Gen Z: - Vyka Chan (summer beach reads .txt) 📗

7th of March, 2015 - Post ZomDay +2

5th of March, 2015 - Before (10:15am)

"Well no wonder you died. You hafta get them in the head."

 

The raspy chuckle burst through my headphones louder than an explosion. "There's certainly no beating our champion, is there?

 

"Number 1 undefeated across the globe. Reminds me who I'm lookin' up when shit hits the fan for real." A lighter laugh, more melodic rings in my ears.

 

"Ah, you know it, Kina. This'll be where the party's at." I set my game to pause. "Though I'm not sure how it's gonna go when all my best soldiers keep gettin' killed."

 

"Ahaha, that's YOU Dim."

 

"Shut it, Kin, you died straight after!"

 

"Don't look at me! Troy was s'posed to have my back! Fucker ran, like a tornado was a'comin."

 

I smiled, at Troy's disgusted grunt. "Well he does live in Florida."

 

"God, Yve, so cold, Eugh!"

 

"You know it, D." I leaned back on the couch, lifting my feet up onto the coffee table. "Anyone else up for a retry?"

 

Approvals all round.

 

Dead Day Tomorrow was the number one zombie survival game that had surprised gamers and gamees alike by its sudden arrival and overwhelming response 2 years ago. New expansions, DLC and content was available every month, a story line that forced players to come to terms with their own morale and views on live itself, and a kickass PvP mode that pitted real people against real people - fights for supplies, alliances, scouting trips and raids. No limitations. What made it better is that the entire game was hardcore. No easy mode, simply a world of chaos and driving hunger as your navigator.

 

Topping the leaderboards were players that, above all else, were smart and creative. They knew who was and was not to be trusted, which areas to avoid, which actions were fatal and which were not. They ran on a pure survival drive.

 

A few more rounds - ended by one, or more of my teammates dying - later, I happened to glance up the clock.

 

I edged the corner and braced myself for what lie on the other side, using my Bowie knife's reflective surface I slided the blade along the bricks until I could see what lay in wait for me. Three of them - no, four Stingers. Patrolling. 

 

I pulled one of the bottles I had tied to my belt free and, after making sure i was clear, threw it out over theirs head - or what remained of them and waited until i heard the satisfing smash on the further end of the street. I hear the rustle of fabric as they all turned towards the sound. All was quiet for a moment, then as planned the stumbled after it.

 

The Stingers had pointed splinters of bone that protruded from any and all parts of the body and extended when they neared their prey, like spears. Even one nick from one of those things was fatal, and the reach on those things was rather impressive.

 

I counted to 15 hippos before I signalled for Dim (DimitriousOmnipotent) to take the lead.

 

Fuck. It's almost 11. She's gonna be pissed.

 

Without warning, a Trype came down from the 3 story building's rooftop and landed a few metres infront of D before he could make it to the alley on the others side of the street. The rain of glass tinkled on the cement like an infant on a xylophone. The Stingers, now about 40 metres away, turned back around.

 

The Trype, an abomination - the combination of at least three or more unlucky souls that had been merged on a cellular level with the infected body. All three faces bore their eyes into D, It's mouth dark and oozing slime open and snarling from ear to ear, to ear. Trype's were fast. And Smart. Two heads are better than one, but three are better than two.

 

"God, she's gonna kill me..."

 

"Ugh, Yve, i think they're all he's."

 

"She's talking about Janet, Troy you moron. Remember what today is?"

 

I pulled the remaining bottle from my belt, still half full of Shiraz, ripped a small piece of cloth from my sleeve and stuffed it down the neck of the bottle, careful not to put too much or too little in. I swiped the dog whistle from around my neck, blew into it hard, catching the sensory overloaded dead ones off guard and before D, was slashed to ribbons by the Trype's 15 clawed hands, I stepped out, ordered him back and threw my Molotov.

 

By now the Stingers had caught up to the Trype and were caught in the cross hairs. D and I stood unflinching, and watched as the bodies were engulfed in flames, and soon nothing more than charred cadavers.

 

Pause.

 

"Alright, guys, Imma hafta continue when I get back tonight. I gotta go. Catch you on the channels when I get back yeah?"

 

"Yeah, no worries E." Dim smiled, I could hear it in his voice.

 

"Nah, I got graveyard tonight. Be home in the morning. I'll email ya later though."

 

I nodded, knowing she couldn't see me. None of us lived in the same state, and for the most part, the same country, so we didn't see each other, or even knew what each other looked like, but we were so close it's like we were siblings seperated at birth. We each knew and understood one another's rituals and engagements.

 

"I'll still be here - my shift was cancelled today." Troy interjected. " I guess we'll have to round up the others in Yve's place."

 

"Hah! We'll need like a hundred to make up her place alone!" Kina cried, laughing.

 

"Not if we get..." I stopped listening to them, and focussed on getting ready. Making sure to turn my system over before I left.

 

I made my first mistake as I stepped outside, shut the door and locked it behind me. I should've noticed the deadly silence.

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Publication Date: 01-20-2014

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