Bloggaday: Bloggaday 179 – PWND: The Supernatural Handicap Battle Royal of the Century Christmas Party Spectacular

Bloggaday 179 – The Supernatural Handicap Battle Royal of the Century Christmas Party Spectacular

Alright. I have to get this written today so I can at least try to edit it tomorrow.*

Honestly, I think I have some pretty kick-ass stuff. I just need to learn how to write so I make the story readable

The call for submissions that inspired me

http://www.undeadinthehead.com/p/call-for-submissions.html

Bloggaday 1

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/2010/06/bloggaday-136-pwnd-supernatural.html

Bloggaday 2

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/2010/07/bloggaday-139-post-pwnd-supernatural.html

Bloggaday 3

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/2010/07/bloggaday-140-post-pwnd-supernatural.html

Bloggaday 4

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/2010/07/bloggaday-143-supernatural-handicap.html

Bloggaday 5… Kinda

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/2010/07/bloggaday-150-supernatural-handicap.html

Bloggaday 6

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/2010/07/bloggaday-157-supernatural-handicap.html

Bloggaday 7

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/2010/08/bloggaday-171-pwnd-supernatural.html

Bloggaday 8

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/2010/08/bloggaday-178-pwnd-supernatural.html

“We are the pinnacle of our respective diseases,” Henric said. “The infection is dormant inside of us, no longer mutating,” he finished with a shiver that ran through his body.

“So I still don’t get what the suits are for.” Paul said, giving it one last shake.

“Look at the decontamination room. Somebody broke the window to escape.” Henric shook in intensity as he offered a hand to the room.

Paul shrugged through the intermission of the speech.

“It is a simple addition of two and two. If someone here was infected by an advanced zombie, then he escaped without being sprayed! Because he didn’t want to be sprayed!” Spit flew from his lips as his voice continued to rise.

“Henric, calm down,” Sandra said as she grabbed his shoulder.

He wheeled on her, but stopped. “I’m sorry.” He straitened himself and pulled the hair back from his face. He turned back to Paul and finished, “We have to assume they have some kind of agent that kills the disease.”

“Well, that’s great,” Melinda interrupted. “We can turn it over to the police, and they can use it then.”

Henric peered over his shoulder without turning back. A man was infected and bypassed protocol. The only reason to do such a thing is self-preservation. Whatever agent they use for decontamination would probably kill the host as well.”

“That’s one possibility,” Sandra commented. “Even if this facility has some kind of chemical that can eradicate the infection, the mental affects of the disease could have caused the escapee to fear any kind of decontamination and break through. His suit was obviously compromised if he was bitten.”

“Either way,” Melinda said, her suit only a helmet away from completion. “I don’t want to be sprayed. I’ve grown rather fond of being a werewolf. How do I get this dang helmet on?”

“Here,” Paul tossed the suit to Henric. “It’s too small for me.” Before the smaller man could respond, he was already sliding the helmet on his wife.

“You can wear it,” Henric said, offering it back to him. “I will take my chances outside of the room and run in once the decontamination is over.”

Paul pushed the suit away. “You wear it. I’ll just make the run.”

Slowly reeling it in, Henric said, “Alright. Thank you.”

A crackle came through Melinda’s suit before her electrolyzed voice came, “Why can’t we just break the glass on the other side and bypass the spray all together?”

As the others began working their way into their suits, Paul turned back to her, “There’s a lockdown protocol in place. Even though one side of the chamber is broken, the spray will still work, which will still sanitize anything coming in or out. That way, even with an accident, operations don’t need to be shut down. Repairs can be made while continuing what they were doing down here. Since the virus isn’t airborne, there isn’t too much risk of an accidental escape.”

“And if we broke the glass?” Melinda asked again.

“That hatch,” Paul point back to the steps, “would lock and only open from the outside. That bulkhead down the hall would also mag-lock as well. We would need a plasma cutter to get through it at that point.”

“Oh,” Melinda nodded, the entire suit following her gesture. “Well, let’s get going. “We haven’t got all apocalypse, don’t you know?”

Listening to

Episode 21 of The 40 Year Old Boy

Twitter Tag

Part nine of the Zombie fiction is up and only on the Bloggaday. Gotta finish the writing today

Exit stage right to my corner of the interweb > \/

http://twitter.com/daviddysart Plaster Caster Twitter Strutter

http://daviddysart.tumblr.com/ Hung My Head in a Tumblr

http://thebloggaday.blogspot.com/ A Little Less Conversation and a Whole Lotta Love

http://www.facebook.com/thedaviddysart?ref=sgm If I Never See Your Face Again

Youtube Awesomeness

http://www.youtube.com/user/DavidDysart Still deciding to try to capture it or let it slip