"Desperado" (something I'm working on)

Sheepo

The Freeman
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The miserable gray cloak of winter consumed the sky as Andrew walked through the silent city. It was the first time Andrew had come out since Bill died. A chill went down his spine. When did I start thinking of Dad as "Bill" he thought.

Andrew's stomach was empty. he hadn't wanted to leave, but the thought of dying alone in cold agony in that basement was just too much. It wasn't as bad out here as he thought. Andrew didn't kid himself though, he knew some were still here, still hunting.

He paused, spotting a small pair of eyes, disturbingly orange, in the darkness of an alley. It retreated and a series of groans and wheezes followed it. Andrew's hand slid involuntarily to the muzzle of his M1 carbine, the cold steel steadied his thundering heart. He noticed a few shapes shuffling into hiding down the street. A sudden random rage coursed through him, "Why the **** won't you just leave! There's nothing for you here, you see anybody!? NO! Just me! So go ahead and stay! I hope I'm ****ing delicious!" he caught his breath glaring at the dark streets. He hadn't spoken in days, he had talked to himself at first, but when he realized he was he had made a point of maintaining silence.

Zombies, he thought bitterly, what a joke. Three months ago people were worried about global warming. Now I wouldn't mind a little ****ing warming one bit. What were they doing here? There were dozens of them following him, why didn't they do something? No time like the god damned post-apocylyptic future. I guess they want to be sure, sure that I'm going down, and sure they won't lose too many of their own. It's not like I'm going anywhere. The assholes sleep in the cars for christ sake. Smart pricks.

His cheery mental dialogue was interrupted by a high-pitched scream in the distance.
 
Good start, but I have to admit that when I read "zombies" my interest waned. Orange eyes in the darkness, smart enough to bide its time before attacking, it sounded like some other type of creature(s) rather than a zombie. That's not a negative critique, just that it seemed like it could have been something less generic.

But they seem smarter than normal zombies, so that's different.
 
Good start, but I have to admit that when I read "zombies" my interest waned. Orange eyes in the darkness, smart enough to bide its time before attacking, it sounded like some other type of creature(s) rather than a zombie. That's not a negative critique, just that it seemed like it could have been something less generic.

But they seem smarter than normal zombies, so that's different.
So if I ever finish and post my zombie story, you'll think negatively of it?

:'(

I can make them... swim? That's different. Swimming zombies. Swimming zombie... babes. With bikinis. Hell yeah.

shepherd: Pacing. I notice this a lot at HL2.net. Everything happens so fast in the narrative. Slow it dooooown. Especially if it's the start of the story--which it isn't here. If you're trying to draw us, as readers, in with this little short segment, we need more context. Throwing us into the middle of the fray doesn't tell us much. Who is Andrew? His dad? Why should we care for them?
 
shepherd: Pacing. I notice this a lot at HL2.net. Everything happens so fast in the narrative. Slow it dooooown. Especially if it's the start of the story--which it isn't here. If you're trying to draw us, as readers, in with this little short segment, we need more context. Throwing us into the middle of the fray doesn't tell us much. Who is Andrew? His dad? Why should we care for them?

Yeah, I was thinkin about the same thing, but I think I'm gonna go with revealing a little of the past as I go along, and leave some to the imagination. Who knows, I might end up changing it. Thanks for the tips and relatively good review guys.
 
I've actually been trying to bounce around my own zombie type story in my head, coming up with something original and fresh. But so far I am completely lacking imagination.
 
Andrew sprinted along the sidewalk, gun at his hip, headed in the direction of the scream. He could hear, them stalking at a careful distance behind him. Cold anxiety filled his body.

Is it too late?, he thought, How many others are there? Why do I even care?

He pushed the final thought out of his mind with self loathing as he rounded a corner onto Mangrove Boulevard. He was on the rich side of town now. There was car pile up in the middle of an intersection and Andrew could see a group of zombies huddled near the ground behind it. Andrew climbed over the hood of a Lexus, hearing groans of suprise from within.

He unloaded on the group, killing two of them as the other three fled. Andrew knelt down and examined the body with empty eyes. It was a woman, in her early twenties probably. She had long, fiery red hair and a freckled, pretty face. He glanced at her body, noting the huge gash on her neck, to the large scratches and bites among her torso and-

Andrew lept up quickly. There were three large bullet wounds where blood was pouring out of her torso. He spun around scanning the surrounding buildings for people.

"Howdy partner!", came a gleeful voice from above. Andrew looked to the rooftops to see a man beaming down at him, a sniper rifle resting on his shoulder.
 
I notice this all the time, but you have too many sentences starting with "Andrew", "Him", "She", "There" and "Tt". Try and vary it.
 
The strange man looked down at Andrew for a few moments, an enormous grin on his face. Feeling a strange sense of vulnerability from the streets below, he called up, "Eh, what are you still doing in the city?".

Ignoring his question, the man cried, "Name's Rick Quinn! Most just call me Ricky Q! 'Course nobody's forcin' ya to call my by that, but I do believe most others would tell ya it's probably a safer bet to call me Ricky Q". Rick's voice had suddenly dropped the annoyingly fake southern accent and had become a chilling monotone.

After a moment's silence, which Andrew had spent contemplating whether or not he should get the **** away from here, Rick shouted down, "Where are my manners?! I'll come let you inside", his accent and cheer had sprung back into action and Andrew was beginning to get a head ache. Rick left the roof and Andrew began to wonder what to do. Is he dangerous? He had to have shot that woman, but wouldn't he have killed him by now? Thinking fast, Andrew hid behind the front a sedan across the street.

It was quiet for a few minutes before Rick came bursting through the door, a shotgun in one hand, a sledge hammer in the other. Andrew's eyes widened as he clicked the safety off of his gun and continued to peek from over the car's hood. Rick blinked, looking around, and shouted "Where you gone to, boy?!". He dropped both his weapons and continued to yell.

Andrew stood up, his carbine resting cautiously on his shoulder. "Sorry, I just wasn't sure I could trust you. How'd she get shot anyway?"

Rick waved his hand,"Ain't your fault. I shoulda' spoken with you som' 'ore before comin' down. She just stumbled outa' there," he nodded to a convenience store, "and the dead one's was all over her!".

"Hmmm".

"Well I suppose I should take you inside now right?!" Rick said gesturing to the open door. A small pool of blood dripped over his steps.
 
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