Hi there, dear readers. Today I’ve decided it’s about fucking time that I get around to uploading one of my stories. If you like, feedback would be appreciated. If you don’t like feedback would still be appreciated. Tell me if I get to cliche or crappy or romantic, this story was, after all, originally for my girlfriend and that’s totally her thing. Without further ado…

A ZOMBIE STORY by Mr Anonymous

Chapter 1 – Introductions (and me setting the pace)

The wind picked up, rocking the dinghy back and forth, gently lulling Troy into a sense of restfulness. The warm breeze lingered over him, tugging gently on the fishing cord, one of his few luxuries that was delivered to him by airdrop yearly. At 23, Troy Ranger was a wonderfully well-built young gentlemen. Rich, too. Before he moved to his personal island, Isle Ranger (also the reason for his change in name, it used to be Astra, but he preferred to disassociate himself from his parents), he was a well-learned and clever aristocrat. His mothers business had been given to him, which he promptly sold for three times its base value, two parts of which he gave back to her. She thanked him, assuring him of her support, and he assisted her in buying it back for half its original value. He proceeded to use the money earnt through that process by associating himself with a certain ‘Armatek Weapons Development’. With his business and scientific advice, he rose through the ranks to chairman of the board before becoming a ceo for two (at twenty one, yes) years. He funded and overwatched the development of directed energy weapons and advanced ballistics, earning himself a 110 million. He strongly opposed bioweaponary, but when the pressure from the board became too high, he folded to their requests, sending the business in the right direction for the field before resigning to general upsettedness. Despite his opposition to bioweaponary, his colleagues sorely missed him and his accomplishable character, the ability which allowed his ex-company to become a pinnacle of weapons development. Being a rather rich individual, he was immediately begotten with requests for money from everyone, family, friends, even ex-girlfriends. In order to seek his peace, he bought Ranger and the second name that went with it and, like that, his problems vanished.

His large house was built on the isle to be completely self sufficient. Despite the fact that he was perfectly capable of farming his own food, he much preferred hunting small game and fishing with improvised tools. It had an authentic feel to it.

The wind picked up gently and in the distance a storm cloud was brewing. Decided it best not to tempt nature, he turned around, and started heading back, past the eastern edge of the island. The electric dinghy cruised through the water silently where, as he turned the bend of trees directly in front of the southern edge of the isle, he was greeted by an omnious and rather absurd sight. A small cruise ship,capable of ferrying approximately fifty individuals, had washed up on the curved inlet of the southern beach. He observed the ship, head cocked to the side, looking rather like a bird or a curious puppy, eyebrow raised and mouth slightly agape.

The dinghy moved closer to the ship, inertia driving it. He tossed the anchor of the prow, before smoothly removing his shirt then diving into the water. The sudden splash awoke his relaxedness as he swung his arms in a freestyle arc, swimming towards the boat. Upon reaching it, he found the dilema of climbing aboard. Fortunately for him, the previous inhabitants had clearly abandoned the ship using life rafts, with lines stretching into the water. He grasped one and rappeled himself up to the top, training from his time as a weapons developer (people that make guns tend to need to know how to protect themselves) kicking in. He reached the top, before vaulting over the rail to meet a grisly sight. His stomach heaved as his eyes traced the almost bone dry bodies on the floor, surrounded by red and strange black stains. An omnious feeling prickled his back and he looked around for a weapon. On the floor, in between two bodies who appeared to have been brutally fighting before one skewered the other in the face before breaking his own back, lay a sturdy blackened crowbar. Troy picked it up, testing the weight, flicking it over his arms, around his waist and between his fingers. Satisfied, he headed toward the prow of the boat, where the bridge was situated (a bridge is like a control room). He knocked on the door gently. Hearing nothing, he kicked it open, off its hinges, sending the door skittering into the room where it collided with what was seemingly a shambling corpse. The… Creature, for lack of a better word, picked itself clumsily up and hurled itself towards the door. Despite his suprise Troy sidestepped it, swinging the crowbar at its passing legs, tripping the creature. It spun around and attacked him again, but he placed the crowbar between it and him and the creature skewered itself slightly on the rounded end. Blackish blood leaked out of the wound and the creature snarled, a feral rasping growl, pulling itself back, off the crowbar. Troy grasped it firmly, holding it ready. The creature lunged once again and Troy swung the crowbar in an uppercut, smashing through its jaw with the pointed tip, destroying the frontal lobe of the thing’s brain. The creature dropped instantly and black blood flowed thickly from the wound.

Chapter 2 – ft. more introductions, annoying undead and a painful punch to the face

As it dully thunked the floor, Troy studied the creature, wondering what type of thing it was. It was humanoid and it had clearly once been human, judging by that ridiculous sailors outfit… An idea crossed his mind, born of popular culture and a clever book entitled ‘The Zombie Survival Guide’.