In 2016 North Korea launched a ballistic missile which detonated in Seoul, South Korea, but other than than the few injured by the small explosion there wasn’t any major damage. The D.R.N.K.’s dictator was assassinated by high ranking members of the North Korean military for launching the missile and that’s when the attacks started happening and the world fell to pieces. The missile contained a biological agent which caused the recently deceased to get up and attack the living, the victims fell ill and died within a couple hours only to rise and repeat the process. Within weeks the world’s governments collapsed and with the threat of marauders and the roving dead, small communities arose. Those small communities began to expand and that’s where I come in.
I work as a freelance scout and scavenger with my black and white tuxedo scarf/cat , Fawkes, of a breed known as a munchkin. He and I go and scout out resources for these communities while avoiding the dead and marauders. It was during one of these missions that I got lost, really lost.
...
“ Where in the hell are we ?” I murmured to myself, Fawkes lying across my broad shoulders, the sun high above the forest canopy. The woods around me were nothing like the ones I entered this morning. “ I’ve been walking for about three miles, that stretch of woods couldn't have been more than a mile across.” I let out a sigh,”well Fawkes, we’re lost. Better see what we have left.” I set Fawkes as well as my large, olive ALICE pack, and M16a1 rifle down beside me, I start with my person.
A pair of olive, hard knuckle gloves, a pair of thick leather bracers, forest camo BDU shirt and pants which bloused into a pair of brown Danner RAT boots, the handle of a dagger protrudes from the right one. A set of forest camo Interceptor Body Armor and a MICH helmet with matching cover, as well as an olive magazine vest. In the center of my chest sits a holstered 9mm Browning Hi Power pistol, on my left hip a M1917 bayonet, modified for my rifle, and on my right hip a Handy Rescue Multi-tool. I have nine twenty round mags for the rifle and seven thirteen round mags for the pistol, so I have 180 rounds of .223 Rem. and 91 rounds of 9x19mm.
In my bag, I have a gallon water bladder, a water filter, a pint of cooking oil, a couple pounds of cat food, a small flask of moonshine, a box of tea, some MREs as well as a large bag of trail mix. Some spare socks, boxers, shirts and an extra pair of pants. A few tattered books, a fishing kit, cast iron skillet, small dutch oven and a few utensils lay amongst the clothes. In the outside pouches were several basic tools as well as a flashlight and batteries. A round black bag, my ‘music bag,’ containing a bodhran, harmonica, pennywhistle, solar charger, portable speaker, headphones and a 160g Ipod classic, hung opposite of a broad folding shovel and first-aid kit. I check my pockets for other small things, a candy bar, a deck of cards, a few bandanas, a folding knife, pencils and markers, a small notepad and a pair of safety glasses.
As I pat myself down, I notice Fawkes perk-up and stare off into the distance. I take a big breath through my nose a grimace at the sour stench of decay and death.
“Fawkes, scat,” I command, and with ferret like movements he scurries into some nearby bushes.
I creep off into the undergrowth, Multi-tool in hand and scout out the immediate vicinity. During my exploration I came across a pair of creatures that were obviously undead. As I observe from some bushes I note something unusual, they moved about on four legs, but animals aren’t affected by the virus. The one that was smaller was a muted green, a patchy grey mane and single tattered wing hanging from it’s right shoulder, the only evidence of the left wing is a ragged stump. The other is larger but lacks any strange appendage, it’s right eye and ear as well as lips are missing. The creature’s grey shoulders carry a mildewed and holey vest, its color long lost. Under a nearby tree lays what appears to be a hastily dropped crossbow and a small pair of bags attached to each other by a strap. Every now and again a few of the tree’s branches shift unnaturally, but the zombies don’t pick-up on it.
I slip on my glasses and tie a black paisley bandana over my mouth and nose. Getting up, I barrel toward the larger zombie to give it a present. Using the Multi-tool’s axe blade, I give the undead a diagonal strike. I connect at the base of the left ear, splitting the skull to the eye socket. I kick the corpse away and turn to face the other infected as it hobbles toward me with an airy howl. As it comes within reach I use both hands to drive the tool’s blade, splitting the head of the shambling cadaver. It just stood, fixed to the blade, it’s massive eyes staring into nothingness. With a yank I pull the blade free, letting the corpse drop to the ground. I remove my glasses and bandana shift my attention to the tree, through the foliage a pair of large, cat-like, amber orbs meet my own green-hazel ones.
“Well, you gunna come down?” I ask as if I were talking to a toddler, slipping my Multi-tool back into it’s frog. It surprises me to get an answer back.
“I’m stuck,” replies an embarrassed, feminine voice,” and I don’t even know how I got up here.”
“Need help?”
“Um, yes. My barding is caught on some branches and I can’t shift to break them.”
I jump, hooking my arms over a thick branch, then straddling the limb. I look around, immediately coming face-to-flank with a little navy-blue creature in leather barding. It has a shaggy mane and tail of silver, streaked with powder-blue and it’s broad ears tufted at the tips.
“You going to break me lose or you just going to gawk?” it’s tail twitching impatiently.
Well definitely a girl then, my current angle leaving nothing to the imagination. Taking a look, I notice one of her straps is hooked on what remains of a broken branch.
“Miss, where’s the buckle for this strap?” I ask, giving it a tug.
Her face reddens,” the center of my belly, just in front of my hind legs.”
I gingerly reach beneath her and began fiddling around with the tongued buckle, after a few moments we were both back on solid ground and she is re-adjusting her strap, myself removing my glasses and bandana. Standing her muzzle would reach my navel, her armor covered her from neck to rump in thick, dark brown leather with matching bracers and greaves. The helm she wears is a steel skull cap with ear holes and a leather lamellar neckguard. She lets out a sigh, before showing me a fanged smirk and extending her right hoof.
“Evening Primrose, daughter of Moon Dancer and Kiln Tender and Sergeant of the Ponyville Guard,” the odd little equine initiates.” Most call me Eve.”
Kneeling, I take the offered appendage in a firm grip and imitate Eve’s greeting.” Brian Allaway, son of Kean and Diana Allaway and Corporal of the Mount Shasta Minutemen. Those who know me call me Bard.”
“ What are you? I don’t know of any creature that looks remotely like you,” she inquires as she gives me a look-over.
“I am a human,” I sigh and scratch my nape, awkwardly mumbling.” I guess I’m not in Kansas anymore.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I state
Author's Note
This was just something I had saved. Does anyone want more?
