Epilogue - I Am LegendEven the hero John Daring was not immune to the poisons of radiation.John wandered the deserted streets of Raccoon City in his tattered police uniform. It had scarcely been three days since the apocalypse and already everything seemed to be crumbling into ashes. Sure, the ashes were figurative, and most of the crumbling was done by his shotgun when he found pockets of survivors who had banded together to start anew, but it sucked all the same. On top of the desolation, John was down to three major and two minor patches of hair and only two teeth. It was not a pleasant situation and even the canned peaches failed to take the edge off the hunger that growled in his belly.
He had occasionally dispatched roaming packs of zombies and he contemplated whether or not this would be his fate. If he did turn into a flesh-eating zombie he knew that he would have a hard road to hoe considering the whole two teeth issue. Most of the zombies he had encountered lacked the motor skills to use a fork and knife. His only hope was to make it to the hardware store and superglue a running chainsaw to his hand.
He shambled towards the ruins of the store and began sifting through the rubble. It took several hours but he managed to find a small chainsaw and a roll of industrial duct tape that had survived the blast. At the nearby gas station he scavenged up a gas can containing fuel and poured it carefully into the chainsaw.
Night was coming and with it would come the zombies. He had only a few shotgun rounds so he hoped that death would finally and mercifully claim him before their arrival. He revved the chainsaw taped to his hand and with a sigh passed away from this mortal coil. Fortunately, the chainsaw stayed taped to his hand. Unfortunately, he did not return as one of the living dead. I could explain why but the whole thing is convoluted and involves this ridiculous subplot I had in the outline about government experiments on soldiers and a program to create the super soldier that I ripped off from Return to Castle Wolfenstein that they, I'm sure, ripped off from something else. Not that it's really important, no more important than gophers on the beach at high tide.
Yeah, that sounds pretty evocative.
This isn't about harassment. It's about ethics in cat journalism.
Can you please give Golgura a trophy? How about Tallest Monster? I speak not for Golgura now. He is stepping on us villagers out of anger. In his wisdom he has flattened my son.
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