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Dead Things Should Stay Dead- Ryan

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Dead Things Should Stay Dead


June 17th

    Mark, Stan, and I finally got around to leaving St. Louis…


    “Hey Ryan, you got any more Slim Jims?” Mark asked me for probably the hundredth time.

    “Last one,” I replied, “I’m trying to save these you know.”

“I know, but I didn’t know Tabasco flavor was this good.”

    “You should have decided to try them before the world decided to throw a curveball at us.”

    “Guys, please quit arguing over Slim Jims already, it’s frustrating enough trying to navigate through this traffic without you two added to the pile,” Stan said.

    He was correct, the traffic was awful. If only we’d left St. Louis sooner, but it took too long to pack, and even longer for me to get to Mark’s house. The worst part though, was the wrecks. They created roadblocks, which slowed traffic down to a snarl.

    “Hey Stan?” Mark asked.

    “What Mark?” Stan replied.

    “Well, I was thinking, and, nobody would be driving toward St. Louis, right?”

    “Yeah, probably, why?”

“Well, if that’s the case, we could switch over to the other side of the interstate, still heading the same way of course, and escape all of the traffic.”

“That’s genius!” Stan said.

“Can I have another Slim Jim now?” Mark asked me.

“Here we go again!” Stan proclaimed

this is my first post  in a line of segments from my short story I'm editing

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I approve of slim jims.


It's good that you worked some humour into your story. All too often people write dark and distressing stories that end up monotonous and depressing to read. Good to have characters that are actually interesting, rather than an army of Rick Grimes clones.

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Thanks, that's what I was going for King Kitteh. And now some more of my story.

June 18th

    Today we ran out of gas…


    We decided to pull over at the side of the road so that nobody would fall asleep at the wheel. We noticed a few of the Infected wandering around, but they didn’t notice us. I slept pretty good, for being in the back seat of a van, with creatures trying to eat you alive at every turn.

    When I woke up, I went to grab a Slim Jim-Mark and Stan were asleep-and found one missing.

“Must’ve miscounted,” I said to myself, certain that there were 16 Slim Jims in my bag the night before.

It was almost eleven in the morning when we ran out of gas.

“I thought you had more gas,” I said to Mark.

“I did,” he replied “But you let some thief take it back in the suburbs!”

“Guys, calm down!” It was obvious that Stan was having a hard time “The nearest town is about a mile away, that’s 20 minutes walking.”

“What town?” I asked.


That’s what got us out of the cramped van into the open air. We made sure to bring the baseball bats Stan brought, along with basic supplies, water, and Slim Jims-Mark’s idea- much to my dismay. Luckily for us, Mark’s theory was correct, for the most part, but the closer we go to Columbia, the more abandoned cars we came across. We passed quite a few gas stations-due to the signs with NO GAS written on them- before we came across a Phillips 66, lacking the deterring sign, of course.

“Hey Ryan?” Mark asked me.


“Why did it take us this long just to get to Columbia? We should be in Kansas City by now, right?”

“Well; A we left St. Louis a bit late, B traffic, C we stopped at nine last night, and D military checkpoints. Combine all these factors, and that’s why we’re only this far.”

“OK, makes sense.”

We passed an overturned semi and went to the closest pump. Mark was getting out empty gas cans from his duffel bag when I noticed all the dead bodies, all of which with holes in their skulls.

“Hey, I’m gonna go look inside, see if I can find anything,” Stan said.

“OK. Oh! Hey, take this,” Mark then gave Stan a pocket knife, “Figure it might come in handy.”

As he walked inside we started filling up empty gas cans. Then we heard the moans. They were up the street about 100 yards, but approaching fast.

“Ryan, go get Stan, I’ll hold them off until then,” Mark said.

I quickly headed toward the building when I turned my head to see how Mark was doing. It was a nightmare, those things were everywhere, for every single one that Mark killed, two more would take their place. I turned to face the building and literally ran into Stan.

“HURRY UP!” Mark yelled.

Stan went inside and grabbed his bat, while I grabbed mine leaning up against a blood covered car. Then we ran.

After running for about five minutes we were tired. We were heading to the van, about 100 feet ahead, with no hope of losing them.

“We’re almost to the van!” Stan yelled.

Mark got there first and started filling the van with gas as they came upon us.

“It’s no use get in here already!” Stan yelled

We got in and quickly shut and locked all the doors. We ended up stuck, in a van, with no foreseeable way out.

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SnapTheFurryFox is a Zombie Squad person for sure! And Keshash, I agree, they need some sort of snack-stick in game. This update is short, but it's not my shortest.

June 19th

    They never gave up…


    The horde just kept on pounding and moaning, never giving up. We sat there for hours before we fell asleep. When we woke up they were still there, pounding away at the doors. Stan got out his pocket knife and started fiddling with it, trying to get it to open.

    “Dang it! This thing’s a piece of crap!” He shouted, tossing the knife into the floorboard, which was preceded by a click as the saw blade came out.

    “A saw,” he said quite disappointed. “Hey! I could use the screwdriver again.”

    I was a bit confused by the again part, but I understood his plan. A while later we had killed them all by stabbing through the eye. We then fueled up the van and drove straight through Columbia, still heading west to Kansas City.

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Hey guys, I'm no longer going to be posting on this topic. I just got a great oppurtunity to update me story . In short I'll have a whole week just to work on my story, and when Im done I'll statr a new topic for those who like it to read it. Read ya then!:)

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