Interactive Case #4: Zombie Outbreak! (Part 6)

Alone. You came into the world that way, and it looks like you're going out that way too. Unless you can figure your way out of this mess. Unfortunately, surviving a zombie outbreak is more than just battling zombies; you have to watch out for the humans as well.

Date: October 28, 2004
Place: Austin, Texas

The Hotel Driskill
Even with a noticeable limp you can still outpace the random zombies shuffling around downtown Austin. Your path takes you past the smashed front window of a Walgreens, and you go inside. It's already been looted, but still you manage to scoop up a tube of Pringles, a couple bottles of water and some ibuprofen.

Outside, dusk falls to a cacaphony of gunfire sounds from Congress Avenue, scene of your near-murder at the hands of some misguided Army Reservists. You cross over to Brazos Street, where you spot the ornate facade of the Hotel Driskill several blocks ahead. There are lights on in some of the windows. Perhaps some survivors are holed up there? You start toward it.

What's that? An engine? Growing closer. Mindful of your earlier run-in with a zombie driving an SUV, you hide in the shadows of a darkened storefront and wait. Moments later, a big burgundy Ford F-250 cruises around the corner, its engine grumbling ominously. You poke your head out and spot a man and women in front and two more men riding in the bed. Surprisingly, there is air of celebration among them. They laugh, joke and generally whoop it up. No groaning whatsoever.

Finally. You stagger out onto the road and wave your arms. A guy in the back immediately points a shotgun at you, and the only thing you can think to shout is, "don't shoot, I'm a human!"

Moments later, you're reclining in the back of the pickup, drinking a beer and and giving the group a brief recap of your adventures and then telling them how you're trying to get to your girlfriend's place to check on her. The couple in the front are Rhonda and Ellroy, husband and wife. The lanky guy with the hat seated opposite you is Zed. And T.J. is the 300-pound guy with the aviator glasses. Or is the lanky guy T.J? Doesn't matter. They seem alright. Maybe a little bit country, but alright.

Perhaps lost in your relief, you don't immediately notice that this crew seems to be in a little too good of a mood, considering this is the zombie apocalypse and all. And then, T.J. suddenly stands and points down a side street. "There," he says. The truck wheels around and heads straight toward a lone zombie moving along the sidewalk like a drunk. When the truck pulls up alongside the zombie, a bearded guy with shabby clothes, it turns, groans and staggers toward you. Just as it's about to grab you, Ellroy pulls the truck away. This happens several times, and always leaves the rednecks in stitches.

Finally, T.J. stands, raises his Mossberg and fires. BOOM! He hits the zombie right in the chest, knocking it back ten feet. The zombie gets up, its chest peppered with shot, and starts toward the truck again. BOOM! This blast takes off its left leg below the kneecap. The zombie tips over and tries to drag itself toward the truck. The next shotgun blast takes off one of its hands. They're toying with it, you think. This is sport to them.

When the gruesome spectacle is finally over, the boys flop down and smack cans of beer together in celebration. You wait for an opportune moment and ask, "mind if we go check my girlfriend's place now?" They look at you like you're speaking Swahili. "My girlfriend's place? Sunset Valley?"

"Sure, buddy," slurs T.J. "We'll git there soon as we finish moppin' up 'round here."

Moppin' up. Apparently, this crew of rednecks has taken it upon themselves to clean up Austin's zombie problem, one street at a time.

And so it goes for the next hour or so. The rednecks drive around blasting zombies, draining beers and cackling like fools. Consequently, your mood darkens. It's not that you feel an emotional attachment to the undead. But these zombies used to be someone's brother, mother, son, daughter. When one particular zombie, a grey-haired Latina, falls, you notice that she has a photograph of a couple of smiling kids curled up in her hand; apparently, her rotting brain has tenaciously protected at least some memories.

Not surprisingly, you never make it to your girlfriend's place. With night falling, the rednecks decide it'd be better to find a hotel to hole up in for the night. And they choose the best: the Four Seasons, which apparently has been evacuated due to the outbreak.

Anderson Cooper reporting
from Austin
You and the gang sequester yourselves in a top floor suite and watch the news on the plasma screen TV. The Austin Outbreak is on all the stations. Even Cartoon Network. The heavyweight news reporters have gathered outside the city, and CNN's Anderson Cooper reports that the military is massing on the city limits and that the nuclear option is on the table. The rednecks love it. Ellroy, who appears to be the Alpha Male of the group, flicks eagerly from station to station, and each dire pronouncement about the end of civilization as we know it makes him and his friends giggle with glee.

Finally, with sirens wailing outside and helicopter blades chopping the air, your compatriots fall asleep atop the suite's two beds (they've graciously given you the small loveseat.) But despite your pain and angst, you start to nod off as well. You're somewhere between consciousness and oblivion when you feel a nuzzling in your ear.

"You like me, honey?" It's Rhonda: Ellroy's wife. She's so close you can count the individual stars in the Confederate flag tattoo on her neck. "Gimme a kiss," she says, her breath heavy with cigarettes and whiskey. And then, she throws up all over you.

You go to the bathroom to clean up and when you come out, you find that Rhonda has passed out in her own vomit and the others are snoring loud enough to make the windows rattle. You take a moment to consider your situation. There are your newfound friends in front of you. And there's the city visible outside your window, with its helicopters, army units, fires...and zombies.


So what should you do?
(Tap or click your choice). Please note that in this part of the case, each choice will result in a different scenario.)

Go to Part VII of the case.
A Fool and His Life Are Soon Parted

You grab a shotgun and some shells, leave the room and take the elevator to the lobby, which is empty. When you head toward the door, you spot a couple of zombies sniffing around the truck. They start after you, so you find another exit and head back out onto the streets of Austin.

A stagger of zombies fans out across the street ahead. You turn back just in time to see the zombies from the hotel headed your way. OK, OK, so this might have been a mistake. But the streets are wide, the zombies are slow. You can get out of this, right?

You manage to evade the two zombies from the hotel, but just barely. I don't remember them being so quick, you think. Now they seem to be coming from everywhere, and to make matters worse, your leg has stiffened up considerably and you're having real trouble getting up any speed.

Alright, so dodging them isn't going to work this time. You've always got the shotgun. You wait for one to get close, and then blast it in the head. Shoot. Reload. Shoot. Reload. You can do this. Yeah.

Epilogue

It might have worked out for you if only you hadn't dropped that shell. You had trouble picking it up, you kicked it around a little, and when you finally stood up, you immediately felt a pair of cold hands around your neck. You wheeled around and found yourself face-to-face with a woman who on any other day could have passed for a soccer mom, but at that moment had glazed, unfocused eyes and a waxy grey pallor. You tried to get off a shot, but you were too close and the damn thing just wouldn't let go of your neck. And there, just before the others closed in, you got your first and last look into the eyes of a zombie: the eyes of something completely indifferent to your existence.

Hell on Earth

Zombies have an outstanding sense of smell, acute enough to detect a group of people in a nearby hotel suite. And so, over the course of the night, every zombie within a one-mile radius makes its way to the hotel. They shamble around the truck for a few minutes, and then head into the lobby, until one of the smarter ones finds the stairs. The others follow, all the way up to the floor where you and the rednecks are staying.

Once there, the zombies begin pawing at your door and jiggling the door handle. The noise eventually wakes you and the others. The rednecks hurriedly load their weapons, positively giddy at the thought of more zombie slaying. You, however, are a bit more reluctant. "Maybe we should hang in here," you suggest. "Fine," says Ellroy. "You wanna stay in here like a candy ass, you go right ahead."

Everyone gathers in the entry foyer and, on a count of three, Rhonda swings open the door. Ellroy blasts his way out into the hall, followed by T.J., Zed and you. The rest is chaos. Shotguns going off, people shouting, virus-laden fluids splashing onto your face and dozens of zombies groaning eagerly at the sight of all this warm flesh. It's a bad scene. T.J. accidentally shoots Zed; a zombie yanks out Ellroy's entire intestinal tract; Rhonda wails fruitlessly.

Somehow, you shoot your way out of the mess and head toward the elevator. I made it, you think. And then you feel an excrutiating pain and look back to see a zombie clamped onto your Achilles tendon. You let him have it, right in the back of the head, but by then the other zombies are on you. Time only for one last thought: damn, these zombies move pretty well.

Escape

You gently lift the keys to the truck off the nightstand. Ellroy stirs and snorts, before rolling over and resuming his snoring. You exhale in relief, and then grab one of the Mossbergs and a box of shells and slip out of the room.

You take the elevator down to the lobby and find it empty.

Outside, though, is a different story. Two zombies are sniffing around the truck where it is parked on the sidewalk by the valet stand. They spot you and move into the lobby. Think quick! You hurry down one of the hallways off the lobby and take up a position at the end of it. The first zombie--a college kid with a UTexas shirt--moves at a pretty good clip. You might not even know he's infected except for the way his right arm hangs limply at his side.

Wait...wait...now! One blast to the head and college boy falls, dead. The second one--a heavyset black woman--is easier pickings. Two shots, two kills: you're starting to get the hang of this.

You hurry out of the lobby to the truck. More zombies are coming, but the closest is fifty yards away. You hop in the truck, start it up and ease it away from the hotel, and the next chapter of your adventure begins.