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« on: March 12, 2012, 08:56:07 PM »
Okay, so im looking around in the files of my computer, and I find a science fiction story I wrote in 7th grade. Course, now I know how bad it was, and I shouldn't have included references to Left 4 Dead 2's special infected, but who cares, because Im going to post it.
Bear in mind that I know how bad this is. But, I did after all write it at age 12.
Cloudy With a Chance of Mushrooms
Somewhere, in a Korean green house, local worker Max Hampton is about to lose literally everything. Max didn’t care much for his job, but he didn’t want to lose it either. Clumsy as he was, his boss was usually unhappy at him, usually for causing clumsiness related accidents. However, what was about to happen would blow the rest out of the water.
Max was carrying a big box full of large, heavy batteries. Not being able to see what was in front of him, he tripped on a passerby’s foot, dropping the batteries. A large one cracked and a fluid spilled out of it, also splashing a newly discovered breed of mushrooms named after it’s founder, Marvin Hamilton. The Marvin, as it was frequently called, was red with a few large white spots. Initially, nothing happened, so passerbys continued on their work, unsuspecting that it would be their last shift.
After Max’s shift, Max quickly became drowsy from a day of crossbreeding plants and things of the sort. He fell asleep nearly instantly in his small apartment upon going home. His wife must’ve been out with a friend, probably playing billiards or shopping. “Whatever,” mumbles Max as he stumbles into his bed. He set his clock for 6:30 in the morning, about 15 minutes before his shift was to begin. This was not a problem, as his workplace was within walking distance.
Bang! Max woke with a start, quickly going to the front door to see the comotion. Looking through the peephole at his door, he was taken aback. There at his door, was a man with mushrooms sprouting from his body everywhere? Surely not, as any sane person would think. The man’s fist broke through the door, and struggled madly to grab Max. Max steps back, and grabs the first possible weapon he can see, a frying pan. He hesitates, but as the creature bursts through his door, it immediately lunges for him. Were those claws?
Max swings his pan, hitting the creature in the chest, or as he thought. It swung and hit nothing but air, and the creature lunged again. Max clumsily evades out his door and sees just about everyone in the neighboring apartments.
They were all ‘mushroomified’ too. He sees one uninfected human, fighting off the horde with a broom. He gets scratched by one’s claw, and reels from the sting. The horde ignores him and starts for Max. As he flees, he catches a glimpse of the human, with mushrooms emerging from his scratch wound, then more and more roots create mushrooms in different places. The expression and emotion from his face long gone and was replaced with an utter bloodlust, preparing to strike down the next human it sees.
Max does the only logical thing he can think to do. He runs like the wind itself. He bounds down the stairs, but then sees more ‘zombies’ coming from that dorection. Max decides to ascend the stairs. When up a floor, he sees more ‘zombies’ up there, too They were ascending the building by climbing up sets of windows, up drainage pipes, or simply using the stairs. He ascends to the top of the building, peering down at the horde flooding the stairs after him. At the top of the stairs, he still sees more creatures. He goes back to the stairs. Too late, as more are coming. He stands on the rails and jumps slightly backwards, trying to grab at the roof.
Max grips on, and pulls himself up just before the zombies reach him. On the roof, he looks out over the city. There are monsters everywhere. They are all heading towards Max. He looks over the building and sees the creatures climbing up the sides, to which Max runs the other way. He comes to the edge, and sees another building nearby. Maybe, he can run and jump to it. He doesn’t have time to decide, because the zombies are already climbing up the side of the building. He tries to jump the gap, but comes up a little short.
Cursing angrily as he falls, Max manages not only to land in a dumpster, but sone distance from the horde. Recovering, he gets out and realizes he dropped his frying pan up there on the roof. Max clambers out of the bin, and notices a nearby two by four. He grabs it, to use it as a weapon or something of the sort. He remembers a nearby gun store, which serves as a black market for guns, less than a mile from the alley. He steps outside, and sees the raving mob advancing.
Max, seeing the mob, goes into the opposite direction, and is pursued into a neighborhood. He makes it to the gun store, where several men are defending . A creature jumps one, and pins him, and the other shoves him off, and shoots at one behind him with a pistol. The mob behind him, about 20 now, gets closer and closer. The first thing Max can think of is to join the survivors or ask for help.
“Help me!” Max shouts. To his surprise, the survivors fire at him, nearly hitting him. Max ducks behind a picket fence, and sees the horde sidetracked, attacking the survivors. The survivors become distracted with this threat and systematically take them down before they reach their fort.
“Where is he?” One shouts and gets out to explore, searching for Max. He remembers his plank of wood and prepares it. As the man walks by, Max knocks him out with a blow to the side of his head. The gun lands on the driveway and fires, hiting the other man in the shoulder, making him drop his weapon. Max rushes over, and before the man can regain his pistol, he kicks it away.
“The man reaches into his jacket to reveal a pocket knife, to which max knocks him with his plank. He looks at all the guns in this man’s house, he must’ve been a collector, or a terrorist. Max grabs a small pistol as well as three magazines he found for it, and found the gun was already loaded. He grabs a hunting rifle, and searches for ammunition. He finds four magazines as well as one in the gun. “This is weird,” Max thought. “This guy keeps loaded guns in his house?”
Max steps outside and sees an infected lion. Max knew that the state zoo, not an hour by car from the house, must’ve been overtaken infecting every animal. The lion lunges, and Max has his hunting rifle out in a flash and shoots five times, missing all times. The lion pins him, and Max bludgeons it with his rifle, and grabs the pistol inside his jacket and shoots the beast in the head. It leaps back, and to Max’s horror, barely was fazed. He recovers his hunting rifle and takes a few more shots, scaring the beast away this time. Max takes a look around. Crumbling buildings, fires, overturned cars, and monsters coming from all around, and poor Max was in the middle of it.
Max readies his gun, knowing he will probably not survive this attack. There must’ve been a hundred zombies coming. Somewhere behind him he hears a loud, deep roar and a car tumbles and bounces just past him by a foot and careens into the horde, destroying about half of the zombies. Looking behind himself, Max sees a massive muscular human, obviously infected. It looked like it mutated to the point where it could bench press with a bus. Needless to say, Max fired at the thing. Its head was too small compared to it’s bulky frame to get a clear shot, and it was advancing pretty fast.
Run or shoot? Max decided he should do both, and as he ran he fired on the thing. It rammed into Max, and he later recalled it felt like being hit by a tank. Tank was a fitting nickname for whatever this thing was. In a second, Max was on the ground, at the entrance of a house. He must’ve flown 20 feet. Judging from how far away the tank was. He weakly crawled into the house, realizing that he dropped his hunting rifle. “Oh crud.” Was Max’s first thought. He crawled into what looked like a dining room, and saw another live human, this one approaches him. Max blacks out.
“Should I kill him?” said an odd voice.
“We don’t know if he turned, you fool. Try thinking for once. Look, im sorry, im just stressed.” Said another voice.
Max opens his eyes, and sees a man holding up a kricket bat, ready to slam it down on Max.
“Can you hear me? If so, nod or we will kill you.”
Max weakly nods, and with a sigh of relief, the second man says:
“Good. Im a doctor, not an executioner, after all. I don’t like all this violence.” He says.
Max immediately wonders where he is and why he is there, and takes note of his fellow humans. The person with the kricket bat, now lowered, was a tall African American man. He wore a light blue hawaiin shirt with dark blue flowers as a contrast.
His friend was also tall, but in black body armour and had a Magnum, a tear gas grenade, and a nightstick, also known as a police baton. His chest armour read CEDA: Keeping the world safe from sickness. Max took notice of the room, which was probably a bedroom, and the door was securely boarded up, as well as the windows.
“Im sorry about your arrival, but my friend Charlie here,” He gestures to the CEDA worker “conked you over the head. We thought you were infected, because we could hear a ton of them outside. We noticed you didn’t have any mushrooms on you, so that was a good sign.”
Suddenly, there was a loud coughing noise, and the door was beat down by a tall, slender infected with a very long tounge. It shot out at the nearest human, Max, emitted a large cloud of smoke, as well as a cough, and rendered the area invisible. Max couldn’t see what was happening, so he blindly swung his hunting rifle as a weapon.
It’s tounge struck out at Max, and slapped the weapon out of his hands, and when it hit the ground, it fired and hit Max in the chest. Suddenly all goes blurry, and dark. Max wakes up in a big, white lab and sitting in a chair, which was monitering what looked like his pulse.
“We got you just in time, you were just about lunch for the beast when we found you.”
Max immediately discovered he had no bullet wound, and very much alive. Max figured that the gunshot missed and the smoke from the beast dropped him, possibly. He got up, and immediately felt very weak and sick, and collapsed. As soon as he was on the ground, he felt better. He then noticed the strange pink tint on his skin.
“I see you are now weak. This is because of the smoke. Sadly, your pinkish skin means you have contracted a special variation of the infection. It turned poor Roger here into a beast.” The man who was speaking was in a white labcoat, and was gesturing towards the tall, mutated creature, who was trapped inside a glass room.
“As we figure, there are about six different strands of the infection. It can turn you into a tall, long tounged creature, a large muscular menace, or even something new. As we see it, the only possible cure for this disease involves combining the variations from every mutation possible. From our tests, thye mutation can only vary into eight different strands.” Said the worker.
“Oh, sorry, how rude. I don’t believe I have formally introduced myself. My name is Jorge, im a lab worker here at CEDA. And your name?”
“ Max Hampton, I work at a greenhouse.”
“As I was saying, once the six mutations have come together and combined, they will create a cure, which we can harvest. Maybe put it in bombs so it will radiate on a target spots, curing hundreds, maybe millions at a time.”
“As we understand, only about one fifteenth of the infected will have a slight chance of contracting the mutated strands. Since we understand that you are their target-“
Max suddenly cut him off and said “How do you know that?”
“ All of the zombies were heading one direction. They were heading to you.” Jorge said.
“You have contracted a bit of the virus, the reason we are not worried is because that we are immune. About one in four people are immune, and apparently you are not immune. Because of this, zombies wont immediately try to kill you, but will attack if provoked.”
“So, you’re telling me to go out into the world, track down these six zombe variants, and bring them to you?” Max asked.
“Precisely, Max. You seem to be taking this well.”
“How many have you already captured?” Max asked.
“Five of them, the long tounged individual, an acid spitting individual, a kamikaze, a small humpbacked individual, and a large muscular individual.”
So the next morning Max was cast out, and given some provisions. Four cans of food, a can opener, a sleeping bag, three large, human sized plastic bags, which he was told were for capturing the infected, a machete, some chemicals for treating wounds, and a pump shotgun. Max decided to head back to his homeland, because that was the origin of the infection, and a logical place for zombies to be.
Halfway there, in a broken down jeep he found, he hit a spot on the road where massive chunks of the road were missing. His tire was flattened on one of these holes, and he had no backup tires. So he had to walk. He eventually had to stop for lunch, and began uncanning some canned spam. He hears a deep growl behind him, and sees a creature that was rather pale, with blisters and burns all over his forearms and legs. The creature was wearing a torn dark blue hoodie and jeans, equally as torn up.
Strangely enough, no mushrooms were on this creature. It lunges at Max, who dodges, and then high into the air, and grabs onto a phone pole, and sits atop it. Waiting for Max to make a move, possibly. Max quickly grabs his shotgun, with a slug already inside, and sets the safety switch to off. He then realized he needed the beast alive, and that a shotgun was a no go.
The thing leapt down and tackled Max, but instead of maiming him, he simply sat on him. Max remembered how since he was infected, he wouldn’t be attacked unless he provoked the zombies. The creature was probably just fighting for fun, or maybe playing. Possibly, the zombies were not aggressive with one another.
Max, taking advantage of the situation, grabs one of its arms and rolls over onto it, now pinning it. He then looks through his first aid kit. There were varius chemicals, one of which being chloroform. Strangely enough, chloroform was found to calm down infected. After spraying it on the creature, Max carefully encased it in the bag, and poked airholes with his machete, or he tried. It was very strong. He then took the zombie out and shot the bag with a shotgun, which created airholes.
He needed to report to the lab, and he didn’t know much longer he had. The following morning, he repaired his jeep with masking tape that the zombie had on him, which was ideal for tire fixing. Max came across a broken down grocery store, and searched for things he could salvage. He found lots of canned food, and some magazines for reading and making fires. On his way back, a large, bulky infected charged at him and slammed him into the wall, then he proceeded to slam Max into the floor repeatedly.
Max was being pummeled into the floor, occasionally being thrown into the ceiling, and receiving a generally terrible beating. Fortunately, after being thrown into the ceilling, he broke through the ceiling tiles and found himself in a venting system. He crawled around, and emerged from a different vent, and made a sprint for the exit. The beast broke a window, and throw a shard of glass about four feet long at him.
Max’s left arm was caught by the glass, and started bleeding. Max ran to the exit, forgetting the food in the store. He finds his infected out of his bag, and speedily approaching. “Im gonna die.” Though Max, and the creature was upon him, but the creature simply touched Max’s wounds, and they disappeared.
That night, Max wrote on a scrap pice of paper what he discovered:
“I cannot believe what I have discovered. Apparently infected can heal each other’s wounds with a touch, which explains why they can survive all sorts of situations. Because if one can reach a wounded infected, he will be healed.”
Suddenly, Max’s vision goes blurry, his pulse begins racing, and his vision goes discoloured. HE looks down at himself, and sees a mushroom sprouting from his torso. He collapses, and when he awakes, he is infected. He sets out with his new friend, who told Max that he was named Aden, and they set out to infect the world, and their minds warped to the point of being okay with it.
HOW DOES THIS SUCK SO BAAAD
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