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Post by Generalfoley on May 24, 2011 10:40:43 GMT -7
Joe looked over at Vincent, who was sleeping in the third chair they had, the one at the Electronics/Navigation section, before he turned back to the view before him. He had just taken the co-pilot's seat an hour before, which Vincent was thankful for. Joe had been in the back where a desk was bolted to the deck, reviewing his notes and adding more to what he already had. He had been recording and analyzing anything new on the Undead, putting it in a journal so that he could go over it later, or let Mike read it.
But not being allowed to autopsy the ghouls was a rather large pain in the ass. It wasn't for the fact that he had no medical experience other than first aid... well, it was that, but it was also Mike not letting the things in the Bunker. That made it rather difficult to accurately detail what they can do. Joe sighed as he tried to look over the plane's nose, but no luck. Joe checked the instruments that he had memorized from an old flight manual he had found within the plane. Joe turned around, and kicked Vincent in the leg.
He jerked awake, looking around with half closed eyes. "I'm up, I'm up!" Vincent shook his head, and rubbed his eyes, before he looked over at Joe. "Why'd ya kick me?!"
Joe motioned to the navigation console. "I can't find out where we are. Check the console, see if we either are near England or past it." Vincent had explained when they lifted off that they were heading to England because there was a safe airstrip near an old castle that they could refuel at. But Vincent hadn't been in England within the past year, so he didn't know if it was still safe. But he knew no one could've stolen the fuel, since it was in underground tanks.
Vincent rolled his eyes and swirled around in his chair, checking the console. "We're just under a mile from the English coast, but we'll need to go low, around two hundred feet or so above land. After that, we'll be clear to land after another mile or so."
Joe nodded and glanced over at Mike. "Yo, Mike, you wanna rest before we land?"
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Post by God Mike on May 24, 2011 11:12:35 GMT -7
Mike was, in a word, annoyed. Here he was, flying a massive fucking machine of death, and he had to make sure not to crash it! What good is a plane if you can't even crash it? Then, he not only couldn't crash it, but he also couldn't pull any stunts in the air, 'cause the old men with him had to take naps. They had to be old men. After all, Mike was young, and he hadn't had to take a nap the entire trip. Ergo, the others were old farts. Probably had such enormous prostates that they peed like four-year olds, too...
"I'm up, I'm up!" The dead tired Mike looked at Mr. Viagra, who'd just been kicked by Old Man Joe. "Why'd ya kick me?!" Because you're an old fart who robbed me of my fun and needs to die, Mike thought in a childish rage as he kept his eyes on the clouds ahead of him. This was much easier than driving a car. Keep your eyes on the little ball thingy on the dashboard thingy and keep the arrow thingy under the line thingy. Piece of cake.
"We're just under a mile from the English coast, but we'll need to go low, around two hundred feet or so above land. After that, we'll be clear to land after another mile or so." Mr. Viagra informed Joe from behind them. God, Mike felt like crashing the plane right now. It'd be so easy... Then again, they were flying over water. That wouldn't make a massive booming explosion of fiery awesomeness, and instead would just make the world's biggest splash.
Mike noticed Joe looking at him. "Yo, Mike, you wanna rest before we land?" he asked, and Mike felt truly insulted. Rest? Mike, rest? Hah! Laughable. And that's exactly what Mike did. He laughed, loudly.
"Me, rest? No way! Unlike you old farts, I have no need for sleep! If I get tired, I just have to do this!" With that, Mike pushed the yoke forward. With a jerk, the massive C-130 went into a steep dive. They passed through the cloud they were flying over, and Mike saw the water below, steadily coming closer as he gave off a scream.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" The scream developed into a laugh as he pulled the yoke back hard. It was much harder in the movies. The yoke hardly even budged as he pulled, but steadily, the plane leveled out from its dive, a good, oh... Er, well, Mike didn't really know, but what he did know was that they were dangerously close to the ground.
Mike grinned, wide-eyed as adrenaline coursed through his body, and looked back at Mr. Viagra. "Are we flying low enough?" he asked with a look of almost sadistic glee on his face. He was really hoping Mr. Viagra had shit his pants.
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Post by Generalfoley on May 24, 2011 13:23:31 GMT -7
"Me, rest? No way! Unlike you old farts, I have no need for sleep! If I get tired, I just have to do this!" Joe's eyes widened as Mike pushed the stick down, causing the plane to descend at a rapid rate. The altimeter was spinning like crazy, and Mike's scream turned into a laugh. Vincent's high-pitched scream was something Joe both hated and filed away for blackmail later.
Joe saw the ocean, and how close the plane was getting. Grabbing hold of his senses, Joe pulled up on the stick, seeing Mike do the same. The plane pulled up barely, almost crashing into the side of a cliff.
'Wait... Cliff?' Joe looked over the nose, seeing that they were flying dangerously close to the ground. Joe half smiled at the sight. They had made it. But for safety, Joe pulled up a little bit, bringing the plane to around a hundred feet, and pulling back the throttle.
"I think I shit myself..." Vincent muttered. Joe's eye twitched. Joe picked up a pair of binoculars, since, hopefully, Mike had the hang of the plane for a few minutes. He looked through them, seeing an airstrip ahead. He put the binoculars down.
"Hey, Mike, you mind if I land? I don't doubt your flying abilities," Vincent scoffed at this, but Joe ignored the man. "But the last time you tried to land an aircraft, you crashed it into the ground. I just want to get out of this one alive."
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Post by God Mike on May 25, 2011 15:43:09 GMT -7
"I think I shit myself..." Awesome! He actually did make Mr. Viagra shit himself! Fuckin' aye! Mike grinned to himself as they flew. They had a runway coming up. Pretty convenient, if you asked Mike. Then again, Mike would rather land on a runway than in the woods, so he decided not to question the Gods on this one. It was for the best.
"Hey, Mike, you mind if I land? I don't doubt your flying abilities," Mike heard Mr. Viagra's snort, and he looked back to give the man a vicious glare, "but the last time you tried to land an aircraft, you crashed it into the ground. I just want to get out of this one alive."
"Just let that go, man," Mike said, shaking his head as he flipped a switch, hearing the landing gear lowering. "Like I said, I meant to crash the helicopter. I'm not meaning to crash this one. And you said I'd get to fly, that means I'd take care of the takeoff, the flight, and the landing. I gotta learn some time, right?" Mike whistled happily as he saw the airstrip approaching.
"Besides, it's easy, I saw this on A-Team once. Full flaps," he recited the ever lovable Howlin' Mad Murdock, pulling the lever that said 'Flaps' down, not that he had any idea what it did, "keep the nose up a little... and when it feels like I'ma hit the ground, I just pull back on the yoke as hard as I can. It's easy!"
Mike hummed to himself as he saw the runway coming nearer and nearer. "You guy might wanna, you know... fasten your seatbelts..." he commented, whistling nonchalantly. As predicted, the moment came when it felt like they were gonna hit the ground. Mike pulled back hard on the yoke, bringing the nose up as much as possible as the plane shook while the squeal of tires against pavement was heard.
"And now, forward!" Mike said with a laugh as he pushed forward on the yoke, bringing the nose down while stomping the breaks. The tires squealed as the plane slowly but surely slowed down on the private airstrip. However, the smaller hangar at the end of it was rather worrisome, and it came closer and closer.
"Come on, breaks, don't fail me now!" Mike called, trying to stomp down harder on the breaks, only to find that the pedal was pressed down as much as possible. Slowly, the C-130 came to a stop, what looked to be about a few centimeters away from the closed doors of the private hangar in front of them.
Still pressing down on the breaks, Mike gulped and gave Joe a smile. "W-Well now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked with a grin. He had to admit, he had been scared there for a second or two.
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Post by Generalfoley on Jun 2, 2011 17:35:27 GMT -7
"Like I said, I meant to crash the helicopter. I'm not meaning to crash this one. And you said I'd get to fly, that means I'd take care of the takeoff, the flight, and the landing." Joe nodded. Mike had a good point. Joe checked the instruments, making sure nothing went wrong.
"Besides, it's easy, I saw this on A-Team once. Full flaps," Joe felt the force of the plane slowing from the deployed flaps. This couldn't end well. "keep the nose up a little... and when it feels like I'ma hit the ground, I just pull back on the yoke as hard as I can. It's easy!" Joe looked over at Mike, before rechecking the instruments twice more. The A-Team... May God help them.
Joe strapped himself in moments before Mike suggested it, and turned back to Vincent. He was just strapping himself in. Smart.
Joe looked forward again, hearing Mike's laugh, and his eyes widened as they touched down. Joe bounced in his seat as the rubber tires met pavement. Joe pulled back on the throttle a lot, and stomped on the floor for the breaks, which Mike had already found. There was a hanger in front of them, and they were going very, very fast.
"Come on, breaks, don't fail me now!" Joe finally found the break and stomped on it. He could hear the squeal of the tires breaking on the pavement, and he heard Vincent mutter sweet nothings to himself. Slowly, the C-130 came to a stop, coming only centimeters from crashing into the hanger in front of them. Joe let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding.
"W-Well now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Joe looked over at the grinning Mike, and then turned his head back to the sight in front of them. Then he burst out laughing. He laughed as he unbuckled himself and let out a sigh as he stopped. They made it.
"Well, now I know that I shit myself." Vincent said, and Joe chuckled, the laughing in danger of bursting out again. The young Irishman walked down the stairs and over to the desk, grabbing his bag and throwing it into the back of the Jeep. Joe walked back towards the cockpit and looked over at Vincent.
"Yo, Viagra, how long until the plane's refueled enough to get us to Amsterdam?" Vincent's eye twitched at the nickname, but looked at the fuel gauge, humming.
"From the look of the gauge, it'll take around five to six hours, give or take a half hour." Vincent looked back at Joe. "But if you want it to be completely full, it'll be eight hours, max." Joe nodded, and patted Mike on the shoulder.
"Come on Mike. Let's go get some fresh air." Joe walked out of the cockpit again, shrugging off his light dress shirt. He saw the temperature gauge when they landed, almost 42 degrees Fahrenheit outside. He walked to the bed of the Jeep, taking out his bag and stuffing his dress shirt inside, only to take out a brown leather jacket. He smiled as he put the jacket on and pulled out a green checkered scarf before zipping the bag back up. He looked back to the cockpit and yelled, "And you might want to put on some extra layers! It's coooold out!" Joe smiled as he moved to release the blocks on the Jeep. He hit the blocks one by one, releasing the tires before he walked to the C-130's side door, opening it and jumping out. He looked around. He saw a few common zombies limping around on the tarmac, nothing to worry about really. He pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, lighting it with a match. He took a large drag, and shivered as he exhaled.
Christ, it was cold.
Joe turned his head and yelled into the plane, "Yo, Mike, you mind punching the door release? We got a few common British ghouls out here!" Joe turned back and unholstered a pistol, a weird look on his face.
"British Ghouls... sounds like an old 70's rock band."
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Post by God Mike on Jun 7, 2011 13:51:59 GMT -7
Mike grinned when Joe started laughing. At least he wasn't acting like a scaredy-cat anymore. Maybe it was the change in scenery? Either way, Mike preferred a laughing Joe to a scolding Joe. A scolding Joe was just plain annoying.
"Well, now I know that I shit myself." Viagra commented, and that made this whole trip worthwhile. Knowing that he'd scared someone enough to make them shit themselves, gave Mike a feeling of sadistic glee that he felt was more suited for Erik....
Mike started humming as he turned everything off. They weren't gonna take off yet. Not for a long time. It didn't matter what Joe or Viagra said. Mike wouldn't be leaving until he'd gotten to smell some of that good ol' British air. Just then, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Come on Mike. Let's go get some fresh air." Joe said as he headed out of the cockpit. Mike started humming a tune, from the good old days with Nintendo 64... Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. The tune was, if he remembered correctly, the Lon Lon Ranch theme. "And you might want to put on some extra layers! It's coooold out!"
"What are you on about?" Mike asked as he took his headset off, getting out of his seat and leaving the cockpit, checking the temperature. "Dude, it's just 42 degrees. That's, like... er..." Mike stopped and pondered for a while. "That's like 5 Celsius! Shit, that's nothing!"
"Yo, Mike, you mind punching the door release? We got a few common British ghouls out here!"
"Alright..." Mike muttered as he looked around the plane. How long had Joe been out of the plane? Or rather, how long had Mike been standing there, talking to himself? Nonetheless, Mike did as he was told, pressing the button for the cargo ramp, watching as it opened.
It was strange, really. You really knew that zombie attacks had become pretty much standard morning routine for Mike, as he just stretched lazily as he made his way down the lowering ramp, upholstering his revolvers and taking aim lazily at the only to zombies he could see.
"Boom," Mike said as he fired his left revolver. "Blam-Oh!" he exclaimed, firing his right. The two zombies' heads exploded from the force of the bullets, and Mike sighed, holstering his revolvers again. He had no idea if Joe was facing down a swarm of zombies or just a handful at the side of the plane, but he didn't care, either.
"I never thought I'd get bored of zombie killing..." he muttered to himself as he sat down on the cargo ramp, stretching again.
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Post by Generalfoley on Jun 7, 2011 19:59:00 GMT -7
Joe heard the gunshots, but paid no heed. He knew they were Mike. Joe looked at the zombies that were before him, around ten or twenty feet back. Lazily, he aimed his pistol at one, taking a drag on his cancer stick as he pulled the trigger, the recoil bounding up his arm. God he loved that feeling. A zombie's brains splattered all over the tarmac as the young Irishman aimed at the other.
But then it started to sprint.
Joe's eyes widened as he fired again. The zombie crumpled to the pavement, it's face hitting the tarmac with a sickening splat. Joe looked around, seeing no other undead, and spun his pistol in his hand like a cowboy from those old wild west films, and holstered it. He smirked as he blew smoke out of his nose. Joe looked to his right, walking over to the now open loading ramp. He peered around the corner, seeing a bored Mike.
"I never thought I'd get bored of zombie killing..." Joe next to him, patting his shoulder.
"Don't worry, mate. It might be just jet lag. You'll get back into it soon." Joe offered him a cigarette, and stood there, taking another drag on his cancer stick.
He exhaled, looking over the green scenery that was associated with England.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Joe asked. He handed Mike the keys. "You drive, I'll man the gun. Lets see if we can find a town to loot before we take off, eh?"
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Post by God Mike on Jun 8, 2011 11:52:15 GMT -7
"Don't worry, mate. It might be just jet lag. You'll get back into it soon." Joe said as he sat down next to Mike, patting him on the shoulder and offering a cigarette, which Mike declined. Instead, he just took a deep breath and looked over the place.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Joe asked, and Mike was very surprised to see him holding out the car keys for him. "You drive, I'll man the gun. Lets see if we can find a town to loot before we take off, eh?" Slowly, Mike took the keys and stood up, scratching his head.
"So, let me get this straight... You don't let me drive when I'm wide awake, but you'd let me drive after staying awake for Raptor Jesus knows how long, flying a massive monstrosity of a plane from New York to England?"
He shook his head in confusion. "You're a strange guy, mate. Very strange. But sure, let me just go get my pack, and we'll be off." Whistling to himself, Mike walked back up the ramp to his backpack, which was hanging near the side door that Joe had left through.
He put on his backpack, then strapped his two ninja-to to the inside of the pack. "Alright! Mike is ready to rock, and Erik is asleep, as far as I know. Let's go!"
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Post by Generalfoley on Jun 8, 2011 12:04:17 GMT -7
"So, let me get this straight... You don't let me drive when I'm wide awake, but you'd let me drive after staying awake for Raptor Jesus knows how long, flying a massive monstrosity of a plane from New York to England?" Joe shrugged, a small, comical smile gracing his face.
"Yeah, pretty much." Joe chuckled as Mike shook his head.
"You're a strange guy, mate. Very strange. But sure, let me just go get my pack, and we'll be off." Joe nodded, buttoning his shoulder holster closed as he climbed into the bed of the Jeep, pulling though the turret ring.
"Alright! Mike is ready to rock, and Erik is asleep, as far as I know. Let's go! Joe chuckled at Mike's enthusiasm, then thought that he was chuckling too much.
'Must be the scenery,' Joe thought to himself as he grabbed hold of the gun. He patted the cabin's roof twice, telling Mike he was ready to go. He switched the radio he had on to channel two, and told Mike through the window, "Channel Two on the raido, mate."
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Post by God Mike on Jun 8, 2011 12:12:26 GMT -7
"Yeah, pretty much." Mike couldn't help but chuckle as he heard Joe's response. He seemed to be rubbing off on his Irish friend. Good! Joe was usually way too serious and planning for his own good.
Mike hummed merrily as he got into the Zombie Wrecker. He was about to start the car, then grunted to himself and reached under the seat, taking out two HE grenades. He didn't want them under the seat, after all... Whistling nonchalantly, he dumped them out of the back window at Joe's feet.
"Channel Two on the raido, mate." Joe said, tapping the roof of the car. Mike reached into his pocket and took out his earpiece, which was connected to his radio, and put it on, before switching to Channel Two on the radio.
Mike cleared his throat, and decided to test it. He took a deep breath, and then... "TESTING!" he yelled into the mouthpiece attached to the earpiece, grinning. "Did you hear that, mate?" he asked curiously.
Cackling, Mike started the car and drove down the loading ramp. Alright... His gut was telling him to go left, which was, judging by the position of the sun, north. North was good. Nodding to himself, he drove off.
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Post by Generalfoley on Jun 8, 2011 13:00:48 GMT -7
Joe heard two clanks at his feet, and Mike whistling nonchalantly. The young Irishman looked down to see two unarmed HE grenades stopping at his feet, and he sighed.
"Son of a bitch!" He exclaimed, betraying what appeared to be a calm exterior. He looked left to right before he whistled innocently as he slid the grenades to the left, towards Mike's side, and stuffed them under one of the bags they had with them.
"TESTING!" Mike yelled into the mic, causing Joe to wince at the volume. He blinked several times before Mike said, "Did you hear that, mate?" Joe's eye twitched before he kicked the area of the bed behind where Mike was sitting.
"Not funny, Mike!" Joe said, but he chuckled nonetheless. Damn scenery. He heard Mike's cackles as he headed North. The sun was hidden by the clouds, but he estimated it was early morning. Joe put on his gas mask and goggles; the goggles because it was windy, the gas mask because it was cold. Good thing he left his hat in his bag, otherwise he would've lost it in the wind. Joe started aiming around with the turret, getting a feel for it. It was, he admitted, kinda fun. Joe stopped wheeling around the turret as he turned around and went into the cabin through the back window, taking his seat next to Mike.
"You know, it's not as fun out there when there's nothing happening." Joe said as he opened the glove compartment, pulling out a map of England he had stashed in there before the flight. He figured they were heading North, so that meant...
Joe turned to Mike.
"There's a town two mile's North West. Let's go see if we can find something there."
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Post by God Mike on Jun 9, 2011 5:16:35 GMT -7
"Not funny, Mike!"
Mike grinned to himself as he drove. "It was to me," he commented happily. He looked back to see Joe spinning around with the turret, apparently just how fun it was. Mike couldn't wait to see how he acted after firing that beast.
Soon enough, though, Joe climbed back inside, sliding into the passenger seat. "You know, it's not as fun out there when there's nothing happening." Mike hummed to himself in agreement as they entered the forest to the north of the airstrip, while Joe looked over a map. "There's a town two mile's North West. Let's go see if we can find something there."
"Well then, my friend, I guess we'd better hope that this road goes north-west, 'cause from what I can see, this only goes north so far," Mike said. He was taking it surprisingly slow today. Well, slow for him, which was about above average speed. Alright, so maybe he was doing fifty, but that wasn't all that much, was it?
"Wait..." Mike muttered as he took his eyes off the road as they tore down the forest road. "This speedometer is in Miles Per Hour... Huh... That means that I'm going, er... let's see... 1.6 miles to a kilometer... multiplied by fifty..."
Mike turned sharply to the left as the road forked to the left and right. The math finished in his head, and his eyes widened. "Holy shit! I'm doing freakin' eighty!" he exclaimed in shock, but he didn't slow down. After all, they'd made it this long doing fifty (or eighty, since they were in Europe, better to use kilometers, so as to not upset any zombiefied locals) so continuing to do so wouldn't hurt, right?
The car suddenly jerked as a rather loud crash was heard, and Mike looked up in time to see a blood splatter over the hood, a bit of it splattering the windshield. He didn't stop, however, but just scratched his head. "Was that a deer, or a zombie?"
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Post by Generalfoley on Jun 16, 2011 5:43:50 GMT -7
"Well then, my friend, I guess we'd better hope that this road goes north-west, 'cause from what I can see, this only goes north so far." Joe sighed as he looked back at the map. He had heard Mike talking to himself, but his attention wasn't on that. Nor was it the map. Nay, it was something far more trivial.
'I need a new hat,' Joe thought to himself. Indeed, in the month and a half that he had worn his hat, it had gotten torn apart. Now there were a couple of holes, and more than a few singes from that one crazy guy with a flame thrower who had thought they were zombies. Thank god his sniper buddy convinced him otherwise.
So, with a scope for Joe and two very shiny lighters for Mike (one Zippo classic, one butane) as an apology, the two groups had parted ways, with one going back to the Bunker, and the other heading for the spot with the most flammable zombies and highest buildings. Vegas.
Joe felt a jerk of the Jeep, throwing him out of his memories and making him jump, almost ripping the paper. "Holy shit! I'm doing freakin' eighty!" Joe looked at Mike in confusion for a moment until he made the connection. Eighty kilometers. Oh well.
Joe felt the Jeep jerk, and saw a human-ish form hit the hood before it flew over the cabin and the bed. Joe looked back and saw a zombie flattened across the road. "Was that a deer, or a zombie?" Joe chuckled as he looked back at Mike.
"Zombie." Joe said with a smile. He put the map away, watching the country-side.
An hour later, Joe saw a small crop of buildings. He patted Mike on the arm. "That's the town, right there." Joe took out a pair of binoculars, looking at the town. "Well, it's in relatively good shape, from what I can tell. One of the few towns that hadn't taken the brunt of the Outbreak."
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Post by God Mike on Jun 16, 2011 19:19:31 GMT -7
"Zombie." Mike gave a sigh of relief. He really didn't want to harm any of God's creatures. Okay, so maybe he wanted to kill the zombies, who were human... and maybe rats... and cockroaches... and bears... and wolves... and... Okay, so he wanted to kill most of God's creatures, but not deer!
...okay, maybe deer, too...
About an hour later, they reached the edge of the forest, and saw a town in the distance. Joe patted Mike on the arm. "That's the town, right there." Mike squinted. It sucked that in the last scavenging adventure, Joe had chosen a pair of binoculars, and all Mike got was a piece of shit, small as shit, Colt Anaconda... "Well, it's in relatively good shape, from what I can tell. One of the few towns that hadn't taken the brunt of the Outbreak."
"Either that, or they just didn't have any time to create barricades for the zombies to break through... or they just gave up," Mike suggested with a shrug. Never judge a book by its cover, after all. The more peaceful something looked, the more dangerous it was.
Mike stuck his head out of the window and sniffed as they approached the town. "I smell..." Pulling his head back in, he sighed. "I can't smell anything wrong." Mike hated this part... After all, if nothing seemed wrong, then everything was wrong...
Mike looked at Joe. "You know what that usually means, don't you?" he asked. He really didn't think he wanted to deal with any zombies today, and hoped that this was the one time in hundred where something actually wasn't wrong.
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Post by Generalfoley on Jun 20, 2011 13:44:54 GMT -7
"Either that, or they just didn't have any time to create barricades for the zombies to break through... or they just gave up." Joe nodded. He saw a lot of that, in the beginning of the outbreak, before he saw the bunker. People just sitting against a tree, giving up, letting zombies eat them. He heard most of them scream out otherwise when it happened, but that wasn't was scared Joe, back then.
It was the ones who didn't make a sound.
Joe shuddered at the memories. Five years was a lot for someone to experience, in this new world. He needed to stop calling it new, though. After five years, it had to stop being new and start being... He didn't know, the new norm? Joe sighed, before stuffing the binoculars back in the bag. The Irishman saw Mike sticking his head out the window, smelling the air. He had this weird... thing, where he tried to smell the air for clues. It worked most of the time, so Joe wasn't one to complain. That nose had saved his hide many times.
"I smell..." Joe was kind of expectant. He wanted to see what Mike's famous nose picked up this time. "I can't smell anything wrong." Joe sighed. Damn. Now something was bound to go wrong. It was like the universe had it out for them or something.
"You know what that usually means, don't you?" Joe sighed again, and pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut. Bad things were going to happen now. Joe looked at Mike.
"And I'm the one who jinxes us all the time?" Joe asked as he pulled out his pistol from his shoulder holster. They had just pulled up to the town entrance. The Irishman looked at Mike, then back at the town. It was more damaged than he had thought. Cars were overturned, a few flames here and there. It was as if it had just been raided by the Undead a few days ago.
Joe opened his door, hopping out. He glanced at Mike before grabbing his bag and a flashlight. "You ready to go, mate?"
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