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Post by Bradley Harper on Apr 21, 2009 18:27:40 GMT
It had been a long weekend, Bradley was almost out of food which was a pity since he had enough liquids to last the coming week.
Picking up an empty black and grey backpack, Bradley felt his index finger run over the metal pocket knife as he edged closer to the apartment door and pulled down on the handle.
The corridors in the old building looked even worse in the current situation. The incident had made everything look a lot worse even though technically he hadn't heard anybody else in the same building as him even though he had heard other survivors when he went out raiding for food and drink.
Jogging through the building and out of the main entrance, Bradley headed over to the old French restaurant. He had doubts about there being any food there at all but it didn't hurt to check.
The trip there was surprisingly quiet and he had time to check out hiding spots along the way. The streets were quiet, void of life. There were usually noises whenever he went gathering but today nothing, not even the low moan of the forsaken.
Jogging across the pavement the French restaurant came into view, it's windows either broken or boarded up. The front door splintered.
Taking his backpack off his right shoulder, The private eye entered the run down restaurant, his intention clear as he passed the rows of tables and headed towards the kitchen.
Now the kitchen was a mess and had obviously been raided earlier but there were some foods laying around. Jams, hard biscuits and sweets.
It wasn't the best but anything would do in the current situation.
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Post by Infected on Apr 21, 2009 19:11:23 GMT
Something stirred on the floor above La Petit Foie, a head slowly turning from atop a seemingly inert squatting figure. Its mouth opened and nostrils flared, as if testing the air for the source of what had disturbed it. At some point, it had been a tall woman - but little more could be told of her features, bloodstained and slowly decomposing as they were.
A torn and grimy blouse just covered her upper body, a ripped skirt her lower, down to bare feet. This became slowly recognisable as the Infected raised itself to a more erect stance, still hunched slightly, tensed and ready - as always, surprisingly quicker than it would have been expected of the seemingly witless dead.
She was still in the early stages of Infection, flushed with the new life of undeath, and moved quickly to the window to peer down into the street, cocking her head to allow her one good eye to focus on the man entering the French Restaurant below. A low moan uttered from her throat, almost unconsciously, and with startling quickness she dropped to the street a storey below.
With a light ooomph of forced exhaled breath, she turned and looked at the splintered doorframe, mouth opening once more, wider, shrieking, as she leapt at it, clawing with her hands at the wood, it giving way to a substantial hole at her weight - not quite enough for her to pass through, yet, her prey tantalisingly close and just visible.
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Post by Bradley Harper on Apr 21, 2009 20:27:21 GMT
Digging his pocket knife into a unlabeled can, Bradley held the tin to his nose and felt himself gag. The smell was terrible and the contents inside must have been off for at least a fortnight.
Throwing the full tin of meatballs to one side, the private eye realized that there was nothing left.
He was about to leave when the door pushed inwards and the loan moan of the forsaken reached the private eyes ears. There wasn't exactly much the man could do with this pocket knife however the thought occurred to him that he was in a kitchen and kitchen do have knives....sharp ones to say the least.
Slipping the backpack over his shoulder, Bradley searched the cupboards for anything he could use. Ceramic plates and the odd blunt kitchen utensil was all the man could find until he found a big frying pan. That would come in handy.
Still the dark haired man didn't exactly want to fight the creature one on one, he wasn't the skilled attacker even when he was armed with a heavy frying pan.
The kitchen however did have a way out just behind the walk in fridge.
Topping a dish rack, Bradley made his way towards the only exit available to him.
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Post by Infected on Apr 21, 2009 21:22:11 GMT
The door collapsed inwards, splinters falling in a heavy rain to the bare, dusty floor. The woman Infected fell inside, screeching again with a terrifyingly chilling, piercing volume - her mouth open to reveal rotted gums and blood stained teeth. It stopped to shriek at Bradley once more, fixing him with a particularly hungry, demented look, then leapt towards him, springing from back legs with hands outstretched in the manner of the more recently Infected ferals.
Landing atop one of the few tables still standing upright in the restaurants main area, it readied itself for another jump, which judging by the first would bring it inside the kitchen. And these Stage 1 Infected could run as well - as fast if not faster than an ordinary person, so Bradley would either have to start running quickly....or fight.....
The woman snarled, tensing for the next jump.
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Post by Bradley Harper on Apr 26, 2009 19:53:22 GMT
Feeling the hefty weighing frying pan in his hand, Bradley turned to face the creature. It was a lose lose situation. If he managed to get out onto the street then the zombie would chase him and if he stayed here then he would need to fend it off. The choice was clear all of a sudden.
Turning on his heels, Bradley faced the female zombie as it crouched ready to leap at the man. The private eye wasn't the most capable of fighters but it didn't mean instinct didn't help.
Bradley wanted to end this chase before it even began, he had evaded these creatures before but that was when he had a head start and they usually did catch up with him but each time he was lucky enough to have found a good place to hide.
Now though that bitch was coming through the door way, Bradley swung the frying pan and the sound of a cracking echoed around the mans brain.
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Post by Infected on Apr 26, 2009 20:22:20 GMT
Her momentum took her off to one side. The pan caught her sharply over the ear and blood spreyed from an unmarked crack under her hair as the 'zombie' ran headlong into a second door. It opened and she spiralled onto the floor like a rag-doll. For a moment she squirmed, like a trapped snake and tried to scream. Something was still human within her - the feeling of pain. Thick, black blood poured from her head as her eyes faded in color. The Undeath seemed to draw from the wound onto the floor, along with a foul smell.
Now the building was the quiet after the storm, with 'fresh' blood spreyed up a wall and a new corpse in it's halls. Yet it welcomed the silence...
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