Survival Horror

Dark, cramped, cluttered shelves. Probably a broom closet. Wait, why am I in a broom closet? Why don’t I remember anything? Wonderful, I’ve got amnesia. Perfect. Anyway, I find a doorhandle. Turn it. The door opens. The light stuns me. As soon as I recover I walk out. It’s a hallway. Metal walls, blood stains, bulkheads. The doors are metal too. There’s one across from the broom closet. I try to open it but it’s lock.....ed. Wait. WHAT THE HELL?! BLOODSTAINS?! The place is covered in the stuff. Streaks on the walls, giant dried puddles on the ground, splatters on the doors. I feel a drop on my head. I look up. It’s on the ceiling. In the shape of foot prints. IT’S ON THE BLOODY CEILING! WHY?! WHY ARE THERE BLOODY FOOT PRINTS ON THE CEILING. That doesn’t even make sense. What the hell happened here?! OK, I’m freaking out and need to calm down. Take a few deep breaths. Much better. Let’s see. I need to find out were I am, what happened here, whether I’m in danger, and if so, how to avoid that danger. I start to walk down the hallways randomly. This place is like a maze. Tons of twists and corners. Lots of doors. Most are locked. The ones that aren’t have smashed furniture, and bloodstains like in the halls. The place is abandoned. I start to freak out again. Force my self to calm down. A scream rips through the silence, rendering my pervious efforts to calm myself useless. Apparently this place isn’t as abandoned as I thought. Without thinking I run down the hallway in the direction of the scream. As I get closer the screamer starts to scream words instead of just scream. He’s really giving whoever or whatever is attacking him an earful. “GET OFF ME YOU FREAKS! STOP, PLEASE STOP! YOU’RE TEARING ME APART. C’MON, YOU ALREADY ATE ONE OF MY LEGS! LEAVE THE OTHER ONE ALONE. WAIT, WHAT THE?! YOU DID NOT JUST EAT THOSE. YOU SICK, PERVERTED, HOMO, UNDEAD CANNIBALS! YOU KNOW WHAT, SCREW YOU. I DON’T EVEN CARE ANY MORE. GO AHEAD EAT MY EARS, MY ARMS, MY FREAKING ASS FOR ALL I CARE.” The screamer then begins to laugh maniacally. He’s still laughing by the time I get there, though it’s more of a gurgle. What I see is terrifying. There are three people. One, who I assume to be the screamer, is lying on the ground, a stream of blood flowing out of his mouth which explains the gurgle. Also the bottom half of his body is missing. It just ends in a bloody mess at his waist. Same with his ears. The other aren’t really people. They look like walking corpse. One is eating the screamers arm. The other crunching on what appears to be a femur. I say out loud, “Wonderful, zombies.” Then I throw-up. The zombies hear me and turn to look. They appear to think for a moment, then charge. I don’t waste time thinking. I turn and run, leaping into the first room and barricade the door with a table. There’s a small window in the door but I can’t see out of it because it’s covered with blood. The door thuds as the zombies smash into it, trying to get in. They continue for some time. Finally the noise stops. I think they’ve left. I sit on the ground, trying to collect my thoughts. Look around, see if there’s a weapon. There isn’t. Just some vodka in a cupboard. I approach the door cautiously. When I’m a foot away a head comes smashing through the window. It’s the screamer. His head hangs there so I’m guessing it’s still attached to the body. I can hear them chewing on him. Oh, and he’s now dead if that wasn’t already apparent. While trying to think of a way out of this I stick my hands in my pocket and discover a lighter. A smile slowly spreads across my face. I race to the cupboard and grab the vodka. Then I pour it all over the screamer’s head. Then I light it on fire and kick it out the window. Interesting fact: zombies can actually scream. After I see that flames have died down, I edge the door open. There are two and a half smouldering corpses lying there. Wander around some more, searching for weapons. Find a mop with a metal handle. Very light, sliver in colour, strong too. Probably titanium. (I’ll figure out way some one has a mop with a titanium handle later.) Now I need to find my way out (And a better weapon. I mean, come on. What self-respecting survival horror story hero kicks ass with a mop). Everywhere is a dead end. There is only one way left and it’s one I’ve been purposely avoiding. Most of the lights are broken and those that aren’t just flicker occasionally leaving the corridor rather dark. “That is the most cliché thing ever. Next to me talking to myself.” I say to myself. Walking down the corridor, my eyes adjust quickly to the dark, much quicker then I thought they would. Not only that but I can see a lot more then I expected too. Very weird. Anyway I walk down the corridor (Another cliché. Why are dark passages always labeled “corridors”? Why not hallways, or walkways, or passages?) searching for any form of light to tell me were an exit might be. The “corridor” begins to split just like the lighted part, turning into a maze. I wander around some more (I seem to be doing a lot of that, don’t I), occasionally fighting off zombies. Then I hear something. A sort of scratching sound. Stand still. It stops. Start walking again. The sound starts again. The sound speeds up, getting louder, closer. Still really quiet though. Then I hear breathing, quiet but heavy (where have I heard this before. Oh yeah. Everywhere). I stop and turn around slowly ( do I even have to point out the clichés now). Nothing there, but I still hear the breathing. Then I remember the footprints. I look up. Something blurs and I get hit with the force of the a cannon. I go flying down the “corridor” (that’s right. Even when my life’s in danger, I have to make fun of clichés.) Hit the wall at the end of the “corridor” (okay. I’ll stop now). Collect my self and look down “the corridor” ( last one. I promise). A beast is charging down the “corridor” (That’s it. I’m done.) It looks vaguely human, but it’s got red skin and thin, black strips running around it’s body. Claw like hands. A tail. And black blades jutting out of it’s wrists the size of claymores ( the sword not the mine. Stupid MW2 fans.) I bring the mop up to defend my self and... I DROPPED THE MOP! Now I’m really screwed. The beast moans something that sounds like weapon. Then it stabs one of its blades at me. I roll to one side and the beasts blade plunges into the wall all the way up to the beasts fist. The thing moans “weapon” again, which reminds me of the mop. I look around frantically for it. I hear the ear-wrenching sound of a knife being sharpened. “Weapon” seems to be pulling the blade out. Finally find the mop. I run to it, pick it up, and turn around. Just in time to see “Weapon” leap up to the ceiling. He begins to crawl towards me (Wonderful. Now not only is this story ripping off an entire genre, now we’ve ripped off Alien too). He’s smart for a monster. I can’t reach him but he can reach me. There’s a door behind me. I open it and leap backwards into the room. Weapon follows on the ceiling but as he crawls through the door he comes within reach of the mop. I hit Weapon off the ceiling and knock him to the ground. He recovers almost immediately and lunges at me. I dodge but I can’t keep this up. I have to escape. I look around the and spot a hatch in the wall. It looks like a laundry chute. I should just be able to fit. Barely. Now I just need the time and I don’t think Weapon is the generous sort. So I hit him on the head with the mop, grab him by the neck and ram his head into the wall. Let’s see how fast he recovers from that. On second thought, I don’t feel like sticking around that long. I open the hatch and leap in head first. After a short slide I plunge head-first into a pool of water. It’s so shallow that while standing it only reaches my waist. I take a look around. Narrow walls, high ceiling, piles of trash sticking out of the water, which is brownish (No. Just no. We didn’t just rip of star wars. There’s no way. We couldn’t have. I love that film and it doesn’t deserve to ripped off by a two-bit horror story. Fine, we ripped it off but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.) I hear a scuttling sound followed by splash. Then lots of splashes. Coming closer. There’s something in the water coming at me very fast. Suddenly it leaps from the water at me. I bring up the mop and it skewers it self on it I examine the corpse. It looks like a rat. A rat the size of a labrador retriever with two tails, seven claws on each paw that are half a foot long and a mouth that looks like it belongs to a great white shark. Oh, and glowing red eyes. I’m fascinated, in a disturbing kind of way. More noises. Apparently I was wrong when I said something was coming at me very fast. Actually lots of somethings are coming at me very fast. At first there’s only one. I plunge the mop through its head. Then come two more. One leaps at my face. I grab it and smash it into the wall. I then punt the other over 10 feet. Right into the oncoming horde. Ok, I need to escape. I look around and quickly discover a ladder. Leap for it and begin to climb. I can hear the rat-zombies trying to climb after me but failing. I reach a hatch and open it. Climb out. Close it. I’m in a small, closed off courtyard. It’s raining (clichés galore in this story). There’s only one door into the building. It opens into a “corridor” (Hah, you thought I’d stopped hadn’t you.) This ones is a lot more linear then the other ones. There’s a door at each end. I head for one of them and open it. It’s a large hanger type room. Lots of military jeeps and such. Plus a huge garage door! Finally a way out! Now I just got to open it. There’s a small door and window on one side of the room. I go in. It’s an office there’s a computer. It probably can open the door. I sit down and boot it up. Maybe I can learn something about what happened here too. The computer starts up. There’s a document already opened. I start to read. ''The weapon project was created to research ways to improve upon physiology to create the perfect soldier. The former director of the project, Dr. Christopher, had the most success. A volunteer, Pvt. Crist, was subjected to multiple gene treatments.'' Wait. Pvt. Crist? Why does that seem so familiar. Oh well. Maybe it will come to me if I keep reading. ''The result was increased strength, reaction time, senses, agility, and flexibility. He was code named Weapon after the project. Unfortunately, Pvt. Crist was driven insane. He broke free, killed Dr. Christopher, and escaped, causing massive causalities to the staff of this base. Afterwards I continued with the gene therapy, while Dr. Harrington tried to produce the same results using a different method. He discovered a strain of bacteria that increased the strength of those infested with it. However, the bacteria eventually killed the subject. He called the bacteria the Tau-bacteria. Dr. Harrington experimented with the Tau-bacteria on rats. However, the Tau-bacteria experiments failed to produce results. My gene-therapy experiments, on the other hand, were proceeding rapidly, though hampered by the death of Dr. Christopher. Another marine had volunteered and we had augmented he, although nowhere near the levels of Weapon. The volunteer instead received special training to hunt down Weapon. The volunteer was code named Prime.''

Unfortunately Dr. Harrington grew jealous and Infected Prime with the Tau-Bacteria. The result was terrifying. Primes blood turned black and his veins showed though his skin, which turned red. The bacteria also diminished his intelligence and increased his aggression, causing him to attack humans. Not only that but it increased his strength and reflexes past that of even Weapon. Most shocking was the growth of bones from his wrists to form blades approximately 140cm long. Prime began to attack and kill humans. The dead humans would later reanimate with next to no intelligence and would viciously attack any humans they found and in turn infect them with the Tau-bacteria. Nearly all the humans in the base were killed and the survivors numbers are diminishing all the time. We will not survive for long. I have typed this and sent it to every computer on the base so that there is a record of these events. Dr. Brownfield.'' After I finish reading I put my hands in my pockets. There’s something cold and metal in one of them. Like a necklace or a dogtag...'' I’m suddenly struck by memories all at once. Recovering from insanity, returning to the facility to put a stop to it, being attacked by Prime. I pullout the dogtag. On it is the name Pvt. Crist, Leon. I’m Weapon. A loud noise in the garage gets my attention. I walk out of the office a couple of steps. Then get hit in the back with the force of a jackhammer. I go flying into a jeep and slump to the ground, which was lucky because a moment later Primes blade plunged into the jeep right were my head had been. “Weapon.” I roll away and sweep at his legs with the mop, causing him to fall. I kick him in the head then leap on to the hood of the jeep. Prime gets up and slashes downward at me. I dodge it by leaping onto the roof of the jeep. “Weapon.” Prime follows through with the swing, slicing the hood in half. The jeep starts to leak gas all over the floor. Prime leaps up after me and brings both blades down on my head. “Weapon.” I block with the mop which, surprisingly, he doesn’t cut right through. “Weapon.” Prime begins to exert more pressure, unbelievable amounts. “Weapon.” I’m surprised that I’m not on my knees already. “Weapon.” In a desperate effort I bring my knees up right between his legs with all the effort I can manage. Apparently he still has balls because he collapses to his knees with a squeak of “Weapon.” I immediately knock him down with the mop. I then plunge the mop through Prime and the roof of the jeep, pinning him to it. I leap off the jeep, pull out the lighter, and light the gas on fire. Then I run to the office and close the door. I look out the window and the jeep explodes. I thought that only happened in movies (Oh, wait.) I then go over to the computer and after some looking around find the command to open the door. I walk out, momentarily blinded by the sun which reminds me of how this started (heh, broom closet.) I then walk off into the sunset (how many clichés can we fit in the story. Place you bets!), glad I never have to see another one of those stupid “corridors” (I love running gags.)