You handed over 106 zombie ears for $21200.
[Quarantine Zone]
The Devil never sleeps and neither does Noah. It is hours into the man's first night in the city when he happens across the barricaded entrance to a section of the city, guarded by a lone man proclaiming himself to be the Captain of a militia.
With his family settled into the new city that would be their homes, Noah had taken it upon himself to explore the city. At first glance, it had appeared to be as normal a city as any other. He had strolled through the local casino, a locally owned clothes shop (Noah preferred to support local businesses), a mall, and had found his way to the transit system. He had stepped off at a random stop. Not knowing the city, he figured one stop was as good as the last. Apparently that was not the case.
In the distance behind the Captain, Noah could just make out blurred figures shambling through the streets. Elsewhere, on the very edge of his peripheral senses, he could make out the distinctive rat-ta-ta of machine gun fire.
Noah slipped past the Captain with a raised eyebrow, ignoring the other man's pleas to join the ranks of the militia, and into what he would come to know as the Quarantine Zone.
Derelict buildings surrounded him on every side. Though not quite to the point of ruin, the local flora and fauna had taken over the concrete structures. Vines whipped up the sides of abandoned supermarkets and overgrown bushes blanketed an unused fire department, where the once shining engines that would roll through the streets with lights and sirens blaring had grown rusted, damage from the elements taking its toll on their paint.
Were it not for the spatters of blood and the corpses, he might think it an old factory town. There was certainly something old Western about the sight of the forsaken streets and bullet casings. Would a tumbleweed blow through or a man in a cowboy hat stride up on horseback and proclaim himself the sheriff, Noah would hardly be surprised.
Here and there are the signs of massive, prolonged guerilla warfare. Noah's eyes flick across the sight of bodies in varying states of decay - there, beneath the fire engine; here, slumped next to the dumpster; or there, impaled with... is that a ******* sword?
His brow furrows as he dives deeper in. There had been rumors of course, but the mainstream media had focused largely on the existence of vampires. He had nearly forgotten the rumblings of the existence of that other undead most commonly seen in American Hollywood, the zombie.
"You're not in Connecticut anymore, Toto," Noah mutters to himself, unknowingly butchering the line. He had only ever seen the movie once and hadn't found it that entertaining.
He shakes his head and turns a corner, wondering at the sound of gunfire he had earlier. Before he has time to consider it further, something crashes into him. Noah jumps from the contact -
Just as a decaying hand swipes at his face.
Noah cries out as he looks up directly into the rotted face of a former soldier. Its jaw hangs from a hinge, an unearthly sound croaking from exposed vocal cords, and its rifle is still slung across its back. It staggers towards Noah as he dodges away from the strike, clumsy in its attempt to maul the man.
Power like Noah has never known before flows through his limbs, propelled by the new vampiric strength coursing through him. Noah's foot snaps out against the zombie's knee and it buckles, bone shattering beneath Noah's heel. The zombie drops to the ground and before it can recover, Noah's foot is crashing through its skull in a sickening squelch with a feral cry escaping the man, surprising himself.
Blood, sinew, and... God knows what else cling to Noah's foot as he shakes it and drags it across the pavement, desperate to rid himself of it. The effort lasts only a few seconds though, as behind him Noah hears another zombie approaching. With no thought given to the action, he unstraps the rifle from first monstrosity's back and grabs the clips attached to its belt, turning immediately to face the new throat and open fire.
The assault rifle's muzzle flares in a blinding flash as Noah sprays wide, bullets tearing through the walking corpse's form and dropping it. That's when he notices it. No - it would be more accurate to say he hears it. The sound of dozens, maybe more, pairs of feet just around the corner, attracted by the commotion.
"...****," Noah curses, dropping to grab a - Is that a ******* spear? What the hell is going on in this city? - from the body of the second zombie before turning on his heel to run and find a more advantageous position.
