Escape and loss.

Support comes from unexpected sources and in unexpected ways sometimes—and often events follow unexpected roads, as well.

Alex fought his way from St. Louis to help me escape from the Columbia infestation. There’s tell of a safe zone in Kirksville; forces from their defense came to our aid as well, and arranged for an escort and helicopter ride out of town. Alex and I received word late in the afternoon, and evacuated the room quickly—we grabbed all our remaining ammunition and dressed for a fight.

We dodged one zombie on our way out the door. Quietly, we crossed campus, to the meeting spot behind Brady Commons—we saw two more creeping around the library, and kept an eye on them, but did not engage. A lone survivor—a woman I knew from life before zombies—and a pair of an older and younger boy joined up with us then. We circled the commons, searching for the group, wondering if we were all that was left. There were a few short skirmishes. Finally, we found the group, along with the Truman reinforcements: these were serious players, wearing neon yellow and purple shirts for visibility, packing several guns and bandoliers apiece. They were a welcome sight; I only wish Justin were still around to see it.

The five of us joined a team of other Resistance members—several I had fought with on the first mission. Later, I learned, we ran with survivors of the Massacre.

I don’t know how they survived, after some of the choices those leaders made.

We made it to our first location safely: back to Mark Twain, to sweep for survivors and information about the evacuation point. All the hastily-assembled teams gathered there, and our group volunteered to go on a rescue mission at Lowry Mall. Our small group of five—Alex, Kelsey, Cruz, and his younger ally Josh—nearly joined another squadron, to go directly to the next destination, but I called Alex and Kelsey back at the last minute. I’ll regret that mistake for the rest of my life (which may or may not be much longer).

We were poised to cut directly in front of Jesse Hall, and make it to the Mall from there—but we failed to notice the moaning growing louder and louder until we were on top of them. The zombies were swarming the steps of the hall, and the Fox—Bravo Team’s leader, and the leader of the Mark Twain Massacre survivors—decided we had to make a break for it.

We traveled through a riot gang of twenty, our little band of twelve only stacked two thick throughout. Some of us fell behind. A zombie was coming up behind me, quickly overtaking me, when Alex stepped between him and me. I heard a shot—thought he had escaped—and turned in time to see the gun drop from his hands. Kelsey was held down by a pair of them; I watched them overwhelm her, then turned and fled, a female nipping at my heels, screaming at my team—

“WAIT—I’m still alive!”

My group was too far ahead to help, and I managed to twist around and fire into her chest. I ran until I caught up with them, as well as the remains of Alpha Team. There weren’t many; we had lost several more in the Jesse Hall ambush, and the other teams had fared badly as well. The Kirksville team was nowhere to be found.

No further mention was made of a rescue; I can only assume those survivors were abandoned. Our remaining forces hurried on foot across campus, signal for the helicopter in hand. At least, until the two rugged Alpha men split while we regrouped, and suddenly, it was a race between us and the zombies, to see who would catch up first.

The few undead we saw from this point on were scattered, almost timid. Only a few gave chase. The band of twenty of so—of forty that had met only an hour earlier—made its way to the top of the Virginia Avenue Garage, where Alpha Team’s remnants waited, waving the signal in triumph.

We waited. Truman’s team demolished a small team of zombies lurking at the bottom of the garage on their way up, while we picked off the few that wandered up to the top floor. The only blessing is that Alex and Kelsey weren’t among the bodies I could see.

Is it over? Though now I have a group of allies—Cruz and Josh among them, at least—many of those I stood with have fallen. What can tomorrow bring? Read More......

Aftermath.

The mission was simple: rescue a scientist from Mark Twain, and bring him to a safe house. Unfortunately, the zombies somehow knew what was going to happen, and were ready to ambush the survivors when they arrived.

They’re calling it the Mark Twain Massacre.

Only the few who were able to sprint to safety survive. Everyone else fell, backed up against the power plant, desperately trying to fight off the horde crawling and groaning up the ramp towards them. No reinforcements came; most of the other survivors were holed up in Schurz Hall, which was besieged by a secondary group and was impassable for hours.

In one night, our numbers have been reversed: there are over two hundred zombies to under fifty remaining survivors. We need support—desperately. Otherwise, I don’t think we’re going to make it out alive. Read More......

Chaos, uncertainty.

Reports from the mission are coming in a rush, confused, unclear.

One message is crystalline: Justin has been turned.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. He was my best chance of survival: a true friend, always watching my back and drawing out precise plans to repel the zombie attack. There are very few allies in my area now; just a few humans left in the building, and a horde milling down the street.

Tomorrow will be a new—but colder—day.

The few reports trickling in tell of a horribly failed mission: human teams completely surrounded by zombies, backed into corners, wasting their ammunition on the undefeatable horde. The defense meeting hasn’t adjourned yet, and news is still scattered, but I dread finding out what’s really happened tonight. Read More......

The infection is spreading.

Zombies don’t wake up very early; though Mark Twain has a 1:1 human-to-zombie population now, none were sighted while walking to breakfast or work this morning. The first undead I saw very accidentally followed me from class; I spotted him first, and was able to score a kill. Before I could celebrate, though, two more appeared in the distance. Rather than take on two by myself, I ducked into the Memorial Union and hid in a bathroom as they shuffled on. I’ve been choosing my routes very carefully: during the day, the most-traveled pathways are the most dangerous.

I’m locked inside all evening in a closed-door defense meeting; some survivors are undertaking a mission tonight, though I’m unclear on the details. Justin will be going, and bring back a full report afterwards. We’ll meet afterwards to discuss plans for Saturday and Sunday’s missions, and tactics in general. Read More......

Unsuccessful, but smarter.

First mission update:

Seeing a huge crowd of cheering humans did quite a bit to lift my spirits. Over one hundred of us, all gathered together!—we divided into squads (though these groups quickly dissolved into a single mass). First, we set up a perimeter around Ellis Library, which we thought contained information essential to our mission. A group of zombies approached from the west, and the mass of humans panicked: some ran away, with undead in cold, shambling pursuit. Others put their backs to a fountain—these were nearly cut off from the rest of the group and surrounded. Those of us who took the high ground protected the library and shouted orders to the others (though these were mostly ignored). Justin and I protected each others’ backs there, as well as when we crossed campus in pursuit of more information on the cure.

Unfortunately, we weren’t fast enough, and the zombies beat us to our prize. Next time, it may be wise to split into smaller, more independent groups—too small, and survivors are a target, but too large, and the mob can’t follow directions, panics, and scatters.

Still, I’m not relishing walking alone to class tomorrow. I’d prefer the group—if nothing else, those who scatter are good decoys. Read More......

Stayin' alive

So far, have managed to avoid zombie conflict today. Came across one in Mark Twain, but he was too busy feasting on his last victim to notice me. Crept out the door while he was distracted. Yesterday’s close call outside of that building has made me more cautious: was nearly devoured in a moment of distraction, but a sniper on the roof had my back. Walked around all day with my weapon drawn, constantly scanning the environment, making the uninvolved a little nervous (or amused).

Did happen to catch the last few moments of a human-versus-zombie showdown: she had her gun drawn, and didn’t fall for any tricks, waiting until he finally lunged in and shot him squarely in the chest. I cheered, and we traded salutes (thumbs up) before continuing on our way.

There’s a mission tonight, with details (zombies, don’t you cheat) as follows:

A scientist working for HUFTEZ misplaced a box containing instructions crucial to the success of shutting down the nano-bots. You need to find the box before Dr. Skullshroud's minions find it. The reward for winning this mission is that the group of humans to first reach the box will earn a deployable safe zone of their choice that will last for 30 minutes that they can use anytime throughout the week (contact a moderator to help monitor this). If you cannot come to agreement on who gets to use it and when to use it, you will forfeit it. The box also contains information pertaining to tomorrow's mission. Good luck. Read More......

Fortified in Ellis.

Survived classes; currently holed up in the library. Saw my first zombie walking back from class, as we crossed the road on different sides—he didn’t seem to notice me, so I walked on. Met up with an armed friend a few minutes later, and continued on to the middle of campus. There are three zombies roaming around Speaker’s Circle, and reports seem to indicate that the General Classroom Building is a “death zone”. Will have to navigate past both of these on my way back to the base (dorm)...luckily, Justin has my back.

Paper due in a few days now a bigger concern than zombies. Read More......