Forums → The Tavern → The Zombie Survival Club (READ OP)

If I'm going to make a plan, should I base it off of the Goliath disease, or does anybody have a better virus I should base it off of?

Since right now we don't have a proper Scenario, just go off the Goliath virus and start out from your current Home.

This is based off of the Goliath virus
Materials:
3 sets of warm clothing (Winter where i am right now)
2 Large gatorade bottles
1 liter water bottle
Large Backpack
Small, warm sleeping bag
Axe
Glasses
Watch
Lighter
Bottle of ibuprofen
10 packaged granola bars
Bag of apples
Canned soup
Flashlight
Batteries
Small Pockter Bible
Paperback small novel (With a happy theme)

Weapons:
Axe (Doubles as a tool and weapon)
Long, sharp knives (The knives can cut through skin very easily)

Transportation:
Road Bike
My own two legs

Companions:
My neighbor, whom I've known almost my entire life

My initial reaction is to quickly get all my supplies into my backpack, and quickly ride over to my neighbors house. He just so happens to actually have quite a few guns with ammo in his house. I'd inform him of the outbreak, and help him quickly pack similar supplies to me. I would carry more food, but he would carry guns. We would then ride out to the forest preserve near our town. It's currently night time, so we know we don't have too much time. We'd set up a basic camp there, store our supplies in a high place, and sleep in the trees. We'd then try to set up a more permanent camp the next day. We'd spend a few days away from the general populace, whilst my friend would teach me proper aiming and gun maintenance. We would probably be low on food at that point, so we'd carefully start making our way back into town. Most people would be either dead or a zed by then (The outbreak happened near our town). The few other survivors have set up bases in buildings around town, but the virus swept through the town fast, and left fast too. We'd keep a courteous distance and scavenge for food. If we found a good supply we would set up base in one of our houses and camp out there for the out break. We'd set up roof access, and keep in general contact with our fellow survivors.

That's about all I can come up with now. I'd appreciate replies very much, and I want to mention this is my first plan on this site.

iko:

Seeing you are both carrying lots of supplies, you will both be riding the same bike or did you forget to mention another form?

And as far as the outbreak leaving quickly:

simply no. As zombies aren't the smartest things around, they will most likely stick around, with a small portion wandering away and furthering the outbreak, but no the outbreak wouldn't just 'leave'. If i misinterpreted your statement, please inform me.'

Also be wary of any National Guard or military personnel. As you said the outbreak started near your town, the vicinity would be swarming with roadblocks, S&D teams, etc. undoubtedly they would shoot you on sight, infected or not.

other than that, i like your plan... though where do you live in corellation to the downtown area of your town?

lol my town doesn't really ave a downtown, too small. And i meant two separate bikes sorry. Thanks for the point about the military and the lack of a quickly leaving outbreak. Ill probably revise my plan some more later.

Also, It's maybe not such a good idea to be packing specific things. If he dies, you have no guns, if you die, he has no food. See what I mean?

Well i feel is should mention i live in the suburbs of a huge city, and we can both act if the other one gets infected. But thank you for the help lathus

I would probably just have to leave my family. plus, i could just hopp out a window if i had to get down fast, ive done it before no problem

also, after my food ran out, i could just leave and find a new place, like an army base, or a large boat.

So am I in or not?

On My Person:
Head: Boonie, Sunglasses, shamagh
Torso and Arms: Undershirt, T-Shirt, Tactical Vest
Hands: Fingerless-Shotgunner Gloves
Legs: Cargo Pants + Snake Guards**
Feet: Steel-Toed Boots
Extra: ID, Letters (incase I die of old age, not eaten)

Weapon (15 lbs): Armalite AR-10 (5 clips), Elephant Gun (3 clips)

Side Arm (2 lbs): Bouie Knife

Food (15 lbs): 30 assorted MREs(on starvation rations, would give me 60 meals of about 3000 calories a day), 1 quart of water, Saline Tables, Water Purifier, plus a canteen of straight Vodka (not to drink, but incase of any abrasions)

First Aid (3 lbs): 3 feet of Heavy Bandages, Whisky (to deaden pain), Band-Aids, an Anti-Backterial, Soap, Gauze, Gloves, Surgical Scissors, Flare Gun, etc. Just your everyday first aid kit.

Equipment (20 lbs): Entrenching Shovel, Bug Spray, Spec Ops Watch, Assorted Novels, FM 21-76, Local/State Maps, Bible, Boot Knife, Compass, Matches, Duck Tape, Hatchet, Parachute Cord (7-Strand) Fishing Kit, Fire Striker and Flint, Mag Lite, Whistel, Survival Mirror, GPS, Walkie Talkie (friend has other), Weapon Cleaning Kits and Spare Parts,small pot, Swedish Fire-Steel, Digital Woodland Camo Poncho.

Special (3 lbs): Small Trowel, Vegetable Seeds

Weapon Weight: 17 lbs
Pack Weight: 41 lbs
Total Weight: 58 lbs

* All equipment will be carried in a military grade ruck sack

** Snake Guards are Kevlar 'shin guards' that protect against snake bites. And also briars, snaggers, and anthing else.

PART I:

I live in the foot hills of my state, so I have two options. 1) head to the predestined rally point with my un-zed friend (unlikely) 2) head to the coast. Obviously, I would pick Plan 2 (Zulu-Yankee[Bravo]). I would leave my friend several messages, telling him what my plan is (In Caeser Shift-3). I would hang out mostly in the swamps that frequent my state, making a swampbed every night in the deepest part I can find. After I reach Highway-17 (highway that runs up the entire east coast), I've reached part II.

PART II:

By now, I'm about halfway through with the MREs, and my water supply is running low (assuming I re-stocked with swamp water[water purifyer]). Now here comes the tricky part: The coast is heavily poplulated in the north and the south, so I have a 50-mile gap with with to run the gauntlet. I'm guessing that about half the zeds have left the city (lack of prey), but I'd rather fight in flat land than an urban enviroment. IF I survie to make it to the coast, I would build a raft (using logs, and parachute cord). I would sail to a barrier island, and clear it out if its populated (which I doubt). The island would be in open water, so vunrable to storms, but I doubt Goliath can swim, and if it did:

FISH LIKE DEAD THINGS

PART III:
The 'fun' part. Surviving. I have a fishing kit, Elephant gun, Shelter, vegitables, and now I just dont have to get eaten by zeds. I would hope to use the hatchet to construct some sort of fort with the palmtrees, and go from there. I would HOPE to use the flares, signal mirror, and fires to attract the attention of any search planes, however unlikely. And live life to its fullest, and try not to die from boredom. Last thing I want is to go crazy. Maby memorize the bible?
__________
Never got in, so Ima reposting. Also updated with some new stuff I got, so... Yeah.

Well...

Animals such as Fish or flies would be revolted by the Zombie-flesh, and would definetly stay away. the blood also is not running and therefore won't attract sharks, so there is no problem. Also because of the strength of the virus, any infected animals would die before becoming zombified.

which raises the problem... the fish wouldn't stop the zombies. Not that a whole horde will be crawling around in the water, but every now and then a zombie wanders or falls into the water, and as it oes not require air anymore in most cases, it will wander the ocean bottom for eternity.

But eventually some will find your island... there are very few ways to stop a zombie from just walking onto your beach and walking around, and this is inevitable. eventually your guard will relax, and you won't expect it... until 1 day you're out fishing and a zombie bites you on the neck from behind. You would need more than 1 person to maintain an island because of this, and that means more food+upkeep.

Also... the ocean water could also be infected with floating infected debri. again, as bacteria, parasites, the stuff that would normally make a dead body are revolted by zombie flesh, it would stay infected, and might get snagged in your line or mixed in with your fish accidentally... (gills)

but other than that, i liked it. but what is a 'swampbed', by the way?

@noob,
a swampbed is a riverbed but in a swamp.

@mav
I think that this would be a pretty solid plan. Noob is right, though. if you try fishing too far into shore, then there will be a crapload of stuff you dont want to be eating. You might find some cleaner water further into shore, though. See if there are any barracuda in the water there. That's worse for you, but they wouldn't have a problem with zombie flesh, they eat pieces of trees and tires. they swim so fast, they dont know what they're eating. Look for that.

Hello everyone

Im sorry ive not been on lately. The holidays are always quite a busy time for me.

However, I have been able to come up with the start of a story. This is chapter 1. Chapter 2 will come along presently...im nearly finished with it.

I do hope you enjoy and happy holidays!!

chapter 1

"Hey Clare...you think Lady Gaga's a zombie?"
"Huh?" Clare lifts her gaze from the dusty window where she's been sitting.
"What the h*ll are you talking about, Skater?"
"Lady Gaga..." he repeats, holding up a smudged cd showing the pop singer in a sultry pose,"...she's a zombie, right?"
Clare sighs, then shrugs. "Probably...maybe..." She wipes a strand of dirty blonde hair from her face. "I don't know..."
Clare stares at the cd in Skaters hand -Lady Gaga frozen forever in a guess-what-I'm-thinking way-. Los Angeles was one of the first cities to fall to the undead during the initial panic that swept the U.S. The military quickly overwhelmed by the surge of over three million undead, drawn by the meaty smell of those trying to flee the city. The news reports of the carnage, the footage of shambling hordes of reanimated corpses surging through the streets seeking anything living, shredding with clawed hands and broken teeth.
She remembers her own frantic flight from L.A., sneaking with hitched breath by piles of undead feeding on their victims, trying to ignore the sounds of tearing flesh and gurgled moans. Hopping over uncountable pools of blood and eviscerated bodies, making her way out of town in a slow, but frantic game of cat and mouse.
Most of all, she remembers her terror, raw and loud, which even months later still simmers within her under a thin layer of control. She had no idea if her family in Kansas City was ok. No one to turn to, nowhere to go but out. It was enough to drive her crazy, and nearly did.
She swallows hard, forcing her emotions back. A single tear wells up and tracks down her smudged cheek and she looks away, wiping it away with her sleeve.
Skater stares after her for a moment, then rolls his eyes. Humph, just what was her problem, anyway? Since the moment he'd run into her, hiding in the 7-11 near his house , shed always been a bit elusive. Yeah, the world was an utter sh*tpot now, but crying about it didn't do any good.
H*ll, he considered himself luckier than most. His dad had been one of those paranoid conspiracy junkies, worried about world takeover by commies or aliens, whatever. Crazy as a loon, but that craziness had payed off for Skater in the way of survival training. Since he could remember, dad had been preaching survival to him and his older brother, Jacob, constantly.
Skater had been lying on his bed, watching news coverage of the fighting downtown, when Jacob came running into the room, dressed in his urban fatigues and holding a shotgun. Apparently, dad had decided that the military was doing a better job of adding to the zombie numbers rather than subtracting from them. He and some of the neighborhood Delta Couch Force were going off to give the enlisteds a hand. Skater had heard instructions on the news from the military that 'civilians were absolutely NOT permitted to lend hands, feet, guns or anything to the fight.' Dad however, like so many others that day with a gun and an itch to use it, had decided better of it.
His truck loaded with supplies, guns and half-drunk men hellbent on turning back the undead tide themselves, dad had paused long enough to slap Skater on the back and hand him a rifle, two boxes of ammo and an open-band walkie-talkie.
"Watch the news, Skate," as he touseled his sons hair," and take care of your mom till we get back."
'Dad, don't do it! You need to be here! For once, don't be so dam*ned crazy!' He had wanted to shout to his father, to all of them. His eyes scanned the faces of those around him and he realized that it wouldn't do a tur*ds bit of good.
"Yes, sir...," he had nearly choked.
Dad flashed him a grin and with a quick hug for mom, jumped into the back of the truck with Jacob and they headed off down the street, whooping and hollering, horns blaring.
It was the last time he ever saw his father and brother.
The battleline had been overrun within two hours of his dads enthusiastic charge. Fighting had gone from defense to all out retreat, with the undead surge pouring out of downtown and into the suburbs.
Skater had watched the news, as ordered, until the power went out in his neighborhood and sporadic gunfire and explosions could be heard rattling outside, bullets and shrapnel tinging off the sides of the house. His mom had told him to leave, -ordered him- to make his way away from the fighting. She would meet him at the 7-11 some miles down the road.
He had never had the chance to ask her why she had made him leave without her, but she had nearly pushed him out the door, throwing his backpack at him. Screaming at him to get out, her makeup smeared with tears of rage and anguish.
His backpack slung around his shoulders, he had made his way down the street on his bike, dodging abandoned cars and the occasional corpse. Though he didn't see any zoms that day, he did get shot at at least twice while pedalling through one neighborhood, one bullet zinging by his head close enough to feel it whizz by. When he finally arrived at the 7-11, he could see dark smoke pluming upward in the direction he had come from.
Skater had hidden his bike and stepped through the broken storefront window into the darkened store, carefully listening for anything zombieish. The place had been ransacked, but was thankfully empty of people, living or dead. That is, until he ventured into the back room.
It was in the back office that he found Clare. A bit taller than him, a little older maybe, dirty blonde hair and athletic body in torn jeans and a 'bite me' t-shirt, which he had found hilariously ironic.
She had joined with him without question and they had been inseperable since. She was normally cheery and pretty smart, but sometimes she would go off into her own thoughts, which required him to tap her or call her name to get her out of.
She's obviously in one of them now, he thinks wryly.
Tossing the cd back into the bin, Skater looks at Clare, still gazing out of the store window. He clears his throat loudly.
"Hey Clare, I'm about done here."
She turns from the window and looks at him.
"Mmm...ok."
She looks at his backpack, stuffed with cds, and laughs.
"You get enough, you think?"
"No," Skater says with a grin, " but it'll have to do."
"I don't even know what I was thinking, letting you talk me into going in here. We're supposed to be getting supplies for the group, not shopping for music."
"Yeah, I know, but as long as the batteries in my cd player hold out, I need tunes." He hoists the backpack over one shoulder, picking up his rifle and slinging it over the other.
"It's not like we have anything left to pillage." Skater shakes his head.
Lately, scouting groups had been coming back with more casualties and less supplies. Coach, their self-proclaimed leader, continued to send parties deeper into town to find whatever they could, despite rising protests from party leaders that the town was purged of anything and everything useful.
Clare sighs and adjusts her gunbelt before walking toward the shop door. She turns to look at Skater, reading the expression on his face.
"Look, I don't like it either, Skate. I know that Coach is becoming more unreasonable." She shakes her head in frustration. "But what can we do? We can't just...we can't just leave..." She bites her lip. "We owe him."
"We owe the people that heard us that day, Clare." Slamming his fist down on the bin, causing cds to clatter to the floor.
He points a finger at her. "We don't owe that fat son-of-a-bi*ch nothin!"
"Skater, he was the one that sent out the groups. If he hadn't, they would've found two more corpses, or two fresh zoms wandering around with the rest of them."
"We were doing alright!"
"We were surrounded, Skate!" Now she was raising her voice. "We hadn't eaten in two days! We had no food, barely any ammo and one stupid canteen of stale water!"
She walks over to Skater and leans into him. "Do you call that alright?" she asks quietly.
He looks down tight-lipped, his fingers messing with the cd racks, his mind racing back.
They had been pursued through the L.A. suberbs, staying barely ahead of the undead, who would give chase for awhile, then stop. Running by day, barricading wherever they could by night had left them tired and unable to effectively resupply. Every skirmish, even with a single zom, was a major risk.
Zoms had a way of staying mostly in one place when not in eat mode and made little noise, unless alerted. Make some noise however, or allow a zom to sense you and start moaning, nearly always sent several more shambling your way. When that happened, your day went from bad to down-the-tubes bad in a quick way. They were slow, but could potentially follow you for miles, never tiring, their inscensent moans alerting more of their wretched kind that fresh meat was nearby.
They had traveled this way nearly nonstop since their run-in at the 7-11. Sneaking on foot, or dashing through ruined streets, Skater pedalling the bike and she riding the handlebars. They would travel, then barricade, foraging in houses for anything edible. They would pull shifts, one awake with Skaters rifle, the other sleeping uneasily nearby
For weeks they traveled this way, no plan ever really spoken between them, just simply the desire to head east, out of the city of the dead.
That is, of course, until everything changed.


...to be continued