<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657948534337043825</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Sat, 31 Aug 2024 12:47:36 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Zapocalypse!</title><description></description><link>http://zapocalypse.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Sheamus)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657948534337043825.post-8862319297925925055</guid><pubDate>Wed, 26 Aug 2009 02:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-26T23:53:05.788-04:00</atom:updated><title>Day 9</title><description>&lt;div  style=&quot;font-family:inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:xx-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:small;&quot;&gt;It was day nine of this hell. And our food and water were finally running low so we decided to leave the safety of the attic and scavenge ourselves up some food. It wasn&#39;t easy though.... we had to walk through puddles of blood, guts, organs, and things so badly mangled I couldn&#39;t even identify as human parts. The worst part was, that we didn&#39;t even have to leave the house to see any of it. As we walked downstairs, it was like walking through a slaughterhouse. There wasn&#39;t a wall or surface that was left untouched by the blood. Not a word was spoken. We didn&#39;t even make eye contact until we were outside. On the way out the door, Sheamus grabbed a meat cleaver and I grabbed a large butchers knife. We figured we might as well arm ourselves for what is to come after we saw what a mess they made of lust four people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we were outside, we realized the extent of what had happened. There was more blood and insides all over the street than Stephen King could even imagine. Everything was silent. Not even a breeze blew, and if it did than it was too silent to hear. It was too quiet. We eventually made our way through a total of three houses from basement to top floor. There wasn&#39;t many conversations between us.  There was nothing to talk about. We were both on edge, constantly alert, jumping at the slightest noise. We found enough food and water to last for about a week or so if for some reason we cant leave the attic for a period of time. In addition to the food and water, we found a little amount of medical supplies, some clean clothes, (and my personal favorite) a colt revolver with two bullets. I pray neither of us will run into any of those &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;font-size:small;&quot; &gt;things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:small;&quot;&gt; but if we do, we at least stand a chance now. The following is an exact list of the items recovered today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div  style=&quot;font-family:inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m gonna sign off now. I have to wake up sheamus. Its his turn to guard the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;P.S. We didn&#39;t encounter any infected today. And as happy as i am for that.... it has me very worried. We better be extra alert just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-John Hema&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:xx-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Meat Cleaver (x1)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/largeknife.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Butcher&#39;s Knife (x1)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/largeknife.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Water Bottle (x23)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/waterbottles.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Fruit Loops (x1)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/cerealbox.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Captain Crunch (x1)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/cerealbox.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Instan Ramen Noodles (x23)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/soupbowls.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Gallon of Orange Juice (x2)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/orangejuice.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;2 lt. Soda Bottle (x3)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/soda.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Band-Aid (x22)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/firstaid.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Gauze Wrap (x4)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/firstaid.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Colt .45 Caliber Revolver (x1)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/handgun.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;.45 Caliber Bullet (x2)&quot; src=&quot;http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/ammo.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://zapocalypse.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-9-as-told-by-john-hema.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (John Hema)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://i988.photobucket.com/albums/af7/SheamusIsUndead/Zapocalypse/th_largeknife.gif" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657948534337043825.post-7271275445191225750</guid><pubDate>Tue, 25 Aug 2009 02:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-24T22:53:36.549-04:00</atom:updated><title>Day 1 and Day 2</title><description>&lt;i&gt;Where do I begin... I now live in a world plagued by reanimated corpses that walk the streets, killing and changing everyone they can get their rotting paws on. I am a survivor... so far... of the Zombie Apocalypse. Or as my never-faltering whit calls it, Zapocalypse!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;I will attempt to convey my story to whatever survivor is reading this, whenever it may be. I could be dead by the time anyone reads this...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Right now it&#39;s 8 days into the Zapocalypse. But I&#39;ll catch you up to speed and start with the first two days.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Day 1 and Day 2&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
It started off an average day. I woke up early that morning... well, nine o&#39;clock. Early for me. My good friend John came over to stay the night at my house later that day. We did normal teenage guy stuff. Played Xbox, ate crappy food, watched Family Guy, the normal stuff. As afternoon turned to night, and night turned to morning, John and I got more and more tired. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Almost to tired to hear the glass breaking. But by the time we heard screaming we were plenty awake. I walked briskly over to the pull-down staircase that connect my room, the third floor, to the second floor of my house. I inched down the stairs and called out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What was that?!&quot; I shouted. As if in response, I was greeted by another scream, and a spray of blood escaping from the open doorway to my parent&#39;s bathroom. My mind was screaming desperately at my body, pushing me to go into the room and find out what had just happened. But my instinct told my body otherwise, and pulled me back up the stairs. It was my instinct that shut the pull-down staircase. I quickly relayed what I had seen to John. He began to laugh with doubt. He thought I was joking. But while my shocked frown stayed set in stone, his smile faded. I quickly picked up my cellphone and dialed 911.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;911 Emergency. All of our operators are currently occupied. Please hold and we will be with you momentarily.&quot; I couldn&#39;t believe what the calm, prerecorded voice was telling me. But I did as the women said, and I stayed on the line, pacing the room slowly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Three hours of calm elevator music later, I was greeted by a women with a silvery voice that almost made me feel alright. &quot;911. What is your emergency?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;There&#39;s someone in my house... I heard screams... there was a lot of blood...&quot; I stuttered, trying to describe what I had seen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Our officers are all occupied currently, but we have your address and we will get to you as soon as possible. In the meantime I recommend you hide, barricade the door. Whatever you can do to remain undiscovered.&quot; The women instructed. But her tone had changed, as if she knew exactly what was happening.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I hit the end button on my phone and tossed it onto my desk. &quot;Shit.&quot; I cursed, massaging my forehead with my hand. I turned to John, who had been listening intently to the phone call. &quot;They&#39;re gunna get here as soon as I can... but the lady told me to lay low in the meantime.&quot; I tried to remain calm.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Help me move this mattress.&quot; I told John. Together we picked up the mattress and laid it over the pull-down staircase. And then we sat by the mattress, switchblades in hand, waiting for whatever was going to happen begin.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;That&#39;s it for me for now. It&#39;s my turn to make dinner. I&#39;ll let John pick it up from there.&lt;/i&gt;</description><link>http://zapocalypse.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-1-and-day-2.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sheamus)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>