Dead Island Novelization

[rrobb911]

This is a great story. Keep going.

[MissWakaLaka]

Hey guys. I'm still working on this story, but I'm having a bit of trouble with the recent chapter. As soon as I finish it, I'll post it. Maybe tomorrow or the next dat. Stay tuned!

[MissWakaLaka]

Here's the next chapter. Please forgive me for double posting. I just wanted people to know I'd uploaded the next part. Anyway, this one was a doozie to write. I was struggling so much with it, and I think it shows.
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Rise And Shine
'Sweet Mary mother of Jesus, do you know how close we came to bashing your head in!?'

Purna stood in the bedroom doorway, her hand slowly slipping from the holster round her thigh. She hadn't planned on using her revovler. It was too noisy, too dangerous. But if they had been infected, she'd have been left with little choice. It was the way of the world, and Purna sighed, upest that she accepted change so easily.

'What the hell is going on here?'

Sam B. She recognized him from the club. He was the rapper she had been dancing too. His friend, a white man with a mohawk, was the drunk who'd toppled into her. A bruised lump decorated his lower lip, memoirs of her fist colliding with his jaw. She felt a pang of regret that was quickly extinguished.

'Rumour has it's some sort of virus,' Said the man she knew as Dominic. 'You get bit by those things, you turn into one. That's about as much intel any of us have.'

The hum of an oscillating fan was loud, and Purna eyed the nervous doctor pacing back and forth. A baseball bat hung from his limp wrist, and he seemed lost in his own personal turmoil, breathing heavily as he tried to remain calm. For a second, he was on the verge of smashing Sam's skull in, afraid that he was a walker. Afraid that he would die.

'It turns you into some sort of flesh eating cannibal,' He said, rubbing the back of his neck. 'I've never seen anything like it. It's insane.'

'You're lucky we found you when we did,' Dominic added, ripples of air trailing up his shirt. 'That crazy b*tch almost chewed your arm off. It's a mircale you survived.'

Sam gazed at the climbing line of stitches marring his dark skin. A blood stained bandage circled his left hand, and though it didn't hurt, he could feel a dozen tiny pin pricks stabbing at his pores. His mind swam, and he was groggy, stumbling slightly when he lost his balance. Logan remained where he sat, clearly not ready to get up.

'So what does that mean? We gonna turn into one of those things?'

'No. You appear to be immune.'

'Immune? What do you mean immune?'

Purna drew back from the wall, keeping one hand on the frame and placing the other on her hip, 'Immune, as in, unable to contract the virus.'

Logan's head shot round, his jaw falling open in surprise. He recognized her immediately, and his brow furrowed, anger throbbing at his temples, 'You're the b*tch who hit me!'

'I prefer Purna, but b*tch will do for now.'

She gestured to them as she waltzed through the door, her tattered dress flailing at her knees, dried blood running up her legs. She was missing her make-up, and any signs of anger were now gone, stripped away to leave nothing but acceptance. She wasn't sad, she wasn't happy. She just...was.

The living room was spacious, though it appeared small, clusters of frightened guests making it appear cramped. Many were huddled in corners, rocking to the sound of their own madness. Others were praying, embracing, even arguing. It was all they could do to stay sane, and Purna shook her head, forcing unpleasant throughts from the forefront of her mind.

She had been a police officer with a strong sense of justice, vowing to protect those who couldn't defend themselves, aid those in desprate need of help. It gave her a feeling of joy to know she was helping people too weak to help themselves. But now, as she glanced around the oppressive room, Purna saw many victims. Too many.
It was overwhelming, and Purna couldn't decide whether she should save them, or whether she should save herself.

Depressed, she sat on the couch beside an asian woman, the latter of whom was wearing a uniform similar to those worn by hotel employees. Hugging herself, the stranger looked up, fear and desperation in her dark eyes. A name tag lay in her lap read, Hello, my name is Mei.

Logan eyed it thoughtfully, his head cocked as he read at an awkward angle, 'Mei, is that your name?'

'Xian Me...I mean, Mei Xian. Yes.'

'Mind if I just call you Mei?'

The woman thought about if for a moment, then, deciding she didn't care, gave him a nonchalant shrug. It was the least of her worries, and she curled into herself, suddenly feeling cold despite the stifling heat.

'So,' Sam said, collapsing next to Purna and forcing her to stand. 'You were saying something about immunity?'

'Yeah,' She brushed herself off, suddenly aware of all the blood. Her eyes narrowed, and she frowned at the state of her once expensive dress. 'When a person is
bitten, they start showing symptoms of change. Excessive hunger, profouse sweating, violent outbursts. Their skin turns grey, their pupils vanish, they begin to deteriorate, and eventually, they die.'

Logan ran a hand down his jaw, 'I'm guessing we're the select few who haven't.'

Purna nodded, 'Sinamoi says we're the only survivors who can combat the virus. He thinks our anti-bodies are special.'

'Sina-who?'

Mei got up, her socked feet slipping into a pair of black heels, 'Sinamoi. He's a lifeguard here. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't be here, and neither would you.'

'Oh yeah, well where is he now?' Silence fell, and Logan blanched, under the impression he had said something wrong. 'What? Is the guy dead or something?'

'No, but he will be if someone doesn't help him!' A blonde woman stepped forward, dark shades obscuring her eyes, necklace jostling as she ran, 'He's out there right now, fighting those things. All alone! No one will help him. None of you will help him!'

Purna stared at her feet, conflicted. She hadn't agreed with his decision, but she'd let him go regardless. Just like everyone else. No one had offered to help, and he was out there, risking his life for people too cowardly to repay his favour. Purna wasn't a coward, but she didn't know whether it was worth the risk.

Logan felt his hands clench, his jaw tighten. The entire island was awash with death and suffering, people were in swimsuits, having lost everything they ever knew,
ever owned. And here he was, complaining because of his own foolish mistake. Self-loathing, alcoholism, wasted dreams piling one top of one another until he couldn't breathe.

Mei remembered her father. A brave, loving man who sacrificed his own mortality at the expense of others. He strived to bring justice in a world gone cold, encouraged Mei to follow her dream, became her role model. He had died, but he lived on in her memory, and she began to wonder if he would be ashamed of her selfish actions.

Sam tried to ignore the howls that penetrated his thoughts, pushing any ounce of rationality from his mind. He worked to deliver a message to others. It was his reason for singing. Actions spoke louder than words, but words drove people to their actions, and at that moment, he was telling himself to take a stand, however lost his cause appeared.

'You thinking what I'm thinking?' Purna asked, her eyes on the door.

Mei nodded, 'We're immune, we should take advantage of that fact.'

'Yeah,' Logan sighed, forcing a smile. 'I need to do something positive with my sad life. If I go out with a bang, it won't be so bad.'

Sam felt their gaze settle on him, and with a grunt, he nodded, 'Let's do this.'

They were inches from the door when a voice stopped them, 'Hold on,' A man approached, waving his arms to deter them from heading out. 'Before you go, you're gonna need a weapon. Better grab something quick.'

Mei removed a knife that she'd slipped into her belt, holding it in a way that peaked Purna's interest. It was too familair, too professional, to be in the hands of a mere receptionist, and as Purna eyed the scar that ran down her neck, she began to suspect the woman was far more capable than what she let on.

Logan returned from the bedroom with a baseball bat, and Sam grabbed the paddle lying by the door. That left only Purna, who was unwilling to use her gun for fear the noise would attract more infected. Instead, she grabbed a broomstick jammed behind the shelf, setting her foot on the head and twsiting until the neck snapped off. Holding it between two hands, she joined the others by the door, nodding.

They were ready.

'Okay, on the count of three'. The group tensed, edging towards the door. The man tugged his cap down, 'One..Two..F*ck it, three!'

The doors swung open, shedding beams of sunlight through the dreary cabin. For a fleeting second, everything seemed unreal, like a fading dream tarnished by daybreak's bell. And then, the doors shut, leaving only hope trapped in the depths of darkness. Purna plunged headfirst into battle, joined by Mei, both of whom had first hand experience of combat.

Frozen in place, Logan stared in horror at the mangled corpses sprawled along the dusty beach. Muscle tissue was visable beneath the flayed skin. Rib cages were torn, intestines slithered along the golden sand like ugly, dying snakes. Limbs had been severed, chunks of skin savaged from the flesh. It was horrific, and had he not emptied his stomach, Logan knew he would have done so that very moment.

'You ready man?' Sam asked, equally disgusted by the macabre scene.

'No, you?'

'Hell no.'

Taking a breath, the musician placed one foot on the creaking stair, gasping when someone shoved him from behind. Hitting the floor with a dull thud, Sam cursed as he scrambled to his feet, catching a glimpse of the bloodied figure lurching towards him. Preparing his weapon, he released a wild outcry, smashing the paddle into it's exposed skull.

With a sickening crunch, the creature's skull shattered, sending shards of bone soaring through thr sky. A fountain of blood spurt from the wound, and in seconds the creature was still, a river of red staining the once white sand. Adrenaline surged, and Sam grew eager to kill the next one, rushing in like a hungy demon with a thirst for blood.

Purna jammed the edge of her broomstick through a walker's gaping mouth. With a scream and a shove, the wooden pole broke through the back of it's neck, tearing the lower half of it's jaw clean off. Tongue lolling helplessly, Purna tore her weapon free, crying out as she sent the serrated edge through it's eye socket. The flailing stopped, and she turned to find Mei and Logan fending off the reminaing dead.

The asian woman slit a female walkers throat, impaling her head on the unforgiving blade that sparkled in the sunlight. Blood trickled down the edge, and she yanked it back, flicking it with her wrist to shed the excess blood. Logan finished her off, smashing the tender skull with a swing of his bat. It became nothing more than pulp, the spinal cord cutting off where the cranium had burst.

Silence fell as everyone caught their breath, gasping in the fresh air turned stale. Sea salt enveloped the stench of death, forcing them to gag dry heaves that smothered them like ash.. Gristle clung to them like glue, rubbing against their skin, becoming a part of their clothing. The blood would not leave, seeping into their very pores and mixing with their own. But they were alive, and so was Sinamoi.

With a bitter laugh, the lifeguard sat on the cabin steps, his red polo and matching shorts masking the gloss of crimson that crept along his flesh. A tribal tattoo played around his right eye, creasing as he squinted through the midday gleam. It was a hollow victory, and as the cabin doors eased open, revealing the hesitant gaze of nervous guests, Purna, Sam, Mei and Logan each shared a knowing look.

Their journey had only just begun.

[PrideAssassin]

Yeehaw. Keep it rollin'.

[Screaming Zombina]

My god this is brilliant!