The Zombie Catastrophe

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The Zombie Catastrophe

By: Oryiman Updated just nowFantasy

Language: English
16

Chapters: 67 views: 283

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When Kevin Santorini, a struggling artist comes home to find his girlfriend cheating on him, he is about to confront them when a zombie breaks in through their window. She escapes with her lover and leaves him to the mercy of the zombies, until a genetic configuration makes him untouchable to them. What happens, when he tasks himself with finding the Allfather, the villain creating the zombies, and when he finally finds who he is?

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67 chapters
ON THE FIRST DAY
Kevin Santorini sat in his old but still running car— one of the only good things he had in his possession while eating a sandwich he had just gotten and listening to the news on the radio. He was still a struggling artist, and few things gave him joy except for his art, the car, his girlfriend Gina, and the house they co-owned after he had saved up for months on end to buy. It was quite shabby, but he liked it and was proud to say it belonged to him. With an exhausted sigh he reached for the knob, just about to change the radio station when a new headline came in. “Breaking News. The Institute for Health Research in Middlestown has announced the escape of a new virus called the Q-21 Zombie virus from one of its laboratories earlier this morning. Everyone is advised to stay indoors until the virus can be controlled.” Laughing at the news, he took the final bite of his sandwich. “Sounds like the gamer's dream come true. Nothing real.” He said to himself, throwing the paper it had b
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WALKING CORPSES
He fell back with the ladder into the attic where the zombies were reaching out to grab him. For a moment, he gave up on life and living, his heart broken from being betrayed twice in less than an hour. His back hit the floor and he reeled from the impact. All around him, the zombies were jostling to reach him, and he kicked at them in panic, flailing his hands in a feeble attempt to keep them away when one of them touched something. It was a brand new chainsaw he had very recently purchased. With all the effort he could muster, he reached out to pull it towards him when he felt a zombie bite into his leg. Holding the chainsaw with both his hands, he swung it with all the force he could muster, sending a few of them off and cutting into the head of the one biting his leg. Another swing gave him some space to stand, and he started the machine. It buzzed, alive and dangerous, the sound vibrating over the whole room. The zombies began to shriek and yell and rush towards him, obviously
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SOMEBODY ELSE
“They cannot… they cannot touch me.” Kevin Santorini whispered to himself in realisation, his breath coming out in excited huffs from his nostrils. The feeling in his chest was a healthy mix of joy and wonder as he watched them try to reach him without success, held off by this barrier that even he could neither see nor understand. Now, he even dared to look them in the eyes, staring into the rotting, ashen faces. He could not believe his good luck when for the second time that day, the zombies left him alone. Still, he remained where he had woken up, convinced that there was something about that place protecting him and afraid to leave its safety. He checked the bite on his leg and saw that it had healed, leaving ashen scars. Was he dreaming? He wondered to himself, feeling the scars on his leg and pressing his fingers on them. There was absolutely no pain, no itch, and nothing to remind him that a zombie had bitten him there except for the scars, and even they seemed perfectly n
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THE Q-21 VACCINE
Several kilometres from the two men and their hiding place stood the Headquarters of the Institute for Health Research in Middlestown, and atop the building by that time of night stood two helicopters resting and waiting, their large silhouettes as terrifying as the monsters that roamed below. There was an emergency door below one of the helicopters, and this was where the team that had risked themselves made their entry. The door opened to a laboratory which at this point, contained a team of ten medical and scientific personnel working within the safety of the laboratory's thick walls and even thicker metal doors, while being protected by a squad of the Special Secret Forces who were heavily armed, their black clothing a contrast to all of the white in the room. A large computer screen was flashing numerical digits, and another one the same size next to it was showing images of some organic chemical combinations. Amongst the medics and scientists was a particularly bald, short m
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A MESSAGE FROM THE ALLFATHER
“So what is your story?” Max asked, finishing his beer can and throwing it aside while Kevin had barely taken any sips. “Go first. Mine might be more painful.” “You think?” He asked, the smile leaving his face. “I don't even know why the bloody hell I've been trying to stay alive. It feels fruitless now.” “Vengeance.” Kevin mused. “What?” “Vengeance is the reason why I've been trying to stay alive.” “And being eaten up by those things too.” Max finished, opening another beer can. “I did not think about it before, but now I realise that there's the way they come at you, grabbing and trying to bite with their smell filling your nostrils. Like ants. Nobody will want to die that way.” “You were in the military, you said, and it shows. There's a way you make death feel poetic.” Kevin noted. He was thinking that he and Max were going to be good friends, if they would live past the night. “And the beer too.” He smiled, throwing the second can. “It wasn't exactly the military. I am,
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THE NEW SANTORINI
Cautiously, Kevin picked up the crystal, grasping it tight in his hand. Once more, the glowing, paper-thin, fluorescent screen appeared before him again. ‘DO YOU WANT TO ADD THE CHAINSAW AND THE CRYSTAL TO YOUR STORAGE SPACE? TO COMMAND THE SCREEN, SIMPLY MAKE THE COMMAND IN YOUR MIND.' Kevin, unsure of how to do it, only uttered a silent yes in his mind, and to his surprise, there was a response on the screen as his chainsaw and the crystal disappeared. ‘SUCCESSFULLY STORED ⅖ ITEMS IN STORAGE SPACE. TO ACCESS THEM AGAIN, SIMPLY UTTER THE COMMAND OF WHAT YOU WANT IN YOUR MIND, OR IMAGINE IT THE WAY YOU WANT IT TO HAPPEN.’ For an artist with an imagination like his, Kevin thought this would be no problem for him. It was as the screen faded away that Max called out to him. “That zombie hit me so hard. Come help me up.” Kevin went and helped his new friend sit up, making sure to slip the orb in his pocket carefully. “What the bloody hell was that?” Max asked, panting, as the zomb
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THE VILLAIN IN MIDDLESTOWN
Max Johnson awoke the next morning to bright sunlight pouring all around him. He was half convinced that he was alive, until he pinched himself and felt himself respond to the stimulus. He tried to sit up, but doing so hurt his chest so bad that he fell back. Slowly and even more carefully, he sat up, managing the pains before running his arm around his chest and back, holding in the pain and feeling for any broken bones or swellings. Finding none, he decided the pain was most probably not serious and would heal eventually. Had it been a haemorrhage, he would probably not have woken up. Silently, he cursed his luck. He was in dire need of painkillers, but that was the one thing he had not scavenged with all the things he took from that house. His eyes scanned the room around him, observing with his military eye, and then he remembered the guy he had found the previous night… What had his name even been? He tried to remember. Kevin Santa… Sanctus… Santorini. He saw the man lying
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THREE MONTHS BEFORE
It had all started three months before with the disappearance of the Q-21 Zombie Virus, as they termed it. Max remembered how it had been announced on the news that it had escaped the previous morning, a blatant lie to the public, which on the positive side, was told to make citizens self-quarantine when the first zombies who were carrying the virus began to show in the open that morning. The truth remained that the virus had been out for as long as three months, and it had neither disappeared nor escaped. It was rather stolen. Caution was taken by the Institute of Health Research in Middlestown to keep the discovery of the virus's disappearance as secret as possible. Only top heads of government organisations remained in the know, to prevent a state of panic and keep finance and business operations running all over. That was the point where the Special Secret Forces came in, invited by the institute to offer their help in answering the million dollar question. Who had stolen the
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SURVIVING
He watched in horror as they clustered around him on all sides, yelling, shrieking and making whatever horrifying sounds they could. With a yell, he started to run towards a small space they had not yet occupied in a feeble attempt to survive, only stopping when he saw that space filling up. Quickly, he took a grenade, pulled out its pin, and threw it at one approaching horde. The explosion rang out and took several down, giving Max some time to position himself and shoot, which he began when the air cleared, shooting sporadically. Realising that they died faster when he shot at their heads, he raised his beam higher and continued shooting. The zombies coming to him had stopped running now, but were only coming close, creeping, seeing that he was a danger. One by one, he stopped to shoot, killing any one that dared come close. Nothing matched his relief when they began to step back, and he took out his last grenade and threw it at them to ensure they would see he was not one to be
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SUSPECTS
As Kevin sat up from his sleep, he saw the way Max fixed his eyes on him with a kind of dark look that suggested there was nothing sweet or beautiful about whatever he had on his mind. If anything, the look was meant to kill. “Morning, Max.” He greeted, trying not to look in the other man's eyes. “What a time to be alive.” “What a time to be alive, indeed.” Max repeated, looking away and affording Kevin a moment's breath. He turned and saw where the zombie's ashes remained after he burned them, and turning to Max, saw how grumpy the sergeant looked. “How bad did the zombie throw you? Still hurts?” “Quite. But I know how to carry on with it.” Kevin nodded, pushing himself backwards to rest his back against the doors of one of the kitchen cabinets so that he could keep an eye on Max. He did not like the way the other man looked at him, and he put considerable distance between themselves. What did he even know about him? Not a lot, except that he had first met the man m
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