Surviving: The End (1x1 zombie survival)

[Azseth]

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The year is 2017. The world finally seemed to be stabilizing. There was a terribly harsh winter in 2016 that finally broke. U.S. forces had fully pulled out of Iraq and Afghanistan only to deploy to Syria. Tensions between both Iran and North Korea had dissolved for the most part.


There was a long spell of relative peace and economic prosperity over most parts of the world. Then, the Rising happened on Valentine's Day 2017 (there are several other terms for this day that are used). All over the world and without warning, the same reports started coming in. Headlines read "The Dead are Rising!" Or "Zombies? Outbreak or Hoax?" At first, it happened slowly as governments, with the help of media outlets, downplayed the whole thing. Things started very, very slowly, but it seemed like when the floodgates opened, there was no stopping the force coming out.


Within weeks a handful of smaller countries were overrun. When there was no use denying it, governments tried to initiate quarantine procedures. To make things worse, Pakistan launched a nuclear strike on India. Only moments after that, Iran sent a nuclear device that ended up landing but not detonating for some unknown reason. Israel then attacked Lebanon in full force while dozens of other minor conflicts erupted all over the world.


All of these because the world was looking for someone to blame for the Rising.


It took less than 5 weeks before even the strongest, most secure governments fell, absolved, or simply went silent. This was called The Apocalypse, The End, or Day Zero, and it coincided with the day that the last two governments had any activity, those being Poland and New Zealand.


The RP takes place November 3rd, 2017.


That is about 9 months since The Rising and Day Zero. The story takes place in Missouri, and while it's not a particularly cold or harsh winter there, it is winter nonetheless, and it's cold. Much snow hasn't fallen however, but in almost every area in the state, there are several inches on the ground.


There is one group of survivors, those that have been around since Day Zero, fighting and living, trying to survive.


The other group is in a CDC center on what was Fort Leonard Wood. This facility was a project put together by the CDC and other branches. This facility houses individuals who are there because they have SOME reason the government thought they'd be an asset after the world came limping out of the zombie problem. They were to stay there until given the "all clear sign" and if necessary, help rebuild because of their abilities. Some were farmers, other chemical biologists, and others somewhere in between. These individuals were rounded up in the first 7 days of the outbreak and moved to the center. Before most of the "bad" stuff went down, they were in the building, in individual rooms with absolutely NO contact with anyone outside of the room, or any knowledge of what happened outside of the room.


The only contact they have with people outside are the building's staff, which they communicate with via several speaker/comm systems.


(( SOME OOC STUFF. At the start of the RP, the characters in the CDC facility have been left alone and unattended for several days, which is unusual. Eerily unusual. Anyone with common sense assumes the worse. Then, one day, on November 3rd, there is a loud, distinct CLICK as the door manually unlocks. I will post first in this setting to establish more and there will be a special OOC section for this group with notes.


One thing to consider is that there will be a HUUUUGE difference in the people outside the facility, and those inside. Those outside know what's going on, and they also have been in the shit for months, while those in the CDC can only assume what happened, and have not had to deal with the world outside in all it's horror. ))

 

[Azseth]

Flashback...


December 18th 2015.


The man sat at his desk inside the CIA South Regional Office in Oklahoma City, going over the diagnostics of a test server that they'd be shipping off to Europe. It was a typical boring day, starting with going through emails, prioritizing them and then scheduling the day and rest of the week, knowing the emails tomorrow would change the majority of the schedule anyway. Thus was the life of Jon Erikson, a Computer Maintenance Tech for the CIA. Although the title sounded mundane, there was a lot to what Jon did and on top of that, he was amazing at his job. He would build, install, set up, and then integrate servers all over the world, servers that needed to be isolated from the public, safe from the highest levels of intrusion and be networked to the upper levels of the US governments, along with that of other nations on occasion.


A lot of money was spent on Jon because he was aggressive with his job, opting to go well beyond the normal CIA book of "how to train a tech" and get involved in things like cyber security, hacking and staying up to date on what was going on in the cyber world at all times. Initially, the higher ups didn't want take the time, or spend the money, training him. That was until Jon went home and in 8 hours, hacked into a CIA database and collected all of the personal data on the director of operations himself. He sent his boss an email asking, "how much would terrorists be willing to pay for this on e-bay?"


As soon as the investigation was over and Jon was released, he was given a lot more flexibility in his schedule.


Some days were simply answering emails and trouble shooting remotely, and on those days he DID feel like a glorified comp tech, but they were also a bit of a relief from the every day stresses. And to be honest, Jon didn't like dealing with people. He preferred to do things along and would rather work remotely so he just didn't have to deal with people and their daily crap.


He looked outside and threw on a spring jacket, getting ready to head to lunch when the PING sound of an incoming email could be heard. The title was "SERVER - OCONUS" and Jon immediately groaned. He opened and read the email and his response was a somewhat loud, and annoyed "mother fucker." A few other people in the office looked at him for a moment, but one of the guys in the office who Jon actually talked to, Austin Boggs, came up over to him and clapped him on the back, asking "what's the good news?"


Jon threw his hand towards the screen, indicating to the email. "They're sending me to Turkey. Tomorrow. Un-fucking-believable."


Austin simply laughed at that and again gave him another clap on the back. "Oh man. Happy Christmas man. I guess that's why you get paid the big bucks, huh Mr I-Build-All-The-Top-Secret-Computer?"


He stared at the screen, shaking his head for a moment longer then sighed before turning to look at Austin. "Well. Looks like you're going to take me out and buy me lunch, since I'm going to be leaving early to pack my shit."


"Man we're CIA, didn't they teach you to keep your go back packed at all times?"


"Yeah, remember I had to go to Mexico a last week? My shit isn't even clean yet. And you're such a tool, those go bags are for when shit hits the fan. That's my stealth, ninja shit. Not my Fixing-Server attire."


"Yeah, because when shit hits the fan, they're going to call the CIA South and say 'quick, we need some of your deadliest techs to come and save the day!' Happens all the time Jon. We're all actually a bunch of super spies, ready to go take down super villains at a moment's notice."


Jon shoved Austin, timing it perfectly so that Boggs was pushed into and almost knocked over the big water jug on its dispenser. "Don't kill my dreams, asshole. I'm going to be the first person in this office with a confirmed kill."


"Yeah, confirmed to kill a bunch of time," Austin shot back as the two entered the elevator, heading towards lunch.

 

[Arlear]

Will





Will gave a sigh as he slipped out of bed. One could only slice so many fruits apart on their phone before they got bored, after all! Setting said phone aside on his pillow, he dropped to the ground to begin his daily workout routine- Trapped in a cell for unknown reasons or not, he wanted to keep the figure he'd worked most of his life for! Through middle and highschool, at least. And so began the push-ups, the sit-ups, crunches, and whatever else have you. So used to the routine as he was by now, he let his mind wander, thinking of what had brought him here in the first place.


He had just been returning from a movie with his brother. It hadn't been a -long- walk, really. After all... It was the whitehouse. They had their own movie theater, and such. They pair were laughing as they wandered through the halls towards the kitchens, seeking out a snack after the film as they laughed at the various things they had seen in it. How funny this actor or that actor had been. Normal things, despite their rather abnormal life. The both of them had gotten fairly good at ignoring their shadows by then. The Secret Service- Protecting the president and his family restlessly. They respected the men, they really did.


But they made horrid conversationalists. And it was near impossible to have a normal highschool life for Will -or- his elder brother with them constantly in their shadow. When trained agents dog your every move, people aren't exactly raring to sit next to you at lunch. Even their extracurricular activities were followed, and the only space they were allowed to have was "Go stand on the -other- side of the room, please?".


Will had just given Felix a solid slug on the shoulder for saying.... Gods, he couldn't remember now, but whatever it was, the cheery mood halted a moment later as one of the agents following along with them reached out to tap Will's shoulder.


"Sir, your father would like to see you. Come with me, please."


After a collective sigh from both Will and Felix, they said their farewells and went off separately- Felix to go get his snack, Will to go see his father. He rarely got to see him without practically -scheduling- it, anymore. And even then it was "Mr. President" of "Father", never Dad. Not since the election. He knew his father still loved him, knew he still cared. But running an entire country didn't leave a lot of free time to go hunting with the kids.


Soon enough, Will poked his head into the office he never thought he'd step in until a few years previous. The Oval Office, every bit as impressive as the first time he'd seen it.


"You wanted to see me?"


He blinked at the people inside. He'd assumed this would just be a chat with his pops, but his mother was there too, as was the head of security, and a man he vaguely recognized as being affiliated with the CIA. Or was it the FBI? He had visited on occasion. All three were intently watching a screen, and Will only caught a few words. Something about the Rising. Spreading virus, or some other such thing. He'd been hearing about it for days now. Zombies, he thought. Silly, but with the entire world rising up in the news about it, even Will was starting to get an itch at the back of his neck. However, once he announced himself the T.V was muted fairly quickly, and "Mr. President" gestured for Will to come in.


"Will, there you are. We're... Sending you somewhere, for a while..."





While Will certainly remembered the rest of that conversation, he shook his head to clear it from his mind. He didn't like remembering that part. It had sucked. Miserably. He finished up with his usual routine before flipping up onto his feet and cracking his back with a sigh, heading for the tiny shower that his cell-room kept for him.


Terry and Fuad





Terry poked at the fire with a long stick, frowning as he shifted a log here or gave the fire room to breath there. He grumbled something under his breath about being 'too old for this shit' before glancing up to his companion across the fire.


"You're still an asshole, Fuad. I'm telling you, if we'd stopped two campsites ago we'd be -much- more comfortable. There was moss to burn and pine needles to sit on back there. But nooooo, you just -had- to make us keep walking."





After a moment, he simply sighed, picking up a pebble to fling in Fuad's general direction- The smaller man just ducked under it with a snicker.

 

[Azseth]

Somewhere in Southern Missouri.


Fuad hunkered down with his back to a rock as Terry started *SURPRISE* grumbling and complaining, and deftly moved his head to avoid being hit by the small rock. They two had been together for a few months now but two things stood out to Fuad. One, it felt that they had been together some span of immeasurable time and second, it felt as if life started in February. Yes, it was only 9 months since the world first was introduced to the zombie threat that swept across the world like wildfire.


But it felt like that reality and Terry were the only things Fuad remembered. And the zombies.


Even thinking back to the first days of the outbreak, things were a blur and fuzzy. Part of it was shock, but part of it was that most of the time, in THIS life, THAT life doesn't mean a thing. It too was dead.


Here the two were, complaining, walking, eating, fighting each other, fighting the undead, fighting the living, and it seemed to both of them that it was just the way it was going to be. And honestly, they both liked it.


Over the last several months, there had been other people. They'd come. They'd gone. Most died. Some simply left. Thinking back, Fuad wasn't sure if recently they were staying away from areas that would possibly be inhabited to avoid dangers (of both living and the unliving) or simply to avoid meeting people and the inevitable loss.


It was something they hadn't spoken about, probably wouldn't, but that they both just kind of DID at this point.


So here they were in the woods, about to settle in for the night, and about to have another go at things. "Oh stop. You're all pee and vinegar." It wasn't uncommon that he butcher American slang terms, and sometimes, he did it knowingly just to piss Terry off.


"There is moss on the other side of those trees. There are pine needles a dozen feet away. We'll have a fire. It'll be warm enough with you blowing off all that steam and hot air soon enough however. At least you crying and complaining is getting some air into the logs. Are you taking first watch?"


It wasn't dark yet but it was getting there. Truth be told, they were somewhat lucky because it wasn't entirely cold outside, not like it COULD be in Missouri.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


CDC Center. First floor.


The CDC center was built specifically to keep the outside out, and the inside in. People had come and gone outside, trying to gain access, and so have groups of the undead. The building had limited camera access to the outside and all 3 floors had computer/control rooms that could monitor that along with all rooms on all floors. Because of the access to those cameras, it didn’t go unnoticed weeks before when the 1st floor became compromised.


It started simple enough: a guard got sick. There were 4 guards per floor and 18 rooms, and that sick guard was put in a room to rest. Meanwhile, the other 3 guards were in a very odd situation, a situation made worse by paranoia. Had they known it was a simply flu bug and acted accordingly, this day would have had been like the many others prior: uneventful.


Today however, two of the guards argued with another about the condition of the sick guard, and the nature of the illness and things got extremely heated. As the argument escalated, the two guards pulled weapons on the third and many shots were fired, and those shots resulted in the one being instantly killed and one of the duo being wounded pretty badly. Prior to helping the other guard who was shot, the man went into the room and executed the sleeping, ill guard while he slept.


All of this was seen in various parts by the guards who happened to be watching on the other two levels. While they watched, they could not hear, and that made it all the more difficult to know what was REALLY happening.


After that, both the 2nd and 3rd floor guard opted to do nothing. They had their floors, their orders, and their lives to worry about, and one thing about the security at the building is that once any floor initiated unlock procedures for the EXTERNAL doors, all doors on ALL floors would be opened. This was not yet the case. All wasn’t lost.


Not yet…


With one guard wounded badly and his friend watching, they decided to try something. As the other two floors watched, the unharmed man, the guard with the last name Morris, opened one of the individual doors. They could see the two engaging in dialogue, Morris and the middle aged white man inside. The man seemed to be agitated and asking questions, pointing to Morris or the door. The man threw his arms up in an annoyed fashion and when he moved towards the door, Morris pulled his handgun and shot him twice.


Even though no floors were allowed any audio contact with one another, both the 2nd and 3rd floor teams were having the same conversation: what do we do? Do we go down? If we DO go down, ALL access doors to ALL levels, and the outside, will be opened. What do WE do then?


They watched as Morris moved to two more rooms, and what they didn’t know is that he was looking for someone who was some sort of doctor or could help the other guard. The second room, there was no shooting, but he severely beat a man to the point he’d need a high level of immediate medical attention or most likely die. The third room, another two shots.


At this point, things on the other two floors got more intense. What happened in the fourth room is what changed everything. Morris opened the door and entered, turning on the light as he did. Sleeping naked on the bed was a woman, a rather attractive woman, more attractive after being only among 3 other guys for the past 9 months.


She moved and he grabbed her, and they struggled, but she couldn’t stop him from climbing on top of her.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


CDC Center. Third floor control room.


On the third floor, there was arguing in the control room. There was a female and 3 males, and while they were not yelling, they were very intense and animated. “We can’t go,” said a tall hispanic man. “We have to keep THIS floor safe, and keep each other safe. If we unlock access doors, that’s it. Nothing to stop anyone from coming in. Or anything.”


A shorter caucasian guard, Frankson, spoke up next, as Morris entered the second room and started arguing with the man. “We’re gunna have to leave anyone, let’s face it. We’re running out of food, so are they inside the rooms. Do wanna keep people safe, or yourself safe? If we wanna keep these people alive, we need to get them out and we need to get out of here. I’d rather move out there than starve to death in here.”


As they spoke, Morris proceeded to beat the man and leave him on the floor. The female spoke up next. “I don’t know. I say we wait. We’re safe here, we can let things calm down on the first floor and see what happens. Sanchez is right.”


“Mareno. He’s killing people. He’s killed, what, 3? Beat a guy. At this rate, soon, there will be what, 20 dead people. 20 dead people.”


The last man, white and taller than all, and older, finally spoke up. “No. We’re not going. Not now. We don’t know if help is going to come. We don’t know what will happen to us if we go down there. We don’t know what will happen outside that door. We can go when food is really low, but right now we can ration.” They talked, but all watched Morris walk out of the third room after gunning down another person.


“Sorry Frankson, but that’s it. 3 to 1, and it makes sense.” They watched the light come on in the fourth room and watched the scene unfold. As Morris climbed on top of her, she fought, and he fought back, hitting her and eventually putting the gun to her head.


They watched, about to talk more, Frankson getting more angry and Mareno about to maybe change her mind when there were a series of loud hisses, clunks, thunks and bangs.


Someone on the second floor initiated the unlocks. Three of the four guards stood there stupidly, almost panicked while the last man cursed under his breath. “We need to barricade the doors, now. NOW!” The second command snapped them back to reality and they moved to the door and hallway that led to the stairs going down. “Brown, Mareno, Sanchez, I’m leaving, I’m going down there to help.”


No other words were said, Frankson simply ran down and they silently looked for whatever they could to block the doors, stacking shelves, boxes, chair, mattresses--literally anything they could. The doors opened in so that was one advantage they had in being able to barricade the doors.


When they were satisfied with the immediate barricade, Brown, Mareno and Sanchez stood there for a moment, still silent. Finally Brown, seeming to step into the role of leader for now, issued his orders. “Ok. We have to open the doors to the rooms, get people out and explain what’s going on. After that, we’ll see what’s happening below and make a decision.”


Sanchez nodded and Mareno said “got it,” before stepping off.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


CDC Center. Third floor. Room of Jon Erikson


Jon laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling again while mentally mulling over things. While most people wouldn’t have noticed or thought anything was wrong or amiss, Jon felts it the last two days. First it was just a few less communications than normal, and today, it was even less still and a barely noticeable stress in the voices along with a rush to get off the comm device. It could be anything, or it could be nothing.


However, his training instilled in him that it was always better to err on the side of it being “something.” He had his bag packed along with his supplies, that had been done since day one, and he simply waited and rested, not expelling any energy in the event he’d need it later, while also catching up on rest. It was quiet in the room, the only sound was the occasional air conditioning vent making noise when the unit flipped on. Because it was so quiet, it wasn’t a surprise that suddenly out of no where, the barely audible CLICK screamed at Jon from across the room. He knew it was the door, but he didn’t move immediately, waiting to see if something was going to happen. For the first 30 seconds, nothing did….

 

[Arlear]

Will





It happened just after Will finished with his shower- He was sitting about in his jeans, toweling off his hair and face when he heard it. THe sound was distantly familiar. A click. Tiny, metallic, barely audible and yet just managing to register in his ears. The sound of a lock. He froze in place, staring at the door and blinking. They had always knocked him out with gas before entering, before now. Not that he'd have made a run for it in the first place. But he'd never been -awake- for the doors to unlock before. And yet somehow, he knew that was the source of the noise. His thoughts raced. Should he open the door himself? Wait for somebody to enter and explain? Unlike most in the facility, he had at least a -vague- idea of its purpose, why he was there, and what might be happening in the world outside. His father hadn't explained much... But he had explained enough for Will to be extremely wary of the door unlocking, especially with no warning from the speaker he had used previously to talk to the people running the building. It was their silence over the past day or two- Well, borderline silence and lack of warning- that set him on edge. Some instinctual flicker in the back of his head, telling him that opening the door might just be dangerous.


And so he did what made him feel safe- He threw on some socks and his boots, lacing them up and reaching under his bed for the box he kept his personal belongings in, what ones he'd been allowed to bring. Not bothering with a shirt, he rummaged through the items and pulled free two things- The pre-packed bag he'd kept on his father's suggestion, and the long, slender box in which he kept his bow, arrows, and knife. It had taken a large number of 'my pops is the president' card plays for them to let him keep the weapons. But they held a great sentimental value to him... And he just felt safer knowing where they were. He removed his knife from the box and strapped it onto his belt, but left the bow inside. He wasn't exactly expecting to need to defend himself... The knife just made him feel safer. And so he slipped on a shirt and stood a ways back from the door... Waiting however brief a time it would be before somebody came in to explain.


Terry





Terry snorted derisively, glancing around. They already -had- a fire. He just would have liked to have moss to start it. Fuad's pointing out that there was some just out of sight only served to irk him further... That and his butchering of 'piss and vinegar'.


"-Piss- and vinegar, you foreign fuck. Piss and vinegar. If you're going to call me a sour old codger at least do it properly."





He sighed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, idly poking at the logs again.


"But yeah, I'll take first watch. Keep your damn shotgun handy this time. I don't need to worry about your scrawny little hide scampering around looking for it in the dark if we get found by zeds again. That almost got us killed last time."





Despite his irritated tone, Terry never could hide the fact that he relied on Fuad, trusted him, and actually -did- care if he got eaten over something as simple as a shotgun not being in arms reach in the middle of the night.

 

[Azseth]

Somewhere in Southern Missouri.


Fuad laid back against the rock; the earth, grass, and leaves were soft enough to get comfortable on fairly easily. It was cold, but the ground hadn’t frozen through yet, and this was actually nice as opposed to sleeping on wet, most dirt like they had to during the warmer summer.


“Piss, pee, urine, it’s all the same thing, just different.” Sure the sentence didn’t make sense, but he was ok with that--especially because he could almost see Terry bristle at the statement. “What almost got us killed last time was you taking a shit and farting so loud that every zed from here to Canada heard it and come down on us. Talk about caught without your pants up.” He smiled to himself at that one. He closed his eyes after that, and debated taking off his boots but opted against that as they hadn’t been here long enough or taken the time to secure the area fully, and he didn’t want to get caught with his pants not up...or down, or whatever.


CDC Center. Third floor.


Mareno stopped at the door closest to the control room and knocked hard. It wasn’t that she was angry or trying to scare anyone, but the doors were made of a surprisingly strong metal alloy that despite that fact it actually wasn’t VERY thick, it was extremely hard and didn’t allow any sound through. Had the door not been unlocked and now free to move slightly, the banging wouldn’t have made any sound whatsoever.


Inside, Jon heard the odd sound, more of the door moving slightly and banging than an actual knock, and he simply yelled “come in.” It was audible from the other side, so Ashley pushed the door open and saw Jon on the bed, laying there. She was somewhat surprised by the fact that he seemed completely disinterested, it was almost shocking. Having watched him occasionally, albeirt a bit casually, he was generally somewhat active and energetic, he seemed to have a routine. He looked over at her, reading the nametag sewn onto her shirt, and nodded. “Hello officer Mareno, what’s going on?” He left it at that, not asking specifically about the entire situation as he wanted to see how she reacted and what he could make of her.


She looked around the room, oddly searching for some threat when she realized it was not necessary before asking him, “what’s your name?” He tone was casual, maybe a bit friendly, but also somewhat businesslike. She had to ask the question because she didn’t know their names, or anything about them really. He could be a millionaire, a manager at a restaurant, or a serial murderer. In their files, he was simply called “#3-1” for third floor, room 1.


He raised a brow at her odd question but the realization quickly came to him. “Oh, uh. I’m Jon. Jon Erikson.” He immediately put up his relatively nervous persona, taking a moment to clear his throat. "I was--am, a computer tech for the CIA, specializing in managing and setting up secret server systems in various places.” He rambled on slightly, tailing off quietly towards the end as he could tell she was not looking for that long of an answer.


“Ok, ok, Jon. Got it. Look Jon, get your stuff ready, there is a good chance we’re going to have to leave here, and we’re not sure about the circumstances. I need you to grab clothes, make sure to grab warm clothing appropriate for winter, and meet outside of the room. Just sit tight if we’re still getting stuff organized, ok Jon?”


“Uh, ok, yeah.” He watched as she nodded, turned and left the room. After a moment, he jumped up, drank some water, put on a jacket, and then grabbed his two bags and walked out of the door. The bags were both attached. The larger pack with most of his essentials and clothing, the smaller was attached to that bag, and this was a “go” bag, with survival essentials.


He was the only one outside so far, most likely because of the location of his room and the fact that he was ready to go, so he simply waited and looked around, trying to get some information about what was going on without actually showing that he was doing so.