Zombieland

List of Posts and their important contents:

• Post #1 -- Title Page:
  • All the pertinent information you need to enjoy yourself.
  • All the links your heart could possibly desire.
• Post #3 -- Tommy's 1st post:
  • The government confirms that a virus is spreading across the Country and World.
• Post #5 -- Sharla's 1st post.
  • A Call Girl, she is in Coopersville working when the roads are closed to restrict the spread of the virus.
  • She needs a place to stay and ends up at Tommy Lee's apartment.
  • A series of posts between them begins.
• Post #9 -- Steve's 1st post:
  • He comes to town from his rural (farm) home for supplies.
  • Injured during rioting, he ends up on the doorstep of Maria Valdez.
• Post #16 -- Maria's 1st post.
  • She rescues Steve.
  • A series of posts between them begins.
• Post #20 -- Max's 1st post.
  • He is being transferred from the Country Jail to the State Penitentiary.
  • When the 2 Sheriff's Deputies decide to simply kill and leave him, Steve kills them instead.
  • He flees in a County Sheriff's van.
• Post #22 -- Clara's 1st post.
  • She flees her apartment after it is invaded by thugs.
  • She flags down the County Sheriff's van, thinking she will get help from a Deputy.
  • Instead, she is taken hostage by Max Richards.
  • A series of posts between them begins, culminating in her being raped by Max.
• Post #37 -- Ray Thomas's 1st post:
  • A cop, he and his fellow officers face down a throng of undead.
  • As his fellow officers go out to rescue their families, he stays at the station to secure it.

Tommy Lee

http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/8a/25/2d/8a252de40d3cbf3ab76d003627c72ae6.jpg

32 years old
5'8", 185 pounds; fit; nice, tight body.
Light brown hair.
Deep hazel eyes.
Tattoos (which will be explained some day).
Missing the last digits of both pinky fingers (which will be explained some day).

I will add to this profile over time...

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Post by Tommy Lee:


18 July 2020:

They did it. The government, they finally did it. And today? Really? On the opening day of the opposing party's convention? Talk about stealing the lime light, as my grampa would have said. I don't get politicians. What a bunch of fucks! Don't they care about anything other than themselves?

In a two hour long press conference just an hour before the convention, the President, the Secretary of Health, and the head of the CDC stood before cameras in D.C. and confirmed that the sicknesses and deaths being seen all across the country are being caused by a never before seen virus.

So, what did they say? The important stuff...

The virus has been found in 32 or 50 states, as well as in Canada, Mexico, England, France, and China...

It's thought to have originated here in the United States, likely on the East Coast...

As I said, it's new. They've never seen it before. Which likely means they don't have a way to stop it. (That's my guess)...

And here's the scary part: it's spreading like wild fire and it's killing people left and right. The CDC doctor I just got done listening to on the internet says they have at least four dozen deaths confirmed to have been caused by it and, he says, there will be more.

The Prez asked for calm, saying that we have nothing to fear, then in almost the same breath said that unless you had to go outside, to go to work, to go shopping, you should stay inside until more was known. Really? Nothing to worry about?

They had a lot to say, like I said, it was a two hour press conference. But what that Doc didn't say was whether or not the virus and deaths are connected to a mysterious uptick in violence caused in the same neighborhoods where the dead and sick resided. I don't know, maybe it's just my paranoia. But when I see entire neighborhoods exploding in crazed violence and there are also people dropping dead from a mysterious disease, I can't help but wonder What the fuck?

Sharla

https://67.media.tumblr.com/d2219793b167cafd27637264d1c60fd9/tumblr_o7r8mzjkWX1tey179o1_1280.jpg

Physical Description: See picture for more.

• 5ft, 8in. 145 pounds. 36C-24-36.
• She is fit and sexy.

Personality:

• Call girl (from Seattle).
• Confident and strong willed.

Sharla's History:

• I will add more, but right now I am at work.

Thanks for letting me play.

Introducing Sharla


I awoke to find myself in bed alone, despite having fallen asleep in a man's arms just six hours earlier. Honestly, that wasn't unusual. I'm a whore, so it's not uncommon for me to awake to find that my client has already vanished. To be honest, I prefer it this way. It means I don't have to start my day off on my knees, sucking a cock or pussy again to, as it is often put, start the day off with a bang.

I order breakfast from room service and shower while I wait, then turn on the television and read the paper while I eat. The news is full of a story about some new virus. It seems like there's a new outbreak every couple of years, but they say this one is killing people by the dozens. Scary, I think.

I don't worry too much about it from a personal point of view until the morning television news anchor announces that the airports, trains, and bus stations are or soon will be closed to prevent the virus from spreading. I panic a bit, hurrying to get my things together and get down stairs for a cab. I'm down here in Cooperville from Seattle, my home base, just for the day, and I really don't want to get stuck here is this outbreak turns out to be the killer plague that social media is already claiming it will be.

"I'm sorry, Miss," the doorman tells me after I ask him to flag a taxi for me. "They've already shut down the airport. And the train station."

I can't even bare to get on a Greyhound, a unique kind of hell I swore I would never do again clear back in my mid teens. "What about a car service. What would it cost to--"

"Miss, it's only 300 miles to Seattle," he told me as he helped others getting their bags into their own private automobiles, "but I haven't been able to get a car since just a couple of hours after the news broke last night. There's no one who's gonna take you to Seattle. And even if they would, I'm hearing rumors that they've closed the bridge over the Columbia anyway."

I spent the next three hours trying to find a way home, but to no avail. When I asked the desk clerk if I could keep my room another night, he told me that the hotel was being closed to encourage people to go and stay home.

"But I can't get home!" I exclaimed. When the man shrugged, I asked in a quiet voice, "Is there anything I can do to stay. You know. Do for you personally?"

"You don't have the proper equipment for such an offer," the man told me, understanding fully what I'd been offering. He wrote an address and name on the back of a business card, telling me, "Go here. I'll let my friend know you're coming. I'm sure he'll put you up for a while, 'til all of this blows over."

"How do you know that he'll--"

"Because," he cut in as he went back to his other patrons, "you do have the proper equipment to get him to find a place for you to, um, sleep."

I threw my bag over my shoulder and purse over the other, punched the address into the map program in my phone, and (finding that my destination was only six blocks away) headed out to meet this Tommy Lee character.

Post for "Tommy Lee":

I wasn't too happy about the text I got from my friend, announcing that some chick without a place to stay was going to be sleeping on my couch. I was even less enthused when -- in response to my follow up text back to him asking Tell me about her -- his reply was She's got a great personality. You'll like her. Great personality meant she was a dog.

Then I opened the door.

"Wow," I murmured without realizing I'd done it. I looked her up and down conspicuously, then still murmuring said, "That's some personality."

I backed up and gestured her inside. "My friend says you need a place to stay until you can find a way back to ... where is it you're trying to get to?"

After she'd entered -- and I'd checked out her back side -- I introduced myself, asked her name, and invited her to set her things down and join me in the kitchen. I was cooking lunch, which for a bachelor meant breakfast since it was the easiest thing to cook. "I'm poaching eggs. And there're Eggo's in the toaster."

I got more Eggo's out of the freezer in case I needed them, then turned to look at the woman again. Nice, was all I could think. I was already imagining those logs legs wrapped around my waist and I rammed deep inside her. And I didn't know what she did for a living, of course! If I'd known that, I would have been retrieving cash from my wallet, not waffles from my freezer.

As I finished cooking what needed to be cooked, the news was still playing on a little television mounted on the kitchen wall. They had officially closed the Cooperville Airport, as well as shut down bus and train travel. Oregon had closed the I-5 bridges in Portland to the north and was in the process of closing the I-5 in the south, I-84 in the east, and several highways that led in all directions.

"They're getting serious about this," I told my guest. As I offered her out a mug of steaming coffee and gave her beautiful body one more once over, I told her with a bit of a smirk, "You may be stuck here for a while."

I didn't mind that, of course. There wasn't anything quite as enjoyable as having a beautiful woman who owed you -- or soon would -- stuck in your home with you...

Sharla

"Wow ... That's some personality."

Click to expand...

I wasn't quite sure what the man at the door meant by his mumbled words, but the up and down survey of my body by his eyes was all to understandable. I was looking pretty good, I knew, in tight fitting yoga pants, a similarly tight fitting tee shirt (below which was a push up black bra), and suede boots that rose above my knees and were highlighted by four inch heels. The outfit did great things for my long legged and well curved 36C-24-36 figure.

The man backed away, saying...

"My friend says you need a place to stay until you can find a way back to ... where is it you're trying to get to?"

Click to expand...

"Seattle, and it's Sharla," I said, giving him my real name. I never gave my real name to clients, for fear that they might use the internet to track me down and try to get something for nothing via a bit of extortion. But I doubted that that was going to be a problem here. I stepped into what immediately was obviously the home of a single man. I lied, telling him, "I was down here on a sales trip. Can't get home now I guess."

He offered me lunch, which turned out to be breakfast, and I gladly accepted, even though I wasn't particularly hungry. I'd also cleaned out the mini bar at the hotel before I left, filling my bag with nuts, short cans of juices and soda, little bottles of booze, and more.

He commented about the seriousness of the situation outside, adding that I may be stuck here for a while. I didn't like the idea of that. Not because I had a problem with Tommy, but because I really wanted to be in my own condo if I was going to be stuck indoors someplace for an extended period of time. I looked him over, much as he had done me -- twice! -- then smiled playfully.

"Well, I guess I could have worse company, right?" I glanced about the kitchen, then back to Tommy. Despite it being barely noon, I asked, "Got any booze?"

Regardless of what his answer was, I knew I'd be drinking alcohol very quickly, even if it meant screwing off the tops of a couple little hotel bottles.



We watched the news for several hours, and things only continued to get worse. All across the State, Country, and even the World movement was becoming restricted. We switched between stations on Tommy's television and surfed the internet news sites constantly, and all anyone was talking about was the virus. The numbers of infected and dead was rising with every passing hour.

"This is gonna be bad," I said, an understatement at best. In addition to the news about the dying, there were continuing news reports of how people were acting violent against other people, too. "Do you think they're related?"

(OOC: Seems like that should be your description.)

Finally, about the time the lengthening shadows of the neighboring buildings began to fall across the streets below us, I told Tommy, "I had a late night, and I really need some sleep. I can take the couch."

I knew men, and I knew Tommy was going to give me his bed. Men loved to have an attractive woman in their bed, even if they weren't fucking her, because there was always the possibility that once she was in it, she might invite him into it as well. That wasn't going to happen, of course. But if he gave me the bed, I would head into the room, close the door, and take a much needed nap.

https://www.colourbox.de/preview/10846206-attraktiver-mann-gesicht-portrait-mit-einem-weisen-perfektes-lacheln.jpg

Name: Steve Carlsen
Age: 29
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 170 lbs
Physical description: A well-muscled man with medium-long hair and slight stubble. He has a slightly angular face, friendly grey eyes and a ready smile.
Backstory: Steve originally trained as an airplane mechanic and worked for an airline before returning to his hometown three years ago to help his father on the farm he one day hopes to inherit. He enjoys farming and working outside, but finds small-town life a little boring. Nevertheless, he is generally a happy individual whose attempts to "liven up" the local bars has made him an "acquaintance" of the local sherriff - but never for worse than some drunken revelry that got out of hand.

I came home from a long day of farming, ready to relax with a beer or two. As I entered the house, I heard the TV playing and went to the couch to check on Dad. He looked even paler than when I had left him this morning - the old man normally did his fair share of his work, but he had been a little ill, so I had gone off to work by myself. One look at the TV screen, and I paled as well: Roads closed, airports shut down, total chaos! Of course, I had heard the rumors that something big was brewing. Some horrible epidemic. Real doomsday stuff. And here it was.

I do not know how long I just stared at the screen, but dad was the first to speak. This quiet, clean-living, devout man uttered just three words: "We are fucked."

I just nodded. He was right. Sure, the cities would be the first places to be hit, but what then? Desperate people always found ways around the barriers. And just one of them could be enough. On the off-chance that not everyone else in the area was just having the same idea, I decided to head into town to stock up on whatever canned supplies I could grab, plus some ammunition for the shotgun. I hated the old thing, and could barely shoot, but looters did not know that, did they?

The traffic situation was as bad as I had imagined, with our town experiencing what was probably the first traffic jam in its history. By the time I reached downtown, I just did what everyone else had already done and abandoned my car right there to flood the shops. A combination of charms and a few deft elbows got me some cans of beans, a box of ammunition and a first-aid kit. Amazingly, the employees more or less tried to do their jobs in preventing this little apocalyptic shopping spree from turning into a full-on looting. By the time I got to the register, the poor girl looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

There was no way I was driving back to the farm in this chaos, so I got ready for a long walk home when I saw Harry come out of the sporting goods store across the street with a brand new rifle. I could not help but grin a little at this - this had to be his fifth or sixth gun, so unless he was planning on growing some extra hands or arming his baby sister, he was going a little overboard...

"Hey, Harry!"
"Hi!"
"I just managed to grab a few cans of beans. Want some? Or are you just going to rob me later?"
"Sure, why not? But seriously: Do you think it's going to be as bad as they say?"
"You tell me. It sounded bad enough, what with all the road closures and flight cancellations and stuff... that's never happened before."
"Either way, I wouldn't want to be in a big city right now. We are lucky to be out here in the sticks."
"Sure, but it's not going to stay there."
"Maybe. Maybe not. I am going to hole up, in any case. Is your dad alright?"
"Not really. He felt really sick this morning - don't worry, I'm pretty sure it isn't that. Looked more like some good old-fashioned flu to me. Either way, I am going to see if I can get Doc Sampson to come out to the farm and do a check-up. Just in case it is something. I just hope the good doctor has some time for him. He may be a little busy at the moment, I think. I'lll do my best to get him to come anyway."
"Well, good luck with that."
"Thanks, bye."

Post for "Tommy Lee"

"No, of course, take the bed," I said immediately, standing and heading toward the bedroom door. "Let me get a couple of things first."

I went to the closet and snatched up a pair of sweat bottoms and a muscle shirt in which to sleep, as well as some bedding and my tooth brush. I showed Sharla the bathroom and showed her my hanging button up shirts, telling her, "In case you need something to sleep in."

I felt my cock twitch at the thought of Sharla in nothing but a thong and one of my button up shirts. It my dirty mind, it was barely buttoned to show off her bared cleavage all the way to her belly button; or with the lapels tied tight below her bosom, lifting it like some slutty country girl. Jesus, this gonna be hard.[/i)

Back in the living room alone, I went back to watching the news on any of three available screens. Much of the news was just the same-old, same-old, but occasionally they trotted out some new politician or scientist or local yokel with an interesting fact or story.

I changed and made a bed of the couch, and about the time I drifted off to sleep the news was beginning to talk about how the populations of the larger cities -- including Coopersville -- were spilling out into the countryside to get away from the dense, growing numbers of infected. I wondered about how many of those people were infected. Soon enough, even the boondocks wouldn't be safe...

(OOC: Tommy is done posting for Day 1, unless something or someone wakes him in the night.)

Sharla

It took forever for me to fall asleep. I never had problems drifting off. But, I rarely suffered such stress as I was suffering this evening. Despite being part of an illegal industry, I had always felt pretty safe and secure in my world. Getting my clients strictly from word of mouth, I had been lucky enough to avoid the violence and abuse that many street walkers and even many internet based call girls suffered. I made good money. I had a manager but no pimp, per se. I mostly served regulars from whom I got nothing but respect for my services.

This thing that was happening now scared me like no client ever had. It concerned me far more than any fear of being busted by Vice. People were dying by the dozens, maybe hundreds. And by the time I couldn't watch anymore, the newscasters had been reporting that well placed sources were saying those numbers would only get larger. Much larger...



I awoke with a start, sitting up quickly. I was trembling, realizing fi ally that I had been having a nightmare complete with death and agony. I couldn't remember the details, but then why would I have wanted to do that anyway? I looked around the room and quickly remembered where I was, who I was with, and why to both.

After slipping quietly to the bathroom to pee, I tried to go back to sleep. But I soon realized that the streets below Tommy's apartment were active with noise and light. I moved to the bedroom window and looked out to find mayhem below. Abuilding several blocks away was on fire, and on the street below us, looters were vandals were destroying every thing in sight.

I'd never understood why people did that to their own neighborhoods. I can still remember last year when the Seahawks won the Superbowl and how the people of Seattle practically tore down town apart. Of course the Press blamed it not on football fans but on common hoodlums just using the celebration as an excuse to get out some energy. But I can remember a whole lot of team colors on all of those people running up and down the streets throwing things through the windows and overturning cars. Who knows? All I knew about sports was what I needed to know to keep a sports fanatic client interested.

I watched what was going on down below me for several minutes before I began to become truly afraid. The police weren't going to be able to stop this. What would stop these people from coming into the building? What would stop them from coming up the stairs? To Tommy's door? Through Tommy's door? Suddenly all of that violence and abuse that I'd avoided over the last 10 years of my chosen career began to seem possible.

I had left the bedroom door cracked just a bit, and now I moved over and opened it wider to look out at my host. He appeared to be sound asleep, but as I moved out into the living room towards him, Tommy's eyes opened and he sat up to look at me in the low illumination of the ballway light. I stared at him in silence for a moment, a chill flooding my body with goosebumps. I couldn't know it, of course, but I was dressed in the very outfit in which Tommy had fantasized about me: a tiny thong and one of his button up shirts. Although it was buttoned up a lot higher than he had imagined in his mind's eye, I was still dressed scantily enough to allow the cold chill of the room to affect me.

Without saying a word I walked around the coffee table up close to Tommy, reached down, and lifted the blanket from him. I crawled under it, back to him, and immediately took up a spooning position. I pulled the blanket over the both of us again, took his arm, and pulled it around my torso. I pressed his hand to the smooth flesh of my belly just below my breast and asked him in a whisper, "Can you just hold me tonight please. I'm scared?"

Steve

Well, that had escalated quickly. Halfway to the doctor's office, I heard the first gunshots. Quickly followed by a few more. They were coming closer! I ducked into a random apartment building's entrance. Seconds later, a large gang of looters ran by, chased by several of the sherriff's people. Reasonable folks, normally, but tonight they were on the war path. I hugged the thick walls even closer and sat down, trying to look like as little of a threat as possible. Good thing I still had my receipt so I could show it... not that the cops seemed in the mood to ask any questions.

At least, the shooting had stopped. Now there were sirens everywhere as the battle erupted. I could not sit here forever, but neither did I want to go out and probably get shot... what to do? Ask a random stranger to let me in? While chaos was breaking out? I would be lucky not to get shot on sight!

What the hell! That sounded like... before I could finish the thought, a rain of bullets shattered the glass entrance door just above my head. I did not think, I just made myself as small as possible and rolled inside. My heart pounded, and I had to sit there for some time to calm down. Automatic weapons? Was the world going crazy? I listened for another burst, but it did not come. As my other senses slowly faded in, I screamed. There were glass shards stuck in me everywhere, and I could see two long, red gashes in my shirt. The shattered door, too, was smeared with red. Still wincing in pain, I got up and had a good look at my body. Except for the two long wounds in my chest, I seemed to have gotten away with some scratches - but it hurt like crazy! Blood was slowly trickling out of the big wounds, and I was starting to feel a little weak - but that was probably more because I had just almost died.

I had to take my chances. I chose a random door and knocked, trying to look as harmless and injured as possible (not that I needed any help with that last part). I knew that if whoever was inside was a little too nervous, this could very well be the last thing I did before getting shot. Still better than bleeding out...

As I waited for a reaction, I thought about the situation. Dad would be on his own for now. There was no way out of town, at least tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. The noises outside did not sound promising. There could be soldiers here soon. What if any of them carried the virus? We were in bad enough shape even with just the looting! If I was lucky, at least I would have a place to stay for some time while this blew over. I took out my phone and tried to call back to the farm to see how Dad was doing, but the network was completely overloaded. Shit. Exactly as I had expected.

Post for "Tommy Lee"

I'd been in the Navy for a few years right after high school, and the first thing I'd learned while out at sea was how to sleep. Funny. For 18 years, I'd thought I knew how to sleep: lay down, close your eyes, sleep. But at sea, on a ship bobbing about the ocean, with 450 other men in close proximity, you quickly learn to subconsciously determine to which sounds you should wake, such as the Night Watch waking you for Mid Shift Duty or the 1MC announcing Fire, Fire, Fire or General Quarters, General Quarters; and to which sounds you should simply ignore, which for the most part was every thing else.

After three months of my brain subconsciously learning the difference between the two types of sound, I was finally beginning to sleep through the night. Then, as my luck would have it, that was when my Book Making operation got the attention of the wrong people. I was charged with a long list of crimes, shipped to a cell on shore to await a court date, and then -- rather than being tried and convicted -- booted out of the Navy with an Other Than Honorable Discharge.

I brought a lot home with me from the Navy, including that continuing ability to decide what was or wasn't worthy of my waking from a restful sleep. I heard and awoke to the sound of gun fire outside on the streets a couple of times. But as my subconscious knew the bullets held little threat to me personally, I was back to sleep in just moments.

Then a sound for which my brain knew I should awaken caused me to rise to one elbow. I focused my eyes on my guest as she walked across the old, creaking wooden floor toward me. My earlier fantasy -- of Sharla dressed in little at all -- returned to my consciousness, and down below the sheet and single blanket I felt my cock coming alive. Before I knew it, she was slipping under the bedding and pressing her body back against mine on the narrow couch. I tried to pull my groin back enough to keep my hardening cock from pressing against Sharla's ass, but ... well, there simply wasn't anywhere for me to go!

She said, "Can you just hold me tonight please. I'm scared?"

"Of course," I whispered as I felt her pull my arm around her wonderfully feeling body. She held my hand so close to her breasts that I could feel the underside curves of one of them against my finger tips. I could have slid my hand up just a few inches and had a fist full of firm tit ... but I managed to control myself there, even if I couldn't control myself down below. I pulled her back a bit tighter to my chest as I whispered, "You don't have to be afraid, Sharla. No one's coming through that door that I don't want through that door."

My confidence was warranted. After some earlier problems -- the ones that had resulted in me losing the last digit of each of my pinky fingers -- I'd moved to a more secure apartment and updated the two entrances with far better security. The living room door was a metal fire door with three separate kinds of locks, as well as a security bar that connected from the back of the door to a metal base on the floor. (I'd actually first seen one of the latter in a Whoopi Goldberg movie years earlier and thought I want THAT!) And the second access point, which was the bedroom window and a fire escape, was guarded by a heavy duty metal grill -- with its own dual locks -- that was mounted behind shatter proof glass.

I laid there for ... God knows how long, just feeling Sharla's delicious body pressed against mine. She didn't speak again, only laying there, clutching my one hand in hers until she herself finally fell asleep. Somewhere along the lines, I fell asleep, and it wasn't until an explosion in the distance woke me after sunrise that I woke again.

(OOC: I'm not going to continue this until our other characters get a chance to post.)

Sharla

Despite my fear, I couldn't help but smile at the feel of Tommy's growing erection. It seemed as though he was trying to move to hide it from me, but the couch was narrow and as I scrunched in and pulled the blankets over me, he really didn't have any room to move away. Nature, I told myself, knowing he couldn't help it. A half naked woman you don't know curls up inside a man's arms, he's gonna get hard. Hell, he could be into guys, and this would still stiffen him, I bet.

But it wasn't long before I was asleep and unconcerned with what was happening in Tommy's groin. Would he be tempted to take me, here and now? Who knew? Would I let him, just to get past it, to get it done and over with and out of the way? Not without some understandings, of course.

But as it was, he left me alone, proving himself a gentlemanly host. I slept soundly, despite being in the arms of a man I barely knew. Hell, most of the men in whose arms I fell asleep at night were men I barely knew, so what was new about this? Well, I guess there was the rioting outside the apartment building.

(FYI: I, too, will wait to post for Sharla. I have another character I want to introduce before I go to work.)

Introducing Maria Valdez:

http://www.swaggermagazine.com/home/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/5376_Hot-College-Girl.jpg

19 years old
Mexican-American "Dreamer"
Sophomore, Coopersville Community College (PhysEd).

Despite the sexy picture, she is actually a shy virgin with a fear of strangers instilled in her by her illegal immigrant parents, now absent from her life.

More later.

(FYI: I added or edited some text after realizing my eagerness to post had caused me to leave some stuff out. The changes are in red below.)

Maria Valdez:

I had been holed up inside my apartment building all day, keeping up on the news as so many younger people did by staying close to my Social Media. I was constantly bouncing between Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, YouTube, Instagram, and a dozen more sites I used, as well as watching the standard internet news updates. I didn't have a television, so I lived by my laptop, tablet, and smart phone, all three of which I'd had to plug into their chargers so that I had something on their screen continuously. And they were filled with nothing but the events surrounding this disease spreading across the US. Across the world! What was it? Where'd it come from? Was is natural or had someone created it? There were as many theories as there were online IDs, of course. Everyone had an opinion.

My fear was probably as high as anyone's could be. I was a 19 year old illegal immigrant, alone in a new city, far from my parents and real life friends. I'd only moved to Coopersville a couple of months ago to make going to Triple C -- Coopersville Community College -- easier than it had been when I'd been driving in and back sixty miles each way three days a week. The cost on gas and auto costs alone had been enough to pay for my half of the apartment in which I was now hiding alone, what with my Army Reservist roommate being AWOL, probably for duty related to the virus.

When the rioting and looting and gun fire began out on the streets, I seriously began to fear for my life. I'd never been afraid like this before. I had a lot to fear, of course, the primary concern being shipped back to Mexico, despite having been raised in the US since I was only 2 months old. I was in my heart a loyal American citizen, but on paper I was an illegal Mexican immigrant.

When a man began beating at my door, my fear sky rocketed. I thought he would eventually go away, but -- unlike one of the only neighbors I'd met so far, that Tommy guy upstairs -- my apartment didn't have the security measures to keep a determined home invader outside. I only had one thing on my side ... a tiny 5 shot revolver that a girl friend -- also a Latina Dreamer -- had left here while on a visit, just before she'd gotten herself caught with an ounce of coke and been sent to an ICE detention center for deportation.

I stood behind the front door of my apartment for several minutes, pointing the gun with trembling hands, waiting for the stranger to burst inside. I didn't honestly know whether I could pull the trigger if the man got in and came at me. But, what choice did I have? Law and order was breaking down, and some stranger involved in the rioting and looting would surely take advantage of my never-before-touched body, knowing that there would be no repercussions, right? He'd beat me, rape me, leave me for dead. Hell, even dead, some other vicious, evil man would probably rape me again.

At least, that was the impression my parents had given me. I'd always thought it was just their way of scaring me into staying away from boys, of protecting my purity, my virginity, my value should they one day find a nice American doctor to give me away to. All I had ever wanted was to live a regular, American Girl life, while all my parents had ever wanted was to see me living in a big house on a hill in a gated community, with them living in a small, comfortable house out back, no longer in fear of deportation to a country they had tried so hard to escape.

After a long while, despite the continuing rioting in the streets beyond the building, the sound at my door finally ended. I was sure the man had left, so I ventured over to peek out the peep hole. There was no one at my door, but the neighbor lady across the hall -- Lois something, an older white lady who was magical with fudge and sprinkles -- was standing in the doorway, staring at my door. In a moment of stupidity, I opened the door to see what was what, only to have a body slump in and thud between my feet.

I screamed, short and sharp, at the sight of a red-stained shirt upon the man I was sure was going to die right there on my doorstep. I looked up for help from Lois, only to find the woman gone and her door now closed. I tried to push the man, who was only semi-conscious, back out into the hallway, but most of his body was already inside my apartment. Suddenly, a trio of men appeared at the building's entrance, looking to me and talking amongst themselves as they leered my way. I knew I had to get the door closed, but I couldn't get the man out! So ... I moved to the other end of the man, lifted his feet one after another until both legs were inside, and slammed the door shut, locking it securely.

I stepped back and stood over the man, pointing the gun at his bleeding chest, telling him when he made eye contact with me, "Don't move!"

I was trembling so hard the gun was visibly shaking in my hands.

Steve

So that was what it felt like to bleed out... sudden coldness, and then I just fell asleep. From one moment to the other, I was out.

When I came to, I had a gun pointed at my face. Not something you would want to wake up to, and it gave me quite a shock, until I saw the girl holding it and how much the thing trembled. Young, cute, and she seemed more scared than I was - and she was the one holding the gun. I had better not do anything to startle her, though. Under any other circumstances, I would have bought her a drink and taken her dancing. Come to think of it, I probably had, as small as this town was. Then again, maybe not. She seemed to be the shy type. Easily scared. Even more reasons not to do anything suddenly.

I did as she had told me and did not move a bit. With all the lacerations, I did not feel like it anyway. At least I was inside now, and this woman had not shot me yet. Success? Was talking okay? I decided to try, in the most reassuring voice I could muster while bleeding out on some stranger's floor:

"Um...hello. Don't worry, I am not going to move or anything. Some moron opened up with what sounded like a machine gun out there. I jumped through the door to escape. If you could just get me some rubbing alcohol or something so I can clean my wounds? That would be great. I promise not to move. It's not like I can do much anyway."

She was scared as hell, my savior (?). I could hear no one else, so she probably lived alone. Damn. A woman who looked like her, living alone during a riot? She had to be terrified. It really was a miracle she had not shot me immediately. It would probably take some persuading to get her to trust me, and who could blame her? The pain reminded me of more immediate problems. I still felt very close to fainting, or vomiting, or both. My skin felt cold and clammy, and I kept drifting in and out. Part of me panicked and almost wanted me to yell at her to hurry up, but that would only make things worse.

"I think I'll pass out now", I managed to mumble before the darkness came back. It felt good as the pain faded away. Was I dead? Or just fainting again? Who knew? Who cared? I did not.

(FYI: I added or edited some text in my previous post after realizing that my eagerness to post had caused me to leave some stuff out. The changes are in red below. Oh, and I changed it from 3rd person to 1st person. Sometimes I forget that we're writing in 1st person.)

Maria:

The man dying on my door step was very polite and accommodating. Of course, I was so scared that it took a long moment to realize it. I could still imagine him leaping up all of a sudden, taking the gun, shooting me in the head, and raping me endlessly. Later, I would wonder to myself why I'd been so scared, but right now my hands were shaking and my heart was pounding, hard and quick.

He began...

"Um...hello. Don't worry...

Click to expand...

I heard everything he had to say, but it was as if each of the words had to fight its way through an Autumn corn maze of brain cells before regrouping at the exit and forming recognizable sentences that reassured me I was in no harm. About the time I was wondering what to do about him, he passed out and slumped over to the floor.

Something inside me screamed Fuck girl! Help him!

I set the handgun aside and knelt down to look at the man. For reasons I'd never understood, I'd never had a problem with blood. Everyone outside my family who knew me thought I should become a doctor, but my illegal status, of course, made going to a real university and then Med School risky at best.

"Don't worry," I told him, unsure of whether or not he could hear me. I pulled his tee shirt out to look at the injured flesh below it, adding, "It'll be okay. I'm going to help you."

I hurried to the kitchen for a pair of scissors, then to the bathroom for the first aid kit. It was short of sufficient for minor injuries, let alone serious ones, so I snatched up both my and my roommate's boxes of sanitary pads before returning to the stranger's side to render first aid...



After I'd cleaned up and changed into some loose fitting shorts and tee shirt, I had a chance to sit back and inspect my work. I was actually kind of proud of it. It wasn't exactly hospital quality, but then he was still alive, so ... what the hell, right? He actually looked, well, a bit silly. There hadn't been enough bandages or medical tape to cover the serious wounds, so I'd used feminine hygiene pads and duct tape. I'd used up all of the little Band-Aids on his arms, face, neck ... well, just about every where. I'd counted more than twenty cuts before I just stopped counting.

At one point, he'd come to just enough for me to get him to drink from a glass of water I'd dissolved a whole hand full of aspirin in. It would help with the pain, I hoped. Now, I was just sitting on the floor studying him as he lay there with a pillow under his head and a blanket over his lower half.

I felt a blush fill my face for the second time as I realized that for the last couple of minutes I'd been studying his body. If you looked past the injuries and ridiculous first aid job, there was a really good looking young man laying before me. Not the spend ten hours a day in the gym kind of guy, but definitely the eat good, exercise often type. Of course, I didn't realize that that bod' had come to be so well defined from hard work on a farm.

I'd found one injury to his upper thigh and exposed it by cutting through his jeans, from just above the knee to just below his belt. After I'd patched the minor cut there, I couldn't help but get an eyeful of his groin. My first blush had come when I wondered whether he was well built down there as well. I'd even fantasized removing his pants, under the guise of looking for more injuries. But even if I had seen more bloody locations, I doubt I could have brought myself to do such a forward thing.

I'd never seen a man's ... you know ... his thing before in real life. If you looked up sheltered life in the dictionary, there was a picture of me there with a shy smile and bright red blush. I'd always known that someday I'd destroy my parents' dream of giving away their virgin daughter to a worthy husband. There was no way I'd reach my wedding day still pure. And yet, I was still was. Lots of boys and even a few men had tried to get close to me, but one thing or another had prevented it.

And now, the world was ending. Everyone was dying. I'd probably die. All of the good men would die. The man who God had decided would someday make a woman out of me was probably laying out there in the street, dying of either the virus or a beat down from some rioter.

I looked to the man laying before me as he roused and slowly opened his eyes to look at me. I smiled, and wondered, Maybe this is the man. Maybe God sent him to me? Or maybe I'm an idiot and I should be thinking about other things than losing my virginity ... cuz the world is dying all around you you little whore! I smiled, blushing for the third time, as I asked, "How do you feel? Do you want some more aspirin?"

I listened to him, then told him, "My name is Maria. Maria Valdez."

Introducing Martin "Max" Richards

http://www.tattoolove.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/tattoos-for-men-oldschool.jpg

36 years of age.

Hard core criminal; a true bad guy.
Spent half of his life behind bars.

Max Richards


The 2nd Day:

I was surprised when I found out that my transfer from County to the State Pen was still in the works. Rumor was that hell was breaking loose all across the State, something about a killer virus that was going to spread all across the world. Kill thousands, tens of thousands, millions even I overheard the guards saying. So, with rioting exploding across, well, across every where, why were they bothering with moving me to another detention center?

It made sense when we actually got outside.

"Do it here or on the road someplace?" I heard one of the Sheriff Deputies ask the other in a hushed tone. After a bit of whispering I couldn't hear, the second cop said, "Here. Let's get this over with so I can get to my family."

I caught the glances of both men and knew what was going on in an instant. I wasn't going to the Pen. I was going to my grave. Hell, I wasn't even going there. These two were going to drop me here and now and leave me in the street.

They hauled me out as far as the transport van, then without explaining anything began unshackling me. I said as if not knowing what was going on, "Thanks. these things were tight. I promise I won't be any trouble on the ride."

The moment my first hand was free, I brought an elbow back hard and drove the first Deputy's nose bridge bone back into his skull. The second Deputy reached for his side arm, but I jerked on the chain he was holding to throw him off balance and drove my fist into his nose as well. Four more punches, and I was the only man left standing in the alley behind the County jail.

I found the keys and finished unshackling myself. I pulled one Glock from a holster, put a bullet through each of the wanna-be murderers' brains, hopped into the van, and was gone.

Introducing Clara Barnes

http://66.media.tumblr.com/abe2b2238f0b204814eb34148927baaf/tumblr_oa4lhtUeXU1rzb0veo1_500.jpg

Physical Description:

• 26 years old.
• 34B-22-34, 5'8".
• Slim, fit, long legged.
• Shaved smooth as a baby's butt.

Personality:

• Quiet, soft spoken.
• Very much in love with her husband.

Background:

• Grew up bouncing between several Seattle suburbs.
• Married her high school sweetheart, Roger Barnes.
• Relocated to Coopersville for Roger's teaching job at Coopersville Community College.
• Job (before the virus): Manager (Starbucks).
• Family: parents, 2 brothers; still located in Seattle.
• Student: Coopersville Community College; Senior (Agri-Biology).

Clara Barnes

(FYI: Picture her dressed as above with tight fitting jeans and deck shoes.)


I was going crazy. For the past week, I hadn't been able to locate my husband. Roger was on his annual white water rafting trip with his teaching buddies, three weeks of tackling rivers all over the Pacific Northwest and British Columbia. Their most recent destination was the Rogue River in Southern Oregon, and while he'd called me before they left for the river, he hadn't called since. The cell service was pitiful at best down amongst the canyons of the Wilderness Area, so I'd expected a day or two or three of no word. But it had been seven days! They should have been done with the Rogue and on the road for the Deschutes by now.

The virus increased my panic, of course, and then came the attack. Last night as the rioting exploded across Coopersville, four men broke through the security gate of my apartment building and began not only ransacking apartments but attacking the residents as well. I hid in my bedroom, hoping to escape the invasion. But when I heard my front door busted open, followed by three or four males rushing about tearing the place apart, I fled out the window, dropping from the second floor to the lawn below and across the grounds.

I ran and ran and ran, with no destination other than somewhere else. Again and again, I detoured when I saw more rioters and looters and just unsavory characters. Oh sure, I don't know that any of them would have caused me any harm, but I wasn't about to take any chances. I finally ended up in an abandoned storage shed out behind a house with foreclosure signs on the door, curled up in a fetal position behind an old trunk that smelled of rat droppings and musty newspapers.

At some point, I drifted off. And shortly after sunrise, I awoke to find smoke billowing out of the abandoned home. Fearful that I'd get caught up in an inferno, I was again running through town, unsure of where to find safety. There didn't seem to be any cops anywhere, until finally--

"Stop!" I hollered at the sight of a van with the familiar Sheriff's pointy star decals on the sides. I ran toward it, then literally out in front of it when I feared the driver inside hadn't seen me. He slammed on the brakes and slid the vehicle to stop just two feet before creaming me. I ran around to the driver's side door, screaming, "Help me! Please! Help me!"

When the door opened and I got a look at the man behind the wheel, I panicked. He wasn't wearing the expected Sheriff Deputy uniform, but instead had on a bright orange jump suit that indicated he should have been in the back of the van, shackled!

Max Richards:

I'd driven maybe six or seven blocks, surrounded by the mayhem of barely 15 hours of rioting and looting, when a woman suddenly jumped out into the road before me. I slammed the brake pedal to the floor, miraculously bringing the van to a stop just feet from her. She hurried around to the side, and I got my first real look at her body. Fuckable ... definitely fuckable.

She hurried around to the driver's side door and pulled it open, pleading for help. She was obviously mistaking me for the Sheriff Deputies I'd just executed minutes earlier. I'd unbuttoned the top half of my prison jumpsuit and used the arms to tie it around my waist, so all she'd seen until this moment was the white tee shirt I was wearing underneath. As soon as she got a clear look at me -- as she saw the orange covering my lower half and nothing officially Sheriff-like on me at all, I could see the confusion and maybe even panic in her eyes.

"I'll help you," I responded, leaping out to drop to the pavement just inches from her. As she backed away, I snatched one of her elbows tightly in a powerful hand, asking, "What's wrong, baby? I thought you wanted me."

She fought me, trying to prevent the bad she probably thought was coming. But it was to no avail. I was simply too strong for her, as well as too committed to doing that bad she was wishing to avoid. I drug her around to the back of the van, fought to get her inside, and put her in the very shackles that had been intended for me.

"Enjoy the ride, sweetheart," I told her as I stepped out again. Before closing the doors, I looked her over again with hungry eyes and told her, "But if you don't, maybe you'll enjoy the ride I'm gonna give you when we get to where we're heading."

I navigated through Coopersville for another thirty blocks or so before pulling down an alley flanked by an apartment building and an abandoned office building. I checked out my surroundings, finding no obviously prying eyes. I leaped out and moved around to the back door, again checking for observers before opening the door and pulling the babe out.

"I'll help you ... What's wrong, baby? I thought you wanted me."

Click to expand...

Suddenly, the fear and panic of earlier hours rose exponentially. The man had a hold of me. A criminal had me in his clutches! I fought as best as I could, first simply trying to pull away, then striking at him with my free hand. I even kicked at him, though I forgot all about the ball buster knee to the groin move I'd been taught in a self defense class back in high school.

"Please! Let me go!" I begged once he had both arms wrapped around me, pinning my own arms tightly to my own torso. I wriggled fiercely, but all it gained me was a bear hug that was quickly making it hard to draw further breaths. When I finally was able to draw a deep breath, I let out a long, loud scream that didn't seem to get me any attention, before again begging, "Please! Please don't do this!"

He hadn't told me what he was going to do with me, but I knew. It didn't take a genius to know that where ever this first ride ended, the second ride -- likely a demoralizing, life changing rape -- was going to quickly begin. He locked me up in the back of the van with shackles to my ankles, and while my hands were free to attempt to make an escape possible, I was still solidly detained when the van came to a stop in a shadowy alley.

I screamed again as he grabbed the chains and pulled me toward the door. I hit the floor of the van and kicked as fiercely as I could. The only result, I thought, was the increasing of his fury against me. Soon, I was again solidly in his tight grip and being herded through a basement door that went into what turned out to be an apartment building. We passed some doors -- maintenance, elevator equipment, laundry -- before he took me through another door.

By now, I was sobbing uncontrollably, begging, "Please ... let me go ... don't do this ... don't rape me ... please, God, don't rape me."

Max:

Once upon a time, an old squeeze of mine had lived in this building. I doubted that she was still here anymore, and even if she was, what would be the chances she was here during this building plague? Honestly, I wasn't here because I was hoping to find her. I was here because I knew the building. And because I had a stash here as well.

After ignoring the doors labeled "Maintenance", "Elevator Control Room", and "Resident Laundry", I muscled open a door simply labeled "Private". Inside, I found a tiny sleeping room with a bed, a tiny bathroom, and a horizontal rod and old rickety dresser that served as a closet. The old drunk of a custodian used to use this room to sleep off his drunkenness back in the day before going home to his wife.

My new friend continued to beg for me to let her go, but I had other plans, of course. I manhandled her harder with every bit of resistance until finally she settled down and essentially let me do with her as I needed. I plopped her down onto the tiny twin bed mattress, pulled from my jumper's pockets the regular handcuffs I'd brought with me, cuffed her to the bed frame, then told her, "Relax, baby. The fun'll start soon enough. Just relax! Take it easy.

I searched the little room and found a box of crackers, a half of a Fifth of vodka, a half present six pack of liter water bottles, and a jump suit that wasn't lock me up orange. In short order, I was changed, fed, and watered. I looked to my hostage and said, "Time for you to make a decision. Get along ... or get dead."