As he drove his old, brown Cutlass down Hwy 62, Dave began to hear strange and ominous sounds coming from the direction of his travels. He shook the eeriness from his head and dismissed it as exhaustion. He drove on, the sounds became louder and more discernible. It was almost like children crying. The headlights only lit a small portion of the moonless roadway so, when the figure darted out in front of him, he couldn't decide what it could have been. Surely not a person. Not moving that quickly and on ... 6 legs? He ran his fingers through his hair, rolled his window down and gently smacked himself across the face while telling himself to wake up. He'd been driving for days and knew his destination was just beyond the horizon. BLAM! One of his tires blew-out and the antique Oldsmobile skidded sideways off the road.



The combination of exhaustion and adrenalin caused Dave to burst from the car, almost losing his right hand as the heavy, tank-like door bounced back on its hinges, slamming shut as he fell to his knees wrenching. Somehow, his stomach managed to produce a small puddle of bile on the ground before him. "Odd," he thought to himself; as he hadn't eaten in three days.

The world around him began to slow its dizzying rotation as he realized what had just happened. "DAMNIT!" That was his spare tire and there was no way a patch-n-plug was going o fix the gaping hole in the side of that tire. Slowly, with the resolution of a man who has nothing in life but a singular goal, he began to pull himself up. "Not now; not like this. I'm not going to just sit here and die. YOU HEAR ME YOU MOTHER FUCKER! NOT HERE AND NOT NOW!" He shut away the memories that were puling him back; back to oblivion. That quiet stillness where consequence bears none of itself and the weary rest eternal.



In stop-motion time, Dave grabbed his pack from the back seat and his sole remaining friend from the dashboard. He knew why he carried the Mossberg 12guage shotgun but the pink and red ladybug backpack was still a mystery to him. He'd been strangely unable to separate himself from it since he woke in the hospital two years prior. Two years. Had it really been that long? No time for that now, he mentally reprimanded himself. Gotta keep ...



21-7

The scream pierced the air like a banshee's wail. Dave felt the blood drain from his face as his hand trembled, reaching for the Mossberg's safety. He heard the rush of air just before he felt its compression against the back of his head. The concussion knocked him flat just before he heard the explosion. "FUCK!" he thought to himself as he instinctively rolled over to present the gaping muzzle of his shotgun to whatever may be coming. "When did they start using explosives? Shit, besides that where the hell did they find them?" Now was not the time for inquisitive contemplation, though. Now was the time to fight. The time to live. Dave yanked the straps on his pack, cinching it high up on his back as he kept one hand then the other ready to fire, eyes darting suspiciously. "That explosion was too far away to have been for you, Dave. Besides, they'd already have torn you apart if they knew you were here." "Just shut up. I've got this." He shook his head softly while hurriedly walking toward the drainage ditch. "You've really gotta' stop talking to yourself, man." As he descended from the road to the gully, he noted that it seemed to parallel the roadway for quite some time. Good. Concealment. At least minimal. He walked quickly but cautiously toward his destination; his shoulders hunched, pulling his head below the level of the roadway. The ringing in his ears began to subside and with it the adrenalin that kept the memories at bay.



Two years earlier, Dave had awakened in a drawer intended for a corpse.  As he stirred awake, all he saw was darkness and felt the oppressive, malignant presence of hot metal just inches from his face.  He began pounding and screaming at his assumed coffin within seconds, completely panicked.  Suddenly, inertia pulled at his head as the drawer was snatched open.  His eyes burned from light transition but his ears had no trouble relating that he was in big trouble.  The "scream" -for lack of a better word- pierced him to the marrow.  His arms instinctively went up across his face for protection just before something nearly shredded them, missing their intended target -his throat.  Somehow, Dave managed to roll off the drawer bottom just as something came crashing down, piercing the stainless steel as though it were paper.  In the relative shade of the open drawer, Dave's eyes began to adjust.  When he looked up to see who was trying to kill him, he saw what appeared to be bear claws tearing through his former resting place.  Noting he was naked, Dave frantically searched for a way out, slowly backing away from the current conflict.  AAAArrrrggghhh!  That sound!  He'd almost give his life not to hear it again!

Salvation!  There was a large hole in the floor behind him.  Without a second's thought, Dave slid through feet-first.



Edited for continuity 21-7-2010. More later.

you gotta be shittin' me, Joker. You think you're Mickey Spillane? You think you're some kind of a fuckin' writer?

This better be the start of a shtf fiction story or IMMA be mad

It must be story time...

I'll sit and listen.

Please, sir, may I have more?

Cool. An Arfcom novel

(ok, maybe just a short story)

We're waiting ......

I have seen porno's that start this way .........

Unasked for editing provided. You would fail a high school composition class in one paragraph, however.

lots of good arfcom novels and short stories in the arfcom survival fiction area.

So would Cormac McCarthy. Its a good thing people mix it up and step out of that "high school" box.





 

You fail both English and Philosophy 101 in the same short post.

Cool story





 

In before "I put on my robe and wizard hat...."

Dont be sad, Arfcom grades dont transfer.

 

I would bet that ee cummings poetry makes your brain short circuit.  

You have to be kidding. I've spent six years in this bitch.

So I'm guessing this is a 1961-1965 Olds?

You should have started with cold opening. Something like

"We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold"...

You better get your money back.

 

Is this a Dave A story where he wrecks his car, then a six pack of zomies in military uniform suck the blood out of him ?

It was a dark and stormy night when Dave drove his old, brown Cutlass down Hwy 62.............





 

Call me Dave.  Some years ago––never mind how long precisely––having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me where I was, I thought I would drive down Highway 62 and see some other part of the world.  It is a way I have of driving my old, brown Cutlass and regulating the circulation.  Whenever I find myself growing eerie in my head; I dismis it as a damp, drizzly November in my soul; I find myself involuntarily driving on, and the mysterious sounds became more discernable; almost like children crying.  A figure, dimly lit by my headlights on the moonless night, deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off––It could have been a person, moving quickly on ...six legs?  I reached for my pistol and ball.  With a philosophical flourish I smacked myself upon my own face while telling myself to wake up; I quietly return my attention to the road.  I'd been driving for days and knew my destination was just beyond the horizon.  BLAM!  One of my tires blew, sending me skidding to the side of the road.  There is nothing surprising in this, as my car is a pile of junk.


 

Ok, waiting for more.

So would Cormac McCarthy, James Michenor, Ernest Hemingway, and Stephen King.  

There's a storm coming.  Our storm.

I thought it was a reference to the old terminator movie from back in the 80's.




ETA:........then I clicked on the thread and read part of the message in the OP.

He says you're a beautiful senorita and he hates to ask you for five American dollars for this picture but if he doesn't his father will
beat him.

The story isn't being written for an English paper. It caught my attention, and I would be happy to read a bit more of it. Boredom does strange things to a person's mind!

Most of us don't care........



 

I thought this thread was gonna be about the 1st Terminator movie

your parrot flys away..

Op should have used a 70 442 W30  

hope you will have added more tothe story by the time I get back from dinner!

Hey dickhead, how about reading it aloud. That's why it's punctuated that way.





ETA–– I'm pre-law with a 4.0

Do you move your lips when you type?



 

I wanna see how it ends...

Too many cock samplers chiming in.  I kinda like people who time the way they speak.  Makes it flow smoothly along.

Well damn it I was interested



 

me to...OP needs to ignore the rest of them...I have no unread books around right now...wanna here more of the story!

Thanks for all your interest.  Here's a bit more for anyone who'd like to follow along.  I've never written anything substantial (aside from research papers, of course) but this is a lot of fun so as long as you guys (and Nana(s) :)) want more, I'll keep it coming.  I can provide more material per post next week due to finals this week  And thanks for the encouragement!

It's all fun and games, Scooby. Don't get bunched.

I shouldn't have criticized your spelling...I didn't realize you were all pre-law and stuff. My apologies.

dialogue and plot... the toughest parts.

I was referring to the thread, but the story is interesting too!



 

And group of peaceful Mexican Cartel gunman save him from the Zombies in the nick of time?

Take your time...I will check the thread whenever I get online I have no life as such right now (at least when I am down at the border) and this will be a little something to look forward to. Nice to see someone broaden their horizons...even a lawyer type... (have a few lawyers in my family...and teachers...doctors...engineers...and then ME! (but they say that I R "SPESUL") It is good to exercise your brain!

Nana

Well, I was a bit harsh, too. You and I have gone rounds before. 2008 or 2009. I know better than to get butt-sore over GD. Where've you been lately. You do have pretty valid points on stuff. At least you keep it real. Sorry for the juvenile name-calling.



NHF?

Still watcing for more!

Sorry nana.  Finals week.  Can't play anymore till Friday.

OK...good luck on your finals! Study hard!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HW!!!!!!!!!!!

Try to have some fun today, in between studying for your finals!