User:Sgt Redfield/Infect3d

This story is part of the Malton Chronicles. This story is fan-made, and is not officially part of any background history for Urban Dead.

Sgt Redfield 17:17, 5 August 2007 (BST)

About Me

My name is Tripp Redfield, current leader of The Phoenix Division and refugee of my past and my memories. This is my story of my struggle from the zed outbreak to the rise of The Phoenix Division.

My Beginning

I was asleep, in my cozy bed in a small, warm house in Tollyton in dead winter. I was so happy there, no worry in the world. I was about 5 around this time, and I was the normal kid - happy family, middle class, and no world problems plagued my home city of Malton. The cold wind blew through the little crack in my window that sat beside my bed, and this wind nipped at my nose, waking me up. Afterwards, I heard a faint rattling sound, which was the dropping of a moving truck's back door. My neighbors, who I hardly remember, were moving after years living in that house. My parents wanted it so badly. But we knew we were just fine where we were at. No one moved in there until I was 12.

The Naylors moved in next door, and had a son my age named Jonathan. We grew to know each other so well and got along without ever any problems. We always wanted to be like those guys in the horribly produced movies with everyone getting beat up - Jean Claude van Dame and Steven Seagal movies. We wanted to be them. Combat crawling, using our fake guns to shoot our enemies who were the Wattsons, our across the street neighbors. Of course, we didn't hate them, we just needed someone to shoot at. My dad worked as a scientist, former military man, for a group called NecroTech, a medicinal and pharmaceutical company. My mother was a stay at home mom, they kind that made cookies and cakes every day for us kids. We loved it.

Me and Jonathan, (who I started to call, "Naylz"), decided that we would join the military to pay for college, and then come back to Tollyton when we got out. So we did. We went to Fort Creedy, signed up, and soon became established and respected soldiers. We stayed in the military instead of leaving for college. Soon we were men. 21 year olds with guns. Sounds like a good combination. Anyways, we were hearing rumors about a strange viral outbreak that was allegedly "contained" and was handled. Then people started getting sick everywhere here. We were running our daily 4 miles in the morning one cool October morning, when Erik Williams ahead of us passed out. We didn't think anything of it, he might have just been sick, or dehydrated. But then another person fell out - then another after another. We all went inside, and more rumors of people being shot due to beliefs that men were going crazy spread. A new recruit from Pescodside said he heard that people that passed out were known to go cannibalistic. I was a bit afraid then.

In the Malton Chronicles, then a newspaper everyone had, it was said that the government came up with a contingency plan to sterilize Malton, consisting of all of the able armed forces to assist. Me and Naylz were sent to different places, and we thought we'd never see each other again. I was stationed in East Grayside, patrolling places in a large Humvee armed with a .50 caliber fixed to the top. One day, riding on top by the .50 caliber, I thought I'd never see any actions. I heard people saying that the people turned into zombies. They got to fight hundreds of these, and I haven't killed - or seen a one. Until we turned by Cousins Tower, only to see almost 175 zombies - now called zeds by the military - banging on the doors and windows of the tower. Gunny and Brad down below called for backup, and got out with their M16s and unloaded on them. They just looked at us. I was under pressure now. I had to prepare this .50 cal and then wipe them out. I was afraid we would get caught up. I heard a siren in the background, backup had been close by. The gun was ready, and I unloaded into them. Gunny and Brad hopped back in, strafing the building. I kept shooting, putting down a few only to see them get back up. Then backup came, we fought, and they didn't get back up. We won. Or, that's what we thought, at least.

First Signs of a Real Problem

Cold. Black. That was the clouded state of my mind, and the terrible weather outside. I had a gut wrenching fear of being practically mutilated by these... freaks. I had no friends, I had no life. Faint sounds of gunshots echoed through the walls of a warehouse. Old, wet and smelly boxes were set around me, which have been ravaged by the zeds and the survivors in need of supplies. My radio kept going off, which I randomly tuned occasionally searching for an active station, most was down. "All survivors, if you are in need of shelter, come down to Friendly Police Department located in Tollyton, we are to defend this building, and make it prominent to the survivors. Requiem, out." I sat there a bit confused. Requiem? Must be some kind of codename. Anyways, I walked up from southern East Grayside to Tolltyon, found the PD, and worked my way into the building. Lights blinded me when I entered.