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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:12 pm
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:30 pm
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:33 pm
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:46 pm
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2009 1:18 pm
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2009 4:48 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 3:17 am
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 7:34 am
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 7:42 am
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 7:57 am
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Maryse raised her shotgun and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. In her haste, she had forgotten to pump the handgrip and eject the expended shell. She didn't have the time, now. The zombies were closing in on her, reaching out for her, pushing and shoving one another in order to get at her, the human, the living human. She had no idea how they could have amassed so quickly, but she had no doubt that they'd been drawn by all the noise she'd been making. Suddenly, Maryse's 'fight-or-flight' response kicked in. She knew it. She could feel her blood vessels constricting in some places, dilating in others. Her heartbeat and breathing quickened. Instead of freezing in fear, Maryse became more focused. "Fight-or-flight," she murmured softly to herself, "Fight-or-flight, fight-or-flight."
Flight, she decided, and ducked back into the house, closing the door behind her. She'd broken the lock upon entry, so she threw her back against it, praying that the zombies wouldn't force their way in, knowing that they would, knowing that she'd only managed to buy herself a little time. She pumped her shotgun, ejecting the expended shell and chambering a fresh one. She stood there, her back against the door, trying to figure out what to do next.
Suddenly, she heard a loud screeching noise. A familiar screeching noise. Car tires, she realized. Burning rubber. A yellow hummer sped around the corner, swerving violently, then barreled past the house, mowing down any zombies in its way, then backed up. Maryse heard a couple shotgun rounds go off, then silence. Slowly, cautiously, Maryse opened the door. She saw the yellow hummer, parked on a pile of zombies, some of which were still moving, its engine running loudly. A young-looking man approached her, shooting a few of the zombies he'd missed with his shotgun, a Franchi SPAS-12.
"Are you okay?" he asked her.
Maryse was hyperventilating and sweating heavily, coming down from the adrenaline high she'd been on for the last few minutes. Ever since struggling to survive had become a part of her daily routine, Maryse had learned that, when the time comes, you act first and you think later. When the zombies had been closing in, she had acted. Now that they were dead, or mostly dead, she was thinking. She was thinking critically. She was, after all, a critical thinker.
"Okay?!" she said, a little louder than she'd intended, "Of course I'm not okay! I'm not going to be okay! What the Hell are you doing? What the Hell were you thinking? You can't just drive around like a ******** madman and mow down all the zombies you see! You're just going to attract more, idiot."
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 9:27 am
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 10:04 am
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 10:31 am
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