The End of the World 2

From Create Your Own Story

(Difference between revisions)
 
(One intermediate revision not shown)
Line 1: Line 1:
-
Lieutenant Stafford Bryson was a large man, with a vicious look in his eyes that told the war stories he wouldn't. He'd been in the service of the Army Reserve for years, and over several deployments, had earned the nickname "Serial" for the amount of kills he'd racked up in the war. Most of the men feared or respected him, or some degree of both. As he stood near the white-board, the enlisted men slid onto little wooden benches in what used to be a stadium's locker room. His Staff Sargent, Earl Peckle, who was just as hard edged as his boss, was shouting at the men to get their seats. You watch quietly. You got here early. You knew better than to come in late and fight for a seat.
+
It had been a normal Friday night. Nothing much out of the ordinary. You left work tired, made a quick stop at the gym to try and hit the treadmill for a bit, then went home and hit the shower. Settling onto the sofa, you flipped on the television and perused the multitude of channels that seemed to go on forever with endless amounts of unwatchable crap. You consider doing something,picking up the phone and calling around to see what might be happening on a Friday night, but the comfort of the couch lulls you into nodding off a bit.  
-
"Boys and girls," Lt. Bryson began, clapping his hands to get quiet. "Eyes front and center, asses planted, mouths shut." He watched as everyone in the room straightened up and shut their mouths, and then he continued. "The rain has started again this morning, and I know none of you are looking forward to patrols." He pulled a small dry erase pen from his pocket and pulled the cap off. "Doesn't matter. We have a job to do, and it's going to get done." He turned to the board and drew four squares, nearly side by side. "We've divided the city into four sections." Pointing to the top left square, he went clockwise from there. "Alpha Section. Bravo. Charlie. Delta. Each subsection is then divided into four compartmental sections, designated One, Two, Three, Four." He numbered the squares within the first square, then wrote the word Alpha above it. "I know your task has been to protect civilians that come to us uninfected. I know you've gotten comfortable doing that in the six months since this thing started. Unfortunately, what's left of US command doesn't give a fuck about your comfort. We needs boots on the ground, not hearts and minds here, children. We need to be out there, searching for anyone who has survived this mess, and they need to be brought back here for quarantine and examination. We need to clear any non-combatants we find, and put down any Indians we find."
+
You awaken to the sound of thunder, with a start. It claps high above the roof of your apartment and rolls through the sky rumbling so loud it shakes the windows. You take a deep breath and settle back onto the couch. You try to get some sleep, but the thunder and the growing wind rattling your windows makes you a little nervous. Was there supposed to be a storm this weekend you hadn't heard about? You get up and peek out the second-story window of your apartment, and see the rain coming down in sheets. The world is a gray haze, and all you can see are people running every which way to escape the rain on the street below.
-
The soldier next to you leaned over. "What's an Indian?" You shook your head. Fresh recruits never bothered to read their manuals.
+
Just as you settle back down on the couch and try to close your eyes, you hear screaming from the next apartment. It grows louder. A man. You can't make out the words, but they rabble off into unintelligent screams of bloody murder, then die off suddenly. You feel a bit alarmed.  
-
 
+
-
"The infected. I. India. So, Indians." You say, not taking your eyes off the white-board.
+
-
 
+
-
"Phonetic alphabet, right." The soldier said with a smile, slapping his head. "I'm Jack, by the way. Jack Mills."
+
Do you:
Do you:
-
*[[Ignore orders and introduce yourself]]
+
*[[Pick up the phone and dial 911.]]
-
*[[Pay attention to the LT and ignore Mills]]
+
*[[Get up and go next door.]]
-
 
+
*[[Ignore it. Try to get some sleep.]]
-
{| width="100%"
 
-
| bgcolor="#LLCLL" valign="top" width="100%" colspan="3"| '''Status'''
 
-
|-
 
-
| bgcolor="#OOFOO" valign="top" width="8%"| Health
 
-
| bgcolor="#DDFDD" valign="top" width="8%"| 100%
 
-
| bgcolor="#GGFGG" valign="top" width="84%" rowspan="3"| Equipment:
 
-
Gray BDUs. Kevlar Helmet. Med Kit. Flash Light.
 
-
|-
 
-
| bgcolor="#OOFOO" valign="top"| Weapon
 
-
| bgcolor="#DDFDD" valign="top"| M4 Rifle
 
-
|-
 
-
| bgcolor="#OOFOO" valign="top"| Ammo
 
-
| bgcolor="#DDFDD" valign="top"| 6 Magazines
 
-
|}
 
-
<noinclude>[[Category:Templates|*]]</noinclude>
+
[[Category:The End of the World 2]]

Current revision as of 13:27, 30 September 2015

It had been a normal Friday night. Nothing much out of the ordinary. You left work tired, made a quick stop at the gym to try and hit the treadmill for a bit, then went home and hit the shower. Settling onto the sofa, you flipped on the television and perused the multitude of channels that seemed to go on forever with endless amounts of unwatchable crap. You consider doing something,picking up the phone and calling around to see what might be happening on a Friday night, but the comfort of the couch lulls you into nodding off a bit.

You awaken to the sound of thunder, with a start. It claps high above the roof of your apartment and rolls through the sky rumbling so loud it shakes the windows. You take a deep breath and settle back onto the couch. You try to get some sleep, but the thunder and the growing wind rattling your windows makes you a little nervous. Was there supposed to be a storm this weekend you hadn't heard about? You get up and peek out the second-story window of your apartment, and see the rain coming down in sheets. The world is a gray haze, and all you can see are people running every which way to escape the rain on the street below.

Just as you settle back down on the couch and try to close your eyes, you hear screaming from the next apartment. It grows louder. A man. You can't make out the words, but they rabble off into unintelligent screams of bloody murder, then die off suddenly. You feel a bit alarmed.


Do you:

Retrieved from "http://72.14.177.54/Create_your_own_story/The_End_of_the_World_2"
Personal tools