risking
her life for nothing.
Harold was the only thing in the world
that meant anything to her. The only real, stable thing. The rest
of her life was just flakey jobs here and there, a couple crappy
relationships... nothing worth remembering, really. But Harold was
always there supporting her, even in her stupid moves, while he
tried to sneak in advice. Or being an ear to whine to, or letting
her crash at his place and mooch. Well, it was time for her to make
an effort for him. He’d never needed help before, and now was her
chance to do something meaningful.
Resolve pushed her hopelessness aside,
and sleep finally claimed her.
Although morning came, the
locker room had no windows, so no new light reached in to wake
Regan. She awoke on her own and looked at her watch. Quarter to
ten. That was the earliest she’d been up in a week. She wasn’t in
the mood to waste time, but she had a perfectly good shower room
here and she didn’t know when she’d get another chance. It wouldn’t
take long. Her clothes could use a wash too, but she didn’t have
the patience to watch them dry, nor did she really want to run
around in someone else’s jogging pants. She’d put up with her
unwashed clothes at least another day. They weren’t that bad all
things considered.
Once she’d put herself back together,
she dragged the cement pot barrier out of the way of the door and
swung it open. A zombie was standing about four meters away and
Regan yelped. The zombie turned to bear down on her but she managed
to fumble for her P90 and pepper it with bullets rather quickly. It
fell to the ground but kept coming, dragging itself along with its
arms, leaving a trail of blood on the path. She aimed at its head
and finished the job.
Well, it almost seemed a fitting way to
start a morning after sleeping in a bathroom.
She stepped around the body and headed
towards the concession stand. She’d already made noise with
gunfire, why not open it the easy way? She fired on the latch to
the rolling shutter that covered the front and pushed it up, having
to force the damaged metal a bit. The door finally came loose,
rolling up into the ceiling and shedding forth mid morning light on
a colourful treasure trove of junk food. She climbed over the
counter and attacked the nearest bit of chocolate. With the bar
hanging out of her mouth, she examined the rest of the inventory.
Oh, look, a door. If she had walked a little bit farther around the
corner outside, she would have seen it. To add insult it wasn’t
locked. She could have been munching junk food last night instead
of her selection of rations and nutrition bars. Yeah, that would
have been healthy.
With her duffle bag now stocked with a
fresh water bottle and some goodies on top of boring ‘survival’
food, she was ready to head out again. This spot turned out pretty
good. Before she left she got out the VTag goggles again. She
erased the VTags she’d made while experimenting, and put a Vtag on
the little building. ‘JUNK N SHOWER’. Onward.
~~~
As he packed his equipment onto his new
little boat, Jonathan Coll couldn’t help giggling to himself when
he thought of what he’d done. Such little effort, such huge effect.
Too bad they don’t give out a Pulitzer for this kind of
thing.
Killing Scott was simply too
much fun. He seemed so surprised! What a classical invention, the
knife. The simplicity of the method was an amusing contrast to what
happened to Scott after he died. A heavy dose of immune suppressant
let the nanite chaser do its work all that much easier.
Coll was a little disappointed how easy
the other killings were as well. He figured if his toys were going
to really take the town nicely, he’d have to plant a few more seeds
in different areas.
Simple math told him that the spread
could potentially be very quick, being based on a doubling
exponent, but he knew in practical terms that people weren’t about
to line up to be chomped efficiently. They may as well have
her life for nothing.
Harold was the only thing in the world
that meant anything to her. The only real, stable thing. The rest
of her life was just flakey jobs here and there, a couple crappy
relationships... nothing worth remembering, really. But Harold was
always there supporting her, even in her stupid moves, while he
tried to sneak in advice. Or being an ear to whine to, or letting
her crash at his place and mooch. Well, it was time for her to make
an effort for him. He’d never needed help before, and now was her
chance to do something meaningful.
Resolve pushed her hopelessness aside,
and sleep finally claimed her.
Although morning came, the
locker room had no windows, so no new light reached in to wake
Regan. She awoke on her own and looked at her watch. Quarter to
ten. That was the earliest she’d been up in a week. She wasn’t in
the mood to waste time, but she had a perfectly good shower room
here and she didn’t know when she’d get another chance. It wouldn’t
take long. Her clothes could use a wash too, but she didn’t have
the patience to watch them dry, nor did she really want to run
around in someone else’s jogging pants. She’d put up with her
unwashed clothes at least another day. They weren’t that bad all
things considered.
Once she’d put herself back together,
she dragged the cement pot barrier out of the way of the door and
swung it open. A zombie was standing about four meters away and
Regan yelped. The zombie turned to bear down on her but she managed
to fumble for her P90 and pepper it with bullets rather quickly. It
fell to the ground but kept coming, dragging itself along with its
arms, leaving a trail of blood on the path. She aimed at its head
and finished the job.
Well, it almost seemed a fitting way to
start a morning after sleeping in a bathroom.
She stepped around the body and headed
towards the concession stand. She’d already made noise with
gunfire, why not open it the easy way? She fired on the latch to
the rolling shutter that covered the front and pushed it up, having
to force the damaged metal a bit. The door finally came loose,
rolling up into the ceiling and shedding forth mid morning light on
a colourful treasure trove of junk food. She climbed over the
counter and attacked the nearest bit of chocolate. With the bar
hanging out of her mouth, she examined the rest of the inventory.
Oh, look, a door. If she had walked a little bit farther around the
corner outside, she would have seen it. To add insult it wasn’t
locked. She could have been munching junk food last night instead
of her selection of rations and nutrition bars. Yeah, that would
have been healthy.
With her duffle bag now stocked with a
fresh water bottle and some goodies on top of boring ‘survival’
food, she was ready to head out again. This spot turned out pretty
good. Before she left she got out the VTag goggles again. She
erased the VTags she’d made while experimenting, and put a Vtag on
the little building. ‘JUNK N SHOWER’. Onward.
~~~
As he packed his equipment onto his new
little boat, Jonathan Coll couldn’t help giggling to himself when
he thought of what he’d done. Such little effort, such huge effect.
Too bad they don’t give out a Pulitzer for this kind of
thing.
Killing Scott was simply too
much fun. He seemed so surprised! What a classical invention, the
knife. The simplicity of the method was an amusing contrast to what
happened to Scott after he died. A heavy dose of immune suppressant
let the nanite chaser do its work all that much easier.
Coll was a little disappointed how easy
the other killings were as well. He figured if his toys were going
to really take the town nicely, he’d have to plant a few more seeds
in different areas.
Simple math told him that the spread
could potentially be very quick, being based on a doubling
exponent, but he knew in practical terms that people weren’t about
to line up to be chomped efficiently. They may as well have
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