, but only thought I’d have a limited amount of time.

Still, I wondered if she’d seen my boat parked there on the river bank? If so, why had she continued to wait? If not, why was she not more careful? I had answered so many questions already, yet still more popped up at every turn.

I decided right there and then to end the games and go introduce myself formally to Amanda.

Butterflies in my stomach didn’t stop me, but they did let me know they were there. But I had to be a man about it. Also, if she was as nice as I was thinking, it would not hurt to have someone around to watch my back. Not to mention the fact that she was very easy on the eyes, as well. But, first things first.

I packed lightly to go to Amanda’s place. To this day, I still don’t know why, but I put my 2.5 – 10x scope on Beth. That’s a decision I made strictly by chance that, as you will read, helped me out in ways I could never have imagined.

Like an ACOG, my scope had marks in it for 100, 200, 300, 400, and 500 yards. It was variable power, and held it’s zero regardless of what magnification one set it to. This was an expensive item back when there was such a thing as money. It was really top-notch, and that’s why I usually left it at home – for fear of damaging it in a fight. When I mounted it onto my rifle, I did so with a quick detach system that had a repeatable zero.

I did not reflect about taking the scope at all on my way down. Instead, my mind was racing. I thought out what I might say to Amanda. How I might explain I knew her name. What I might say to her to calm her fears. Variable after variable ran through my mind. The 45-minute drive went by far too quickly.

The 10 minute boat ride went even faster.

I parked as I had before. I did not use a rope to mark my location, as I knew my way in and out this time. I had decided in advance to walk right up to the house, rifle slung in a non-threatening manner. I would not hide, or sneak around. I would be bold and confident and introduce myself, explaining I had seen her that day some time ago, when I was on the island; as well as yesterday, as she had left to go scout for me and follow me.

I also planned to thank her for not harming me, and that I understood she was simply scouting for information. One part I did not know yet, was how to ask her – or even if to ask her – whether she wanted to live closer to me, or if she wanted me to live closer to her. But I decided in the end not to go that far, yet. We did not know each other and we should probably just wait a bit… she would likely have doubts about joining forces so quickly.

I made my way up the heavily forested hill from the lake. As I reached the top, and entered the field, I realized something was not quite right. There were vehicles circled around front of the house. I stopped, concealed by the trees and brush of the forested area, and watched.

My senses were heightened by the possible danger. In a moment of clarity, I propped Beth up on the tree, and used my scope on maximum power as an aid to watch what was going on. I scanned from side to side, but saw very little from this angle.

Then a shot rang out.

It came from a person who was positioned behind one of the cars and it was aimed at Amanda’s house. I realized I had a bad angle, so I picked up and moved quickly about 30 feet behind the tree line parallel to the action. I made my way about 150 yards through the forested area to a spot where I could see the people in the cars clearly.

Using the dots in my scope, I calculated the people to be around 300 yards away. I could also see Amanda taking cover in her house. I had an angle that the people in the cars did not have. They could not see where she was hiding. And yes, she was hiding. I could also make out the bullet holes in the glass windows – or at least the starring and cracks they left.

Another person popped up and shot. I saw Amanda move to a spot inside the house I could not see, then, where she had moved to. But before I could wonder, I heard and then saw her shoot several times from what I figured was a bedroom window. I watched as the four people, all armed, ducked and hid as the bullets went flying.

I watched as one of the people waited until the firing stopped, then popped back up and shot toward the same window Amanda had been shooting from. At that moment, I wondered why they had not tried to go around the other sides of the building. At that exact moment, shooting started from the side of the house I could not see.

I raised Beth and propped her on a tree limb. I adjusted the magnification all the way up to 10-power. Using the second dot down from the crosshairs, I steadied and put the dot right on the man’s head. This was the same man who had shot at Amanda just seconds ago.

I gently and smoothly squeezed the trigger and the recoil and report of the rifle surprised me before I could flinch. My mental snapshot of the sight picture. Indicated a square shot on target – right in the middle of the head.

When I looked up and found the scene again in my scope, the man was down on the ground, not moving. The others around him were looking around in all directions, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

I aimed again and fired again.

Another one down. The other two behind the cars were freaking out now, and went into motion. They still did not know where I was, but they were not going to stay put. Instead, they rushed the house, firing.

Apparently, the people who were attacking from the other side did the same, and in response, Amanda bolted from the house.

After a moment, the attackers realized what happened and started to chase Amanda into the field, firing as they went.

I used the opportunity. Still using the tree branch as support, I changed my aim to the attackers following Amanda. They were closer, so I switched to the 200-yard dot and fired on the first one. A second shot put him down.

The attackers – three of them left – stopped in their tracks. One of them spotted me. I moved quickly as they tried to take aim. I backed up into the woods and moved about thirty feet behind the tree line. Turning a hard right, I ran parallel to the tree line as fast as I could on an intercept course.

The attackers got off a few poorly placed shots at where I had been standing. Offhand at 200 yards is no picnic, especially when one has been running full out for several hundred yards. I was moving quickly toward where Amanda would hit the forested area, on an intercept course. She was slowed by zig-zag running, trying to keep evading her onslaught.

I, however, was near a full sprint. Occasionally, I would get a glimpse of the whole field and adjust my angle accordingly. With a mighty burst, I leapt into position, behind a great tree and prepared to shoot. Calming my breath, I reduced magnification in my scope to 2.5 power. I had an angle to the left side of Amanda at her attackers.

I turned the corner that was the tree and took a quick aim at one of the remaining pursuers. I fired twice. We were now at a range of les than 100 yards. That attacker went down and the other two dropped below the grass. My eyes met Amanda’s. I motioned for her to run to me. Then I realized the bad guys were probably lining me up in their sights. I fired three times into the place where they had been, then moved back behind the tree.

A quick tactical reload and I was ready for more. My old mag went into the pouch, behind another mag. I peeped out and saw Amanda less than twenty yards away, and closing fast in a straight line. I did not see the attackers at all. Again, my eyes met Amanda’s and again I motioned for her to come my direction. She did.

She ducked into the brush and behind the tree I was behind. She was breathing hard, but not winded. She carried an M1 Carbine and I saw no extra ammo mags. I peered back out from behind the tree and saw the attackers slowly rising. I snapped off a half dozen rounds. I think I hit one of them, both ducked down again. I shot off another string of five rounds and then turned to Amanda.

“Need a ride out of here?” I asked.

She nodded.

I pointed and we ran to the lake. I took her to the boat. We got in and I shouted for her to cover our six as I drove. It took only a few moments to get around the bend and out of sight. I drove the boat at top speed all the way back to the marina, and Amanda kept guard very well.

We got to the marina and I pointed to the truck. She nodded again, and seemed to already know that was my vehicle. We ran quickly to the truck and got in. I started the motor and away we went. Now was the time for conversation.

“You hurt?” I asked.

“No.”

Not much to start. Maybe some open-ended questions might help…

“Who were those people?”

“I don’t know. They just showed up today.” She said.

Better.

“What did they want?”

She looked down and I saw the tears streaming from her cheeks. “The last man you shot barged in this morning and tried to… overpower me. I resisted, and fought my way out of the house, then saw the rest of them. I grabbed my rifle and forced him out. They then went away, but came back a little while later.”

“Is that when the fight started?” I asked.

“Yep,” she was still looking down, but had gained more composure. “I thought for sure I was dead. Then you came along right after they started. How did you know where I lived?”

I figured now was the time to fess up.

“I came here some time ago, and was going to do an experiment. I had dead outliners I was going to put on the island to see if the others could swim. I saw you watching me that day.”

She blushed and looked down again. I caught myself looking a little too long at the nice angles of her face.

“I remember seeing those cars following me after that. I think I almost caught you once,” I started.

She blushed again. Again, I looked at her a bit longer than would be casual in conversation.

“When I went back to where I’d set the creatures’ bodies, I saw they had been burned and where a fight had taken place.”

“You lured them too close to my house!” she interrupted.

“Yes, I know that now. I figured it out when I came back and saw where you’d fought them and killed them. After I surveyed that island, I went to the spot where I’d seen you watching me. I followed the forest up to the field. I saw the house from there and moved closer to investigate. I saw you at the house. You left the house, and I went in to investigate. I discovered your name – Amanda.”

She looked at me and smiled. I told her my name.

“Was this the same day I followed you home at dark?” She asked.

“Yes, it was. I came outside your house quickly, expecting you to come back any minute. I waited for hours! Then, when I went home, you were following me.”

“I was going to town. When I got to the marina, I saw your truck. I figured you were out on the lake like I’d seen you do so many times before, so I waited for you to come back and go home. I wanted to see where you lived, and how many lived with you.”

“Like you’d seen me so many times before?” I reflected.

“Yes, I’ve seen you here on the lake at least a half-dozen times.” She said.

It all clicked. She had been watching me for some time.

“I figured you lived alone, but I wanted to make sure before I introduced myself to you.” Amanda said.

“So you decided to follow me?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Well, anyways, it was a surprise to see you in my house. But I figured you meant no harm, or else I wouldn’t be here now. So I decided today to come and see you and introduce myself. That’s when I found you being attacked.”

Thank you for the update

+1!


Need MOAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Awesome update!!!! Now go back and kill those last 2 guys before they steal all of her stuff!

need moar!?!?!!!.

Circle back and clean up the last two straglers at her house.

oh yeah,keep it going, it's getting good now

I went back and re-read the original story and am all caught back up again.
More please ;-)

CHAPTER 6

We continued down the highway, engulfed in conversation.

“So you found out my name. What else did you find out about me?” She asked.

“More than you might think.” I said, cryptically.

“Like what?”

“A lot, and not enough.” I didn’t want to tell her of the shower part. I didn’t know how she would take it.

“Such as?”

“Such as, Oh, I don’t know. Hey, how old are you, anyways?”

“A lady never tells her age.” She responded cryptically.

“Do you go by a nickname?”

“Just Amanda.”

“Tell me what you liked to do… you know… before everything went to shit.”

“”I was in school. I liked hanging out with my friends. I was into some sports – volleyball mainly. The usual.”

“So why so cryptic?” I asked point-blank.

Her face turned down. “You of all people should know why. The majority of my life the last few years has been spent just trying to stay alive. There are creatures out there that want to eat me, people out there that want to steal from me or rape me, and all I have in the world are my legs to carry me away from danger.”

I caught myself looking at her legs when she mentioned them. Then she caught me looking at them. I turned my head, but she only smiled. God, she looked great when she smiled.

“I guess they might have other uses, too.” She said.

“So do you fight only when need be?” I quickly changed the subject.

“I can’t afford to lose one single fight. I am not a good fighter. Before all this happened, I’d never even shot a gun. I think my dad and brother had, but a lot of good it did them.” She looked down, and I could see the sadness on her face. I wanted to reach over and brush her hair over her ear. Before I could, she turned away, nearly flattening herself on the passenger-side window, looking out.

“We all lost someone close.” I said sadly, matching her tone. “Here, let me introduce you to Beth.”

I handed her my rifle.

“She is named that thanks to my ex-wife. When we were divorced, my ex claimed I was cheating on her with a woman named Beth. It was all she could say. Since the rifle was about the only thing I kept through the divorce, I named her accordingly. You are the only person on earth that knows that.”

“Who was Beth?”

“The dog I was trying to buy my ex for her birthday.” I replied.

“And she got jealous over that?”

“She had a history of flipping out over little things. I realized then and there that putting up with ‘the crazy’ wasn’t worth it.”

Amanda took the rifle and admired it as we spoke. She handled Beth as though she’d used an AR15 before, but not with a heap of confidence.

“It seems longer than most.” She said as she looked at the scope.

“Beth has a 20-inch barrel. Your was only a 16-inch barrel.” I realized I’d just let on that I’d snooped through her “collection.”

“I wish mine were here now.” Amanda said.

“I have some spares. I’ll give you one.” I replied.

“Why would you do that?”

“Why would I do anything for you today?” I asked, rhetorically.

“I’m still trying to figure that one out.” She said.

I realized it was not rhetorical for her. She was truly interested in why I had helped her. I decided to stick with the truth.

“Bear with me for a few moments?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Ok, here goes. I think there are three main reasons I wanted to help you… to meet you. First: Ever since I saw you, I realized – from your actions and demeanor – that you are a good person. You aren’t like so many people that survived and now try to take from others or kill others. You never showed any aggression toward me. Never an ounce of ill-will. I could see that from the first day I saw you. You strengthened that reason when you told me you’d seen me several times before. You also strengthened that reason when you came to my house – even though you broke in, you did not harm me.

“Second,” I continued. “You seemed to me to be a good match, were we to ever team-up. You survived all the crap – so you obviously have a good head on your shoulders. You survived, to some extent at least, without the help of others – so I know you have some good basic skills. We both know that folks these days who are doing OK are the ones in groups. But neither of us is part of a large group. So I figured we would have that in common, too.

“Third, and I am going to be blunt here, you aren’t bad looking. For a single guy, you look like a catch to me.”

She blushed and looked a the floor. “Thank you.” Was all she muttered.

“So what about you? Why interested in me?” I asked.

“Pretty much the same. I saw you several times on the lake. I thought you looked gentle. I first saw you when you eradicated several biters and outliners. I knew you could fight and that was something I always had trouble with. Like you said – it was almost a yin and yang thing. Your style would compliment my style. And, you weren’t bad to look at, either.”

It was my turn to blush. “Thank you,” I echoed. “Were you going to approach me at some point? Or did you intend to let me know it was you and see if I would approach you?”

“Once I found out where you lived, I had wanted to come and introduce myself. But we never got to that point.” She said.

“It takes some courage. I know it did for me today.”

“Courage is not a luxury any more. It’s now the mundane – the day-to-day norm.” Amanda said.

I nodded in agreement.

“So how long before I left yesterday did you get to my house?” She asked.

There would be no good answer to this. I wasn’t about to lie, but I didn’t want to tell her the truth yet, either. My mind raced. Then I turned to an oldie, but a goodie.

“Why do you want to know?” I asked with my best, most charming smile.

She looked at me squarely. “Because I always shower before I leave. I remember taking a shower just before I left yesterday.”

“That’s none of my business. Besides, I wouldn’t have been able to see through your walls or anything, if that’s what you’re implying.”

I realized my mistake as soon as the words left my lips. I’d let the cat out of the bag.

“My shower is outside. And I think you know that,” she said as she stared at me. “So how long did you watch?”

Busted.

“A few minutes. Maybe ten.” I admitted. I was never one to keep a secret very well.

“Did you like what you saw?” She asked with a smile.

“I didn’t leave, now did I?” I raised my eyebrow, showing some delight.

She kept her coy smile and changed the subject. “So what things of mine did you look through?”

“Just the regular stuff. Enough to find out your name and what I needed to know about you. What did you look through of mine?” I decided to turn from defense to offense.

“The same.”

“Go on,” I prodded. “You had to be looking for something.”

“Just the usual. I wanted to find out your name. Whether you had other people living here. What you were doing to stay alive. That sort of thing.”

I pulled into my driveway at that point. We got out of the car and I gave her the grand tour of the place.

“You are the first person to visit here since I took the place over about two years ago.”

“Have you been visited by the outliners or biters?” She asked.

“Yes. From time to time. In fact, the outliners killed a coyote over there a while ago. They were the ones I killed and took to the island on the lake. The ones you burned.”

Amanda gave me a quizzical look, “does that happen often… visits by the monsters?”

“No. I swept the area a mile and a half in diameter shortly after moving in. I eliminated the nests and all of the demons.” I stated blankly.

“You knowingly fought those things?” She asked, more than a bit taken aback.

“Of course. If you hunt them, you have more of an advantage.” I said.

“That was not our experience.” Amanda said. She saddened with that note.

We moved to the upstairs area where I lived. I opened the windows and scanned the whole area. Amanda was content to mill about the room, examining my belongings in broad daylight. She ran her hand softly over this thing or that. Occasionally, she would pick up an article and examine it more closely.

“What do you think?” I asked her.

“A lot. This tells me a lot about you.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“You control your emotions well. You keep only necessary things. Everything in this room has a function, a purpose. When you make decisions, you base the decision solely on fact. For me, that would be a boring life. For you, it could be no other way.”

“Other stuff would be clutter.” I responded. I was amazed how insightful she was, especially given her youth.

“Where are your guns? I would like to take you up on your offer.” Amanda said.

“This way,” I replied.

We went down the stairs and into a side room that used to be a bedroom. I opened one of the safes – the one with the carbines in it. She browsed at the identical carbines, all of them AR15’s.

“You like the platform?” She asked me.

“Of course.”

“Of course you do. It is a logical platform. Everything on it makes perfect sense. But the AR15 does not have the same soul as some other platforms.” Amanda said as she looked longingly past the rifles into the space in the back of the safe.

“I thought you would want one to keep common ammo,” I said as I went to another safe. “But I have some here you might like more.”

I opened the safe and she saw a collection of M1’s – Garands and Carbines sitting there, waiting on her.

“Oh, this is good!” Amanda’s face lit up as she went to the next safe. She picked up and held each carbine, one after another. She went back and forth with them, as though she was searching for a spiritual connection with each rifle.

“Chicks dig the carbine.” I stated blankly. I’d read that on some gun forum back in the day.

“It’s small and light, has no recoil, and puts down the monsters,” Amanda said. “What’s not to like?”

“You sounded like you were making a logical decision there. Is this a case of ‘takes one to know one’?” I asked.

“No. Not in the least. I think with my heart. I like the M1 Carbine because it has soul. I’m not like you in that sense – I feel more than that. No need to control my emotions.”

My face must have looked a bit puzzled.

“Don’t worry – I’m comfortable with that difference. People are different. It’s the variety that makes things fun.” Amanda shared.

“What will you do when I show you how to hit monsters at 500 yards and farther with the AR, and you realize the carbine just can’t do that?”

“Maybe carry an M1A?” she said.

“Good idea. Why not carry one anyways? Why not carry an AR15 with a wooden stock and formed handle?”

“You can do that?” She asked.

I went to another closet, and took out just such a thing. Ten minutes later the wooden stock was on the AR15 Carbine. Amanda looked at the machine with wonder and soaked it all in.

“You have made a thing of beauty. I like it. Can this one be mine?” She asked.

“Of course. But on one condition.” I said.

She looked at me quizzically.

“I teach you to shoot.”

“Deal,” she said quickly.

“Why so quick?” I asked.

“Because I was gonna ask you that anyways. Now that you’ve offered…”

“Fair enough. We start tomorrow. You probably know how to handle it well enough for now.” I said.

She nodded.

“Now, for more important things. Supper, for one.”

A smile let me know I did the right thing. Off I went to fix supper. We talked and talked about things we liked and disliked. Things that used to be that we wished were still that way. As daylight came to an end, Amanda saw fit to tell me her story.

Nice! Thanks for the update and looking forward to more

WOW Usagi
you sir have talent.

Great read

I'm gonna venture "controller", due to Amanda's description of the protagonist's abode.

ETA: This is a great story so far, can't wait to read more. I gotta hang out here more often :)

Well done. You, sir win the prize.
I hereby grant you 1,000,000 internet points. Don't spend them all in one place... unless you want to.

PM me if you want a cool spoiler.

CHAPTER 7

(Amanda’s story, from her point of view)

Things were so happy and peaceful before the comet. I was working that weekend, trying to save some money for college. I worked in an ice-cream store. It was fun because I got to sell something that makes everybody happy!

It was scary when everything went down. People were getting sick and turning into zombies, like in the movies. At first, we got stuck in the store. It was me and a few coworkers. Then, two of my coworkers got sick. We had watched as other people had developed the symptoms, then turned. We knew it would happen to our co-workers. So we sent them outside.

I felt really bad about that. But we knew it had to be done. The rest of us didn’t want to get sick, too.

We began hearing gunfire here and there. Fights broke out between the living and the undead. My remaining co-workers and I hid in the back room. The constant rain made everything even more gloomy and sad than the whole situation.

Then everything turned worse. A couple of guys with guns smashed through the glass doors and got inside. They were looking for a place to hide. They were so mean and scary looking. We wouldn’t let them in the back, which was where they wanted to go from the moment they got inside the building. I was afraid one of them might have been bitten, and might change, and might infect the rest of us while we were all locked in the back room.

The men with guns kept trying to come in and it scared me. My coworkers were frightened, too. In a moment of weakness, I panicked. I threw open the back door and bolted out.

I bolted past several undead. But my coworkers didn’t make it. I looked back, only to see them getting torn to shreds by the zombies. I started crying. I couldn’t help myself. But I kept running, and I felt ashamed I was still running, but I didn’t know what else to do. I cried the whole time I ran. I was a wreck.

I ran home. It was the only place I could think of. Turns out, it was the worst place to go. When I got there, my entire family had been turned into biters. My heart sank even lower. At that moment, I was so upset, I thought about just walking in and letting them bite me and convert me so I would not have to deal with the pain of losing my family. I cried even more.

I ran even more. I ran away from my home. I ran to a part of town with abandoned houses. I picked a house and holed up for the night. It was really scary. I curled up in a corner on the upstairs of the house. Turns out, that was the best decision I made that day – biters can’t climb stairs. I barely slept. My legs ached – and they rarely ache from running. But I must have run nearly ten miles that day.

The second day was no better. And it got worse. Third, fourth, fifth days were awful. All the rain kept me depressed, along with losing my family. I wanted to go search for friends, but I was a wreck. I hadn’t eaten in days. I drank water that ran out of the gutters on the roof. I was weak. I was lonely. I was sad.

Finally, I gathered up the spirit to leave the house. I was shocked at the lack of people. Oh, there were bodies – everywhere – but no live people. It was like civilization got wiped out. I ran back to the part of town I was familiar with. If there were pockets of people, I never saw them... until later, that is.

I first ran to a grocery store and found some food. I wanted to pay, but I had no money and they had no employees. There were biters in the store and they chased me, but I would run and they barely managed to stumble around. It was there that I learned how to lead them to one area, hen run the other way to get what food I wanted. That was a good trick.

After I ate – and I ate a lot – I decided to go back to my house. The past week, I had been obsessed over my family and seeing what had happened. But I wanted closure. And I wanted some things from the house. So I ran home.

Once home, I opened the door and walked in. I made sure to make as much noise as possible. That wasn’t hard because I had started crying again. I could barely see straight through the tears. It took a moment or two, but the zombies that had once been my family were now pursuing me. I was lunch to them. That made me cry even more.

I ran outside and lured my former family after me. It took a few moments, and I’m sure it was quite a scene, but they finally followed me out and down the street. I lured them a good distance away and then doubled back in a sprint, crying the whole way.

Once inside, I locked the doors behind me. I gathered a bag full of belongings. I went to the bedroom and got my dad’s old double-barreled shotgun. As I left, I locked the doors behind me, hoping to keep thieves away long enough for me to come back and gather some more personal effects. I didn’t have much, but I couldn’t carry all of it at once, either.

I got my dad’s car, because running everywhere was getting old, and I left. My family and some other biters followed me a bit on the street. That made me cry some more. It was so sad to see so many people like that. Sad for what could have been. Sad for loss. Sad for those like me left behind to deal with it all.

I searched the streets for a place to stay that was away from the biters. I was looking for shelter from the onslaught. I wanted protection and peace. But everywhere I searched turned out to have more biters and more conflict. Nevertheless, I would find a house or a business, or a hotel, or some place to sleep. I would stay there until the biters would find me. Then I would leave. It was very depressing.

Eventually, I found that there were pockets of people here and there. I don’t remember how, but I learned to spot evidence of people. I would see things they left behind, zombie-free areas, and the like.

But the pockets of people could be good, and could be bad. Many of them did not want to take in a young single girl. I guess there was nothing I could offer them, and they felt I’d only be another mouth to feed. Others felt I did have something to offer – but it was always the same thing: my body. Still others would act like neither of these, but would want me to help them eradicate the hordes of undead. I just didn’t like the thought of that. I’d rather avoid the zombies – not go hunt them down.

I just wanted a regular life. A place where different people had different responsibilities. A place where I could be content, and offer what I can do, but not be pressured to do things that I’m not really geared to do.

After some time, and much moving around, I found a group that took me in. They were very nice. None of them seemed to want me for purely physical reasons, or to help them hunt. They seemed to understand and want to have different duties. They had some that hunted zombies, and I knew I’d be welcome with them, but there was no push.

They had some that prepared food and did what used to be called “house-work” and I found myself fitting in with them. Though I must point out that the “house” was an old courthouse in the middle of an old town square. That was neat all by itself. Most of the people that did the housework were the women, so I fit in a little better there than in other groups.

Before I knew it, the days were rolling by rapidly. I became accustomed to my routine. Some of the guys would come by and talk with us as we made food every day. One of them, Mark, talked more to me in particular. I liked the attention, but the guy was just not quite my type. He was kind though, or so I thought.

Then, one day, things changed a bit. Mark wanted me to sit with him at supper, so I did. I liked talking with him. Like I said, he was kind, and he was interesting to talk to. He would tell stories of what the men had seen and done. They generally had been trying to rid the small town of zombies. It was through Mark that I found out about the outliners – the offspring of the zombies.

And so I became adjusted to life again. Mark and I spoke frequently, but I never felt anything for him more than casual friendship. Sure, he came to my room and I to his from time to time, as friends do – to lend an item, or show one something, or whatever. And Mark took me to learn to shoot, and some basic martial arts, and other things like that. I even got my own rifle – an AR15.

One day, after a few months, that changed, too. Mark had invited me to his room, to show me the barb-tail of an outliner he’d shot. We sat there, talking, and I never noticed him moving closer. But suddenly I realized he was right next to me. And his hand was on my leg. And his tone was changed. And his face was close to mine.

And I realized he wanted to kiss me. I had no desire for that. He moved toward me, and I backed off. He looked stunned and disappointed. Then a look washed across his face – a look that frightened me. I know he saw the fear and I think that triggered something in him. He backed off and became very distant and asked me to leave.

Things were different after that. I’d lost my supper-buddy. So I often sat alone, or with other women who had nobody. For the first time in my life, I started to feel a bit ashamed for not ‘having a man.’

Then one night, something else happened. I was walking from the Courthouse to my room, which was in a building down the road and on the side. I had to turn in to a little alley to get to my place. It was a modified storefront that several of us shared. None of the others would have been there, yet. I always got ‘home’ first, as I was single and had no real friends in the town due to my being an outsider.

As I walked down the alley, I was suddenly struck hard. I think I’d been hit with someone’s entire body, like a football tackle. Although the blow did not hurt, it did knock me completely off my feet. Then it started.

The person was wearing a mask and dark clothes. I presumed it was the same person that had just knocked me down, and that was my error. There were two of them. They covered my mouth, tied me up, blindfolded me, and carried me away.

I was taken to a room, put in a chair, and my blindfold removed. I looked around and realized I was in a hotel room, though I did not know were. The two still had their masks on, and were in he next room – apparently a business suite – speaking to one another. They talked in hushed tones… apparently they were in disagreement about something. I was scared. But I was also mad.

Both men had pistols in holsters on their waists. They whispered back and forth, and that made me really nervous. One of them grabbed duct tape. They moved into the same room with me, in plain sight, and stood me up out of my chair. The smaller man pointed at the bed and spoke.

“Put her there. Use the tape to tie each leg to a chair. We put the chairs on each edge of the bed. Then tie her hands to the headboard. Then we have some fun.” The evil man barked.

This scared me even more than anything they had done up to this point. It made me mad, too! I thought really hard. I had to figure a way out. Then it dawned on me. My hands were tied together, and they would have to untie them. That would be my chance. But I’d only get once shot, so it had to be a good one.

They approached me and lifted me to my feet. I did not resist at all. I made my face look as though nothing was wrong. They put me on the bed, face-up. One of them got a chair, put it on the side of the bed, and started taping my ankle to it. He went easier than I thought he would, and his touch was almost familiar.

He repeated the process on my other leg. The first man that was holding down my upper-body, and getting a cheap feel of my chest as he did it, was relaxing his grip as I offered no resistance at all. My other leg was taped sown in short order.

They mumbled to each other. The man grabbing my chest reached behind me and sat me up a bit. Then he cut the tape on my wrists, freeing my hands. The man at my feet crawled up the bed, straddling me to help hold me down. What he didn’t realize was that he put his pistol within reach. I glanced quickly at the inside-the-waistband holster and realized that it was strictly friction-retention. There was no locking mechanism.

The man that cut my hands free was off to the side, holding my right arm tight, but not overly tight. I still gave no resistance. He actually loosened the grip and moved his right hand back to my chest for a squeeze and a feel. This started to puzzle me a bit as I am not the best-endowed girl around. Maybe I was going to be his first?

In either case, the man on top of me took my left arm, very gently, and started to move it into position to tie to the headboard. I noticed my chance and sprang into action.

I twisted free with both arms, braced the man on top away form me with my right arm, bent at the elbow in the shape of the letter “L.” My left hand twisted around and grasped the pistol from his belt. As my arm returned, pistol in hand, it spun back into a regular position from the ungainly angle I’d had to manage to get the pistol in the first place.

Using my knees as a brace against the man’s body, I put both hands on the pistol. As my legs swung up so I could get my knees between me and the man, the chairs just came right along. I guess these guys didn’t know I was a runner and have stronger than average legs. Moving the chairs was almost effortless. They’d had a dumb plan.

I fired the pistol three times into the man’s abdomen. At the same time, I took a heavy blow across the top of my head as the second man had hit me overhead with his fist and forearm. I turned to him as the firs man was falling backwards from the shots.

The second man was fumbling to draw his pistol. I shot him and shot him and shot him and shot him. I think it was four shots and he went down. He started to rise and come back at me. A shot to the forehead stopped that immediately.

I put the pistol down for a moment and freed my ankles from the tape. Free of the chairs, I moved to the first man, who had fallen to the ground. He was gurgling. Blood was pouring from his mouth and from the wounds. His eyes were glazed over. I kept the pistol pointed at him, and reached down to pull the mask from his face.

It was Mark.

I immediately started crying again. It was too much. I ran out of the hotel room, and made my way out of the building, pistol in hand. Outside, I realized I was just a couple of blocks away from the courthouse and from my room. So I ran.

I ran to my place, grabbed all of my personal belongings, putting them in my car. Nobody would be home for at least an hour, so I took everything I owned and put it in the car. At that point, I did something I’m still ashamed of. I looked into the rooms of my roommates. One of them had an M1 Carbine. I took it. And all the ammo, too. And there was a lot of ammo.

I ransacked the furniture and other items left in my room. I made the other rooms look the same, only taking a few items of value, to make it look like a robbery. By the time they would figure out it was me, I would be long gone.

I got in my car and drove. Then I realized, a couple of hours down the road, that they would recognize my car. So I ditched it at a new car dealership and took a different car altogether. It took a bit of time to get it filled with gasoline and get my belongings switched over, but it was time well spent. I hid my car behind the dealership so as to slow their search, if they even came out that far, that is.

I drove on a bit more, sleeping in my car that night. The next day, I drove a couple of hours, and eventually found the farm house you found me at. I’d been there a number of months when you came along. There have been moments of sadness, but for the most part my life there had been good. It scared me when those people found me and attacked. And then you came and rescued me.

Very good reading :)

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Cool, been waiting for an update. Thanks.

I'm a couple days late, but thanks for the update.

Mikey

Nice, more please.........

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