So the new year us upon us, and it is time for the fifth survivor, Elizabeth!
We had been out in the countryside for days. When the food had run out we took to the woods, hunting we thought would be the solution to our woes.
Plenty of rabbits in the woods we thought. There were always plenty of rabbits in the woods, hadn't there always been stories about how they were a pest? Too many, eating all the crops. Jim swore he had seen it in the news, swore he could make a snare that never failed.
Pity he couldn't remember how to load his damn rifle. Then he might still have a head.
As I was saying. It had been days since we had last eaten a proper meal. You can only live so long on moss and twigs you know?
So there we were, half starved. And then we come across this farm- first thing I spot is the chickens. Chickens! I hadn't seen one of those in a year, hell I couldn't remember when I last saw anything move other than my small group, or the dead.
There were only a few left in our group now. One of them ran out, Carl I think, and chased the damn chicken. We fell on the ground laughing, this 200 pound, six foot six brute of a man, chasing this tiny white bird.
I stopped laughing quick when I heard the shotgun barrel snap into place, loaded and ready to fire.
"Those are not your chickens". The voice said.
So firm, so proper. Like your grandmother smacking you on the hand with a spoon when you have it in the cookie jar for the fourth time this morning.
"Leave them alone". The voice said.
Carl raised his pistol threateningly. Not at the voice, at what he had decided was his dinner.
"Don't..." The voice began. But Carl was hungry, tired and most of all, desperate. His pistol cracked, scattering the feathers off the wing of some poor bird. Carl never could shoot, he was more a "smash it in the face" kind of guy.
The shotgun boomed. Carl dropped. Chickens scattered and we sure as hell ducked.
A shape emerged, a little old lady, sweet as your grandmother, calmly popped the shotgun open, shell casings dropped to the ground. she calmly put two more shells into the weapon.
"Now, will there be a problem here?" She asked. We didn't have time to answer, we were too busy running for our lives. The shotgun boomed again as we ran, I can only assume to make sure that Carl didn't return to bother her again
Elizabeth is another from the Hasslefree range (you would be right in thinking that I quite like them!). She is a hardened old lass, armed with a double barreled shotgun and a "seen-it-all" attitude.
I couldn't resist giving her a tartan, an attempt at the Black Watch tartan naturally. Her name, and a touch of her story, is based on another of my favorite stories from World War Z, the story told by an English interviewee, who was holed up in a castle (Windsor if I remember correctly) with Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II. Being the good colonial that I am, I liked the idea of Ol' Liz caving in a few Z skulls!
Anywho, another survivor done, the apocalypse rolls on. So I have completed 5 weeks so far, currently have 5 survivors done and 10 zombies. I do really need to increase both of those numbers before I can really call it an outbreak. And I need to get cracking on more terrain. Doing all that is the plan for the year!