The Jeffinator
Captain Manbeard
- Joined
- Mar 13, 2005
- Posts
- 8,365
(Please ask permission in the OOC if you want to join: http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=835896
“Fuck...” Logan mumbled as his phone ringing pulled him from his deep slumber. It sounded farther away than usual, though. The moment consciousness returned to him, he contorted his face, his head erupting with a throbbing pain.
“The fuck?” he said as he opened his eyes and found himself mostly inside his closet with his feet sticking out into the room. He was using a shoebox as a pillow and his neck cracked as he began to get up, the early morning sun hurting his eyes.
After being greeted with a momentary bout of dizziness upon standing, Logan looked around to see his room and entire apartment trashed. Empty bottles of beer and hard liquor strewn about, pizza boxes, Chinese food containers, dirty dishes, chip bags, fast food wrappers, etc. Unfortunately, the mess wasn't anything new – his place always looked like that since Alanna left.
After checking his phone to see four missed calls from a girl he fucked the other day, he threw it on his bed. Walking out to the kitchen and grabbing a beer, he chugged it until the bottle was empty. A second one, gone. After the third bottle chugged while standing in the kitchen, Logan was feeling a little better. He threw a few frozen burritos on a paper plate, popped it in the microwave, and went to the bathroom.
After using the toilet and washing his hands, he splashed some cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, deep rings under them. He hadn't shaven or showered in days, his short hair was a mess. He was wearing a pair of boxers and a Black Sabbath t-shirt that was partially torn and covered in stains, both old and new.
When his burritos were done, he grabbed the plate in one hand and two bottles of beer in the other. He walked out to his living room and plopped down on the couch, setting his beers on the end table and the plate on his lap. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the news and started stuffing his face.
“Holy shit,” he said with a mouth full of beans and meat. They were showing footage of sick people piling into hospitals and clinics, infected with a mysterious virus that no one could identify. This virus was nothing new, for weeks they had been reporting on it and it's isolated occurrences, but apparently it had begun to mutate and became airborne.
Unfortunately, that was only the beginning. Logan kept a close eye on the news channels in the weeks to come, and soon, they began to report that the people who died from the virus were coming back to life in a zombie state. They started calling them Walkers.
A few more weeks passed, and the virus stopped showing symptoms all-together. Anyone could be infected, and they wouldn't know it until they died and came back, or with a blood test. Even if one had the virus in their blood, if they were bitten by a walker or got the walker's blood or saliva in their own bloodstream, the symptoms of the virus returned and they were dead within a few hours, coming back as walkers.
The outbreak spiraled out of control, and the military began sanctioning off certain areas of the city. People panicked, riots began, shots were fired. Death, explosions, fires, cries of pain, fear, grief. Containment walls were breached, walkers overpowered the military, and soon damn near the entire city was dead and walking.
The city's power grid went dark and running water came to a stop shortly after as the pumping stations' backup generators used up all their fuel. Eventually, Logan had no choice but to leave his apartment. He gathered what he could in his old military dufflebag, grabbed his crossbow and quiver, and headed out the door.
Soon he found himself with a group of nineteen survivors, wholed up in the basement of a lower Manhattan financial firm. They were making plans to get out of the city, which was overrun by millions of walkers. Soon after leaving, they encountered a larger group with about forty members who had also escaped the city. They joined together and headed south along the shoreline.
A few weeks later, they were spotted by a survivor colony just off the coast. This colony had about four hundred people living in a “fleet” of boats and yachts. They would sail up and down the shoreline, looting supplies when needed. Logan's group joined the colony, as did many smaller groups of survivors in the area.
Life was somewhat happy for a while, but when Logan and a few others were on a supply run into a small beach town, they encountered a large group of about seventy, comprised of criminals from various gangs and mobs that had joined together to survive. They captured and tortured Logan's group, until one of them broke and revealed the location of their fleet.
Logan was furious at the little bastard that cracked, and soon, the criminals grabbed a few boats from the docks and headed out to the fleet. Logan and his group eventually got free from their ropes and frantically searched for a boat, but by the time they found one and got to the fleet, the gangs had taken it over and raped and killed most of the members.
A dramatic series of events played out as Logan tried to save who he could, ultimately ending with him and a few others on one boat and the other exploding. They threw down blankets on the floor of the cabin and slept there that night. The next morning, Logan sat on the deck, staring at the sky. What where they going to do now? He didn't know...
OOC: Okay, so, your characters are asleep in the cabin right now. Whether they were with one of the groups in New York, part of the fleet, or picked up along the coast, it's up to you. You can either be part of the group Logan led on the supply run when they met the gangs or people he rescued from the fleet before blowing it up. How you got to be in this boat is up to you.
If Mel wants to get to Montana to her parents farm, maybe she suggests to Logan that they go there, with the hope of a safe haven. As for how long it's been since the outbreak, let's say the first signs of the virus began appearing in early March 2012, and now it's September. That makes it about six months since the outbreak. This exceptionally long intro post was necessary to make a reason for our characters to be placed together since some of them have different starting areas.
“Fuck...” Logan mumbled as his phone ringing pulled him from his deep slumber. It sounded farther away than usual, though. The moment consciousness returned to him, he contorted his face, his head erupting with a throbbing pain.
“The fuck?” he said as he opened his eyes and found himself mostly inside his closet with his feet sticking out into the room. He was using a shoebox as a pillow and his neck cracked as he began to get up, the early morning sun hurting his eyes.
After being greeted with a momentary bout of dizziness upon standing, Logan looked around to see his room and entire apartment trashed. Empty bottles of beer and hard liquor strewn about, pizza boxes, Chinese food containers, dirty dishes, chip bags, fast food wrappers, etc. Unfortunately, the mess wasn't anything new – his place always looked like that since Alanna left.
After checking his phone to see four missed calls from a girl he fucked the other day, he threw it on his bed. Walking out to the kitchen and grabbing a beer, he chugged it until the bottle was empty. A second one, gone. After the third bottle chugged while standing in the kitchen, Logan was feeling a little better. He threw a few frozen burritos on a paper plate, popped it in the microwave, and went to the bathroom.
After using the toilet and washing his hands, he splashed some cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, deep rings under them. He hadn't shaven or showered in days, his short hair was a mess. He was wearing a pair of boxers and a Black Sabbath t-shirt that was partially torn and covered in stains, both old and new.
When his burritos were done, he grabbed the plate in one hand and two bottles of beer in the other. He walked out to his living room and plopped down on the couch, setting his beers on the end table and the plate on his lap. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the news and started stuffing his face.
“Holy shit,” he said with a mouth full of beans and meat. They were showing footage of sick people piling into hospitals and clinics, infected with a mysterious virus that no one could identify. This virus was nothing new, for weeks they had been reporting on it and it's isolated occurrences, but apparently it had begun to mutate and became airborne.
Unfortunately, that was only the beginning. Logan kept a close eye on the news channels in the weeks to come, and soon, they began to report that the people who died from the virus were coming back to life in a zombie state. They started calling them Walkers.
A few more weeks passed, and the virus stopped showing symptoms all-together. Anyone could be infected, and they wouldn't know it until they died and came back, or with a blood test. Even if one had the virus in their blood, if they were bitten by a walker or got the walker's blood or saliva in their own bloodstream, the symptoms of the virus returned and they were dead within a few hours, coming back as walkers.
The outbreak spiraled out of control, and the military began sanctioning off certain areas of the city. People panicked, riots began, shots were fired. Death, explosions, fires, cries of pain, fear, grief. Containment walls were breached, walkers overpowered the military, and soon damn near the entire city was dead and walking.
The city's power grid went dark and running water came to a stop shortly after as the pumping stations' backup generators used up all their fuel. Eventually, Logan had no choice but to leave his apartment. He gathered what he could in his old military dufflebag, grabbed his crossbow and quiver, and headed out the door.
Soon he found himself with a group of nineteen survivors, wholed up in the basement of a lower Manhattan financial firm. They were making plans to get out of the city, which was overrun by millions of walkers. Soon after leaving, they encountered a larger group with about forty members who had also escaped the city. They joined together and headed south along the shoreline.
A few weeks later, they were spotted by a survivor colony just off the coast. This colony had about four hundred people living in a “fleet” of boats and yachts. They would sail up and down the shoreline, looting supplies when needed. Logan's group joined the colony, as did many smaller groups of survivors in the area.
Life was somewhat happy for a while, but when Logan and a few others were on a supply run into a small beach town, they encountered a large group of about seventy, comprised of criminals from various gangs and mobs that had joined together to survive. They captured and tortured Logan's group, until one of them broke and revealed the location of their fleet.
Logan was furious at the little bastard that cracked, and soon, the criminals grabbed a few boats from the docks and headed out to the fleet. Logan and his group eventually got free from their ropes and frantically searched for a boat, but by the time they found one and got to the fleet, the gangs had taken it over and raped and killed most of the members.
A dramatic series of events played out as Logan tried to save who he could, ultimately ending with him and a few others on one boat and the other exploding. They threw down blankets on the floor of the cabin and slept there that night. The next morning, Logan sat on the deck, staring at the sky. What where they going to do now? He didn't know...
OOC: Okay, so, your characters are asleep in the cabin right now. Whether they were with one of the groups in New York, part of the fleet, or picked up along the coast, it's up to you. You can either be part of the group Logan led on the supply run when they met the gangs or people he rescued from the fleet before blowing it up. How you got to be in this boat is up to you.
If Mel wants to get to Montana to her parents farm, maybe she suggests to Logan that they go there, with the hope of a safe haven. As for how long it's been since the outbreak, let's say the first signs of the virus began appearing in early March 2012, and now it's September. That makes it about six months since the outbreak. This exceptionally long intro post was necessary to make a reason for our characters to be placed together since some of them have different starting areas.
