ATG
Banned
+5,233|6945|Global Command
Zombie Wars #9

Code:

 The Four Winds
North
Many things had happened since The Others had come.
Their bodies had changed. The tissues in their skulls had been in a state of semi constant flux. They could walk upright, and talk with men. The fur had become thin and now it felt good to wear clothes like the former masters. The shapes and lines that made the language of men on paper now came together and said something. The bitches gave birth every nine weeks. They had a natural proclivity for tools and computers and in the space of a year, had become mechanical geniuses. Their minds absorbed knowledge with the same sort of zeal as the old ones among them that still lived and looked like regular dogs had once chased frisbees. Each new litter was a closer cross breeding of man and dog.

And they knew why.

There was something about The Others meat. It tasted sweet and when they chewed it it caused rapid changes in their minds and bodies that they recognized. They hunted the zombies as food exclusively, and they were getting harder to find and catch. Most of the zombies had fled the cities and were moving together in small packs West. When one was caught it was divided up equally. The youngest of the pack were made sure to get a share, but the best was saved for special dogs. The ones that showed the best grasp of technology or healing.

They got to eat the brains.

Tonight they had one, and it was dragged in chains from the holding cell into a large room. The highest ranking members of the pack lined the walls and watched as it was tied to a table, arms outstretched to the four corners. It had the shape of a man, but the skin was the color of snot and traced with blue/red veins. It was hairless and the mouth opened in a silent scream and it trailed a vile looking green frothy spittle from its teeth and nose.

Earlier, The Others fought and resisted feverishly and most of the time they would have had to smash its skull with a hammer in the hallway before they brought it into the chamber for feeding. But now the ones they caught just lay limply in their chains, head loose on it's neck and the eyes scanning slowly around the room.

The Dogs tied him to the table. A clamp snapped round its jaws and chin and the head was immobilized. A small saw was used and the top of its living skull was sawed open. The brains were scooped out and diced. A litter of new borns were brought forward and they were given small bits. Almost instantly they began to groan and contort as the changes to the bodies began. If you were standing there, looking over the dogs shoulders you would have heard the puppies skulls creak as their brains grew measurably by the minute.

The captured Fawelri died without glory or awareness, its already half dead eyes simply loosing their glassiness.

Then the other adult dogs of the Higher Pack surrounded the table and began to feed.   

 

West...

Meanwhile, high in a balloon...





Ehecatl would not shut up. Either the mushrooms were wearing off or my legs were getting cramped after twelve hours in this balloon that was now obviously losing air and sinking.

" Since the wind blows in all directions, I was associated with all the Cardinal directions. My temple was built as a cylinder in order to reduce the air resistance, and was sometimes portrayed with two protruding masks through which the wind blew. As the fourth sun was destroyed in the Aztec creation myth (due to the gods not being satisfied with the men they had created) the gods gathered in Teotihuacan. There Nanahuatzin and Tecciztecatl jumped into a sacrificial fire and became the sun and the moon, pity, they were good friends of mine. They remained immobile until I blew hard on them. At first only the sun moved, but once the sun started moving the moon moved also... "

I looked over at him, or it. He wasn't a solid figure, like the squirrel, more like an animated graffiti tagged onto the interior compartment of my balloon. He had not stopped talking for ten hours. I didn't know if you could kill a God, but I was seriously considering trying.

https://i47.tinypic.com/i5ylur.jpg

" Look, " I said, " will you shut the fuck up, you are driving me batshit. "

He stopped alright. After a minute I began to feel bad. Like I had hurt his feelings. For a moment I contemplated my situation: here I was, having floated for miles and miles, inside a balloon I made guided by a talking squirrel. I had not eaten much besides the mushrooms in four days, and although I expected to build up a tolerance I was talking to some ancient god like he was really there with me.

" Okay. I am crazy and you are not real. "

The wind spiked and buffeted the compartment around. I felt weightless for a second as the balloon hit a down draft and free fell before settling again on a breeze.

" Don't start that shit again ese. " He said.

" Look, " I said, " two years ago I was a privateer broadcaster documenting the Chinese invasion over the internet. Now I live like a scavenger and have actually killed people. Nine of them! I'm cracking up, losing my marbles, one can short of a six pack...

" You are not real!, " I screamed.

" Okay, " he said. " Whatever homes. Just remember this; we want you to kill The Preacher.

" Nagaicho, The Creator has chosen you. And he has sent you his Dog. "

I didn't have time to answer, the wind was slammed out of me as the balloon crashed through trees and onto the ground. I was knocked out.

*                                                                        *                                                                            *

South...


Cross Plains, Texas October 25, 2012

" I am the gawd damned president of The United States may she rest in everlasting peace , and I want that sum bitch shot. "

The issue was a farmer near Plano that was caught hording crop food and diesel. Jed Halbaster, former all pro wrestler, aka White Fury, aka Potus was flanked by two men with M249 Squad Automatic Weapons. President Jed, former Secretary of Veterans Affairs , number 17 in the order of succession, had never been in on the international corporations plot to create a one world government. Like most Americans, he had lived in hiding since the Chinese/Walmart coalition had invaded. Nobody knew how the zombie thing started, but they knew it started in California and spread like a case of jock itch in a high school gym class throughout the world. The last seven hundred Marines were going house to house in a radius now extending eight hundred miles, kicking in doors and decapitating any Fawleri they found. The Zombies had all been moving West in groups of five and twenty. Texas was clear.

" But Sir, " his assistant said. " He was married to your second cousin on your mothers side. "

The president lit a cigar and wiped the sweat from his jowls with a stained handkerchief.

" Son, I am the pee oh tee ewe ess. I cannot show favors. But okay, just bust his teeth in. Get er done, now! "

" Sir, yes sir! "

The two soldiers ran out of the room.

He turned to his assistant, a pimply faced skinny teenager with a metal clipboard; " Bring me another whore and get me a pigeon to send a message to General Bush in Florida. "

Such was the remains of the united States government.



*                                                                     *                                                                            *

East...
Mount Fire Missile Base, Colorado. October 25, 2012 Outside the wire, 1.7 miles

The balloon sat down and dragged through the brush for a quarter mile before coming to a stop. Just as it did, a creature approached on all fours and helped me out. I was sort of immune to animals talking, so I took it as no big deal that there was a dog with a knapsack full of C4 explosives waiting to greet me. He didn't have a snout, more of a nose. Wire rimmed john Lennon glasses framed kind brown eyes. He wore bandoleers with ammunition and carried a sawed off shotgun. But still, he was obviously mostly dog.

The mushrooms were completely worn off now and I was sober. I had been instructed by the talkative Indian god in the balloon and I knew that farther on through the brush, where the lights were, there was a fence, and somehow we were going to get inside it. Once inside I had a job to do, and so did my new companion.

" Hello, " he said.

" My name is Wolf. " He gestured towards the lights. " Let's go. "

Last edited by ATG (2009-12-12 01:46:55)

13urnzz
Banned
+5,830|6913

ATG - i am enjoying this, and i know you said you lost some posts - i was wondering if we could link them in story order?
ATG
Banned
+5,233|6945|Global Command
Thanks burnzz.

The forum has a quirk; when you try to merge threads sometimes they get broken and lost forever. That happened to the first three issues of this.

I tried to merge the older threads together into one and found that if it hadn't been for a folder these were created in on my desktop, they would have been gone forever. nbd.


So what I do now is edit the one master thread as I work on it. Copy paste the current chapter into an ee thread.

A search for the first three independent threads is fail: http://forums.bf2s.com/sphinx.php?q=The … rch=Submit

And the way I am doing it the master thread remains free of " Your thoughts, insights, and musings on this matter intrigue me " and " ban ", at least so far, and everybody can say whatever they like in the individual ee threads and I don't get despondent over it. tbh, I intended to finish the tale before publishing any more chapters but yesterdays whirlwind of smashed threads inspired me to rename it ( Thank the four winds ) and hurry up and get it up there. I can only imagine what they must have thought in the first few seconds when it showed up. 

Once this first draft is done I will revise it so that the various chapters speak with one voice, and then take it elsewhere like to one of the writters forums out there, or start all over again using what is here as a rough outline. As is often the case with stuff like this for me, it was started on a whim, and the story dictates where it went and how it will finish. I have little control over that, to be honest and feel as sort of a innocent bystander or just another reader. I hadn't the foggiest idea what would be in #4 when I did #3, and so on.


All of the various chapters are stowed here

Last edited by ATG (2009-12-12 08:28:16)

13urnzz
Banned
+5,830|6913

tyvm. as you flee across the desert, i will follow.
Iconic Irony
Bare Back Rough Rider
+189|5692|San Angelo, TX
Yeah I'm liking this too, very inventive.  It's also strange for it to take place in locations near to me for some reason.........
ATG
Banned
+5,233|6945|Global Command

Iconic Irony wrote:

Yeah I'm liking this too, very inventive.  It's also strange for it to take place in locations near to me for some reason.........
30's pulp master Robert E. Howard.

http://crossplainstx.com/howard-museum

Glen Lord wrote:

As printed in Savage Sword of Conan #200

The future creator of Conan, Robert Ervin Howard, was born January 22, 1906, at Peaster, Texas, a tiny hamlet some forty-five miles southwest of Fort Worth. The father, a country physician, moved the little family the length and breadth of Texas over the next several years before finally settling at Cross Plains, a small town in Central Texas, in 1919.

While yet in high school, young Robert began submitting short stories to the publications of the time. A chronological list of submissions in a letter to a friend, written circa 1929, indicated the first submission was "Bill Smalley and the Power of the Human Eye," rejected by both Western Story and Adventure in 1921. He finally made his first sale in 1924 when Weird Tales accepted "Spear and Fang," a short tale about Cro-magnon and Neanderthal, for $18, payable on publication.

Robert worked at a number of odd jobs after graduating from high school, for his writing brought in only meager income. He worked in a law office as a private secretary, packed a rod for a geologist, wrote up oil field news for various newspapers, as a public stenographer and finally in a drugstore. In the fall of 1926, discouraged with his lack of success at the writing game, he enrolled in a bookkeeping course at Howard Payne College in Brownwood.

Before long, however, he was writing humorous pieces for the college newspaper, The Yellow Jacket, and once again submitting more stories to a number of potential markets, with some small success at the Weird Tales editorial offices. Among the list of rejected stories during this period, we may only conjecture what stories lay behind such titles as "The Valley of the Golden Web," "Sanctuary of the Sun," "The Crimson Line," "Vulture's Roost," "Windigo! Windigo!" and others; these manuscripts apparently no longer survive.

Solomon Kane, the dour Puritan swordsman and redresser of wrongs, was the first of a number of continuing characters to see print (1928); the following year saw the advent of Kull, the Atlantean savage who eventually seized the throne of fabled Valusia in the Pre-Cataclysmic Age -i.e., before the sinking of Atlantis. Many of the Kull stories, however, failed to find a market until they were collected in book form in 1967.

By 1930 Howard had become a regular in Weird Tales and had broken into Fight Stories with his humorous Sailor Steve Costigan yarns. Later in the year he began a series of historical adventure stories in Oriental Stories, a relatively short-lived companion title to Weird Thies.

The Great Depression, as might be expected, had its deleterious effect on the publishing industry. For a period of time, Weird Tales reduced its frequency of publication from monthly to bi-monthly; even after returning to a monthly schedule, it no longer was able to pay contributors on publication. Oriental Stories went to quarterly from bi-monthly appearance. And Flight Stories was suspended with the April 1932 issue and would not return to the newsstands until the Summer 1936 issue.

Forced to seek new markets, Howard experimented with detective fiction with only negligible results, and would later admit it was not a genre for him. On the other hand, after some earlier failures, he found his niche in the western genre with the Paul Bunyanesque Breckinridge Elkins tales which ran in every issue of Action Stories from the initial story in early 1934 until after his death in 1936. So successful was this formula that two series of like nature had been accepted by rival publishers just a few months before his death.

The November 1932 issue of Weird Tales introduced another popular character, Bran Mak Morn, the Pictish chieftain, whose battles with the encroaching Roman legions in Britain were very popular.

The following month's issue introduced a character who would soon overshadow all his other heroes, and would be by far his most famous character: Conan the Cimmerian. This first Conan story, "The Phoenix on the Sword," was actually a rewrite of a rejected Kull story, "By This Axe I Rule!"

Conan's world and career will probably be familiar to the readers of SAVAGE SWORD; he progressed from adventurer, thief, pirate and mercenary to the throne of Aquilonia in the Hyborian Age, a mythical period some 12,000 years ago between the sinking of Atlantis and the dawn of recorded history.

Over the next four years, seventeen Conan stories appeared in Weird Tales, some lengthy enough to require serialization. Had the English publisher Pawling & Ness Ltd. not gone into receivership in 1934, "The Hour of the Dragon" would have been Howard's first book. (It was later serialized as a five-parter in Weird Tales, and has since been published in book form under the title Conan the Conqueror.)

Howard was having an all-time high in sales by the beginning of 1936, with his work appearing regularly in Weird Tales and Action Stories, the Kirby O'Donnell and Francis X. Gordon (El Borak) adventure series appearing in Street & Smith's titles, and a new series of risque tales under a pseudonym in Spicy Adventure Stories.

But Howard's letters to correspondents indicated his growing worry over his mother's state of health. In 1935 Mrs. Howard had undergone surgery at the King's Daughters Hospital at Temple, Texas; she never fully regained her health, and from then on would require visits to regular medical facilities and intensive nursing care.

On the morning of June 11, 1936, the attending nurse replied in the negative when Robert asked if his mother would ever emerge from her coma. He walked to his car, parked to the side rear of the home on the outskirts of Cross Plains, got in and fired a bullet into his brain.

He died eight hours later; Mrs. Howard expired some thirty hours afterward.

A double funeral was held, with interment in Greenleaf Memorial Cemetery at Brownwood.

Last edited by ATG (2009-12-13 14:47:16)

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