The Plot Thickens...
Forever. His brain had entered a state of mind not of this planet. The simple shock of all that had happened,
combined with what was happening, and running. Forever. Gosh how he ached. He was reminicent of the old
saying, "you'd be suprised what you can live through." That was truer than humanly comprehendable. But it
hurt nonetheless.
He had lost track of time. He didn't know where he was going. Just trees. And bushes. He could feel them joustl-
ing him with their rougu, twisted branches. The sounds of the forrest echoed all around him. Stop. STOP. Must...
....stop. His vision swam, and his head lolled to the side as he fell. He slid down the hillside and came to rest on
a grassy edge.
**************
Presently, he came to. The pains and aches had grown stronger, but he no longer was breathing hard. He slowly pill-
ed himself up off the soft grass, and stared off into the area before him.
His mouth made a nice O shape.
He found himself on a hillside overlooking at the back of the P.C. Gamer railway station. Before him was a grassy
plain, containing a lone set of train tracks running down the middle, heading toward the large oak doors that held
the indoor loading platform. The train engine was sitting on the tracks, wedged up on the rails in fron of it.
The rails had been torn up.
Dead zombie bodies lay everywhere. Zombie heads were strewn across the track at the tunnel entrance opposite
the railway building. Another wreck. He slowly crawled down the cliffside, constantly checking his surroundings,
onto the grass. The moon brought many dark and terrible shapes to life. He walked toward the Railway station.
His footsteps plodded silently on the soft grass. An owl hooted in the distance. He wlaked over to the dislodged
rails and inspected them.
It appeared as if some great force had unhinged them, and then twisted upward, leaving the rails in their twisted,
mutilated position. He looked around. Except for the rotting corpses, and one single barrel/block, and some gasoline
cans scattered about, the area was strangely barren.........
Jack jerked his head back and dove behind the train as a revolver shot shattered the silence. He sat behind the trains
frontwheel, breathing in short rapid gasps. No more shots. Not a sound, save his own adrenaline pumped breathing.
He began to peak out, slowly positioning himself next to the wheel's edge, then slowly leaning out.........
PLING!!!
The shot sent sparks into Jack's eyes, blinding him temporarily. He snapped himself back, banging his head against
the umerciful iron of the locomotive. His head sang, and stars flashed about his eyes, while spasms of pain sped
through his body. Moments of his childhood began flashing in his mind. His brother falling onto the raging fireplace.
His father ingniting the bonfire in the barn. His mother when she fell off the roof. The slaughter of the lambs.
He kept seeing the horrible (life flashing, flash, flash) and ominous times that had caused him to flee to the tranquil
area of Rivendale. To escape, to--------
His eyes flicked open. Black and white spots still danced in front of him, but he had regained his bearings. As his
vision cleared, he turned and crept, quick as a cat, to the other end of the engine, and looked out. There, on the roof
of a nearby house stood a cop, his gun searching for Jack. The cops chest was knarled and lacerated. He looked
hungry. Jack moved back out of view, gathering his thoughts. What am I gonna do? The punk has got me pinned!!
He began to think frantically, ideas racing into his mind, and then racing out just as fast. Finally, he decided on making
a bolt for the tunnel. I should be just out of range. He began to raise himself up, when a series of blasts split the air.
Jack snapped his head around the corner in time to see the cop grab his chest in shock as many pieces of it flew
off the rooftop. Then the monster fell off, turning into a pile of flesh on the ground below.
Sweat dripped off of Jack's forehead as he crawled along the grass. Silence danced taunting rhythms in his ears,
torturing his mind and loosing his imagination. He looked up to the lone lit window on the building adjacent the
railway station. There, in the chilling yellow light, stood the same face that had stared at him.....in the outhouse.
Then, with one brisk sweep of his feet, he turned and walked off into the eriee building.
Jack stared for a few moments, wondering who this lone Rambo was, and what he was doing in a secluded
town like this at......at a time like this. Jack then stood up, and slowly made his way to the smashed window
of the station. Smoke oozed from the chimney. He reached the window. Below was a wooden crate. He climbed
atop, then proceeded through the window.
Inside was a storage room. He slowly eased his way through the labyrinth of crates and boxes, and crawled through
a small vent in the floor, and found himself in the CFO offive of P.C. Gamer Railways. He was met with an open
safe, a desk, a file cabinet, a door, and a smashed and broken window. A skull was tastefully nestled in the safe,
and the educated words We Hunger were scrawled across the outside wall. He climebed through the window.
As he put his feet on the ground, a cry of hunger seeped through the floorboards, and at his feel lay a trail of bloody
footprints. He slowly made his way down the hall, until he came to the loading platform. Blood was everywhere, but
the station was empty. He slowly raised his head up, to the rafters, and opened his mouth with a combination of
fright, horror, and repulsion.
He could believe what was hanging from the rafters, a symbol of a race of monsters without a conscience, and a
without a purpose.
For hanging from the struture was........
to be continued...
Chapter 11: A Secret --coming soon!--