Dark Rain 2.0  |
| Bio Hazard; Chapter One: City of Chaos | |
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| Topic Started: 15 Sep 2009, 23:30 (75 Views) | |
| Janus | 15 Sep 2009, 23:30 Post #1 |
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Tyrade: The hinges were twisted, as though something great had torn the gates from them violently. The red brick surrounding wall of the zoo was eight feet tall, and unbreached as much as you could see, but just the sight of those maimed gates was enough to make you brave the swarm behind you and head away. Your heart beat like a drum, driving the blood and adrenaline through your body and you stepped cautiously over the debris. Overturned trash cans, discarded paper flyers, and a broken vending machine hinted at the panic and chaos which had overcome the entrance of this once-lively tourist spot. Even though you were not familiar with it yourself, a mental image of school children filing past the former gates, lining up for tickets and snacks at the various kiosks and booths lining the entryway was painfully vivid. Your gun sweeping about, you scanned the place trying to get a feel for the layout. The main entrance was a cobblestone ring, with the middle dominated by a collection of metal benches and a few apple trees organized in a symmetrical pattern. On the left was a red brick building of some sort, one story and squat, with no windows but a single open door. Only darkness greeted you from within. A sign above marked it clearly as the Information Center, and you suspected it was the main office of the zoo grounds. On the right, a small shop was made of similarly red brick but with large floor-to-ceiling windows to easily showcase the various shirts, stuffed animals, and lunch boxes within. One of the large panes nearest the solitary door was shattered, broken glass littering the cement. Opposite the entrance from the broken gates, a brace of pathways wound left and right respectively, and curved outwards like an oval. From this distance, neither path looked more tempting than the other. You saw signs for “Lions”, “Giraffes”, and other animals on both sides, although the left had the universal sign for restrooms hanging above the listing of animals. Looking about frantically, your finger resting on the trigger guard, you noticed no movement or sound – an eerie break in the frantic storm of moans and cries that had marked the last few days in this city. If anything, the suspense was making the interlude unbearable, and you wondered where you could find solace in this devastated place. The path lay before you, and now a choice needed to be made. What would you do? |
  I'm online Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, just in case you wondered where the hell I went. | |
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| Janus | 16 Sep 2009, 00:05 Post #2 |
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Sain: The lights flickered in the parking garage, causing the faded white paint to shimmer erratically in a manner which compromised your night vision. The overhead lights, those that worked properly, still left whole portions of this third level parking garage shrouded in darkness. You moved forward slowly, your shaky, nervous breathing seemed too loud, and every scratch or slide on the cement echoed without end. The gun felt cold and awkward in your hands. Although you were not a complete novice when it came to simply handling the gun, the idea that you'd have to use it to terminate life was a complete one-eighty from your previous duties as a doctor. Coming back to the hospital seemed foolish and reckless, but you were looking for clues. Lori had disappeared in the panic immediately following public discovery of the outbreak. You had tried to run, to make it to safety hoping she would have made it home, but she was not there. No note, and of course no way to communicate electronically. The waiting had been agonizing. That had been days ago. The food had run out, and the hammering of the dead on the apartment door had driven you mad. After slipping out of the rear fire-escape, you ran the streets aimlessly, looking for any signs of survivors, and oftentimes checking the identity of the dead or infected, hoping against hope that you would find her safe and sound. Moving back towards the hospital perhaps subconsciously, you were surprised to see lights on at the top floor of the new wing – the outpatient wing which also housed private offices for a lot of the senior officials and medical specialists. The top floor was aglow, and shone like a lighthouse in the sea of darkness that was Esterridge. You knew that coming in through the main entrance or any of the side entrances was suicide – the undead seemed to literally radiate out of the emergency room after the devastation and mayhem of the town square massacre. The police had established a barricade around the front drive, but it was quickly overrun. No, instead you had snuck into the parking garage, a new addition built on the southern end of the hospital's lot. It occurred to you that the acoustics of the parking garage made it a deadly environment since the infected could easily hear you. But that worked both ways, and it had lights unlike the main lobby. The rows of cars were haphazard; many had tried to escape and crashed into each other, or slammed into rails. A Toyota had taken a bad spill over the second floor rail itself and landed nose-up on the grass below. The third floor here was the topmost level and connected via a small elevated hallway to the main building. The offices just within the glass sliding doors included a heart specialist clinic and an eye care clinic. Coming at last to the doors, you saw with a shock that they were open, bloody hand prints marring the inside and partially obscuring the dark left-to-right hallway within. The heart clinic was the leftmost door, while the eye clinic was on the right. The hallway wrapped around the central mass and moved northwards along the front of the building, offering what you remembered as a great view of the front of the building. Moving slowly to push aside the door, you cringed at the creak, and waved the gun before you like a blind man waves a cane. You contemplated inspecting the offices for anything – hidden survivors or even basic food and water since you were starving, but you could also just keep to the hallway and bypass them, heading north through the main building and towards the new wing. Or you could simply give up and walk away, you thought grimly. What kinds of choices were these? |
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I'm online Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, just in case you wondered where the hell I went. | |
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| tyrade | 16 Sep 2009, 00:32 Post #3 |
Sponge
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John's hand was shaking lightly. He wasn't sure if those things could smell fear but if they could they were getting a whif of it. He had dealt with men with guns and knives and grenades, but never before had he dealt with people wanting to eat him alive. How he had gotten to the zoo amidst the chaos he couldn't remember, but now wasn't the time to wonder. He was alive, uninfected, and seemed to have gained a moment of piece. He looked to the small store near him and decided to head inside to look for any kind of food he could store. He headed over to the store, confident his boots would protect him from the broken glass. |
  It seems every serial killer is someone you least expect, meaning we are safest around those we expect to kill us | |
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| Sain | 16 Sep 2009, 00:51 Post #4 |
New York Giants' Mascot
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No time to waste. Devin thought, against his will still moving forward. He wanted to get as high as possible; the higher area of the Hospital was desolate compared to the ER. Then again, elevators and electronic doors leading to stairs were the only means of movement between floors. This isolation meant the Infected that were there, we likely still there. Waiting patiently for a meal like the Venus Flytrap. Devin's heart skipped a beat as an awkward noise shook his core. Making his muscle movements as slight as the situation allowed him, he probed shadows for the source. The hallway, though it curved to the front of the building, stretched before Devin far enough to know the slight noise was not of this hallway. At least in front of him. He whipped around with ferocity, bringing the firearm parallel his chin. He felt his finger weighing down the trigger, but released when the solitude kicked in. What could've made that noise? Again, the noise, acknowledged as a rumble, vibrated Devin's entire body. Flush red filled his face as blood rushed North. He put a single hand on his stomach, which was begging for release. "Jesus," He sighed, almost as if this whole mess was done with, but that reality was far from the present. He was safe, at least for the moment. His priorities shifted as hunger became the main focus. He had seen what hunger deprivation could to do a body, mentally and physically. He had to be 100% before moving forward, lest he cramped up while trying to haul-ass. When conscious thought returned to him, he recalled the Eye Clinic having a mini-refrigerator the staff would often fill with supplies for the week. Hopefully someone have had mercy on him and left him a sandwich he could heat in the microwave oven. Shaking heavily from his noise ordeal, Devin walked to the Eye Clinic doorway, reminding himself to put one foot in front of the other to avoid tripping himself. He turned the knob slowly, and pushed lightly when it turned unobstructed. His Glock entered the room before he did, hoping to catch anything mid-routine. Edited by Sain, 16 Sep 2009, 00:55.
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| Janus | 16 Sep 2009, 02:32 Post #5 |
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Tyrade: The store it was then. Although it looked as though the place had been possibly attacked or ransacked, you felt confident that the short-term problem of food could be solved here. Your Brahmas crunched the glass, a noise giving away your position to any potential assailants within. Upon entering the store, you were aware of how small it was; four short aisles led to the back, each no higher than perhaps chest level. The floor was literally covered in useless junk, everything from toys and stuffed animals to filthy clothes and dollar store worthy cheap plastic items. You noticed the register, which normally would have been perched on a counter just to the right of you, had been thrown about; some poor would-be criminal had been unable to break into it. The left wall was completely glass from floor to ceiling, but part of the back and right walls were covered in zoo-centric stuff. The only thing which seemed even remotely helpful was a pair of vending machines in the back, just besides a small closet or bathroom. Since the power was off or likely out, neither were lit up though. Gun before you as though to part the darkness, the thought of being ambushed in the place was not appealing. There would be no room to maneuver, and it would be difficult to see in the dark. Additionally, the vending machines would require some coaxing in order to give up their wares. |
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I'm online Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, just in case you wondered where the hell I went. | |
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| Janus | 16 Sep 2009, 02:43 Post #6 |
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Sain: Hunger pangs jolted your body as you pushed into the eye care clinic, hoping for an easy meal. The idea that you could perhaps become an easy meal was not lost to you though. The reception area of the clinic was square shaped and perhaps fifteen feet by fifteen. A half-filled water cooler was nestled in the left hand corner nearest the door, right beside a clearly fake plant. Blue low backed chairs lined the walls, and uninteresting pictures of people wearing expensive eyeglasses hovered above every second or third one. The check-in desk was on the other side of the left hand wall, with the top cut out and replaced with glass which you doubted was shatterproof or bulletproof. Besides that on the right was the wooden door leading back into the other rooms. You noted that it was closed despite the gloom. So far, so good. Nothing appeared unusual about this particular clinic. Perhaps it had been closed mostly during the outbreak, or appointments had been canceled. It was never particularly busy anyways, with most folks getting their eyes checked at private offices in various parts of town. Feeling more confident about this decision, you noticed also a small FM radio on a shelf just above the small kids' book shelf in the right corner, besides what you presumed to be the bathroom. The central coffee table was long and low, covered with TIME magazines and many health-oriented magazines or newspapers from the last week. One of them you caught in the dim light afforded by the glass of the door read “The Dead Walk!”. |
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I'm online Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, just in case you wondered where the hell I went. | |
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| tyrade | 16 Sep 2009, 03:09 Post #7 |
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Considering the close quarters, John holstered his gun and drew his knife. Agun would be useless if he had no time to aim it. He inspected the vending machines, deciding whether to break the glass or use his crowbar to break the lock. Breaking the glass would ensure him his prize but would attract unwanted attention, while attempting to break the lock would be quieter, it would take more time and he might be ambushed in the process. He decider to go with the lock, and positioned his crowbar through the locks loop and attempted to break it. |
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It seems every serial killer is someone you least expect, meaning we are safest around those we expect to kill us | |
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| Sain | 17 Sep 2009, 05:35 Post #8 |
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New York Giants' Mascot
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Devin had been in the dark soon after the outbreak, his Lakeview Apartment wasn't wired with cable, or any electronics. Luckily, he had left several cans of spaghetti Chef Boyardee and cans of albacore in water in his haste to move in with his Fiancee. He prayed for his Fiancees safety, assured his Government wouldn't leave Esterridge City to its unfortunate fate. But when no help came, and with food supplies running dangerously low, Devin had to take initiative. His main purpose being to establish contact with his Wife. With his weapon permanently attached to his palm, Devin turned the radio on to listen to any broadcasts as to the future of Esterridge. [What did he hear?] Devin checked the bathroom door, making sure it was completely closed before moving on. Infected had a particular difficult time opening doors, and that was his greatest weapon. He doubted there was anything in there of value to him anyways, and isolated rooms always harbored the dangers of Infected. The risk/reward seemed unbalanced, so it was hardly worth it. Devin tried his luck with the wooden door that he recalled lead to the hallway with the check up rooms. But most importantly, the break room with the mini-fridge. The door opened with little problems. Devin stood paralyzed as the hallway stretched before him. The normally docile hallway was white in color, and small in length. But with danger in every possible inch, the hallway stretched for miles, with hundreds of rooms. Inside the body of the Hospital meant there were windows, and only darkness laid ahead. Devin left the wooden door behind him open as a safety net. If he needed to dash, he could shut the door, and it'd become an impassable barrier. At least for sometime, until the Infected decided his hunger was too great and leveled the wood in hopes of relief. But there was hope. With the lights on in the upper floors of the Hospital, it meant the grid was still receiving electricity. With quaking hands, Devin reached for the walls, using them for balance as he pressed forward. The light switch was just ahead, if he remembered correctly. This had been where he had checked his eyes several times, and even where he had gotten his Transition lenses. Knowing his way around was invaluable in his survival, he thought. His heart relaxed when his hands passed through a switch. He flicked it upwards, praying all the while. The hanging ceiling lights flickered many times. On the final flicker, it seemed to be giving way, but brightly lit up, revealing several doors down the hallway. Devin brought his handgun to his chin, ready to fire at anything investigating the source that caused the sudden light. If nothing, he would do a sweep of every room for any bodies, before heading off to the break room. |
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