Willits Out Break: The Beginning

This is my story so far of the Willits Out Break. I'm writing this as the out break goes on. Hope I stay alive.

(NOTE: This may sound "noobish", but this is all my own writing. This is just the story raw. I may actually turn it into a book or something, so please, don't use it.)



It was a day like any other, I was in my big, tan, La Z Boy recliner reading the newest edition of Sports Illustrated and drinking a cup of coffee that got eventually cold after sitting by my side for such a long period of time. The TV was on in front of me with its volume on low. I think the 10 o’clock news was on. Nothing really spectacular was happening, just a murder in another town, in the woods. It didn’t really peek my interest because I never thought anything bad would happen to me, but I did catch something about the murder. Like I said, it was in the woods. A cabin was found with mutilated bodies inside. They say maybe a bear or something with rabies may have came, broke into the house, killed and partially ate the family inside. The news reported about some crazy group of people coming on Larry King Live and said that aliens may have abducted the family, did gruesome experiments on them, and placed their bodies back in the cabin when they’re were done and had no more need for the bodies. Haha, yeah right. What a bunch of whack-jobs.
I just got done finishing my, now cold, coffee when I heard a frantic knock on my front door. I got up and looked through that little peep whole at the top of some doors to see whom it was. It was Jack McKinney, an old pal of mine from way back.. In fact, so way back, I met him in Kindergarten. I think Ms. Limpkin’s class. But back to subject now. Jack was a tall chap. He was more of a farm guy, even though he lives in town. Its funny because almost everyday he wears overalls, and today was one of those days. He has short blackish brown hair. I‘m about the same age as him, which happens to be 32. Today he had a peculiar white cloth wrapped around his left hand. I opened the door and as soon as I did he stumbled inside as fast as he could, which happened to be pretty slow since he was a burly fellow and the fast that he was wounded. He hobbled over to my La Z Boy and plopped right down in it. I noticed he had another cloth wrapped around is left, lower leg-segment. He then asked me if he could have some coffee. I said sure and went in the kitchen to get some. I herd a few sirens and saw a few cop cars zip by through the window above the sink while I got him and I coffee.
I brought the two cups and a stool in the living room. I gave him the coffee and he drank it up fast. I just sat on the rickety old stool and watch him. He then said, after he drank the coffee so furiously, he saw a wounded homeless man crouched in a alley way eating something, or as he called him: a hobo in really bloody rags. Jack just came back from the farmer’s market, which is in the countryside, and as soon as he hit the out skirts of the town he saw the homeless man. He placed his left hand on his shoulder and asked him if he needed help or a doctor. The hobo just turned around, looked at jack for about 3 seconds, then grabbed his hand with a grip of a body-builder and took a big chunk off with his mouth. Jack then turned away as fast as he could, and tried to run away as fast as he could. Since Jack is slow, he didn’t get very far and the demented hobo crawled over ONLY using his hands, grabbed at his leg, and only left deep scratches before jack kicked the pursuing homeless man as hard as he could, right in the old noggin. The hobo flew back and cracked its skull on the pavement. Jack noticed, where he first met the man, was a body, mutilated and partially eaten as described in the news report. Right after that, Jack came to the closest house he saw that he knew someone who lived there, which happened to be mine.
I asked Jack if I could take a look at his wounds. He said, “Sure, they’re numb anyway.” I unwrapped the cloth, which Jack found on the street, to find the wound, mostly closed up, but with a large, swelled, brown and purple, mound of skin. Same with his leg scrapes. Jack said that he didn’t feel so good, and was extremely hot. I took his temperature and it was 103°F. He has a fever. I got out the trusty, old, blue bag that you fill with ice and place on your head. I let Jack sleep in my bed with that on while I dialed 911. All I heard was that sound on the phone when it means the line is tied up. “Maybe this happened to people all over the town. Maybe drunken or drugged hobos with no use of their legs are attacking people.” I thought. “No, that cant be. That’s just extremely crazy. Maybe perhaps a gang is on drugs, and attacked people, and the hobo somehow got his hands on some drugs. Possibly even a cult is biting people. I don’t know. All I know is that there’s a crazy hobo on the loose, Jack is injured, and the 911 phone lines are tied up. Great, just great.”
While Jack is upstairs, I went and locked the doors and turned on the TV. The news channel was still on. They’re saying something about “invincible, cannibalistic, human beings roaming through the town and attacking, then eating whomever they see.” I intensely watch more. I hear sirens repeatedly going by my house, even a few screams once and a while. Man and women ones. The news continues to talk about the “beings”. They said they couldn’t be stopped no matter what, except one way. They said it’s not proven, but reported, that destroying the head, and mainly the brain area kills the “beings”. They bring on a guy, sort of Asian looking, who said he had a first hand experience with these beings about a half hour ago. He said that he was cornered. There were two of the creatures cornering him. The man’s first instinct was to start stabbing the men with his pocketknife he carries around, so he did just that. He stabbed one in the arm. Nothing happened except the being just started snapping at the Asian guy. The Asian guy quickly went under the cannibal’s legs. He stabbed the one again, several times in the back, right in the kidney, being cautious not to let the beings bite him, nor scratch him. Still nothing happened except the monsters kept trying to grab and bite him even more. It took all his courage, but he then stabbed one right through the eye socket and it died. He than ran away as fast as he could. Luckily he found a car with keys in it. It went to the local police station, which happened to be tremendously crowded with people. He saw the news people’s van and saw the crew filming. He then told them about what happened and now he’s telling the world right now, about what happened.
I just got done watching all the News until it took a break. Just then, I heard the screams of Jack. He was calling my name and yelling, “Jack! JACK! They’re back! They ate all my limbs. AHH!” Scared for my own life, and not knowing what was actually happening, I got my loaded .22 from my cabinet above my fridge. I slowly walked up stairs, still hearing his now not as load screams coming from my upstairs bedroom. I carefully approached the door then side kicked it open and held my gun with both hands facing the inside of the room. Nothing was different about my room except Jack in my bed and vomit all over the floor. I went in slowly, Jack looking at me and lightly calling Jack with his arm out facing me. I approached my desk and sat in the desk chair beside my bed. Jack looked at me with blood-shot eyes and said, “I can’t feel my limbs, the hobo musta ate my arms and legs. Did he jack? Why is that dog in the room? And that scary looking man, why is he here too?” I stood up with my gun out quickly, in shock. I looked around the room. No man, no dog. I thought, “What the heck is he talking about.” I said, “Jack, your limbs are still there, and what man and dog are you talking about?” He just spaced out looking beside me. “Th-that sca-scary guy behind you…” he muttered in fear. I lunged forward and turned around. Nothing, nothing but a mirror was behind me.
Just shaking my head in confusion, I went downstairs to get the thermometer once again. When I just walking into my kitchen…BAM! A man flew through my window. The glass shattered everywhere was the mangled mans body landed on the floor. I put my gun up, waited about 30 seconds, and looked out the window. A man was fighting off about two of those “immortal” creatures in my front yard. He took a quick glimpse at me and then shouted, “Hurry, shoot one in the blue in the head or its gonna kill me!”. The man smashed one of the creature’s heads with a steel bat. The man was strong because with only one swing the head almost flew right off its own shoulders. I did as the guy said. I took aim at the creature in the blue t-shirt’s head. I slowly pulled the trigger and it shot, but missed the head completely. I did the same again, and the same thing happened again. The third shot finally shot the creature right in the back of the head, spraying a red, sticky mist of blood onto the guy’s forehead. The creature dropped to its knees, then fell completely as the man wiped the blood off his face with a rag that was in his pocket.
The man from the front yard, who was average height, was very muscular, and had a 5 o’clock shadow, walked into my house and lied on the couch. “Thanks man. I woulda been a goner if it weren’t for you and your goo- um, shooting. Those zombies are everywhere,” he said, lying on the couch. “Wait, what did you say, zombies?!?” I exclaimed. The man sat up and looked me in the eyes, “Those things, they have no pulse, they are cannibalistic, they can’t die without their head being blown off, for heavens sake; I saw one’s severed head still moving and trying to trying to bite peoples feet off!”
“So, what’s the plan,” I asked. “What plan? There is no plan,” responded the man.
So, after that "conversation" I got onto the computer to see what the heck was going on. I searched through site after site and found this site. I'm just posting my story here. Maybe YOU can help me.

-7:26 AM. Um, the 14th or something, July, 2008-