User:Wigglestheclown/Dis

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.

Intro

The Folllowing is the story of the first and last News Team to ever be sent into the Quarantine Zone. It will be posted in 5 parts, and will be updated upon each of the part's comlpetions. In an effort to conform with any changes made to the game itself, especially in terms of geography, no names of specific locales have been mentioned.

Part 1: Apathy

Charles emerged from the shower quite refreshed. It was a magical time of the day, his time. 4:30 p.m., he had just gotten home from work and the wife wasn’t due back for another hour. The kids were at soccer, and karate. 4:30 p.m., and he had the house to himself. 4:30, and life was good. He’d take a shower to get the smell of sweat and bird crap off of himself. It was amazing how much grime could accumulate on one’s body simply working on roofs the whole day. Not to mention the fact that he’d been getting a little chubby lately. I guess that’s what happens when you hit the big 4-0 though, he thought, smiling wryly to himself. Everything starts to go to shit.

He put on his favorite robe and dragged himself into the kitchen. He looked down at his stomach and decided to forego the usual fistful of Twizzlers. Instead he grabbed himself an apple, and shuffled over to his chair.

“Ahhhhhh,�? came the sigh of sweet relief when his ass hit the pads on the recliner. What’s more the remote was on there on the arm of the chair, which removed the need for an extra sojourn to the television, spewing profanities all the way there and all the way back. He had his mind on taking a little nap, but before that he opted to put on his favorite show. Cable News always made him fall asleep. 24 hours of the same news, over and over and over again. Every story was a tragedy. Every event a signal of the nation’s moral decay, or a preliminary for some horrible event yet to come. World War III, the Apocalypse, whatever the week’s “Hot Button�? was. Charles had barely switched on the tube when he felt his eyes beginning to droop.

The familiar high-energized, low quality pounding music came on over the television that announced that the show was back from commercial break. The show went straight into a reporter, who had the all too common backdrop of buildings burning in the night sky. He seemed frightened, confused, perhaps a little hysterical from the beginning of his piece to the end. Charley shut his eyes and listened.

“- at this point most joint police and national guard roadblocks in the interiors of the city have been completely overrun by the creatures. We have reports of power outages and downed phone lines within many suburbs of the city, making communication between emergency and military services troubling at best. If there has been any good news in the past few days it’s that my producer has gathered somewhat reliable reports that elements of the regular Army have begun to finally arrive to reinforce the beleaguered National Guardsmen here in Malton. The National Guard, as we know has been the dominant civil authority here for the last few days, as most police and SWAT elements have long since either disbanded or been scattered by the marauding bands of looters and creatures. Looting is still prevalent here, in the stores and shops of Malton, although contingents of National Guard have been able to cordon off the larger malls in… hold on… a voice is talking in my ear. A bit of important breaking news, especially if you are still watching us here in Malton. General Armand Winters has just released a statement. Elements of the 23rd Infantry and the 12th Armored have set up a strong perimeter around the city. Their primary goals are the quarantine of the area to insure that these creatures and the civil unrest do no spread to other parts of Michigan, especially towards Lansing-�?. All inhabitants of Malton are being asked to stay in their homes. Army rescue teams will be sent out shortly to evacuate survivors-“

The recording cut, and the talking head of a familiar pundit came back onto the screen, “A chilling reminder of exactly what happened in Malton approximately 1 year ago today. Ever since then there has been a news blackout of all events that may be occurring in the city. Up until now the commanders of the military quarantine have refused to risk any members of the press into the infected city, but now, in the midst of what some would call overwhelming popular demand for the facts and thousand of lawsuits by the families of those abandoned in Malton, Congress will be releasing a heavily classified version of the preliminary congressional reports on the Malton incident later this week. In a possibly related decision, U.S. commanders have finally agreed to demands made by the press to allow reporters to enter the quarantine zone under armed guard. All of our competitor cable news stations made bids for the story, but the “chosen one�? is our very own Sharon Malken. She joins me in the studio now. Sharon, nice to see you.�?

“Its good to see you too John,�? said Sharon, beaming.

“So, give us a little preview of what you’ll be doing on this trip,�?

“Well, I’ve been allowed to accompany an Army convoy on a three day trip to provide relief supplies to various known survivor strongholds. Along the way I’ll be reporting on the current state of the city, and it will be the first time the civilian world has been able to see what has become of Malton since the quarantine. Is the quarantine holding? Are survivors getting proper food and medical supplies? Is there any chance of bringing order back to the city and curing the survivors of the infection that keep them there? These are all questions I will be trying to find out.�?

“Now, what about the airborne infection? How are you going to get around that?�?

“Well, all soldiers that enter the quarantine zone are required to wear a whole… um… production of safety gear to keep from becoming infected in the long term. However, since I’ll only be there for three days I’ll be able to shoot my reports unprotected without too much risk of infection. Common scientific belief is that it takes approximately 1 week of prolonged exposure to take effect. Even so, I will have to wear a gas mask when at all other times, at least while I’m outdoors,�?

“I’m… I’m being told we’ve got a breaking news alert from Tehran that we’ve got to go to but I just have one last question for you. Do you… I mean… we’ve all seen the pictures of the city streets before the press freeze. I know you’ve been to Iran and Taiwan and you are no stranger to combat, but this used to be an American city with American refugees dieing every day in the streets. Are you sure you’re ready for this?

“Absolutely. I have the best, and bravest cameraman and producer in the business. We’re going in, and we’re coming out with everything you need to know about what has happened in Malton over the last 12 months. That is my vow to you,�?

“Sharon Malken everybody. Thanks Sharon. We bring you now to Tehran, where elements of the 101st Airborne have encountered Iranian heavy armor-.�?

Charles shifted in his chair and turned off the television. He closed his eyes again, intent on drifting off for a bit before the kids and wife got home. He stretched and yawned. This is the life, he thought, and shut his eyes to sleep.

Part II: Innocence

The news van hit a bump in the road as it speeded down the state road. It was nearly abandoned, not a car, truck or police cruiser in sight. The only sign of sentient life was the occasional military convoy passing by. That and the ominous sight of the looming skyline of Malton, which had become more and more pronounced through the haze and clouds that pervaded the land today, and had been ever present in sight ever since Sharon woke up.

She didn’t know how she felt about her assignment. Happy? Yes, this piece would likely be the highlight of her career. She thought about it, she was the only reporter in the world that had been allowed to enter the Quarantine Zone since it was set up. The network expected millions, possibly tens of millions to tune in on prime time when the piece, edited profusely no doubt, was to air. There was real concern within the public, but more than that, there was real interest, real curiousity in what happened to the city of Malton, and the press freeze over the last 12 months just made the public’s craving grow worse. Some 400,000 people, almost 40% of the entire population were stranded in the city when the quarantine went down. And there were twice as many lawsuits. Yes, she thought, this truly was the story of the century.

Was she curious herself? Hell yes. No one on the outside knew if the city had been looted, burned, invaded by aliens, or if everyone had just walked into town hall one day to sing Christmas carols for a year and a week. All the press and the public knew for sure was that during the first week of lawlessness in Malton some sort of shambling creature or creatures were reported to be at the root of the problem. Besides the fact that they were not human, and the fact that they were creatures, details were a little sketchy. The FBI had confiscated all tape of the incident from the network cameras, and all other networks at that, that had depicted the beasts. In other words, she had no idea what she was heading into.

Was she scared? A little. But that was normal. There was always a little fear, coupled with exhilaration that she experienced just before entering the combat zone. But when the product needed to be delivered she always pulled it off. With great results she might add. Not to mention the fact that she had the best crew she could have asked for.

“What’s our E.T.A., buddy?�? Sharon heard Richard Grossman, the producer, mumble as he awoke from a mid-morning catnap. He had been sprawled out in the back left bucket seat since they left the airport. She thought of Richard as a nice guy, a bit bossy at times, but that seemed to be because he was good at what he did, and didn’t like to slow down for anyone. He was middle aged, and certainly experienced enough to be on the team. Sharon knew from his dossier he had been in Iraq and North Korea for extended periods- years almost. More importantly than where he had been, Richard had that stare she knew so well, the solemn blank stare that a veteran of combat would develop. It showed in brief lapses of his usually jovial personality, but she recognized it.

“We’re making good time,�? said Chip, looking up at the Malton skyline, more than a little apprehensively, “No rush,�? Chip Collins, the team’s camera man was just a kid in the business, barely 30, or in his late 20’s, Sharon hadn’t asked. Still, he had seen more action as a combat cameraman than both Richard and Sharon combined. Israel, Syria, Hong Kong and Iran, she remembered from his network file, but one look at Chip and you’d think he took baby pictures for a living. He was charming, sweet and harmless. Even more impressive, he didn’t have Grossman’s look. She guessed the horrors of combat just bounced off some people.

“Sharon looked out the shotgun seat window, and noticed that the military convoys were increasing with each passing mile. Yeah, she thought to herself as she slunk back into her chair. No rush.

They drove in relative silence for a while until Chip spoke up again. “Hey… Hey there’s some people up ahead... running down the road,�?

Sharon looked up sleepily, “They soldiers?�?

“Nah. Nah they look like civilians,�? reported Chip, “Hold on I’m gonna pick them up,�?

Chip slowed the van down and stopped right in front of the two, one man and one woman who were still running down the side of the road. On closer inspection they were exhausted, they were bloody, and they had press passes dangling from their waists. They stopped dead in their tracks in front of the news van, and stood gaping at it like it were an ogre.

Sharon rolled down the window and stuck her head out. She addressed the reporters in a more curious than worried tone. Richard was fumbling for a camcorder somewhere in the back. “Hello there,�? she inquired, “What seems to be the problem?�?

The two stared for a second. Then they both let out the most chilling and blood curdling scream Sharon had ever heard. She startled and pulled her head back in the van. She swore it had to have been heard all the way in Malton. Then the two reporters turned tail and ran the other way, away from the road and out into the open fields. They bolted out into cow pasture like they were running from darkness itself. As they ran Sharon saw that the man’s back had somehow been ravaged with scratch marks, as if by an animal and the women’s right calf was ripped right open.

“Holy s-s-s-s-shit!�? uttered Sharon, “Should we go after them!?�?

“Uh… I don’t think that’s necessary,�? said Chip, “Here comes the cavalry.�?

Chip pointed out of the windshield towards a new batch of humvees rolling down the highway. But there was definitely something different about these. They were going much faster than their counterparts the team had already passed, and there were soldiers in the overhead gun ports. They spotted the van on the road, then the runners in the fields, and the lead hummer’s gunner opened fire. The others soon followed.

“Fuck. Chip. Drive.�? Sharon stammered. Chip froze for a split-second, then reached down to put the van in drive. Behind them, Richard found the camcorder, and to his surprise it was loaded and ready to go. “I’m gonna capture this,�? he muttered, and kicked his way out the back door of the van onto the highway, filming the runners, and the hummers which had forsaken the highway for a more direct route to their quarry. They were so close to the van that Sharon could make out the face of the lead gunner. He was somewhat obscured under his helmet, but she knew that look too. His eyes were a stern blue, and his expression as he fired his Squad Assault Weapon was so harsh so disciplined, robotic almost, that it was tattooed in her memory. She pulled herself away and turned towards the back again.

“Goddamit Grossman get the FUCK in here,�? screamed Sharon. Richard looked back at her and at the closing proximity of the military vehicles… hesitated… and jumped back inside the van. Chip floored it straight ahead, but Richard kept filming through the open van doors as it sped away. Sharon unbuckled herself and crouched up behind Richard to get a view of the action. Instinctively she began narrating the scene for the camera.

“It… It appears the a cadre of soldiers is issuing from the military vehicles… amazingly the two reporters… we believe them to be reporters are still running… the soldiers have caught up to them now and a few have forced them down to the ground… damn, we’re too far away to get a clear look of what’s happening now… cut it Rich,�?

Rich kept filming for a few more seconds, then admitted defeat and closed the van doors. Suddenly exhausted, they both slunk back against the back of the van to catch their breath.

Chip cut the silence. “What the fuck was that?�?

“Am I the only one for who that was a first?�? gasped Sharon.

“How the hell did they get this far from the Quarantine Zone in that condition?�? asked Grossman, more rhetorically than legitimately. “How did they get in that condition?�?

Sharon shook her head violently for a second to regain her composure. “Ok… Ok. The show must go on. No one mention this to anyone at the Quarantine Zone. If anyone asks what we saw, we saw a convoy speeding down the road. That’s it. The show must go on.�?

Chip shook his head. “You know I hit sixty while you guys were filming back there. There’s no way that footage came out in usable condition,�?

“Yeah, you’re right,�? relented Richard, “I barely had half the scene in the shot at any given time,�?.

“So we’ve got nothing,�? Sharon moaned, thoroughly disheartened.

“Well, we’ve got your monologue,�? said Richard hopefully.

“Yeah, yeah we do.�? That did not lift Sharon’s spirits much. She still couldn’t believe what she just witnessed. It sure as hell didn’t make any sense. U.S. Army troops gunning down innocent civilians? Reporters? And what about the disjointed mess they were in? What human being, let alone soldier could inflict those kinds of wounds on someone? She couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling she was about to find out.

They drew closer and closer to the Quarantine zone as they sat again in silence. The structure was much easier perceived now. They were almost right under it. Leave it to the U.S. Army and Corps of Engineers to put up, maintain and defend an electric fence around an entire city for 3 months. And leave it to hundreds of big American contractors to build a 35 foot high, 10 foot wide concrete wall behind said fence in the same amount of time around the entire city. Railings with the occasional guard post were the only thing standing between the patrolling soldiers on the top of the wall and the inside of the Malton metropolitan area. Sharon saw a few bursts of machine gun fire erupt from the occasional guard tower, along with the even more occasional sniper rifle report. The Quarantine Zone was a marvel of ingenuity, no matter what the circumstances of its construction. American ingenuity notwithstanding, it was a macabre sight to say the least. One could hardly believe a structure to exist in heartland America.

She directed her eyes back down to the Earth. As she understood it, there was only one entrance in to the city of Malton, and she could see it now in the distance. The buildings that had sprung up around it made the gate look as well guarded as the gate into Hell. Several smaller concrete walls surrounded the main complex, along with a spattering of fences and barbed wire. The complex looked like a mix of barracks and vehicle pools, with a small skyline of officer buildings off to the right. Guard towers dotted each and every interior gate, of which there were more than a few. Sharon was left with the impression that the business end of the Quarantine Zone alone made Guantanamo Bay look like a playground.

They were moving up on the first checkpoint faster than she expected, and everyone visibly tensed up. A sentry waved them in from the road and a small gate blocked their progress into the fortress. Another sentry from the guardhouse walked up and knocked on their window as they came to a stop in front of the gate. Chip rolled down the window.

“State your business,�? mumbled the sentry. Of course he knew that they were already coming. He had their press passes in hand with him.

“Um… we’re the news team that was cleared for entry into the Quarantine Zone for later today?�?

The sentry nodded, “Ok here are your press passes. I’m radioing the sentries ahead to direct your traffic towards the press building. You’ll follow the guard’s directions until you hit the press building. You will know it when you see it. Park your vehicle and get your gear ready to go. Your convoy is scheduled to head into the Dead-zone around 11:00. Might want to get something to eat while you can,�?

Chip nodded, looked ahead at the opening gate, but couldn’t help himself. “Dead-zone?�? he asked?

The guard smiled “It’s what the boys call Malton. Don’t worry, you’ll get it,�? It thundered a little over their heads and started to drizzle, so he waved and jogged back into his guardhouse.

Chip shook his head and rolled up his window, “Something tells me the guys stationed here are a bit… far gone. Dead-zone. A bit dramatic I’m sure.�?

They navigated their van through the small labyrinth of gates and checkpoints inside the main complex until the reached what the guard had called a press building. This building alone was colossal, the size of a small strip mall at the least. When they walked inside they were greeted with the sight of what could be akin to an airport waiting terminal, but twice the size. This gigantic space was filled with less than 5 press members. The rest of the area seemed to function as a hangout for off duty soldiers, who were smoking, playing cards and generally taking a load off. The group made a beeline directly for the restrooms, and then to the cafeteria for a long awaited meal.

As they sat down for a long awaited meal (they had left at 3:00 a.m. with no breakfast), one couldn’t help but fix their gaze on the windows that lined the western wall of the cafeteria, and staring out into the rainy abyss of barbed wire and concrete walls, and behind that, the looming structure of the Quarantine Zone. “Feels like I’m in prison,�? muttered Chip, staring into his spaghetti. They ate quietly without joy or enthusiasm.

Afterwards Richard was informed by a runner while the team was off exploring the press building that their convoy commander would be delayed until the late afternoon, which meant that they were probably delayed until early tomorrow morning. Therefore the team spent the rest of the afternoon filming the opening and a brief tour of the press grounds along with a few interviews. A few soldiers lingered around to see what they were doing, and even a few of the other reporters. In between shots Sharon sat down with a female reporter from another network and tried to strike up a conversation.

“So, how do you like this beat?�? she asked frankly. The question seemed to catch the other reporter quite off guard. She looked like she wasn’t even used to being asked questions. Still a warm smile spread across her face and she even laughed weakly.

“Honey,�? she lamented with a southern twinge, “you have no idea how boring it is here. The press liaisons are silent, the soldiers aren’t allowed to talk to us. Apparently a press pass is kryptonite to a sentry here. Since no news ever comes out of this hellhole, our network’ll only feeds us copy about the lawsuits and hearings to read in front of the QZ backdrop. I haven’t “reported�? a thing in 3 months,�?

Sharon sniffed, “Sounds rough,�?

“I’ll say,�? the reporter stopped to think for a second, “Still… occasionally something interesting or weird will happen, even though we usually don’t get any info about it. Occasionally you can hear a loud groaning coming out of the western section of the base, or the occasional spattering of gunshots or even some explosions from inside the complex or the QZ itself. I don’t know what the hell is going on around here, but I’m not about to go adventuring to find out. Just this morning a couple newbies here walked off alone using their press passes to fend off the sentries. Haven’t seen them since,�?

Sharon froze. The other reporter saw the twinkle in her eye, and the warmth quickly left her face. She excused herself and headed quickly in another direction. Sharon got up and laughed silently to herself. She rushed back to the team’s last shooting location, where she found her team. She wrapped her arms around both her counterparts. “Boys, lets go sightseeing,�?

Part 3: Apprehension: Coming soon.