Peractio: My Survival Story

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cheeseater said:
I have my characters looking in their mirrors, or moving their hands on the steering wheel, turning into other roads, stopping at lights, watching buildings pass by... All this is going on while one of the characters is telling the other why she's doing what she's doing.

And avoiding running into zombies?
 
It's daytime, and they're indoors. They will keep quiet until some dingbat makes a racket. Which they will, and then we'll have some zombie-bashing fun.
 
Better to get her something with a better moment arm than that claw hammer. a baseball bat or a lump if gas pipe would be better; means you don't have to get in so close.

And a fire axe for her Sikh.
 
She was lucky to be able to get hold of the riot helmet and protective gear. I'll have her explain what happened to the shield later on. I'm sure she'll find something useful when she raids a B&Q, but for the moment she has to go with what she can get hold of.

The sikh guy has a monkey wrench -- for now. I want to get a sword for him -- it's their weapon of choice and they have their own style of martial arts. We'll be seeing that later on. He's a strict vegetarian warrior with a deep fear of ending up as a carnivorous thing.

I've got them shouting at each other in the following chapter to create a bit of tension. The fact that they're being chased by a horde of ravening zombies doesn't help.
 
Rewrite, per Mouse's and Chrispy's suggestions.





Chapter 6




The Saab purred quietly along the silent streets of Manchester's outer suburbs as they drove towards the Mancunian Way.


“Well, I was looking up stuff on the internet – I can't remember what it was now, but I made a typo and the Iron Fist forum came up,” explained Laura. “I thought that was a funny name for a forum, and assumed it was one of those Dungeons and Dragons things. I clicked on it anyway, and found a lot of conspiracy stuff there. Some of them were really funny, and I got chatting to a few of the members.”


“And this Appomattox fellow was one of them,” said Ranjit, swerving around a battered white van that lay on its side, its windscreen smashed.


“Yeah,” said Laura, grimacing as they crunched over the broken glass. “He seemed nice enough, but then he got started on the aliens.”


“Oh dear.”


“Yep, we've got grey, scaly aliens running the planet,” enthused Laura. She wiggled in her seat and adjusted her seatbelt. “I pretended to be interested, then the next day I'd go to work and tell the others. We'd all crack up laughing, trying to imagine the Prime Minister as a grey scaly alien in disguise eating tramps and runaways – you know, those people who go missing,” she dropped her voice to a creepy growl, “never to return. Moohahahahahaaa!”


Ranjit burst out laughing. “God only knows what they're saying about this.” He slowed down, looking out for the creatures that might come rushing at them from among the jumble of wrecked cars that lay scattered around on the slipway. The way ahead led into a long dark tunnel. Ranjit braked and turned the car around, then headed off in the opposite direction.


“It's the aliens, of course. They're clearing the planet by turning us into zombies or something,” said Laura in a dismissive tone.


“Do they all believe this?”


“No. E.T. believes it's a terrorist plot and The Widowmaker says it's a chemical or nuclear experiment gone wrong. All of them are blaming the Jews, Al Qaeda – any scapegoat they can think of. Some of them are well scary.”


“What do you mean?”


“Have you ever been on an internet forum?” In the rear view mirror, Laura could see creatures rushing towards them, but they faded into the background as Ranjit drove away.


“Yes, for work stuff. I'm a dentist.”


“Handy. Yeah, well, have you noticed there are certain groups you can have on them?”


“Admin, moderators...” Ranjit's voice was partly strangled by tension. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.


“Regular, Deep Throat, Top Secret, Resistance, and Insurgent. I'm in the Insurgent group. They were planning to overthrow the government. They were stockpiling weapons and everything.”


Ranjit gave Laura a brief glance, then returned his attention to the road. “My God.”


“But they couldn't agree on anything. If they were able to cooperate and get organized, at least one senator would have been shot by now.”


“Are there any of them here in Manchester?”


“I hope not,” said Laura, wringing her hands. “I've... uh, upset them.”


“How?”


“By admitting that I thought they were nutters in a blog I started. It was their idea. I was hoping I'd be able to get in touch with other survivors.”


“What happened?” asked Ranjit, giving her a worried look.


“I got a load of hate mail and death threats. Apo and a couple of the others are willing to forgive me, but I'm not sure about everyone else. When they write about their aims online, they make it look like role play or a joke, so it's hard to tell what they really think, but honestly, I believe that some of them are planning to hunt me down and kill me. Mind you, if they go to my flat now, they'll be in for a bit of a surprise.”


“Oh, Laura, that was...”


“I know.”


He sighed. “So now we've got them to worry about as well as those creatures.”


“Sorry about that.”


They went on in silence, then arrived at another barricaded street. In the distance, they could make out a faint column of smoke.


“Woah,” said Laura, “they were right. We have been quarantined.”


“It might just be a precaution,” argued Ranjit, stroking his beard. “It might be worth trying to climb over all that.”


“Depends what's in the cars and stuff,” countered Laura, “and what's on the other side.”
 
Much better. I particularly like the mental image I get from this line: In the rear view mirror, Laura could see creatures rushing towards them, but they faded into the background as Ranjit drove away.

Woah is still spelled whoa. I know it looks wrong, but trust me. ;)
 
Okay, they escape from the creatures, then Ranjit takes them to a gurdwara (Sikh temple) where he gets some weapons that are used for martial arts training. Turns out that our humble dentist is very good at this. Anyway, the temple isn't safe because the windows are broken and there might be more than the few creatures that were waiting for them. They make their way to an old church with high windows and thick doors. When they get there, they find the gate padlocked, but Laura phones the vicar on the number on the noticeboard, and he comes out and lets them in.

Have I avoided the dreaded info-dump?



Chapter 9




For a while, no one said anything, then Jeremy piped up, “So what's your name, officer?”


“Laura Warden, and this stuff is looted. I'm not a copper.”


At this, a young, rough-looking man stood up. “Where did you get that stuff, then?”


“I found it,” she replied, not liking the strident tone he used.


“Where did you find it?” he persisted.


“Picadilly Gardens,” she replied. “I thought it was riots at first, but then people went all funny and hid. On the Monday after it started, there weren't any buses or trains, so I walked into town to see what was going on. I found bits of riot gear lying around. I picked up the stuff I found, then turned around and went back home. I could see people looting and whatnot, and heard some fights, but I held on to the riot gear and kept on walking. I put the helmet and coat on to make people think I was a copper. I was just at the gates of the tower block I lived in when I saw the caretaker putting a padlock on. He said it was a precaution, and asked what I was doing with the riot gear.”


“And you said it was just a precaution,” sneered the man.


“Yes, but no one tried to take it off me. There was shouting when I got to the lobby, then a creature came shooting through the door by the lifts and bit the caretaker. I saw them struggle until someone bashed the creature's head in with the hammer. This one.” She held up her claw hammer.


“What happened then?” asked the woman who had opened the door.


“I don't know why I did it, but I grabbed the keys. The caretaker dropped them when the thing attacked him. I pretended I was helping. Anyway, the man who helped him told me to hold on to the hammer and took him to the caretaker's room. I legged it to the lift and went back to my flat with the hammer and the keys.”


“That was nasty,” said the man, in tones that suggested that his own behaviour would have been more honourable.


“I know,” said Laura, “but you didn't see what I saw that day. I've never seen Manchester like that. There's always something going on. Even in the biggest riots, we've never been so utterly deserted. If that man called an ambulance, I doubt if one came. Besides, I didn't have a weapon and I knew I'd need one.”


“That's still wrong, what you did,” said the woman.


“It is, you know,” said Jeremy.


“Well, it's done,” said Laura. “If you haven't been out there, you have no idea what it's like.”


“What happened next?” asked another woman, who was holding the hand of a little girl.


“I got back to my flat, and when I'd washed and put the stuff away, my neighbour Jane came to my flat and asked if I'd heard that a policewoman had stolen the keys to the padlock on the gates outside, and had nicked a hammer too.”


“What did you say?” asked the man.


“I asked her what she looked like so I could keep an eye out for her.”


“One lie breeds another,” said Jeremy, in a voice that Laura had only ever heard religious people use.
“I was afraid!” she snapped. “Jane wasn't convinced of my innocence, if it makes you all feel any better, and the next thing I knew, the man I nicked the hammer off was at the door. He asked me why I'd locked the gates and was really quite decent about it. I said I'd go out and help him get some food, and he said I could keep the hammer.”


“What happened then?” asked the black woman.


“We got to the shops and filled up some bags. We were about halfway home when Tom knocked a wheelie bin into a car and set off the alarm.”


“Bloody Hell,” said the man. “Sorry, vicar.”


“Carry on,” said Jeremy.


“I can't run,” said Laura. “I'm too fat and I hate exercise, but I had the shield. I saw a car with an open door and thought I could hide in there. I couldn't take the shield with me, so I dropped it. Propped it against the car. Tom dropped the shopping and ran for it. They chased him and I crept into the car and locked the door. He didn't get far. The screams went on for ages. It was getting dark when I finally dared to look up. Tom was gone, there was only blood and little scraps lying around. They must have taken the shield, 'cos that was gone, too. I found a few tins of stuff scattered around and carried as many of them back as I could. Yesterday, I took a chance and went out again. Today, I met Ranjit.”


“So you're not too much of a coward,” said the man.


“Let's just say I'm aware of my limitations.”


“Or that you're a little fat coward,” said Ranjit, who was now clean and wearing fresh clothes.


“I'm still alive,” protested Laura. “And I seem to remember helping a certain Sikh gentleman to fight the creatures in that temple of yours.”


“Because I can drive.”


“I'm not Ripley out of bloody Alien, okay?” snapped Laura. “I'm sorry I'm not a hero. All the heroes and the well-meaning self-sacrificing types were the first to go. I'm still here because I'm not like that. I am, as you said, a little fat coward. But I'm your little fat coward and it was my idea to come here. Gimme a bit of credit, will ya?”


“Fair enough,” said Ranjit. “And you were willing to come out and meet me, even though you were afraid...”


“Did she?” asked the man. “Maybe you should give yourself a bit more credit, Laura.”


“Yeah,” said Laura. “Have you got a computer, Jeremy? Are you on the internet?”


“What do you want that for?” asked Jeremy.


“I need to know what's going on,” she replied. “Manchester is under quarantine. All the roads leading out of the city are blocked off.”


“She's right,” said Ranjit. “If you try to get over them, you'll be shot.”


“But there are rescue stations if you know where to find them. I need to know where it's safe to go to.”


“But this place is a fortress,” said the man.


“Yeah,” said Laura, “but it can be a prison, too.”
 
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