"The Living Few" (closed)

[AngelEyes1994]

"The Living Few"

(closed)​

Terra Vale
Pic:

• It's blurry, but it fits the context.
• Ignore the caption. I picked her because there are lots of pictures of her in so many varied contexts.

26 years old
5'6", 34C-26-34
Bottle blond, blue-gray eyes.



The city was in total mayhem. A million people were either dead, dying, running, hiding, or -- and this was the unimaginable part -- killing and eating other people. It was like something out of a bad SyFy channel movie or online role play.

Terra had been sent in with her National Guard unit to extricate a medical team reported to be working on a cure for the virus that was now running rampant through two hundred cities across the world. By the time their helicopter reached the hospital's roof top landing pad, though, the building had been overrun by ... by ... by whatever those things were that were killing everyone else.

The Press had begun calling those things Zombies. It didn't seem a suitable name, Terra thought. After all, zombies were traditionally dead who came back to life; and the infected cannibals running around the city spreading their disease weren't dead. With a transfer of fluids, either blood or saliva normal, every day people who were bitten but did not die were slowly overwhelmed by a rabies-like disease. Within an hour, they themselves were Zombies, but they were never dead.

Because of this, Terra's unit had begun calling the creatures Zeeks after the creatures in her favorite zombie movie, World War Z.

With a dozen heavily armed fellow Guardsmen, Terra had managed to get from the roof down through the sixth and fifth floors before finding themselves facing dozens of Zeeks. They rescued a handful of random people and got back to the helicopter, only to have a handful of Zeeks grasp onto the chopper's landing skids. The weight was overwhelming, and instead of lifting up and away from the roof, the flying machine moved more horizontally than vertically.

By the time the Guardsmen had dislodged the Zeeks -- with an excess expenditure of ammunition the gun happy weekend warriors like to say -- it was too late. The helo skimmed barely over the top of an apartment building and clipped a radio tower with its blades.

Terra wasn't sure what happened after that. The world around her exploded with noise and flame and shock...



When she came to, Terra was in great pain. As she recalled the crash, she looked about herself, expecting to find herself amid the wreckage on the roof. She wasn't. She was on her back, head lower, feet higher, on a metal fire escape over the building's side. We she got her eyes to focus, she realized she was three floors below the roof. No wonder she hurt so fucking much!

She tried to move, screaming out in pain. Every muscle and joint in her body ached, and while she didn't know it yet she had a fractured ulna and two cracked ribs. She closed her eyes, trying to push away the pain. She just needed ... a couple of minutes ... to get past it...

She wasn't going to get it, though. Below her, Terra could hear a person -- persons, plural, she realized -- ascending the fire escape. She managed to turn her head enough to see the street below. It was crowded with Zeeks chasing people in every direction. Though her eyes didn't consciously see it at this very moment, Terra's subconscious mind did notice that the Zeeks were acting almost normal in their movements: they weren't super fast and agile like the creatures in "I Am Legend" or slow and dumb like the ones in "The Walking Dead", but were instead more like every day people playing a game of lethal tag.

She couldn't see who was climbing the fire escape, but Terra had a good idea that it wasn't other people. She cried out in pain as she forced herself to grasp the handrails ... pull herself up from her back ... shift her feet under her ... and finally struggle one step after another upward. As she arrived at the first landing, she turned and looked down just in time to find one, then two, then three and four Zeeks taking down the woman who had been climbing the escape in front of them.

Terra watched in horror as the maniacal creatures bit and tore at the screaming woman. She had to do something! Terra found that her sidearm was still in place. She pulled the Beretta from its holster, aimed ... then, did nothing. To her horror, Terra realized that the attack on the woman was the only thing keeping the Zeeks from coming after her. If she began shooting at the Zeeks, it would draw attention to her; and if she killed the woman to mercifully end her suffering, it would again draw attention to her and leave the creatures with no prey ... other than Terra.

Fighting the pain racking her body, she struggled to ascend to the roof again. She paused at the edge to peek over, fearing more Zeeks. What she found was utter disaster: the helicopter was in several pieces; the roof was ablaze in spilled fuel; and bodies -- some scorched -- littered the roof. Terra crawled over the concrete edge and made her way about the roof slowly, awed by the horror. These were her people, most of them anyway. The nurses, doctors, and patients they'd rescued were dead, too, but it was her Guardsmen friends for whom Terra now found herself crying.

A scraping sound caught her attention, causing her to spin around. A Zeek had followed her up and was running at Terra. Without hesitating, she raised the 9mm and emptied the entire 15 round clip into it, the last six shots hitting the Zeek after it had already died on the roof top. She stood there for a long moment, the gun -- with its slide back in the empty position -- still leveled at the unmoving creature. She'd just shot another human being. She'd just killed another human being.

It wasn't the first time Terra had killed another person. Her unit had been deployed to Iraq to help set up a secret NSA listening station in ISIS controlled territory, and one night they were overrun by armed men. She and her fellow Guardsmen protected the station, but lost three of their own in the process. Terra, trained as a sniper despite her gender, had been credited with killing six attackers before being knocked out by a mortar round that killed her spotter. The shrapnel injury to her legs and left arm resulted in her return home, where she'd returned to training herself and others for the country's endless series of conflicts.

As she stared at the unmoving Zeek, an explosion in the neighborhood snapped Terra back to reality. She scanned the roof, determining a course of action. She moved to each and every body, checking for pulses but found none. As she hovered over the dead, Terra collected clips for her Beretta, as well as ammo for the 12 gauge shotgun and M16A4 rifle she slung over her shoulders. By the time she was making her way for the roof stairs access, Terra was heavy with weapons, ammunition, and -- in her right hand as she brandished her newly loaded Beretta in her left -- a full pack that had survived the crash.

Unlike the city beyond the building, the stairwell inside the building was relatively quiet. She'd expected the echoes of screams to be rushing up at her. But instead, Terra found almost total silence. She cautiously moved down the metal frame and concrete step stairway. Occasionally, her gear and weapons would contact the handrails, causing her to panic at the sounds that echoed downward.

At each apartment door, Terra would test the knob. Each and every one was locked. At apartment 12B, someone inside hollered at her to go away. At 10F, she only heard sobbing beyond the barrier. At Unit 9C, a bullet penetrated the heavy duty fire door, causing Terra to hurry past and down another floor.

By the time she reached the 8th floor, Terra was beginning to realize there was something wrong with her, beyond the intense pain that was running rampant through her body. She unslung the weapons and other gear and reached to her back, pulling back a blood soaked hand. She didn't know it, but there was a piece of metal from the destroyed helo sticking out of her waist.

Terra heard movement beyond a door down the hall. She left her gear where it was and moved down to the door. She thought she heard a voice, though she couldn't tell whether it was live from the occupant or broadcasted over a radio, television, or computer. There could be a Zeek beyond that door, just waiting for someone to open it for her so it could feed. But Terra was going to bleed to death if she didn't get help.

"Open up, please!" she called, beating a hand once, twice, thrice on the fire door. Not considering that the occupant might not understand her meaning, Terra called, "I'm not a Zeek! I'm not one of them. Please! Please ... don't let me die out here..."

Even though she hated the thought of it, Terra started crying again. She slid down the down, smearing it with the blood that was now soaking her uniform. She hit the floor, slumped over, and ... passed out...

 

[guyloveshotstories]

Mark A. Dobbin
Age 24
Height 5'11
Weight 160lbs
Picture: http://www.tax.ohio.gov/portals/0/TaxEducation/images/collegestudent1.jpg

It was just after graduation and I decided to celebrate it with a few friends. Nearly four years it took to get my Bachelors Degree in Humanities and now that I have it, I could do anything. We got wasted and somehow got home in time to crash onto my bed and slept for some 10 hours before waking up, showering, and finding the cure for a killer hangover. Turning on the computer, the first things that came up were reports of people attacking police. Nothing unusual about that, there seemed to be a rise of attacks on police officers, but the news reports said that these were different, they were ravenous. In fact, one report said that eight people were gunned down by police in one night in our city! That was too much. Then reports came in about some sort of chemical or biological scare. That's when I heard my neighbors running down the hallway. Peeking outside there was one family grabbing boxes with one hand and dragging along their children in the other in a desperate bid to escape.

"This can't be right" I said to myself closing the door. "That's just silly. Just a scare," but taking a step away from the door, a strange sensation rolled up my body that made me go back to the door and slide close the dead bolt.

For the next few hours the situation seemed to be getting worse. The National Guard was being called in, the subways were closed, as was the airport and the police were blocking off access to the hospitals and clinics as all of them were overflowing with casualties.

Was this a terrorist attack? Did ISIS do this? I didn't know. Sitting in front of the glowing TV screen stroking my chin, this needed a response. Trying to leave-it would be suicide. The roads outside were choked with hundreds upon hundreds of people running between stalled cars, carrying their worldly goods. I saw, in one case, a mother dragging her two children and when one lost its grip and fell, the mother didn't stop but kept running and let go of her other child and left them to fend for themselves. It was a rough world we lived in.

Fortunately, I was prepared. I had Grandpa's old hunting double-barrel shotgun with several boxes of rounds. Did a lot of clay pigeon and duck hunting with it, and was a pretty good shot with it, and I got a large fire ax and crowbar. Picked those up at a store on a whim after playing too many zombie games.

My apartment was small, only 600 square feet. It was all I could afford on my small salary, but it was mine and when it was confirmed in my mind that this was the real deal I went about fortifying myself-all of the windows had heavy blankets or blackout curtains covering them. All containers were filled with water. Electricity was still running, and my cupboards were filled with canned and prepared food. Always got the stuff on sale, 3 cans of corn for a dollar? Mine! Loading the shotgun, preparing a backpack in case I had to leave, all I could do now was wait.

A couple of hours later I heard gunshots outside. Turning off the lights and cracking the window, there were people still running through the streets, but then saw a person get tackled by another person and was set upon by others. In horror I watched as they ripped that person apart and devoured its flesh. My skin turned pale as all of the blood drained and my heart skipped a beat. It's not real! Stepping back, my stomach churned. Now I was sick.

A few minutes later there was the roar of an engine, then the putter of blades-a helicopter! It sounded like it was going right overhead then a jarring explosion that rocked the apartment and caused me to fall to my knees. "What was that?" A minute or so later there was the muffled report of a weapon going off. Going back to the window, I couldn't see anything except a glow out in the corner. It had to be a fire.

Then came a knock at the door. I turned around in a jerk with shotgun in hand. CAutiously going to the door and placing an eye to the peep hole, there was something there, someone...crying. "Open up, please!" it sounded like a woman in pain. "I'm not a Zeek! I'm not one of them. Please! Please ... don't let me die out here..."

Pursing my lips, my mind fought itself. I had to help, but at the same time-was it a trick? I had the shotgun, but what if her friends were out there as well, ready to gangbang me, steal my supplies and kill me? After a moment of bitter internal arguing I reached out and turned open the deadbolt and cracked the door open enough to see her body and whisper out, "Who are you? Are you...sick?" I had to be sure she was not ill in any way, but her face showed a lot of pain and then I saw one of her hands...

 

[AngelEyes1994]

The door opening behind her allowed Terra's body to fall back in between the door and the frame. As she thudded to the hard wood floor, she jostled back to semi consciousness, cracking her eyes and looking up.

"Please ... help me," she begged in a whisper. "Bleeding ... stop bleeding ... please..."

She lifted a hand into the air toward the man who she could only barely focus on. Chance was it was the bloodied hand...

 

[guyloveshotstories]

Seeing the blood sent a cold shiver up my spine. Was she infected? She wasn't turning, or hunting me. The blood was bright red and her hand teased me just inches away from my face. I had to help. Quickly I placed the shotgun against the wall, grasped her body by hooking underneath the armpits and dragged her inside the apartment, poked outside and saw a knapsack, perhaps it was her's and fetched it before closing and locking the door.

Her body was weak. I had practiced First Aid, but never thought I would use it, but kneeling beside her with a First Aid kit, I swallowed hard and decided to go to work. "I'm going to help you," whispering, "But I need for you to relax and let me see your wound." Opening up the flaps to her blouse, it was dark stained with blood then came the wound itself, a large, jagged piece of steel was sticking out of her.

It looked bad, but I kept up a strong face for her. "It doesn't look so bad. A little cleaning and a bandage and you'll be as good as new."

Donning a pair of latex gloves and plucking out tweezers I tested the shrapnel with a slight tug, but the sharp teeth of it seemed to be painful for her.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

Terra grimaced as she felt her body being dragged into the apartment. She knew he was about to save her life, but a voice deep inside her brain was screaming Fuck! That hurts! Careful!

A sharp pain erupted in her side, causing Terra to scream out in pain. Immediately, she chastised herself silently for the noise. It hadn't taken long for the Authorities to learn and broadcast the fact that the Zeeks were as attracted to sound as to movement.

After she forced the pain away, Terra understood that the man was trying in vain to pull the shard of metal from her side. She reached out and grasped one of his arms, squeezed it tightly, and growled, "Pull it ... plug it ... soak it ... alcohol. Do it. Gag me."

 

[guyloveshotstories]

Taking a wash cloth I rolled it up and placed it in her mouth. It was going to be painful for the both of us, but it had to be done. I gave her a nod that I was ready then grasped the jagged piece with the tweezers and gave it a sharp pool. When it came out there was a lot of blood that flowed out and onto the floor. It didn't bother me, but dropping the shrapnel into a small bowl there came a splash of alcohol against the gap it created in her body. This was worse that in most movies. Cleaning away the blood I held my breath, but kept focus. When enough of it was gone there was the empty wound. It was big enough that it needed stitches. Good thing I could sew.

Opening up a tray in the kit I drew a long, thin, metal needle and some 30 silk. Threading it and dabbing it in some alcohol, I whispered, "Just relax..." don't know how she could, but I started to close the wound slowly. It only took a couple of minutes and all the while I was praying that this was going to work.

For now it was just the two of us in this world. The outside didn't matter. My mind was homed in trying to save this stranger from the worst day in my life.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

Despite the abundance of pain already racking her body, Terra indeed felt the tip of the needle penetrate her flesh.

"Just relax..." he whispered to her.

"Just sew," she growled back.

It was the pain talking, of course. He had saved her life by bringing her inside away from the Zeeks; and now he was saving her life again by not letting her bleed out on his floor. But now as the immediate danger of death faded, the pain in her body seemed to be increasing exponentially until finally, as he finished his sewing on the side of her body, Terra faded away into unconsciousness...



She didn't know how long she'd been asleep when finally she regained consciousness. The room was dark as night, but as the windows were covered it could have been high noon outside in the world. Terra tried to rise but, still, her body screamed with pain. Means I'm still alive if I can feel it, she thought.

"Are you there?" she asked, wondering whether she'd been abandoned to her own fate. Would he do that? Leave her after rescuing her from the Zeeks? "I'm thirsty."

Terra was eager to know her current situation. It was in her nature to want answers. She'd been a pesky child, always asking who, what, where, when, how and most aggravating of all for her easily annoyed mother, why? She'd remained that way all the way through grammar school, constantly raising her hand with another question; and then into college and ROTC, where although the hand raising became unnecessary, the questions remained plentiful.

 

[guyloveshotstories]

When her eyes closed for a moment I thought I had lost her, but it was the pain. When her wound was stitched up I gave a good cleaning and covered it up with fresh gauze and dragged her away from the door and covered her with a blanket. For the rest of that time I spent with my ear to the door and one ear on the radio. Internet finally crapped out, seemingly for good. Cellphone was useless as well. There were still noises heard throughout the building, but I didn't know who or what it was. My shotgun never left my side. I even put down some extra blankets on the floor to muffle my footsteps. Every once in a while I stole a peek outside to see the streets, but I gave up on that after seeing so many of these...things...just standing around like clueless teenagers.

Radio was still up, catching bit by bit information about what was happening in the outside world. It was dire. The city was almost completely overrun. There were faint voices of holdouts on rooftops or in secluded areas. The military was pulling back and leaving us to our fate. Hearing this I nearly cried when I heard my new guest's voice called out for water. Rubbing the tears from my eyes on the cuff of the sleeve, I went to the kitchen and poured out some water. It was filtered carefully.

Coming to her I knelt down with a half smile, "Take it easy" whispering to her. "My name is Mark, by the way" then flicked my head towards the door where her bag sat. "I'd figure that was yours in the hallway. It's pretty heavy."

 

[AngelEyes1994]

(OOC: I am more comfortable with third person, as you can tell from my previous posts. But I am about to begin a group role play which will be first person, so I'm switching to match your replies. )

The water was so wonderfully refreshing. I didn't realize how thirsty I was until the glass was emptied and I was holding it out, asking, "More, please ... Mark."

As he went to refill my glass, I slowly -- agonizingly -- sat up and looked to the pack I'd snatched off the roof and was immediately thankful it had come inside. I glanced about myself for the shotgun and rifle but didn't see either of them. Casually I reached to my hip for my side arm, only to find -- as a result of the surgery -- that the belt with my Beretta, Taser, and extendable baton was missing, too.

I knew I shouldn't have, but my first thought was that this man -- this Mark -- had disarmed me. Was he concerned that I presented a threat? Or did he just want my weapons for his own use? Or ... was I letting my mind run free and wild in the wrong direction.

"Thank you, Mark," I said upon getting the second glass of water. I sucked most of it down without stop, before finally lowering the glass to my lap. I half glanced to where he'd removed the whatever it was in my side and asked, "Am I gonna live, Doc?"

He gave me his answer, and -- realizing I hadn't done so yet -- I offered my hand out with a bit of unsteadiness. "Terra ... Terra Vale ... Corporal ... Kansas National Guard."

We traded greetings properly, then I glanced to the blocked out window. "How bad is it out there?"

Mark caught me up. It seemed all to obvious that we were on our own, so I told him, "Roof."

I explained about the helicopter on the roof, about the crash, about the dead bodies ... and, most importantly, about the supplies that were scattered either up there or on the street below. "Weapons ... ammunition ... first aid kits ... satellite phones ... two, maybe three, I don't remember. If we could get that stuff..."

I knew what I was suggesting: that Mark go to retrieve as much of it as he could. I would be no help to him. At least not now.

"If we wait a day, maybe two," I explained, "for rest and recuperation ... mine obviously ... I can go with you. We can provide cover for one another. But by then, the stuff might be gone."

There was no way for me to know whether or not there were other Uninfected out there snatching up all the valuable resources, including possibly the cache on the roof top. The Zeeks certainly didn't have an interest in such stuff. It had already been duly noted that they had no interest in anything other than running around and biting people.

I thought I would casually test Mark a bit. I glanced about the room, then asked, "I don't see my side arm ... Beretta nine mil'."

It was my assumption that he'd hid away all three of my fire arms. I didn't realize that my belt was just around the other side of the couch where Mark had removed it from me; or that my long guns were out in the hall around the corner where I'd fallen, out of sight of Mark's door...

 

[guyloveshotstories]

"Don't worry about your weapons," I told her. "Don't be mad, but your pistol's on the other side of the couch. Your shotgun and your other gun are in the hallway. You can have them back."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that when she lost consciousnesses there was a lingering fear that she was going to turn and not knowing their brain capacity, I didn't want an infected in my house to be armed with so much firepower, but it had been several hours, she was up and talking, drinking, and not showing any signs of infection, so, I figured that she was not going to turn into one of them. "Your taser and all of that are there, as well."

Going around the couch I fetched the pistol, holster, and belt, and handed them back, along with her baton. With her now awake, I'd figure our chance of survival had gone up.

Her suggestion of venturing outside and looking for the extra supplies, including the Sat Phones had me intrigued. Perhaps with them she could contact her unit and gain us an extraction. As we talked there was a sharp noise outside, sounded like a wail. Going over to the curtain and slowly peeling it back, there was the sun just a few minutes above the sky scrappers, about to disappear. Down below there were two of those things on their bellies reaching under a vehicle. Either a cat or stray dog, they were going for it. The plucky thing shot out and the zeeks followed it.

Going back to Terra, "We can definitely try it. It's been nearly a whole day since this all started. Perhaps with another day the streets will be clear. We can start from the roof and work our way down. See, there's a fire escape outside that window," pointing to the window I had just left. "We can use that to get down and then get back up. But, after we gather up the supplies, our best chance, for right now, is to stay put. I've been seeing a lot of those zombies outside in the streets. Power, water, electricity, they're all out now, including the internet. But, I've been gathering up the water and I figure with you here now we have enough for maybe three weeks, at most. And there's enough food for a month or more." Now all of that saving was paying off.

I was trying to be as optimistic as possible with Terra hoping it would rub off on her. Though she showed a great deal of pain, it would go away in time. I didn't have anything heavy that would take the edge off other than Ibuprofen which I offered to her.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

I liked every thing Mark was saying ... except one. He sounded like he was planning on just holing up here and waiting out the mayhem. Really...? I wanted to get back out there as soon as I could stand -- stand and not fall over, anyway -- and return to my mission. Somewhere out there -- in the hospital, the city, the state, where ever -- someone was working on a cure for this fucking plague, and I wanted to find them and get them to safety.

How could this guy talk about just hiding away until everyone else was dead? My God! Fucking civilians!

But as Mark moved away to do some things, I tried to think about what was happening from his point of view ... a civilian's point of view. It wasn't too hard to consider actually. It wasn't like I was hard core kill'em all, blood'n'guts Army. I was just a Guardsman. Oh sure, I'd been deployed for a couple of weeks. And I had killed people -- humans, not Zeeks -- in the defense of my country. I knew 20 year veterans who had never even pointed their weapon at another person, let alone put a bullet through an ISIS barbarian's skull at 300 yards using night vision optics.

But it wasn't like I ate, breathed, and shit the Army way. Until the Zeeks rose, I had been recently spending just a weekend a month in green carrying an M16. Of course, I spent most of the other weekends out at my parents' ranch with a .30-06 or 12 gauge. During the week, I could be found at the shooting range below the 44th Street Bowling Alley, using my Beretta to punch holes through human outlines on paper.

I didn't know where this obsession to shoot guns came from. But as I sat here, I felt ... naked without a fire arm in my hands. And I felt worthless not fighting the Zeeks, either by finding a cure against them and their disease ... or by putting fast moving, hot chunks of lead through their brains.

I managed to get to my feet and walk about Mark's apartment a bit while he did tasks and we talked about ... things in general. I donned my weapons belt, grimacing at the pain from it pressing upon my bandage covered stitches. I checked my Beretta, to ensure it had a chambered round; and my Taser to ensure it had a full charge. I suddenly felt much better ... armed.

I peeked out onto the streets as Mark had and saw pretty much what he had: tragedy unfolding. What were we supposed to do about this? It wasn't like a simple riot that could be put down with tear gas and rubber bullets. The Zeeks were eating people!

"Do you live alone?" I asked.

I turned to face Mark with a blank, casual expression on my face. I didn't really know why I was asking it now. I guess we had run out of things to talk about. And, to be honest, I was kind of curious. And kind of horny. Oh, I wasn't gonna jump his bones or anything like that. Hell, I fucking ached from the three floor drop over the side of a building. But ... well, to be honest, the action of the past 30 hours had heated me up. It always did. I'd spent the hours immediately following the action in Iraq fucking a fellow Guardsman ... and when he had no more energy for me, I hooked up with a private contractor for a few more hours of rough stuff.

"I'm just wondering," I said, smiling a bit, then grimacing as I moved wrong and pain shot through my side, "whether I should expect someone to walk through the door against whom I shouldn't employ the old shoot first, ask questions later concept."

 

[guyloveshotstories]

"No. I live alone," I said to her with a half smile. With that uniform on, she was't bad looking. In fact, she almost looked like a model, but now that she was roughed up with that, she looked like a character from a movie, still retaining the looks, but showing the weathering on the surface. Though my apartment was small with just a single bathroom and bedroom, it was still more than enough for the two of us.

I live alone now, but when I was still in school I did have a girlfriend. Lasted nearly four years. She was a gorgeous redhead, buxom figure, green eyes and had a mouth that could do things never thought possible, but, one day, she was gone. Came home to find all of her things gone, no note, no call, no explanation. That didn't come until over two months later when she sent me a text message saying that she had to make a choice and decided to do other things and felt that taking me with her would only stop me from doing what I wanted to do. I tried talking to her mother, she said she thought Scarlett joined the military, but I didn't care. By that point the relationship was beyond salvaging and decided to move on with my life. Sure, there was a date or two and a one-night stand or three, but nothing ever reached that serious level again. One thing that I did have and couldn't bear to take down was a small picture of me and her during one of nights all curled up together on the bed, she being seductive and pressing her chest into my face while I kissed her clothed body. Just thinking about her face brought back a lot of memories, but now that Terra was here, I had to shake my mind of it and focus on the situation-the zeeks outside that wanted to devour us whole.

School was a high demand on everything since then. When I did have personal time I would either play games or hang out with the few friends I had left. When Grandpa passed away he willed me the shotgun and I took it to the target range every now and then just to relieve stress.

As Terra hobbled around me, my eyes looked her over. Though she had her pistol back, I wasn't threatened by it, but I also didn't notice a ring on her fingers showing that she was taken. Biting my lower lip I turned away for a moment to pretend I was tinkering with the radio, but that was to avoid staring at her for too long to get horny.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

"No," Mark answered. "I live alone."

I contained my desire to smile at the man's answer. Then, after he turned away -- not wanting to ogle me -- I took a moment to ogle him. I'd already taken notice of his face. He had a bit of kind, older brother softness in his expressions and smile. I could certainly see myself sucking face with those lips. But I'd also been watching him move about the apartment for the last hour or so, and while his loose fitting clothes hid him comfortably, I knew there was a fit, delicious body in there that I could spend hours upon hours exploring.

He looked at me from the kitchen, causing me to look away to ... well, nothing in particular ... just away. I hadn't meant to ogle Mark. I wasn't looking for anything sexual from him, of course. Hell, we'd only just met and under some obviously strange circumstances. I toyed with a picture frame on the desk, wondering whether Mark had caught me, asking, "These your folks?"



When dark arrived, I found myself standing at the window just staring down at the street. I didn't realize I'd been standing there for almost two hours, virtually motionless, until my body began to ache from the lack of movement. The streets were vacant. I'd never imagined a city at dusk as devoid of human motion as this. Again, as I'd thought to myself often over the past couple of days, it was like something out of a bad SyFy movie.

Movement near the corner caught my eye, and after a moment of staring I realized it was a pair of dogs ravaging a corpse that was hanging from the passenger side door of a crashed truck. They pulled the body to the ground and tugged at it with sharp, digging fangs. I grimaced and my stomach turned when one of the dogs suddenly ran down the street and I realized he was carrying a human arm in his mouth.

"I'm getting my weapons," I said suddenly, turning and heading for the door. I'm not sure why seeing what I'd seen suddenly made me want to be better armed, but it did. I pulled my Beretta and checked the chamber again. I grabbed the door knob, then hesitated and turned to look to Mark. I studied his reaction to my sudden decision, then -- remembering he, too, had a firearm -- asked, "Will you cover me?"

 

[guyloveshotstories]

"Are these your folks?" she asked holding up a small portait.

"Yeah. Those are my parents," I replied as she looked at the image for a moment and put down. They lived outside of the city, retired. They had a comfortable living on a small plot of land tending to chickens and to their garden. Being their only son, they were able to shower me with affection and money, but knew that I needed to have my own freedom.

When I responded to her question, Terra went over to the window and stared out of it for some two hours. She tensed up, what was she looking at? I didn't question it, Lord knows I should have, because when she finally snapped back to reality, she was now flush with determination, producing her side arm and asking if I would cover her. Rising up from my seat, I held one hand to my shotgun. It was loaded with 00 buckshot, but I also reached for her rifle and handed it to her, "You'll need this if I'm going to cover you," giving a small smile.

Now we were a team. We had to be cautious in stepping out. Any noise would rile these things up. Putting an ear to the door and hearing nothing, we opened the lock and slowly pulled the door open. Stepping out and looking about there were several doors open, but no noise. I drew the shotgun across my chest. I had only a small pouch holding the extra ammunition I had, but I also had a crowbar should I have to smash in a head or pry open a door. Allowing Terra to take the lead allowed me to look at her from behind. The uniform didn't do her justice, though it was form fitting, it wasn't skin tight so I couldn't see how large her chest or backside really was, but her in uniform made my mouth water that I was staring at a piece of prime steak. Shaking my head to clear it, I was starting to think like a zeek. Had to keep my head in the game.

First place to go to was the roof. She took the lead and I watched behind us that I had to turn around and slowly walk backwards with the shotgun aimed down the empty corridor.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

Every step made me cringe. The building was old, and our path took us over both wooden planks and metal steps. There were more open doors now than I remembered, offering more potential sources of danger. I was torn between closing them and leaving them as they were: if they locked automatically, we might not have an easy opportunity to pillage the apartments later; but if we didn't close them and there were Zeeks beyond, well...

And there was also the chance that squeaking doors would only offer more opportunities to attract the cannibals. In the end, I tested each door carefully and, if it didn't squeal, I closed it gently. We ascended one floor, then another, and finally the last without incident.

I checked on Mark often. He'd informed me of his lack of military experience, and that concerned me. As a semi-professional soldier, I tended to suspect the value of pure civilians. I shouldn't have. Mark would, in the days and weeks to come, prove his worth to my continued survival. But right now, one thought kept coming back to me again and again: Please don't shoot me in the butt!

At the door to the roof, I explained what to expect on the roof: death, destruction, and possibly even Zeeks. One had tracked me to the roof before attracting the contents of my Beretta's clip. Were more up there? There was only one way to find out.

I tested the door, pushed it open a few inches -- sending a squeal down through the stairwell that sent a chill up my spine -- hesitated, then pushed it open enough to pass through. There was no movement, which was good ... and bad.

My eyes filled with tears at the sight of my fellow Guardsmen -- as well as the nurses and patients we'd saved -- being fed upon by crows, cats, and rats...

 

[guyloveshotstories]

Getting to the roof was difficult, but what we saw on it was sickening. The alley cats were animals gnawing on the flesh of the dead. When we got close they would turn to hiss at us, but the birds would just fly away. Damn cats. They were always eating from the bins, begging for scrapes, howling in the alleys at night looking for something to either eat or fuck. Wanted to shoot them with my shotgun before this began, but I didn't want to get arrested.

I didn't know who these people were, but to Terra-they were everything. There was a bond here that I didn't understand that went as deep as family and blood brothers.

As much as I wanted to shoot the cats and permanently stop their pillaging of the dead, it would only attract the undead to us. But I did punt one cat that refused to leave, his body cartwheeled through the air with a whine. He hit the roof and ran off. At least it was a measure of revenge.

So many bodies.

I've seen dead bodies before. My Grandpa's funeral, for one. Then there was a car collision I witnessed a couple of years ago. Two people were walking across the street and were hit by a drunk driver. I watched the whole thing and it made me sick for days. This was different. There was the lingering stench of death that lingered over them that burned my nostrils and made me hold my breath and breath in slowly or else I would be overcome by the sickness of it all.

There was no place near that we could bury them and if we leave them this way, then the crows and the cats would just come back to feast on them. I didn't know what to to say to Terra to help her. The only thing I could do was keep my cool and watch my sector. The flames around the helicopter were nearly all out, but smoke continued to rise up from the wreck. It mingled in the dirty sky with the fires from several other sites around the neighborhood. Here and there I would find blood streaks or articles of uniform and clothing, an empty Kevlar helmet and maybe a spent shell casing. Looking at the twisted frame of the helicopter and then at Terra, I was amazed that she was able to survive such an impact.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

The scene on the roof was far worse -- far more gruesome -- than I'd remembered, made worse, of course, by the scavengers eating on the dead who surrounded us. I tried to scare some of the animals away, but to little effect. When Mark booted an alley cat through the air, I wanted to laugh aloud but ... but nothing came out.

If he had voiced his thoughts about the future of the bodies, Mark would have found agreement from me. We were screwed when it came with what to do with the dead. No burial. No burning, not on the tar covered roof. Gathering and sealing would have little long term protective value.

"Gather every thing of value," I said quietly. "Weapons, ammo belts, radios ... packs."

I looked down into the face of my most treasured friend within the Unit and felt my eyes glaze over again. I turned away from Mark, determined not to let him see me cry again ... ever again!

"Get it all to the stairwell door but leave it outside," I continued, leaning down to pull a picture and single page letter from my friend's vest pocket. "It'll be better if we leave the stuff up here for now but hid over there ... near the door."

My reasoning was that if we lost the building to the Zeeks, we could at least come back up here later to claim the salvaged gear. Of course, someone -- a person -- might get to the roof and steal it, too, so if Mark countered my idea, I'd understand.

"I'll go through the personal effects," I said, more to myself than to Mark. I murmured, "It's my duty."

 

[guyloveshotstories]

She had the right idea of stowing the bear beside the window, but I didn't like the idea of keeping it outside. It left it in the open for anyone to snag. "I do have a lot of extra large garbage bags back in my apartment," whispering to her. "We can hide the gear in them and leave them outside and people will think it's just trash."

That's when she started to go through their pockets, for their dog tags. Now it was personal for her. I didn't know these people, but she did. It was better that I left her in peace and follow with her direction to look for and gather anything of value. Going to the helicopter the pilot and copilot were still strapped into their seats. Still I poked their bodies with the muzzle of the shotgun. Nothing happened. The smell. The smell of burning and rotting flesh was powerful here. I had to hold my breath to keep from vomiting.

I did find a large green brick that had been thrown from the wreckage. Picking it up, it was a GPS unit. Appeared to be intact. It had a numbered keypad. I pressed a button and it flashed on. Yes! Something that worked. Turning it off I held on to it and continued to look. There was a satchel wrapped around a body. I hated to take things from the dead, or disturb their bodies, but it needed to be done. The body was of some doctor, I think, wore a charred white coat. Rolling the skinny body over with the shotgun I opened the clasp and carefully slipped the strap from the body. Opening it up there was a large wad of cash, baby wipes, hand sanitizer, pencils, pen, paper, and even a small stapler. I shoved the GPS into it and continued looking. Found several magazines for a rifle that were still full. Good. Meant more zeeks could be killed. Found a grenade. It was heavier than I thought it would be. I went around the helicopter kicking bits of wreckage out of the way. If I found a body I would poke it with the shotgun and roll it over to ensure that it was dead.

Every so often I had to stop when I heard something moving. Looking over the edge into the alley, it was just a cat running about. Damn creatures. This time away from her allowed me to think, I had to rely on Terra now for survival. She had experience in service, but I knew the area. There had to be a balance and trust between us. Not a serious relationship, but we had to learn to start trusting each other and how to bond, but right now wasn't the time.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

As we performed out individual but somewhat related tasks, I occasionally looked to Mark to see how he was doing. If I'd known what was going through his mind -- about us having to learn to trust and work with one another -- I would have found it ironic, because I was thinking the same thing. My knowledge of conflict situations and his knowledge of the neighborhood -- particularly where specific, valuable resources could be found -- were two sides of the same coin.

But my mind was filled with visions of his reactions to the death and destruction around him. Mark was no soldier. He wasn't made for this. How could I possibly put my life in his hands when danger reared its ugly head.

Maybe I should load up on weapons and ammo and hit the road, I thought to myself watching him gather some med gear. But really, what would be better? Being out there in the world alone where I would be dependent on only myself but surround by unknown and likely endless dangers? Or stay here in a more secure location with a guy I wasn't sure I could depend upon?

I couldn't know it now, of course, but Mark would prove himself to be much more than adequate in the days and weeks to come. But for now, he just seemed like a liability.

"I need to rest," I told him after I'd visited the last body and collected the personal objects I thought should be retained by a comrade in arms. I saw his reaction to the exhaustion evident in my face, but I shrugged it off. "I'm okay. I just need to lay down for a minute or two."

We got back to Mark's apartment without incident. I dropped the packs full of gear I'd carried from the roof and then dropped myself onto his couch...



I didn't wake from my short nap until sunrise the next morning...

 

[guyloveshotstories]

She was weighed down by a lot. I could tell. It wasn't all the gear we were carrying, it was emotion. Every soldier she came across I could see that she was fighting back a flood. When she laid down on the couch I covered her with a blanket and tried to be as quiet as possible while going through and sorting the gear we had.

It was a large haul, I was happy for it, but at the same time there was evidence of how we got it with bits of dried blood or initials written on the side of equipment marking them to their previous owners. It was a damn shame that they had to die so violently. Didn't seem fair in many ways. How was it that she, out of all of them, survived while they didn't? What did they do to anger God? I wasn't much of a religious man. Hadn't been to church in years, and that was only due to a wedding. My parents were Christian and they gave me a Bible to hold on to for protection. They say that everything happens for a reason, but this wasn't how I expected it.

I stacked the ammo and the weapons and then the GPS units and the radios, the batteries, maps, and other assorted gear and then carefully packed them up into the rucksacks we had. Each one weighed a ton, it felt. Maybe 100lbs each or so, but if we had to hit the road, we would be set for weeks. There were also several MREs in each pack to keep us nourished.

Going over to the radio I tried to dial in a signal. A lot of static, but that meant somewhere, someone was sending. The panicked cries were now gone. There wasn't a signal from the Emergency Broadcast anymore. I kept trying. Every so often I would traipse over to the window and peek out to see nothing then back to the radio.

Sometime around midnight I felt tired. I ensured the door was locked and curled up on the floor with several blankets, rolled up with the shotgun, and fell asleep.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

I stood over Mark, watching his chest rise and fall in deep slumber. His eyes moved about occasionally behind his closed lids, and I wondered what he was dreaming of. I'd awoken to a horrific nightmare reminiscent of the scene on the roof. I wondered whether all of my nights to come would end like that.

I moved to the wall where my new roommate had stood or laid down the collected weapons that we'd brought down. I was happy to see Skippy's weapon, an M24 sniper rifle with a Leupold 10 power scope. Skippy had taken me to the range a couple of dozen times since our return from Iraq, teaching me how to use the more powerful, longer shooting rifle. I'd qualified as sniper with a 98%, not that it had done me any good back here.

I found one of Skippy's two ammo boxes amongst Mark's treasures, stuffed it into my vest pocket, looked back at the still sleeping man, and headed out...



Boooooom...

Before I could settle the scope's cross hairs back on target again, the Zeek -- standing still in the middle of the street six blocks away -- had already fallen to its knees. As I watched, it continued falling forward, its face smacking hard upon the pavement. It was only then as I studied the Zeek through the scope that I could see the damage the hardened steel bullet had done to the back of its skull.

"Jesus...!" I called out, searching for another target. I whispered to myself as I tried to keep the gun steady, "...that felt good."

I looked over the top of the Leupold at the street below. At least three dozen Zeeks that had simply been standing about, waiting for stimulus -- meaning someone to eat -- all turned my general direction. They didn't know exactly where I was, but the activity level on the street had definitely picked up with the report of the rifle.

I put my eye to the rear of the scope again, picked out a Zeek whose face and clothes were noticeably covered in blood, and squeezed the trigger gently.

Boooooom...

Again I settled the powerful gun again on my target. The Zeek was down. I murmured, "That's your blood in case you didn't recognize it ... freak."

Boooooom...

Boooooom...

Boooooom...

I lifted my face again to look down on the street. The Zeeks were just going nuts, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

"Fuck you, Zeek!" I hollered down from the apartment building's roof top. Softer, I repeated with a smile, "Fuck ... you."

I wasn't even considering that my voice might draw attention. I don't think I really cared. Bring'em on is what I probably would have said if I'd thought about it. But I wasn't. I wasn't thinking. I was just killing Zeeks. And I was enjoying it. Without from the street, I reached to the nearby ammo case and, one after another, pulled out five more rounds, feeding them into the M24's internal clip.

"Fuck you," I murmured, pushing the bolt forward. I found another target, fired ... another target, fired ... another, fired, fired, fired. I lifted my eyes again, looking to the street. Ten shots. Ten dead Zeeks. I laughed, short but loud. I rolled away from the building's edge, never having been spotted, and stared up at the clear blue sky. As I clutched the weapon, I murmured to myself, "Fuck you ... Zeek."

 

[guyloveshotstories]

I slept heavily that night. My body was thoroughly exhausted that I was out for maybe ten hours, but the gunfire from the roof, at first, didn't wake me. The heavy cracks of the rifle thumps through the hallway. By the fifth or sixth round that's when my eyes jerked open and it flashed in my mind, 'We're under attack!' I sat up and wrapped my hands around my shotgun and looked around for Terra. She wasn't there. But neither was one of the rifles we brought in and the other equipment was still there. Going out into the hall there was another crack. It was coming from the roof.

Carefully I went up to the roof and scanned about. I couldn't yell out or else give myself away, but the fire had my blood going that we were being attacked by the undead. Then, it stopped. The firing abruptly ended.

"T-Terra?" whispering. There were still the bodies of the fallen by the wreckage. I had an eye on them, fully expecting at any moment for them to rise up like in a bad horror movie, even though I knew they were already dead.

Creeping forward with the shotgun trained, I found a figure laid out on the roof. Coming closer I found Terra laying on her back with a large gun across her body. She was whispering, "Fuck you..." was she referring to me? "Zeek....fuck you..."

The undead. Cautiously I came over and knelt beside her and held my shotgun with one hand. The first logical question to ask would be, "Are you okay? but, that's not what I asked because I now knew that she, and myself, were not alright. Terra was releasing stress. Capping zombies was good release, but now I worried that her weapon fire would now attract the zombies and any other unsavory people to our position. Looking down, she did look cute with that rifle, showing dirt, fatigue, and determination, but I had to shake my head and remain focused.

"C'mon" whispering to her, "Let's get back inside" patting her on the shoulder.

 

[AngelEyes1994]

I looked up into Mark's sweet, gentle face and thought God, I wanna fuck you so bad.

Action always did this to me ... got me all hot and bothered. But ... he wasn't the guy. Fucking civilian. Humanities Degree...? Really?

I rolled away from him and stood to look down on the street, which was now active with scurrying Zeeks. I wasn't so much interested in looking at them, though, as I was in not looking at Mark. Ironically, it wasn't because of the moments earlier degrading thoughts I had of him, but instead was because of my own embarrassment of having had them.

Why the hell was I so quick to cut this man down. I mean, fuck! He'd likely saved my life ... he'd invited me into his home ... he'd helped me deal with my lost comrades ... and he'd done it all without once expecting me to part my thighs to accept his reward.

Actually, it was me who was thinking of fucking. Maybe I was the one with the problems.

"We should go," I said softly, agreeing with Mark's level headed thinking. I looked to him for a moment, then a devilish smirk widened my mouth. I said with a growl, "Jesus ... that felt good."



We returned to the apartment without the Zeeks on the ground ever realizing where the noise had come from. I laid the M24 out across Mark's coffee table, not too concerned about scratching it and found a gun cleaning kit amongst the gear we'd salvaged and brought down. I sat down to get to work on the weapon, but I was suddenly feeling pretty scroungy ... and, more to the point, I was still burning up inside with a need for release.

"We've still got water pressure, right?" I asked, using we've as if it were suddenly my apartment, too. He confirmed we did, and I headed for the bathroom, saying, "I need a shower."

On my way through the door, I stripped off my shirt, dropping it on the floor. If he were looking, Mark would have gotten a brief glimpse of the Serenity Prayer, tattooed down my right side, though he wouldn't have had enough time to realize what it was. I popped the clasp to my bra with one hand as I was closing the door with the other. Again, he only got a glimpse, but I'm pretty sure he knew what those exposed things were.



It was the best shower I'd had months. We -- he? -- still had perfect water pressure and lots of hot water. I soaked under the stream for the longest time, trying to wash away not just the blood, grime, and stench but the memories of what had happened to me over the last few days as well.

Happened to us, I reminded myself. Us!

What were we going to do? Two of us against the world? I'd looked for a working radio amongst the debris and hadn't found one; and because I'd dropped for an immediate nap after coming down from the roof the last time, I didn't realize that Mark had found one or I would have been on it in a heart beat contacting the Guard.

Of course, there was no one to contact. But, I wouldn't know that until later in the day when I sat down in vain with the radio or three hours. Right now, all that was on my mind was getting clean ... and getting off. I grasped a hand rail in the shower with one hand and found my clit with the other. It felt good, but ... it wasn't happening. I found myself contemplating going out into the living room naked and wet and mounting my new room mate. Instead, I sat on the edge of the tub with the shower head between my legs -- the hose barely long enough to reach that spot -- and used the massage setting to drive myself to a much needed orgasm.

When I was finally coming down, it only then occurred to me that I'd done nothing to mute my soft moans of ecstasy. Had Mark heard me over the sound of rushing, splashing water? I giggled to myself, a bit embarrassed, thinking In all likelihood, yes. Oh well.

I dried and only then stripped off the now nasty bandage on my side. The sewing was actually very impressive. Once the swelling went down, presuming I didn't get infected and die, the scar wouldn't be any worse than the ones I'd received in Iraq from that mortar. I looked at them too, jagged well heeled slashes in the left sides of both calves and another on my left hip just below where a bikini waist band tan line would be ... presuming I had tan lines that is.

I took a moment to look over my body, turning this way and that. I found a small hand mirror and chuckled a bit. I'd never known a guy to have one in his bathroom, though I could imagine a number of reasons one would. I turned and used it to look over my back side ... smiling ... pleased. Damn fine, I thought, recalling the days before Iraq when I'd actually been climbing the ladder of the Kansas beauty pageant circuit.

Old times. Not good old times. Just ... old times. I'd always like the attention I got from the frequent shows, but the politics and etiquette of beauty pageants had been a little too much for me. Brutal! Instead, I joined the Guard and volunteered at my earliest opportunity to go to the Middle East where I felt safer. I laughed again at the insanity of such a decision.

I set the mirror aside, donned my push up bra, wrapped an oversized bath towel around my waist -- it hung all the way to my lower calves -- and strode out into the living up and up to Mark. I turned my most recent and now once again exposed injury to him and asked, "Can you...?"

I wasn't intentionally being provocative.

Okay.

I was.

Recent orgasm aside, I was still feeling pretty warm inside...

 

[guyloveshotstories]

That was a long time in the shower I thought. But as she was soaking herself in the shower, as I continued to tamper with the radio, I could hear the unmistakable moans of pleasure. Yeah. She wasn't really trying to hide anything back there. We had a lot of fun in the shower, using that hose and head, and it now seems that Terra was liking it as well. Listening with one ear as she played with herself, I couldn't help but smile. I needed that after all of the tense moments we had since this began. Didn't think such humor would come with a stranger pleasuring herself in my bathroom.

When she came out and flashed her healing wound to me, it took a moment before I realized that she wanted me to clean it and apply a new bandage. Having a woman in a towel come at you and then show a nasty wound is not something you're use to. Rolling out some gauze and tape, I patched her up rather nicely. Her skin was quite fair, smooth and delicate. When she went into the back for her shower I did notice that she was discarding her uniform rather carelessly, something my ex would do, but that was meant as a signal to-come in with me and fuck me. I couldn't do that with Terra, because I didn't know if it meant anything. Hell, we just meant. I didn't know if the stress was getting to her or if this was the way she usually was in the barracks.


"There we go" I said with a smile looking at it. "Looks like it's healing quite nicely. I have some antibiotics." Looking at the wound, it didn't show signs of infection, no weird smell or scabbing or strange colors.

Looking up, there was a grin on my face. Don't know why. It was like a knee jerk reaction to seeing Terra in just a towel with her long hair wet and sticking to her shoulders.

There was a strange silence between us for a moment, looking at each other in the eye. There was a connection of sorts between us, but we were waiting for someone to make a move. It was called a 'pregnant pause' where something was about to happen after a tense moment of silence. Hope it wasn't the zeeks to ruin the fun, and they kept their mouths shut.

"We have water pressure, but the electricity is out, so we can't use the washer machine, but, if you want, I can take your uniform and clean it for you by hand. I've done it many times" flicking my head towards her discarded articles on the floor, "and anything else you need washed."

 

[AngelEyes1994]

I glanced toward the clothes just beyond the bathroom door. Although I'd donned my bra, my panties were still sitting atop the stack. They were modest in style, not a tiny thong or anything. But they were bright pink, as was my bra, and I couldn't help but smile at the image of Mark standing over the kitchen sink washing them by hand.

"That's alright," I said, checking the expert first aid before standing close and tall over Mark. As he looked up at me, his gaze practically cut right through my cleavage. I smiled a bit wider, telling him, "But I could use a tee shirt ... and maybe some gym shorts, or boxers."

He retrieved me some clothes, and I went to the kitchen to wash my other clothes in the sink. I asked, "Tell me more about yourself. Anything."

I was feeling pretty much the same way about not knowing Mark as he was about me. And I was feeling pretty much the lust for Mark as he was for me. We weren't going to be fucking any time soon, though. I knew that. He wasn't my type. And even considering that he might be the last man on Earth -- that I ever saw again, at least -- he still wasn't the man who I wanted ramming his cock deep inside me.

At least ... that was the way I felt now...

How would I feel in a few months ... or weeks ... or maybe even just days! I knew myself very well, and I knew that dramatic situations tended to make my loins burn. Do they call'em loins in women? I wondered suddenly. Or is that just a guy things?

Of course, if I just settled down -- stopped doing such things as popping off Zeeks from the roof with a sniper rifle -- I could control my urges. Fat chance! I told myself. Knocking off those fuckers had felt so good! I knew I would be up there again in the near future.

At least, so I thought. I had no idea that soon enough Mark and I would be enjoying a level of drama that didn't require my producing it on my own...