Revenge by Chris Wilson (nonfiction book recommendations .txt) 📖

Revenge

Of The Zombies

Preface

Let me introduce you to my world. Two forces fight each other: one is the Zombies, the other is called the Resistance. You see, the ignorant people of America couldn't accept that there was such thing as a Zombie. Not until they and their family were consumed. An organization called the Resistance rose, filled with people that knew what was happening. They bought weapons, ammunition, and stores of military supplies. They established bases and recruited people to join their cause.
The Zombies came and took over one of these bases, on the outer ridge of their defense. They knew just where to strike, when to strike, how to strike. It was a disaster. The Zombies took out the base with little to no losses. Their only mistake: a single camera survived the raid. It relayed its feed to the leader of the Resistance, and he stepped down from his position. A women rose to take his place, showing the film to the Government of America. It proved that the Zombies existed. Viewers watched in horror as fallen men rose again as Zombies.
Yet, strangely, the Government banned the film, and refused to admit the Zombies' existence. The Resistance leaked the film to the public, and those that believed what they saw joined the Resistance. The Zombies no longer were under the cover of myth, and many believed in their existence. The Zombies then made their own bases, many in number. The Resistance was constantly attacking the Zombie bases, and defending against Zombie raids. But they couldn't defend all the people.
It looked grim for the Resistance. The Zombies had weaponry that shouldn't have even left the Government's test rooms, and had insane amounts of intel. They always knew where to strike. And, to make matters worse, the Zombies' numbers were growing rapidly. If a skirmish was fought, the Zombies almost always left with more men. Every man and women that died in battle rose again moments later as a Zombie. Not only that, but the Zombies were not like the usual human. They could lose a limb, and the limb would still move. Even their head seemed able to survive on its own. The Zombies could use blood to heal anything. The Resistance had beheaded a Zombie, only to find that it put the head back on.
The Resistance has 'followers', men and women who believe in their cause. The Zombies have 'limbs', Zombies who act as the limbs of the body. The Zombies all serve the Overlord, a mysterious figure that the Resistance is trying to find and kill. Like killing the Queen of an ant hive, the Resistance hoped that once the Overlord, the head of the Zombies, is killed, the Zombies will cease to exist.
In almost every perspective, the Zombies have the advantage. But the Resistance can't just give up. They have to defend their country, or die with it. And thus the war went on.

Welcome to my world.

Chapter One

"Go! Go! Go!" came a loud scream from across the jungle hills. In unison, all Zombies immediately dove behind any cover they could find. An explosion quickly followed, disintegrating any Zombies that were unlucky enough to not be near cover. In return, the Zombies fired their weapons: three fired their Fear Embellishments, aimed for different sections of the other side. Seven loaded and aimed their Blade Runners, all targeting different sections of the enemy territory. Three set up two Chain Guns. Four fired their Rapid-Fire Voltages, sending deadly magnetized beams towards specific locations. Suddenly, explosions were surrounding the Zombies. A horrible realization occurred in all their minds. The Resistance had an Obliverator! The Zombies' main hope of winning hinged on the element of surprise. With that gone, and the fact that the enemy had an Obliverator, the tide of battle had turned against them. Fleeing as best they could, the Zombies could only hope for their lives. Taking advantage of any cover they had, usually a dying tree or a weathered rock, they made their way quickly, and lost some in their number. But a few stayed behind, content to die if they took some of the Resistance with them.
"Go after them! Finish them off! Give them scars they will never forget!" was the victorious yell from above.
"Shouldn't we be wary of a trap?" asked one cautious Resistance follower.
The human strategist ignored his plea. "If we kill them now, none will remain to give the information they've scouted here. When they return, it'll be with an army!" she shouted.
Understanding, the Resistance quickly clambered into their sleek, fast vessels. With a loud noise and a flash of reflected light, the vehicles disappeared. The gathered human strategists rose slowly to their feet; the noise of the vessels leaving stirred them out of their odd trance. "Do you really think we can get them all?" asked a short opportunist.
"No," she answered regrettably. "But at least we can get the majority."
"Are you even sure that we can do that? The Zombies dart and weave, hide and circle back, assassinate and leave." the short man insisted.
"Better to do it with a chance rather than not do it at all." she shot back. The reason she was even standing here, commanding an army, was to ensure she would never lose someone close to her again. No more Zombies. Never again.
A wave of fear and anger washed over her. She turned quickly; it was a feeling she knew well...too well.
A Fear Embellishment! she thought to herself. She couldn't say it aloud, however; the effects were designed to prevent her from doing just that. Her mouth felt glued, unable to speak. Her mind scrambled out of terror, memories of how to stop the effects were forgotten. The last clear thought she would remember is that she wished she would have listened to that follower.
Upon seeing their strategic leader pass out, the rest of the Strategic Committee quickly ducked for cover. But the spreading effect of a Fear Embellishment was too fast, soon they all felt the effects. While the last Strategic Committee member fell to the ground, he wished he could have convinced their Strategic Leader to listen...

One of the followers thought he heard a slight click as he scavenged the battlefield for surviving Zombies. Looking over at a tight clump of bushes, he automatically pulled the trigger to fire his gun. If he had had his gun loaded, the action may have killed his killer. However, it was not; he was shot. But the shot was not heard, for it was an assassination weapon a few of the Zombies hiding had in their hands. One had managed to get a Fear Embellishment without anyone noticing, and was enjoying taking out the strategic committee on the upper portion of the hill that the Resistance used as a base. Four Zombies had remained behind, three stealthily taking out members of the Resistance, the other cautiously attempting to recover a Gore Blade and a Blade Runner nearby. They had little hope to accomplish much, but they were determined to give the Resistance some more losses.


Richard Hoffman, a well-known sniper in the Resistance, walked up the tall staircase to the strategic portion. He couldn't understand why the members of this committee couldn't think up their strategies and leading while firing. He had yet to learn that none of them could even aim a gun, and that they had no other talent to contribute. As he reached the top of the staircase, he walked straight onto the viewers' deck, too lost in thought to realize were he was going. He walked right off the edge, and would have fallen to his death had he not caught the edge. He managed to pull himself back onto the viewers' deck, sweating and grunting as he did so. His mind now hyper-aware, he nearly jumped back off the viewers' deck when he caught sight of all the committee members. They all lay in different positions, and looked as if they had been sniped. He yelled, "Committee down! Raise the alarm!"


The buff follower that was up on the viewers' deck had several guns in his belt. He looked to be around 23, and had multiple scars on his face as proof he had witnessed and survived many battles. He wore lightweight brown pants, with multiple tears and blood dripping from them, and a green leather shirt with blackened spots where a shot had hit, the shirt was also soaked with sweat and grime. The look in his blue eyes reminded one of an eagle looking for prey. These were all telltale signs of a sniper. Seeing him up on the viewers' deck, the first Zombie, named Mark, merely muttered, "Oh no..."
The second Zombie, Matthew, aimed and fired, as did the third Zombie, Tristen. But before their fingers could get near the trigger, the follower yelled, "Committee down! Raise the alarm!"
Matthew got a shot in his side, Tristen was too hasty in aiming and missed the target completely. The follower immediately fell to the ground, though whether by intention or death they couldn't say. Several figures could be seen running back to defend their posts, a few were taken out by the Fear Embellishment before they could reach their cover. "Disabler!" whispered Matthew.
Tristen was intent on targeting the follower heading towards the Obliverator. The fourth Zombie, named Elizabeth, crawled into the clump of bushes from behind, with a Gore Blade and a Blade Runner in her hands. Quickly setting up the Blade Runner, the Zombies then separated to increase the chance of survival of the individual. Mark stayed in the clump of bushes with the Blade Runner. Matthew was given a Gore Blade and an assassination weapon, then told to go around behind the base and move in from behind. Tristen took the second and last assassination weapon and made a crawl toward some tall grass nearby in the hopes of killing any snipers. Elizabeth took the Fear Embellishment and moved behind a large boulder in the hopes of attracting the attention of the Resistance.
Mark aimed and fired the blade runner at a place where he believed they were getting their weapons from. He fired, reloaded, and heard the satisfying yell of "Our weapons!" Most blades would harm other weaponry, but the Blade Runner shot a missile above the target. The missiles computer then targeted and fired all 50 spikes inside it at the target reaching a speed of 150mph. The missile itself would then drop seemingly harmlessly to the ground, but it would explode when it made contact with something, providing a distraction. As he prepared his next round of spikes, he was suddenly sniped from above! Not expecting to die so soon, he summoned his will to slowly reload the rest of the spikes. He aimed up high, where he had been sniped from, and fired, using the last of his strength. Then he closed his eyes and welcomed the icy black fingers of death.