Sunday, June 15, 2008


I don't get visions. Not anymore at least.

But right now I got something close.

A group of 5-7 people. Held up within a small, contained neighbor hood. On the Northern side, a large group of undead is held back with a crude, but effective sort of 'dam' along the street, from one house to another. Fences and more homes act as a natural deterrent beyond that.

The only other entrance to the neighborhood is cut off by a large, crudely built (but movable) fence. This was done because of the pattern of movement from the undead. Most were coming from one side, so the other was a means of quick and efficient escape.

Things are fine, when suddenly they break through the dam.

5 minutes.

the main group head off god knows where, shouting and orders being yelled.

One man turns and heads down a lone street. Partially blocked: Undead here and there. Their home was secure, but it was never safe.

A black man, one of the main group yells at him it's suicide; but he has no choice. Their lives are in that van, and their only chance of survival.

He'd been meaning to go down that claim what was theirs once more. But now it didn't matter.

Two are coming up fast...he sprints in spurts to avoid using all his energy at once, and to use it when he needs it. The other man is following him, but father behind, yelling things at him he can't possibly understand now.

Avoid the other two, they turn for him, another in his path he dodges from and lets collide into his other persurers. A woman forever pushing a stroller is in front of him, but doesn't see him yet. Or hear him.

He forces a shoulder into her back, sending her flying. The stench of her death fills his nostrils, but there it is.

The van.

3 minutes.

He's had the key out, gripped tightly in his fingers since he started running. The front door is unlocked and he swings it open, jumping in. Unlocking the passenger side, after he's roared it to life, he guns it out this dead end, and picks up the other man.

The rest of the group are crammed into another car, and windows rolled down.

The second site.

This was planned all along. Smart thinking the man says to himself as the van pulls away, leading the survivors out the now open southern entrance.

Then hell opens its mouth.

They aren't the only people on the road. Cars, bikes, everything mobile is coming from the OPPOSITE direction of the supposed advancing horde.

Binoculars are grabbed, and the horizon scoped. Too many to count...too many to see fully. There's the end of humanity. There's the wave of death.

2 minutes.

Van's dying, and the steering is getting harder. Cursing and panic are setting in, but he composes himself. The second site is no longer an option. Half these people racing past them were from it, or around it.

They could only rely on themselves now.

Glancing looks across the approaching end horizon, and the sides of the road. When they pulled out onto the street for the first time after the cars and bikes, the van nearly went off the road onto the other side.

1 Minute.

A steep slope, opening onto a large acreage. Farmland never used. Trees all over the property. This was the true outskirts of suburbia. A decision is made. The second car is pulled up next to the van. Words exchanged, and heads nodded.

The undead are slow. They have 20, maybe 30 minutes left before the wave is upon them. The van turns of the road and towards the distance. Hoping to god there's a farmhouse at the end, behind the treeline.

30 minutes.

This was a dream I just had about 20 minutes ago. I've been wanting to do a really good zombie story lately, but starting it has always been sort of...hard for me so I'd drop it. I've got another in the works about the zombie side of things, and I think this could coincide as another tale within it (Or a new tale from it to go from) nicely. The speed, the urgency of it all...Figures it'd be my sleeping mind that'd out-think my waking one.

The dream seriously lasted only 4-5 minutes, and ended as soon as the van pulled off the road and headed into the tall grass.