So I've started writing for National Novel Writing Month and the story I'm attempting to write is based in a zombie apocalyptic world.
That said, one aspect I've had to address is weaponry.
What will my character(s) (I haven't decided if I want/need more than just my main character) use to defend themselves against the undead.
I was a bit surprised at a weapons catalog I discovered in my mailbox today. Browsing through it was a bit of an eye opener as to the many ways we've come to develop tools for self-defense or stabbing or shooting or whatever the case may be.
I think one of the most interesting items was the Punisher sword. Cool as it may look, I'm unsure if I want someone fighting off zombies with a blade on his arm. That means close-combat. And to me, I want the possibility of being bitten very slim. Then again, maybe another character can use the sword-- someone who loves a good fight with his trusty arm blade.
As for my main character, I'm leaning more and more to him using archery as his primary way of dispatching foes. I understand that it'd be a bit cumbersome for him to carry around a bow with a quiver of arrows or even a crossbow with a pack of bolts but on the plus side, he'd be felling enemies in a somewhat quieter manner than blasting away with an Uzi. To me (and him), the less noise, the better... unless you're into attracting more zombies to your raucous behavior.
So far, I've only written a prologue. I spend a lot of my other time sort of plotting where I want the story to go and just who my main character is. For the most part, I want him to be like me. Not a carbon copy, mind you, but enough like me so that it's easier for me to feel how he feels and identify with his methods. That way I don't get caught up in 'Well, why would my character do that? That's not congruent with his personality.'
Anyway, I'll admit, I'm a bit excited this time around. My main character is about to embark on a journey and he and I both have no clue what we're going to encounter.
But it's going to be fun.
Amelia stared as the wall surged with bulbous pulsating life. What could it be? Whatever was approaching, she wasn't sure if she wanted to stand and watch or hop into her balloon and flee for her life. Brick walls were not supposed to bend to the will of what was behind them, but this one succumbed easily to the poking and prodding of the figures behind it.
ReplyDeleteSuddenly a lone finger stuck through, and finally she was afraid. It was gray with the decay of time, bloodied and halfway broken. The finger tore a hole in time and out of it burst ten dead men dripping with the warm innards of the living, thirsty for more. Most of them were blind at the piercing German evening sunlight; the destruction of war laid out behind her beneath the beautiful red sky. Funny, she was just thinking of the red sunset blanketing the red Earth, and here apparently dead beings were fighting their way into her realm.
One spied her standing alone without protection, her pistol left in the balloon. She wouldn't have expected such an attack; all she had on her was the letter opener she used to rip open Rob's throat as he descended on her without warning. Rob was still dead, she hoped, not living and--breathing? What kept these beasts going?
It advanced without warning or heed, and in the blink of an eye the creature was upon her. She screamed and tried to fight it off, but it was too powerful. The body was weak and old; she could tell an elderly man had died to give this spirit passage to the Earth, but as weak as that man must have been this creature was ten times as strong. It tried to bite, to rip her to shreds with its sharp nails, its gray skin flaking off onto her as they struggled into twilight.
Suddenly, the being went slack and let out a croak of a breath. The body slumped and finally died out, withering away back into the curled up remains of an old man. Amelia looked up in horror as the others followed suite. Whomever was shooting those arrows had the aim of Apollo behind him, and she knew he was far more dangerous than these creatures would have ever been.