It's a beautiful Friday morning. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the zombies are moaning...And our brave heroes have the entire day to meet! We descend upon the zombie infested stage to find....

Rachel, barefoot in her underwear, running like she just done shot the President and the Secret Service is on her tail. She cut her foot on something, but was too scared to stop to see what it was or look at the cut. She kept looking over her shoulder to see zombies coming - none ever did but she kept running like they were gaining on her.

Jeb was standing in a clearing with the butt of his rifle against his shoulder. He was chewing some tabaccy. He needed something to calm his nerves. "Chip!" he yelled. "Where are you, boy?" A big, wrinkly Bloodhound stood beside him, panting with her tongue flopping out of the side of her mouth. Jeb spat onto the ground as he saw the woman in her underwear. "Howdy," he said, pushing back his black Stetson.

Terrance Perry never was good with introductions. Coincidentally, Terrance Perry was also never good with doors. As the window crumbled beneath his manly weight and terrified velocity, he pondered things. Things like the meaning of life, and also whether or not he happened to be wearing pants at the time. No matter. With a shriek of excitement that might have sounded suspiciously like a terrified little girl, he cried, "Run, zombie woman!", and dove through an adjacent window.

Rachel screamed a scream that let whoever heard this scream know that she was screaming. She also fell on her ass. "Oh my God, it's a hick zombie!" She scrambled to her feet and tried to run in the other direction.

Jeb's rifle goes "click click" as he loads and he spins around to find the hick zombie. "I'll pop your nutsack, ya leathery undead varmint!" he yells, but he sees no hick zombie. When he spins a full 360 degrees the gun barrel comes to rest on the underwear lady. "Where he go?" He spits out a gob of tabacco juice.

There comes a time in every man's life when he has to communicate a message, has to reach out to somebody and make himself heard. And sometimes, that message simply takes too long to say. So when Terry emerged from the shack to face the barrel of Jeb's rifle, what started as "I am no hick zombie, sir! We must stick together to fight this undead menace, and also to provide this unfortunate woman with some clothes" ultimately sounded much more like "Ohmygoddon'tshootmeIdon'twannadie!!".

Jeb slowly lowers the gun and sniffs through one nostril as he looks at Terrance. He then snorts and gives a whoop. "Shoot, I ain't gonna shootcha boy!" He looks to underwear girl. "Will ya STOP screamin for Godsake?"

Rachel stopped running, and despite having been running for what seemed like a relatively long amount of time, she only got about five feet away. "I'm not screaming, Farmer Hoggett!" She looked around and then promptly stood behind a fence post so no one could view her lack of clothing.

"Everybody stay calm! Zombie lady, this means you! Scary man with gun, this means you ESPECIALLY. And also tell your dog not to bite me." Terry knew that if he didn't take charge and assert himself now, then the opportunity would fall to someone less attractive. He couldn't let that happen. "Now, Farmer Hoggett, was it? What seems to be the problem?"

The bloodhound by Jeb's side, Daisy, began to growl at Terry. Jeb put a hand on her collar. "Easy, girl. And my name ain't Farmer Hoggett, mister. It's Mayberry. Jeb Mayberry. And the PROBLEM, mister fancypants, is that the doggawn dead have risen from their holes in the ground there!" He hocks up a wad of boogers and tabbaco juice and spits it onto the ground at Terry's feet.

Rachel let out a wretching sound and disappeared behind the post - but she only dry heaved. Tobbacco is whacko, kids.

Ethan heard voices that weren't grunts and followed then until he found the others. He ended up near the fence by Rachel. "Sweet, other non-zombie people. Umm...You okay?" He asked her, though he didn't sound particularly caring.

Terrence reeled. He could sense the situation spiralling out of control. "Sir!" Terry spoke extra-special clearly just in case the newcomer didn't know english. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down. CALM DOWN! Do you understand me? THIS IS NO TIME TO PANIC!" He couldn't be sure that the man wasn't an idiot, so Terry took care to wave his arms around a lot as he maintained a very concerned expression.


Meanwhile, in the small suburban town now populated mainly by the walking dead, a skinny Asian chick with shortish, spiky hair and the figure of a ten-year-old boy crouched on a roof near the edge of town, a cigarette clenched between her teeth, watching the situation below her. She had scrambled up to the roof because, she assumed, the zombies would be unable to get her here, lacking the motor skills to climb after her and the mental capacity to obtain a ladder. Still, she didn't like to be cornered. She kept glancing from the moaning, stumbling populace to the edge of the scraggly, suburban forest a quarter mile off. Finally, she stood and went around to the side of the house with the fewest zombies swarming it, climbing down a trellis and dropping to the ground, then yelping and bolting toward the trees as a zombie knocked over an aluminum trashcan behind her and made an ungainly swipe at the back of her head. She dashed through the woods, a hole in her jeans catching on the underbrush and ripping further. After a few further moments, she tripped on a root and went sprawling headlong into the ground, her last vision before the dirt a group of people standing in a clearing, one of them waving his arms around like an idiot and yelling at some poor kid who didn't look like he was out of high school.

"ZOMBIES ARE CHASING ME, AND HE IS REALLY DISGUSTING!" Rachel pointed at Jeb. "No, I am not okay!"

The Asian chick pushed herself up off the ground with a grunt, sighing at the loss of her cigarette and climbing to her feet, brushing herself off. She spent a moment catching her breath and coughing, hocking a ball of black phlegm off to one side, and then lit up a new cigarette before assessing the situation. A moment passed before she made her conclusion: "For Chrissakes, put some pants on, bitch."

Moaning could be heard behind the Asian chick as zombies stumbled after her. Other zombies emerged from the houses, catching their smell and hearing Rachel scream repeatedly. The introduction of the undead to the scene reminded them all, perhaps unneccessarily, that they were in danger. Slow, constant danger.


Brian Deed went down the stairs in his usual way when he was nervous. He fell. Righting himself again and checking some of his 'inventions' he looked at his dad, somehow he had managed to survive the hoardes without knowing it. Brian pushed his glasses up his nose and opened the door. He walked straight into a zombie that was on the porch, while for most people this would be bad but the zombie was missing one leg and not expecting him. Brian watched as the zombie fell down his garden steps, and remembered never to fall down stairs again when he saw it's head come off. "I'm going out dad" he called over his shoulder "If anyone knocks, use the jehovas witness drill." "RIGHT!" yelled his father, bringing a piece of wood with a nail threw it into his lap.

Outside pass the porch a zombie appriached. MIssing one arm and wearing a McDonald's uniform the zombie moaned "Friiiiiiiiiies....." and staggered towards Brian.

Brian was outside his porch before he noticed the zombie. When he did he let out a terrified yell and brought one of his 'inventions' up and into the zombies face. It was a baseball bat that spun wildy to create a trick shot when it hit the ball. Brian hadn't completed it yet and the speed was wrong so instead of just hitting the zombies head it bite through most of it like a sander. Brian stod there, covered with blood and whimpering slightly. He needed to find people, REAL people. With that he moved towards his car, a old fiat panda. Then he looked at his neighbours, a bentley. Moments later the window was smashed and Brian was halfway through hot-wiring the car.

More zombies, catching Brian's scent, stumbled slowly towards his house.

Brian finnished wiring the car to look up just in time to see the zombies around the car. Luckily his reaction was to go stiff, one foot hitting the accelerater, the other hitting the clutch and his left hand changing gear. He hared of down the street, running zombies all the zombies he can. Now there was a problem, because he was facing the wrong way when the zombies surrounded him and he was currently steering with his backside.

Zombies rocked against the car, bouncing and crunching beneath the tires. They made nasty squelching noises against the windows.

By now it wouldn't matter where Brian was facing, the car was practically covered with blood. He decided he should turn around anyway, looking at the scarlet covered screen infront of him he switched the wipers on. "dammit" he said, peering through the bloodied windscreen.

A particularly tall, dark, and handsome man was fending off zombies nearby with a hammer. Setting his eyes on the zombie infested car, he yelled at them, trying to get them to move away from it. Why he was doing this, he didn't know. Maybe he was trying to save the man inside the car. Maybe he was just tired of fighting mano e mano and wanted to face a mob. Maybe he went insane. In any case, Robert screamed at the zombies, flailing his arms around wildly.

The man didn't need to shout, or even fight the zombies. The blood on the screen cleared just in time for Brian to see the lampost. He hit it at about fifty miles an hour, he hit the airbag, the zombies weren't not so lucky. They flew off car in one shot and skided over and over on the pavement. Brian groaned, he was to shocked to move for the moment.

"Oh, damn!" Robert ran over and threw open the door in a fit of passion. "You alright, man? C'mon, don't be dead!"

Brian let out a groan and looked up "ugggg... god Im still alive. Your not pretty enought to be an angel..."

Robert stared at him a moment, then laughed. "Sweetest words I've heard since I got here! Only words, actually. We gotta get you out of here, this car's toast." He reached over to unbuckle him from the seat.

"Great" Brian said, pouring out of the wrecked car "Never liked the bugger anyway"

Some of the zombies had begun to pick themselves up again. Robert gave them an uneasy glance. "Do you know of a safe place from here? Maybe the closest city--there might be government there protectin' people or somethin'."

"YES" Brian yelled "EVERY HIGH SCHOOL NERD KNOWS WHERE THE LOCAL ZOMBIE SHELTER IS! ITS PART OF THE CURRICULUM NOW!"

Ethan was taken aback by everyone yelling. "Dudes, chill. Seriously." He took off his jacket and handed it to Rachel. "And you should really have some clothes. It's kind cold."

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh... Grooooooaaaannnnnnnnnn." A zombie moaned among the others as they began to follow their meal.

Brian kept yelling, waving his hands madly. He lost a grip on the baton and it flew out and sawed its way threw the zombies head. "uummmm..." he said, trying to pull the bat out.

The zombie who had been struck stood more blank than usual. He snapped his jaw twice more before staggering back and falling dead... again

There was a slurping noise as Brian pulled the bat out. "Ummm..." he said again, walking back to where he had been.

A straggeling zombie tripped over the body of the fallen zombie.

"Woah, watch out, man!" Robert kicked over the zombie and pounded its skull in with his hammer until he was satisfied it wouldn't get back up again. "...Aw, damn, this was my favorite shirt!" He complained.

A Zombie with a tire marks across it's back and legs crawled towards them slowly. "Moooooooooaaaaaaannnnnnnn."

Brian could hear the moaning, but couldn't see the zombie. He was facing away from the zombie before letting the bat fall down, not seeing th zombie. It collided with its face as it fell, sawing threw it again. With a surprised look he looked down at the now dead zombie.

The zombie's eyes rolled into the back of it's head before growing still

"Dammit" Brian said, stamping his foot "I've got eyeball goo on my trouser leg"

"Hey, look! Woah, other people! I thought we were the only ones! Hell, I thought I was the only one left!" Robert ran over to the group of living people and hacked his way through the zombies to get to them. He stared at them, a huge grin on his face. "...Hi!"

Ethan had a bored look on his face as he casually stepped to one side and tripped a zombie. "...This is boring," he muttered.

A zombie snuck up on Ethan and grabbed him around the shoulders, leering hungrily and trying to get a bite out of his neck.

Ethan punched the animated corpse in the face, causing its neck to snap. "Wow...these things are fragile."

Terrance Perry wasn't at all sure what was going on, but he wasn't about to let details get in his way. His team had assembled itself, and would grow to adore him as their fearless leader. It was all finally coming together, just as he'd dreamed! Or at least, he assumed that he had dreamed this before - how else could it fit so perfectly?
The new-comers seemed to more or less understand their purpose in the group, and it was instantly apparent to Terrance that he would have to utilize each skill-set to it's fullest if they were to survive long enough to see the campy movie that would be created to honor them for all time.
It had occured to him that the obvious next critical step was to find a catchy name for the team.
"Team 9 Alive, assemble!"

A sudden surge of zombies tumbled onto Ethan and began gnawing on his young, tender flesh.

"Oh, snap!" Robert rushed in heroically, hammer held high, and tried to tackle some of the zombies off of him, but only succeeded in tangling himself in the huge mess of dead limbs.

"GAH!" Brian said, rushing forward and hitting at the zombies. "I ONLY WANT TO SEE FLYING ZOMBIES WHEN THEIR DEAD! ... again... or something..." He looks confused as he pokes at the tangle of zombies, sawing threw arms and legs at random.

Or rather, the zombies gnawed on Ethans soft, tender shirt. Having rotting teeth, it was hard for them to pierce through. Ethan struggled away from the hord and grabbed a rather large stick. "Okay, that was kinda freaky."

The Asian chick was busy watching with halfhearted interest as the zombie that had snuck up on her stumbled around on fire. She flipped her lighter shut and looked around the clearing for a moment, moving over to join the other living people here. "Team 9 Alive? Really? You losers can't come up with anything better than that?" She flicked the Zippo open again and set another zombie on fire.

Ethan didn't realize he was bleeding severely from his ankle. Until he took a few steps and stumbled. "Aww...shit. Does this mean I'm gonna go zombie? Cuz that would really kinda suck."

Robert swung his body mightily and kicked off a zombie's head. "Hey, I'm sure it's nothing, just bandage it or somethin'."

Ethan shrugged, found a semi-not-zombie infested place and quickly tied a strip of cloth he ripped from his shirt around his ankle. Then he gripped his random piece of wood and started bashing undead heads in.

Rachel put on Ethan's coat muttering something about pricks and closed the front - well, halfway. She was in the middle of making herself decent when a horny zombie attacked. Pre-Zombie-Rape Rachel grabbed a rock and bashed the zombie's skull in, the body of which was now laying lifelessly on top of her. She flailed to get it off and started screaming, but nothing she said could be understood, for it is like when a girl sees a mouse on her foot. "NYEEEEEEEEEGETITOFFIWASAETIFFMNEAHH!"

Brian swung his bat, hitting the zombie off her with a swipe, hitting a hand as he did so. It spun away at bullet speed, knocking another zombies head off. "Ummmm... you ok?" he asked, looking away because of Rachel's nakedness.

"I think we'd better find someplace safer," Robert yelled while bashing in zombie skulls.

"Fine, where is it?" Brian said, waving his bat around madly. The bat met with a lampost, sawing threw it to the point where it fell and crushed several zombies. "... I keep killing stuff..." he said, watching live wires whip out and electricute zombies.

Ethan had pulled out his lighter and lit his stick on fire, keeping the zombies at bay by moving it in an arch around him. "How 'bout anywhere but here?"

Jeb was blasting open zombie skulls left and right. When he ran out of ammo he began to wish the rifle had a bayonet...or anything. So he began punching them instead. Daisy gnawed on the leg of a nearby zombie, growling ferociously while she caused it damage in the form of drool.

"I think there's a police station a couple blocks from here," Robert suggested, pulling his hammer out of a zombie's sternum. "We could clean it out and lock ourselves in."

"And what? Wait until someone rescues us?" Ethan said, throwing his flaming log in the face of one zombie before picking up another. Lucky thing there were so many nice branches lying around.

"Its a Police station, Police means guns, guns means survival." Brian said, poking more zombies with his bat. "If you can think of a better place to get guns, Id like to hear it."

"Unless the police already turned to zombies with guns..." Ethan grumbled, but he didn't have a better idea so he didn't protest much.

"Well..." Brian said rubbing his head. "We can take them!" he said proudly, really he had no idea but couldnt think of something important to say.

"Do zombies know how to use guns?" Rachel asked, somehow having gotten up without anyone seeing her and now hiding behind Ethan, redoing the front of his jacket.

"Well" Brian said, pushing his glasses up his nose. He had entered full nerd mode "Zombies are reanimated corpses, mearly shells. If something is done enough during your life it becomes second nature, so your Zombie will do that aswell. Some Zombies could shoot, drive or even play the guitar..."

"Now how in the hell d'ya know so much about zombies," asked Jeb, shuffling over to Brian and prodding him in the ribcage with the barrel of his shotgun. "Maybe yer one, pardner. Maybe you was so used to flappin them gums in life that they just kept flappin in death."

Brian whimpers slightly at the shotgun. "I just know a lot of things" he said, trying to hide behind his bat. "I watch alot of films and read books and play Roleplaying games..." he tries to knock the gun away, making a rasping noise when the metal bat and barrel meet.

"Hey, where'd you get a bat?" Rachel asked, suddenly, looking at it as if she wanted to steal it and run off laughing maniacally.

"Yeah, Erkel. Wherejoo git that?" asked Jeb. He poked Brian in the ribs once more for good measure then lowered the weapon and settled with a disdainful redneck glare.

Ethan was looking at Brian with a kind of contemplative look on his face. "Hey, aren't you that kid in my english class, Brian the Brian or something stupid like that?"

"What the hell is a brian?" Rachel asked Ethan, shoving him in the shoulder for being dumb.

"You know, a brain," said Jeb, but it came out like "Brian." "Didnchoo go to PRI-mary school?" he asks, giving a whoop.

There is something to be said for knowing exactly what to say to ruin a moment. Terrance had always had a certain knack for it. He had spent the greater part of his adult life watching other people avoid it so gracefully, but somehow he'd always manage to bungle the most perfect of moments in the most spectacular of ways.
Now, to the untrained eye, it may seem there was, in fact, no such moment to ruin, but Terrance was a professional.
"To the police station, team! And try not to die!"
He had already struck a pose for effect, and even though he happened to not know in which direction lay said destination, he began to march, and like the dedicated leader he is, he never once dropped his heroic pose.
"People with weapons, including those of the hitting or shooting persuasion, assemble towards the front of the pack. Women, that means zombie lady and scary girl, you'll follow them, and I'll be behind you, keeping your child-making magic safe."

"It's just over here, man," Robert pointed his hammer to the right of where Terrance was marching. "Here, lemme show you." He bodychecked a zombie and slammed a hammer into another one, trying to clear a path to the Police station. They could see the sign from here, towering above the chaos like a beacon of hope...a beacon, of security.

Terrance spun around purposefully, very much like the way a cat falls. "Follow hammer-man!"

"Yeah" Brian said "Im Brain Dead. I mean Brian Deed... It took me years to lose that nickname..." He brought his bat to shoulder hight "And I invented this... So not another one like it." He followed Robert towards the station, swinging his bat at odd moments.

"Prick," Rachel muttered and rolled a dead zombie who had smashed into the fence over so she could pick up a plank for a weapon. She took her thin board and followed the others, watching the ground to be careful that she didn't step on something again and pushing the sleeves up on the jacket she was wearing with her weapon under her arm.

---

Is anyone still alive?
wait, what just happened?
OMG ZOMBIES!
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON