The world rippled above the heat of the mid-day tarmac, and even the clouds had fled the sky for cooler climes. It was in these dog-days that even the living began to move like the walking dead — slumped, shuffling, and groaning through their duties. If he had been given the choice, this is exactly how Charles would have preferred to be spending his day. Instead, he was running as fast as his booted feet would take him over the tent-spotted fields outside the airport while trying not to drop his rifle.
He wasn’t the only one—another figure cut a swerving path thirty yards ahead of Chuck. He was moving far more deftly than Charles in shorts and an open Hawaiian shirt, and he only carried a small metal pistol which he used to clear people from his path with manic waves. Chuck didn’t expect the other man to stop running, so he saved his breath and didn’t yell. Instead, he focused on trying to plot which turns he could take to best outmaneuver his fleeing quarry; maps of tents and storage containers flashed through his head as he jumped over crates and discarded machinery. A crackle in his ear made him wince.
“Chuck … where are you?!” The voice whistled through the ear piece and died with a spit of static. Chuck pulled the microphone to his mouth and pressed the button on the side.
“He’s trying to get to the fence … Gonna cut him off … .” His words were clipped with his ragged breaths.
As he ran, Chuck pondered the absurdity of it all—the man had stolen a few bottles of narcotics and antibiotics from the med-center, and now he had to be caught. Chuck couldn’t help but think that this place made oblivion seem awful tempting; he could hardly blame the man.
Before the outbreak, we used to run around with trash bags. We used to try to make the earth prettier. It made us feel good about ourselves, or at least good enough to go back to driving our SUV’s guilt-free.
This year it was a completley different story. Instead of picking up plastic bags, I found myself dragging a rotting corpse to a bonfire.
My cousin told me we were cleaning up to, “Find the beauty in and around the Zone.” What a load of horseshit. Even if we clean up the dead Zack and the few human corpses, we’re still stuck in an airport in Syracuse. When I looked around, I still just saw classic filth, but with a few less piles of stinking flesh.
To think that when I was growing up, I didn’t think that Earth Day could get any more meaningless.
Children’s author Penn Quinn (real name Lloyd O’Keefe) continued to write stories during his time in the Blue Zone. He used his unique talents to help educate the children about the dangers that lurked beyond the fence. His stories centered around a penguin named Phil.
Here’s a few of his most recent works.
Name: John F. Meaker II
Rank: Sergeant ( Conventional Army)
Company C’s Light Lieutenant ( corpse corps)
Nickname: The LT
Former U.S. Army Special Forces Weapons Sergeant, Meaker was part of the 7Th Special forces group sent to china at the beginning of the outbreak. LlT. Meaker was bitten, only once at the battle of Yonkers, as a result he is missing his ring finger on his right hand. Rumor among Company C has it that he is immune to the infection, but in reality he cut off his finger after the tip had been bitten to stop the infection from spreading. Meaker is the typification of what a hard ass lieutenant should be, He is mean, he is bitter, tough, but fair. Refusing a job behind a desk his Company has the most volunteered assignments out of the whole corps. His image is instilled in the men he trains, they are not military, but they would make any D.I. proud.
Many personal accounts claim that the LT has killed Z’s with a single punch to the skull. Although years of military training have made him strong, he has only accomplished single punch kills with the aid of a blade he had fashioned for him after Yonkers. The blade stays hidden on the inside of his forearm, when activated it extends, so that when he makes a fist the blade protrudes out where his finger would have been. Meaker had the blade made for him shortly after yonkers by an Army engineer. The soldier who forged the blade had strict instructions to make the blade as strong as he could, thus the knife is made out of the armor used on an M1-A2 Abrams main battle tank, giving the extending knife an Olive Drab color to it.
LlT. Meaker is a proud warrior, always running headlong into his battles, always heavily outnumbered, and always succeeding. He leads his company with an iron fist, but he has lost few men as a result.
On his right shoulder the Army insignia is tattooed, embroidered ” This we’ll defend”
Commander of C Company.
You finish the job, John.
So I was laying on the couch watching Man Vs. Wild when it hit me. I’m thinking the name Billy Neilsen. Former ‘cuse football star who after a couple mediocre years in the NFL was cut and left to do what all failed athletes do…. motivational speaking. Obviously bitter about his failed football career, he could become a decently entertaining guy. Any feedback would be appreciated.
Real Name: Mark Teever
Background: Mark was a television and radio traffic announcer for WSYR news when the outbreak began. He served in the national guard and spent a tour in Iraq as a communications officer. His military background (albeit minor) coupled with his communications training (SU Maxwell School of Communications graduate of 91) made him an ideal member of the Corpse Corps. His primary duty is to watch for zombie movement patterns from the top of the Mony Building (Codenamed ‘Olympus’ from which Crosshair rains down his lightning bolts), which he reports to Clipboard back at Central.
Is Brooks a woman?
<<This one needs a lot of help.>>
Real name: Tom Slater
Former Army Special Forces captain. Current head of Corpse Corps. Responsible for perimeter security and excursionary forces. Does not leave the compound under Brooks’ orders. (“It’s a colonel’s job to stay at HQ.” “Then you’re a colonel.” “No, I work for a living.”) Volunteered to stay behind along with a sergeant–the only two good things to come from the mass migration west. Loyal to Brooks and the Zone, but may clash with the realities of a civilian government. Did ROTC training at Syracuse University. Would bleed orange, red, white, and blue if he ever bled. He does not. Seems to be the only member of the Zone who always looks clean.
Has four lieutenants who are not military-trained but picked by him for leadership qualities.
All people in the Zone call him Captain, except for Brooks, who refers to him as Captain Slater.
<<Please improve on this.>>
William Krezner, MD, SUNY Syracuse, 1983.
58 year-old widower with no children. Wife died before the plague.
Former general practitioner housed in an impersonal medical building in Fayetteville.
Heads a medical staff of three other doctors, six nurses, and numerous trained-on-the-spot physician’s assistants and orderlies.
Warm, charming, twinkling-eyed and friendly. Invites confidence. Humorous. Constantly wears a bowtie. Secretly relieved to be practicing medicine and not having to worry about insurance or salary.
While he has limited surgical exposure (sutures and stitches) he has extensive medical and psychological experience. While called Krezner, everyone, even Clipboard refers to him as Doctor Krezner or Doc when speaking to him directly.
Extremely considered about malnutrition and water cleanliness as a long-term problem. Has turned both into off-duty hobbies. Like Clipboard, he never seems to be not working.