The War Before Us (OPEN)

[Daryal Taylor]

New York was a warzone. From since the outbreak started to three weeks later, it continued on as the thousands of people in the city fell victim to the infection. The hospitals went first, then the streets...chaos erupted all around and no one had time to figure out why.

The dead began to rise and attack the living, tearing flesh from bone and adding more to their undead army. It was literally hell on earth, a seemingly extinction event.

Daryal 'Dal' Taylor was a police officer working for the NYPD, he was well established and respected, but nothing could prepare him for this. The first week felt like years, as he and many other local officers tried to help and calm down the citizens of the city as riots and looting began to occur; but they were quick to realize that this wasn't an ordinary outburst. The tear gas wasn't working on the infected, the only thing that seemed to bring them down were headshots.

Things got worse by week two, as traffic backed up, the bridges started to rise, and the military stepped in with their helicopters and tanks. Normally that would have been a pleasing sight, but Daryal quickly learned that they had orders to shoot to kill, anyone and everyone that seemed infected. It was out of control.

Daryal found himself in a mexican stand off with one soldier, inside an apartment building where he was staying hidden from the infected. The soldier aimed an M16 rifle at Daryal's head, while he aimed his baretta 9mm back.

"I'm not one of those things," Daryal said. "Why are you shooting civilians?"
"Civilians?" the soldier started. "There are no civilians anymore man, have you seen outside?"
"You should just go your own way, I'll go mine," said Daryal. "We don't need this. I just want to get out of this city and find my daughter."
The soldier laughed.
"You're gonna die anyway," he said, lowering his gun for a second. "They plan on bombing the streets in four hours, with or without us. That's how bad this is."
"Then lets go...lets try to get out," Daryal said.
The soldier shook his head, he had appeared to be losing his mind to Daryal. As he raised his assault rifle Daryal fired, shooting the soldier in the face and killing him.
"I'm sorry brother," Daryal said and sighed, then took his M16 and headed out.

The military began bombing the streets during week three. They shot out napalm and burned everything in sight, but it wasn't enough. Daryal used the M16 and fought his way into the sewers, eventually using the assault rifle to its max and tossing it. He eventually made his way into the subways underneath the city, it was safe from the bombs of the military, but not from the hordes of the undead.

Daryal found a service room and broke into it using an axe that was on the wall, he boarded up the door with anything he could find to make a barricade. He sat down and tried to collect himself, he had been through a lot. The last he heard of his daughter, she was with his ex-wife across the country going into a military safe zone. He had to make it out of New York...he had to find her.

[Daryal Taylor]

Daryal woke up on the cold stone floor of the service room, he woke up back to the horrors of real life. He sat up and cracked his neck, then got up completely and began to stretch. He thought of all the shit he had been through the last few weeks, all the death and loss. Everything was dead silent around him, yet he knew above on the surface all Hell was breaking loose. It was an extinction event.
He gathered his senses and checked his handgun, only five bullets left. He sheathed it in his hip holster and picked up the axe he had acquired in the tunnels, then he set out. His plan was to get out of the city, if there was even a city left after what the military did to it.
He was alone now, and he knew it. The military wasn't helping at all, they were murdering innocent survivors and bombing the streets...and all his fellow officers at the NYPD were scattered and clueless as well. It was every man for themselves it seemed, but Daryal wasn't like that. He still had morality and sense, at least he liked to think he did.
He opened the service door and began walking down the subway tracks, heading in what he hoped was the direction of southwest. Maybe he could find an exit to the surface somewhere at the corner of the city, that way he could get out. He wasn't fully sure of what he was going to do, but he knew he had to do something.
He reached an exit point, where people would get onto subways. It was covered with the undead, roaming around aimlessly above him. He stayed low to the tracks, kept his body hidden by the railing and moved slowly past. His nerves kicked in on high alert, as he could hear the groaning and moaning of the undead only inches from him.
He eventually made it past and continued on the long dark pathway of the underground tunnel system...

[Archer McQwin]

It had been weeks since the day of the outbreak, and things were worse as ever. Archer managed to find cover from the napalm (with much to his surprise), but it was at a cost. The part of subway tunnel he took shelter in did not hold up as well as the rest, and cement came crashing down, nearly on top of him. In a clumsy attempt to dodge the crashing ceiling, Archer tripped and fell onto the subway tracks. Luckily his landing was low enough that the cement missed him entirely. Archer made it out with a bruised ankle, a big bump on his head (from lifting his head up only a few inches to be greeted with what almost killed him), and all around soreness. Archer was too banged up to even think to try and climb out from under the rabble, so he did he more sensible (or easier) thing and stayed put for the night.

Arch woke up in the early morning, more sore than when he had fallen asleep. It wasn't surprising considering he slept on subway tracks. He listened to see if it was safe to crawl out, and the coast seemed clear. Arch slowly, and quite loudly, dragged himself from under the rubble. It took him a good couple of tries to stand on his feet. God dammit... His ankle was swollen, but it was still usable; he would just have a pretty prominent limp. This is not good He quickly spotted his bat which was not too far off. At least I got some protection if I can't...run away. I hope those fucking bombs did some help, Jesus. Does the military not care about the survivors?!

Archer shuffled along for a good couple of hours, angry, tired, hungry, and hurt. So far he had not encountered any infected, but he gripped his bat tight just in case. Eventually, out of hours of silence, he heard footsteps in the distance. The subway was dark, and Archer squinted. Shit I can't see what it is! Arch winced as his hurt foot scrapped across the ground as he shuffled toward one side of the subway wall. His aluminum bat clinked against the concrete. He was the epitome of stealth.

words; 374

[/size][/justify]

[Daryal Taylor]

Daryal's eyes adjusted quite well to the darkness of the tunnel system, he obviously still could not see, but he could make out shadows and structures. He followed along the tracks with his free hand directing him along the wall. He held an axe in the other hand and walked slightly sideways, just in case he tripped on something.

It had been hours of walking and he could still slightly hear the screams and horror happening on the surface. People were dying, nonstop. It was the apocalypse.

Suddenly he heard a clanking sound hit the ground a few feet in front of him, then it dragged a bit and sounded as if to be metal. Daryal immediately stopped in his tracks and lifted his axe, holding the weapon firmly in both hands now. He listened silently for more sound, but nothing came out. He figured he'd be hearing groans or shuffling about if it were one of those creepers.

"I'm alive!" Daryal finally said. "I'm a police officer and I have a weapon..."

Daryal decided to set the axe down and pull out his 9mm baretta. The axe clanked against the floor just as the noise had moments ago, as he pulled his gun out and aimed into the darkness.

"I will not hesitate to blow your f*cking face off if you don't speak in the next three seconds," Daryal continued.

He was scared, but was hopeful that whoever, or whatever, was before him was scared too.

[Archer McQwin]

Not long after Archer's bat hit the wall he found out exactly what the thing was. He exhaled in relief when the man introduced himself as a police officer. Alright! Someone with experience! He probably has a gun with him, and police officers are 'all about protecting the citizens' or shit like that. He smiled and leaned the back of his head on the wall. I might actually have a chance outta here now. This guy probably knows his way around here better than I do... The grin on Archers face was the widest grin he ever dawned since he was seven years old.

"I will not hesitate to blow your f*cking face off if you don't speak in the next three seconds,"

"Woah man, wait! I-I'm human, look!" Archer limped as fast as he could closer the the officer, wincing at the pain. "My name is Archer McQwin I live here and I'm just like you man! I'm not one of those things I swear!" Archer's speech was a bit jumbled as he tried to show the man that he was not a threat. The last thing he wanted was a bullet wound to add to his misery.

He soon saw the man aiming a gun right at him. Archer dropped his bat and it clanged onto the floor. "Look, c'mon, put that down." He raised his hands in front of him in a coaxing motion. He gave him his least threatening lopsided grin. "We should help each other out... God knows I can't make it on my own...

Archer realized how bad he must look to the officer. His hair and jacket were covered in white dust, and his limp was completely obvious. His face and hands had minor cuts as well. "Don't kill me." he whispered quiet enough that he hardly heard it himself. All Archer wanted to do was reach Wyoming to see if his family is okay.

words; 319

[/size][/justify]

[Daryal Taylor]

Daryal lowered his weapon after the guy spoke out. He seemed to be just another guy trying to survive, the same as him. Under any other circumstances the cop wouldn't be so trusting, but Hell was literally on Earth and people needed to stick together. The last human Daryal came into contact with was a military soldier, and that guy tried to kill him. This one was different though, he could tell. He had a good way about reading people, apocalypse or no.

He sheathed his beretta in its holster and picked up his axe again. He noticed the man's limp as he started to walk past him, heading on into the seemingly eternal darkness of the tunnels. He paused a moment and looked back, gripping the axe in both hands now.

"What happened to your leg?" he asked, keeping a moderate distance from the newcomer. "You weren't bitten or scratched were you?"

Daryal was learning about the infection as he went along. He wasn't sure if it was airborne or not, and if it was there really wasn't much he could do about it. What he did know, what probably everyone who was alive already knew, was that getting bit or scratched by those things turned you into one. The last thing he needed was a survivor that was bit, he wouldn't know how to handle the situation. He was improvising everything, hoping for the best in all situations.

He kept an eye on the new guy, but something else had caught his attention while they were meeting one another...something further off in the darkness ahead. He found himself putting a finger to his lips to shush the other guy without even realizing it, as he turned his full attention toward the dark. He listened intently, and then he heard them.

Scraping sounds and shuffling, moans and groans off in the distance. He could faintly see dark shadows moving toward them, as a unit it seemed. A horde of those things was heading their way, as their limbs skid along the railroad tracks and gravel.

"Shit, we gotta move," Daryal said as he backed up toward the direction he came from.

He remembered passing a junction a ways back where he went straight instead of going left or right. He figured they would have to go down one of those passageways, but from then on they would be lost.

He started to pick up his pace as the groans of the undead began to echo through the tunnels as they approached them. Though, he stayed close to the new guy, he didn't want to lose the only reasonable survivor he had ever come across.

"There's a junction over here, come on!" Daryal said, as he moved backwards.