Journal:Lanzer
| Andrew Lanzer | ||||||||||
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The Background
The Countermeasures
Do you remember the two points I exposed in the previous entry to this journal? The first one ("congratulate myself for not taking breakfast") was readily met in the spot. I had breakfast later, though. The second point, "get ready to something big. With "big" being a full-scale military operation", however, was a really deceptive failure in my point of view. It took the Military hours to drop by in their helicopters, yelling commands to each other and firing loosely like if that was a simple shooting party with slow-moving targets. I'm versed in the military procedures, so I'm good to be trusted: at least where I was, the army didn't do anything worth being recognized, except losing many of them to the waves and waves of undead that came to surround them. Of more than a hundred scattered soldiers I saw the choppers dropping, less than ten must have survived that uninjured. With only their sidearms, though, as their shiny brand new rifles were dropped behind as they fled. I really hoped the army was doing a better job in other parts of the city.
The butcher knife proved itself useful when I had to whack two dead guys that stood in my way outside. One of them was maimed pretty bad, as I still had to get practice with that unbalanced weapon, but the other was dispatched with a nice crack splitting it's skull in half. Lucky me the guy was still fresh. Rotten brains stink so much it's not even funny. The butcher knife ended up surprisingly clean, though. I was more used to combat knives, but I thought that thing did the job better than anything else I could probably find, with the possible exception of one of those firemen axe.
At least I've got one of those handheld "walkie-talkie" radios from the body of a soldier. I've had to knock the guy down, as he got up to take his radio back, though. Judging by the lack of coherent speech when he argumented by trying to bite my neck, I thought he wasn't in the conditions to use a radio properly, and quickly defered his unpolite devolution request with my ad-hoc attorney: the butcher knife. After a few quick whacks I was sure the dead soldier had given the radio to me in a very civilized though rude way. he just stood there on the ground, bleeding.
The night was coming, and I had to stay in the hotel overnight. I couldn't have guessed, but it was the last bed I'd sleep on for quite some time.
The Outbreak
You know those days when you just feel dead? Well, me neither, but it looks like the whole city woke up like that. A bit more to the "dead" side than I'd find comfortable. More exactly, the first thing I saw when I looked out my hotel room's window was the living dead assaulting the streets and devouring anything fleshy they could up their stiff fingers on. I couldn't believe in it the first time I saw it. Maybe it was some freaky Romero film being run in the streets and no one warned me? That idea shattered in a few seconds as I saw the mob grab and literally eat alive a man who was unfortunate enough to cross their path. I'm used to blood and exposed internal organs, but the mutilation showoff that followed was more than enough to make me do two things:
1 - congratulate myself for not taking breakfast.
2 - get ready to something big. With "big" being a full-scale military operation.
The first item went just fine. I congratulated myself and pondered about the second point. Everyone else had left the hotel (and was probably eaten by the mob stationed just ahead) when I climbed down the stairs (the elevator was stuck because of the power shortage) to get something to eat. Luckily to me, the newly-dead don't look kind of bright when shambling across the streets without a target in sight. How to stay out of sight, however, is a different thing.
A different thing, maybe not a very difficult thing. Sneaking past the few zombies that invaded the first floor was easy enough. Sneaking back while carrying a backpack full of supplies wasn't such a walk in the park, but I did it. Fighting guerrila in urban settings can really do wonders to your ability to walk around un-noticed. And the fact your enemies' eyes have been sometimes ripped off their sockets might help a bit. One way or another, I reached my room again, carrying many eat-able goodies, and a large butcher knife I found in the kitchen. Not very sharp, and surely not a blast in terms of finesse, but heavy and potentially effective enough to hold off one or two walking corpses that might think I'd taste nice as a snack. So far I didn't have a clue that they were zombies, but I knew they couldn't be alive with so many open wounds and guts leaving trails in their path.
Now I stop to remember... why didn't anyone wake me up when this whole thing begun?! Oh, right... the "do not disturb" sign on the door knob. Gotta love the British.
The Prelude
I'm Andrew E. Lanzer. Although my name might point to some english family, I'm not british. No, thanks. I really like the british people and the things they do, but I'm glad I'm not from here. Awful winter. I'm not from the USA, Australia, or any other english-speaking country either. In fact, I'm not even a natual english speaker. Hear me talking and you'll soon figure out I'm not from here. Where am I from? It doesn't matter. At least not to you.
I thought Malton would be a nice place to spend my vacation time. It was a rather nice city, even the most overcrowded and poor suburbs had some kind of charm of their own. I came here basically because of the city's monuments. My work is generally too dangerous and full-time to allow me to be more than an art enthusiast, though. In my trips all around the world I could see many beautiful things, even though they were almost broken because of war and all. Sure, sometimes I was one of those who broke the things... that happens when you're a mercenary and your commanders don't seem to bother that the house you have to explode is filled with antiquities of uncalculable artistic value. Oh, well. A man must do what's there to be done, if he wants to stay alive. Even more if bullets are zipping past his head from the said house.
The payment is pretty good, but I don't like this life.
