Zombies!

Here you go, the beginning of a story that I started a while back.  Have fun.  

Chapter 1:

August

+12:00

“No!  Henry!  We can’t leave Henry!”

August grabbed on to his mother’s sleeve.  His mother kicked him off.  He stumbled to the ground.  She stared at him with wide eyes.  Her eyebrows trembled. 

“Run!  August, run!”

August pushed himself up on his knees.  He glanced behind him.  At henry.  August’s dog.  His best friend.  It couldn’t be. 

He couldn’t be eaten alive by zombies.

The people, they were once people, they pushed their fingernails into Henry’s flesh, which quivered underneath and came up soft and warm for their blackened teeth to bite.  Blood spurted from torn arteries.  Bits of offal dropped to the ground. 

August put his hands over his ears. 

“No, no, mommy,”  he lifted up his head to the sky, “Henry!”  

A zombie twisted its head around to peer at August.  Its eyes bulged.  It moaned and dropped the piece of dog flesh that hung between its fingers.  Flesh showed between its teeth.  It stumbled up onto two feet and lurched down the little suburban street towards August. 

August reached towards the monster. 

“Please, Mr. Teniis, you don’t want to eat Henry, he doesn’t taste very good, see—“

Arms wrapped around August’s stomach.  From behind.  The Mr. Teniis zombie glanced up above August’s head.  It broke into a run.  It screamed.  Other zombies joined the chase.

The arms lifted August up into the air.  He landed on his father’s shoulders, which smelled of aftershave, and of bloody sweat.  A thick bite mark pulsed on his father’s neck, in front of August’s nose.  August turned his head away. 

His father sprinted past his mother, who stumbled down the street with her arms in front of her.  Father gripped Mother’s sleeve and yanked her along.  August craned his neck to look back at Henry.  A heavy hand pushed his head back down.  Into the bite mark.  Blood covered the tip of his nose.  Father sucked in air through his teeth and continued to run.  The zombies got father away.  The did not move fast.  Sometimes they fell over, and then got back up again.  The suburban landscape scrolled by.  They passed underneath a big sign, lettered in all capitols. 

Welcome to Innerston, Indiana.

Population-12,987

Dog Trot Capitol of the world.

Father yanked August’s head down so that he couldn’t see the sign anymore.  They passed underneath.  Zombies stood around in front of them.  They caught sight of Father and Mother and ran forwards with their arms out and their mouths open.  Father dodged past groping arms.  Black fingernails brushed against August’s leg.  August shivered. 

Mother jerked Father to the side. 

“There!  There are people in there!  Look at the boards!”

Father pulled away. 

“No!  They’ll kill us!  They’ll kill our son!  They know I’m—“

Mother slapped Father, hard.  Her fingernails scraped August’s face. 

“Get the hell over here!” 

Father slumped.  He followed Mother up to the door of a boarded up house with big white wood columns.  A curious face poked through the cracks.  A gun followed. 

“Who are you?  What do you want?” 

Mother broke down.  She slammed at the door. 

“Let us in!  Let us in, please!” 

Zombies closed in all around.  They crashed through doors across the street.  They climbed out of cars parked along the side of the road. 

The welcome sign fluttered in the wind against a loose nail. 

The curious face popped back into the house.  The door clicked.  It flung open.  A plump lady with a shotgun in her arms ushered Mother and Father in. 

“Come!  Come!  We don’t want to leave anyone behind, that’s just unchristian!”

Mother collapsed past the doorway. 

“Everything is unchristian, nowadays.” 

The plump lady slammed the door shut behind Father and locked it tight, then placed a board across it. 

“Tell me about it, hon.”  She glanced at Father. 

“What’s the little guy’s name?” 

Father dropped August down on a plump red couch.  A little girl about his age scampered to make room.  A family of black people huddled in one corner.  An old man peered down from upstairs. 

Fists rattled the boarded up windows.  Father slumped down on the couch beside August. 

“His name’s August.  My name is Winston.”  He jammed his thumb in mother’s direction. 

“Her name’s Janis.” 

The plump lady laid her gun down beside the door.  She wiped her hands together. 

“My name’s Christie.”  She waved at the black family.  “These are the Applinesons.” 

The father of the family gave a curt nod.  Two little boys hid behind his legs.  The plump lady motioned to the little girl beside August. 

“We don’t know her name, or who she belongs to.  She won’t talk.”  She motioned upstairs, at the old man.  “That’s George.  He fought in Vietnam, the gun and house are his.”

George climbed down the stairs.  He tapped a cane in front of him.  He stooped over.  He stopped at the midway landing. 

“Welcome.  I have food enough for everybody, at least for a while.  You can get comfortable.” 

The black family shuffled.  The little girl beside August pressed her face into a pillow. 

A rotten arm smashed through a window and jammed against a board.  Teeth showed through the gap.  Christie jerked the gun up from its place by the wall and pushed it through the gap.  She pulled the trigger.

Boom!

August slammed his hands to his ears.  They rang.  Gunpowder smell filled the room.  The little girl beside August cried out into her pillow.  Christie loaded another shell into the gun with a satisfied click. 

The sound of the zombies grew louder.  More arms broke through the windows.  On the stairs, the old man gave his head a slow shake.  Christie raised her gun up. 

Father leapt off the couch and muscled her aside.  He ripped the gun out of her hands. 

“Pardon me for my rudeness, but that was a dammed stupid thing to do.”  He took the gun and protected it with his arms.

Christie shrunk towards the wall.  Zombie faces pushed through the boards in the windows.

Mother pushed herself up from the floor and straddled Father’s waist.  She pulled him away from Christie.

“Winston, no, don’t be—“

Father tripped on a piece of wood.  The gun in his arms slipped down.  His finger yanked on the trigger.  The barrel pointed straight at Christie’s head. 

Boom!

August squinted his eyes closed.  The little girl beside him screamed.  The black family huddled closer together. 

The old man sputtered.  He held his hand to his chest.  The beams that he leaned on cracked.  His body thumped to the floor.  A vase spilled.  Water seeped into the bottom of the wallpaper. 

The black father rushed towards the fallen old man. 

“Heart attack!  He’s had a heart attack!”

A zombie pushed its whole torso through a window near the door.  It rasped.  Its arms grappled with the wall.  They gripped Mother’s hair.  Mother slammed against the wall.  The zombie sank its teeth into her neck.  She didn’t scream.  Her eyes closed and she fell limp.  Father roared.  He brought the gun around and fired it. 

Boom!

The bullet went wild.  It split off half of Mother’s face, then dislodged most of the boards that protected the window she pressed against.  The zombies pulled her through.  Father glance around himself with a crazed fire in his eyes.  He put the shotgun to his feet.  He put the barrel in his mouth. 

Click.

Father’s eyes snapped open.  He looked around the room in a rage.  He took the gun up in his arms, stock raised high.  He jumped through the open window.  His shirt caught on a broken piece of glass.  He lodged in the space.  Zombies tore at his head and shoulders.  He screamed. 

A zombie burst from a door on the second floor and toppled down onto the black man and the dead old man.  The black man collapsed under the weight.  He screamed.  His family sobbed. 

August’s mind kicked into action.  His body moved without thought.  He grabbed the arm of the little girl beside him.  He yanked her off the couch and through the center of the room.  His sneakers tracked in blood and bits of grey matter.  He found the back door and unlocked it.  No zombies bashed at it from the other side. 

The remainder of the black family stared at August and the girl.  August stared at them back.  He forgot how to speak.  He turned to the door and swiped it open.  He jumped through.  He dragged the little girl outside.  A treehouse ladder ran up the side of a big elm tree in the corner of the yard.  August ran towards it.  He gripped the first wooden rung.  He yanked on the girl’s hand. 

“Come on!” 

The girl stared at August with huge eyes. 

August tried to pick her up.  His arms wouldn’t. 

The girl rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve.  She set forth with a determined look.  She gripped the first rung next to August.  They climbed. 

Screams erupted from the house below.  One of the black family’s children ran out into the yard.  A zombie lurched out behind him—his father.  The boy turned to the zombie and began to plead.  The zombie topple onto the boy and took a bite out of his neck. 

August’s body kicked him with adrenaline.  He made it to the trapdoor to the treehouse and pushed it up.  He climbed in.  He looked around.  Brown boxes surrounded him.  A gun leaned in the corner, another on a table underneath a window.  Stacks of bottle water stood underneath another wall. 

The girl climbed in behind him.  She pulled the trapdoor into place behind herself.  She leaned against a wall and buried her face in her hands.  August sat down and stared at her.  

A selection from Power Trip

Since nobody's reading these, anyways, I think it's fine for me to go non-linear.  Here's my one beta-reader's favorite part of my book, Power Trip.  Enjoy.

  King took one last look at Sand’s equipment.  Then a big grin crossed his face.  It reminded Sand of Jax.  “Do you want to take the fun way down?” 

Jax tilted her head.  “The fun—“ the implication of the phrase as applied to where they were hit her in the face.  She shook her head vigorously.  “No.  Never.  Let’s take the ladder.” 

King strolled to the edge of the observatory.  He lifted one foot off and held out his arms.  “Time is of the essence!  Make sure to land on a reinforced limb!  Channel your power only when you’re sure of how you will hit the ground!”  He leaned dangerously forwards.  The wind whipped his hair into an ocean blue storm like real waves.  He grinned mischievously.  His mannam circuits colored deep green. 

Jax’s circuits colored bright red.  Every muscle in her body tensed. 

Sand decided to do something about it.  He grasped her arm.  He powered up his limbs and pulled.  Jax held fast to the floor but she budged.  Sand pulled harder.  Exhilaration built in his body, anticipation funneled into his stomach.  He grinned like a maniac.

Jax closed her eyes.  She took a deep breath.  And she ran forwards.  She jerked Sand along with her and then threw herself off the side of the observatory and into thin air.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  And she shouted in ecstatic joy. 

“Yahoooooo!”

Chapter 24: Dead Men

The wind tore at Sand’s face.  It ripped his lips back past his cheeks.  It forced the water back into his eyes.  It rippled in his ears.  It smacked straight into his chest and pulled the cord on some internal organ and flooded his body with lightning.  Jax’s hands clamped onto his arms with visceral pressure.  Her hair streamed out behind her in full frosty brilliance.  The ground twirled.  They stayed together and did not move.  The world bent for them.  The wind tore at them but they did not part.  Jax let out another whoop of exhalation.  Sand blinked hard and joined her.  The ground came up to meet them.  Sand imagined how they would land.  He could not think straight.  The world moved too fast.  More lightning whipped through his body.  He closed his eyes tight and trusted his instincts.  He moved so that he would be there to catch Jax if she didn’t land right.  He flooded the circuits in his legs and in his spine.  He formed a card barrier around his soft parts, his forehead, his neck. 

Wham! 

The ground’s impact rocketed through his entire body with explosive rigor.  Jax’s arm landed hard on his shoulder.  But his legs locked.  The impact traveled through him like through a metal beam.  The flood of energy in his life circuits flowed straight against the energy of his fall and negated it.  The pavement cracked.  Sand staggered.  Jax fell to her knees.  But she was laughing.  And crying.  She toppled onto her back and stared up at the sky. 

Whap! 

King landed a few feet away.  Splinters of stone stung Sand’s cheeks.  He lifted his arm to shield himself.  He felt dizzy, but alive.  He looked down to check on Jax.  She stared with open eyes up at the building which she had fallen from.  Sand followed her gaze.  It looked truly magnificent.  The window out of which they had jumped was no bigger than an ant.  Sand brought his thumb up to his eye and covered it entirely.  He grinned big. 

King stepped over a pockmarked landscape to get to where Sand and Jax had landed.  It looked as if the fun way out were a regular occurrence.  Big hunks of fluid stone gaped at horrendous angles.  Around the edge of the building the ground churned like a field under plow.  King reached where Jax had landed and put out his hand to help her up.  Jax accepted and the two stood at right angles to each other for a split second.  Jax smiled. 

“Dad, that was awesome.” 

King gave a broad smile.  “I’m glad.”  He turned away from the building, down the straight street which ran across the side on which they had landed.  He brushed himself off.  “Sixth street is this way.”  He began to run.  

You can but Power Trip Here.  It's $2.99, a pretty good price, all things considered.  

Exactly 2000 words at a time (Binary Seven #1)

So I'm going to post the novel that I'm writing right here on this blog, 2000 words per day.  Exactly.  To the dot.

Even if the installment ends in the middle of a sentence.

I'll be doing this until it's over, which may be a long time, considering the fact that the average length of my novels is 90,000 words.  So, buckle up.  Get excited.  Here it comes.

Binary Seven

0001: Binary-0111

“No, I don’t want to join your union.” 

Aldon Jax stood underneath a scaffold, which stretched up to the top of an unfinished planetary defense cannon, pointed at the skies of the planet Haruna.  Two small white suns rotated around the horizon and cast healthy light on the skyscrapers which filled the city in which the cannon sat.

Three men in black suits and yellow plasteel hard hats stood in front of Aldon.  The first one lifted up his sunglasses.  He looked straight up at the suns above.  He didn’t need to blink.  He grinned. 

“Are you sure?  You know, what with the Overlords coming and all, things are going to get pretty hectic.  You might need your job security then.” 

Aldon kicked at a stray bolt on the ground.  It rattled.  He looked up at the smaller white sun, Gemini. 

“When they do come, job security will be the least of my problems.” 

A poster curled in the wind above Aldon’s head.  It unfurled to reveal a robotic monster, with six legs, a scorpion’s tail, and the face of the devil in chrome plates. 

Defend against the Overlords!  Do your part in the defense of humanity!

The Navy needs you!

The poster furled back with the wind.  The pasty torn plastifiber sheet covered up the image. 

 Aldon looked at the men who stood behind the union boss.  He laid his hand against the side of the panel he worked on.  A riveting hammer leaned against the metal.  Aldon’s fingers closed around a half-punched rivet. 

“I don’t need what you’re offering.  I can make my own job security.” 

The union boss’s face flashed in anger.  He grabbed an electronic cigar from his breath pocket, lit it with the press of a button, and pointed the glowing end at Aldon.  The twin suns of Haruna distorted the light into an ethereal mess.  The boss put it to his lips. 

“You’ll regret that.” 

He took a long puff, placed the cigar back into the pocket of his suit, and turned on his heels.  His henchmen turned a half second later.  They clomped down the steel walkway and into the street below the cannon.  Electric cars hummed past.  Bits of plastifiber fluttered in the soft wind. 

Aldon turned back to his work.  He picked up his hammer and finished his rivet.  He picked up another rivet.  He pressed it against the metal.  He hammered, twice.  His muscled arms forced the hammer into hard contact with the metal heads.  The moist air of Haruna’s denser-than earth atmosphere beaded on his brow.

Later, the second sun of Haruna, Lupis, passed underneath the city’s thirteenth space elevator, at the far west corner of the city’s main street.  The other elevators stretched out behind it in a straight line, all in alignment with the planet’s equator.  Huge platforms sprinted up and down at high speeds. 

For thirty seconds, the City of New Tokyo went dark—from overhead.  Lights blasted out all over the buildings in crazy patterns of neon color.  The sun Gemini peeked over the horizon.  The lights of New Tokyo dimmed, then rescinded underneath the first sun’s soft glare. 

Aldon hung his riveting hammer in his belt.  Other workers rode the light elevators down from the scaffolding up above.  They held automatic equipment, some of it embedded in their flesh.  Power-riveters flashed in bold, bright colors.  Those who had them ignored Aldon, and the rest of those who did not have them.  Aldon ignored the ignorers, and clocked out at the company booth.  He leaned in for his retina scan and blinked when the bright lasers shot into his eye for a split second.  He stepped out of line and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.  He entered the elevated walkway above 5^th street.  Electric cars rolled beneath.  Skyscrapers towered above.  Aldon made the turn down to 34^th street, and changed walkways.  The world quieted down.  The skyscrapers grew squatter.  Denser.  Aldon stepped off of the walkway and into an alleyway between apartments.  Native weeds sprouted up from cracks with grey hooks that pushed the concrete further apart.  Aldon rounded a corner.

He faced a dump.  The place where people put their electronic equipment when they wanted to get rid of it but didn’t want to pay the processing fees.  Aldon stepped up the pile, over a familiar path.  He browsed the junk for anything new.  He spotted a green sheen.  A little jolt of excitement shot through his chest.  He moved in to inspect it. 

A holographic playing card deck.  Aldon picked it up.  His arm jolted.  He dropped it in a spasm of pain.  A shorted haptic system.  Impossible to fix.  Aldon kicked the box away.  He climbed up higher.  Grey concrete walls rose above him.  He reached the edge, still far below the squat skyscraper that towered above. 

A flash of blue caught his eye.  He lifted a beam of twisted metal.  More blue showed itself.  He kicked away a ball of plastifiber.  He dug through a days-old pile of rotten vegetables.  He tossed them aside.  Soft skin appeared.  Too soft to be real.  An arm.  With a number tattooed on the shoulder, behind a word. 

Binary-0111. 

Written in cheap ink below:

Botone.

Aldon pushed up a fat piece of rusted steel.  The rest of the body showed itself.  An android.  Female.  Blue hair, closed eyes, and a pretty face.  Of course.  All androids had pretty faces. 

Aldon pushed down his excitement.  He brushed off the android’s lips, and searched for an on button.  He found none.  He felt around her backside.  No button.  He ran his hand down her legs, through a wash of rotten vegetable pulp.  He shook his hand off.  No button.  He tried to lift up the android’s eyelids.  He pressed hard on her eyelashes.  He breathed on her face, and polished it.

The android’s eyes flicked open.

Aldon lost his balance.  He flung his arms up.  He tottered on the edge of a beam of metal.  Twisted rebar reached up to meet his back.  He grabbed at a chain embedded in the pile.  It came loose with a shuffle.  His weight shifted.  The rebar swooned up to meet him.

An arm caught his shoulder.  The android.  She lifted him up with robotic ease, in a fluid motion more human than a human’s.  She caught him.  She stood up from her knees, and she brought Aldon up with him.  She picked carrot peel out of her hair.  Aldon sat back and stared at her. 

“What’s your designation?” 

The android looked at Aldon with a curious eye.  It said nothing. 

Aldon muttered to himself. 

“Great. Broken.” 

The android touched Aldon’s shoulders.  She shook her head. 

Aldon raised one eyebrow. 

The android copied him. 

“Your facial recognition and speech software are intact, at least.” 

The android nodded. 

“What else can you do?”

The android looked up, then back down.  She shrugged. 

Aldon looked at the tattoo on her shoulder. 

“Is that your designation?” 

The android nodded, then shook her head.  She pointed to the tattoo below the numbers. 

Botone. 

Aldon read it. 

“Is that your name?” 

The android smiled.  She nodded. 

Aldon rolled the word on his tongue. 

“Botone.  What does it mean?” 

The android pushed herself up.  She turned towards the exit to the garbage patch, then began to climb down.  Aldon scrambled to his feet. 

“Hey!  Where are you going?  Do you have an owner, or something?” 

The android climbed down in silence. 

Aldon bumbled his way down the pile of trash, until his feet struck against solid concrete.  Botone stopped with him.  She glanced at him, and stood still.  Aldon looked down the alleyway, then at her. 

“Do you want me to take you home?  I might be able to do something about that voice box of yours.”

Botone shook her head.  Aldon frowned. 

“You don’t want me to take you home?  Or you don’t think that I can fix you?”

Botone held up two fingers. 

Aldon laughed.  He clapped Botone on the shoulder. 

“Come on.  I’ll show you what I can do.” 

He took her arm and pulled her along the alleyway.  She weighed less than a normal human, even for her size.  All androids did.  Her eyes stared out ahead, wide open.  She blinked in perfect rhythm.  Her blue hair rustled out behind her neck.

Aldon turned the corner onto the main street.  He slowed his gait.  He held Botone close to himself. 

“Do you me to fix you?”

Botone nodded.  She gave a soft smile. 

Aldon glanced around at the pedestrians in the walkway.  Advertisements glared down from half-clear windows.  Pedestrians ignored them and him.  He pulled Botone closer to himself. 

An advertisement jumped up close to where Aldon walked.  Aldon waved his hand at it. 

“No, I don’t want it.” 

The advertisement shimmered.  It chased after him.  A beautiful android with skin that glowed pointed at Botone.  The android’s body merged flat with the shape of the window.  Buildings showed through from behind it.  It opened its mouth to speak. 

“Are you having trouble with your current—“

The voice dropped, turned robotic—

“Error.  Reader ID unknown—“

It returned to normal. 

“model android?”

Aldon pulled Botone away from the screen.  He muttered to himself. 

“ID card must be fried.  Which means that the desultory matrix motherboard must be damaged.  That might explain the—“

The advertisement blew up huge on the window beside him.  Aldon increased his pace.  Botone stared at the android in the picture.  The android smiled, and pointed to its shoulder. 

Forge-XXXX

“Then you need a new Forge model android!  The latest in the award winning Alphabet android series, my model will—“

Aldon slammed his fist against the glass. 

“Go away.” 

Botone lifted up her finger and pressed it on the advertisement’s center.  The picture fizzled.  Linear visual artifacts appeared at the edges.  The voice went low.

“Will—will—will …” 

The advertisement flickered off.  The city showed through.  Aldon stared at Botone. 

“What did you do?” 

Botone pointed her finger at Aldon and smiled.  Aldon shrugged, and turned back towards his destination.  He led Botone beside himself.   

He took the 34^th street exit and entered into a run-down apartment building lobby.  A few other workers scattered around.  They came or went to their shifts across the city.  Aldon took the electric lift up to the 56^th floor.  He stepped out with Botone against his arm.  He led her down a dilapidated hallway.  A camera blinked in the corner of the wall.  Thick paint covered its lens.  Sparks ran down from wires exposed beneath it.  Aldon stepped in front of a door.  He lifted up a physical key, and put it to the lock.  The door opened.  Lights flickered on.  Aldon looked both ways, and then jerked Botone inside.  He closed the door behind himself and locked it.

He stood in the center of a single room, with a bed in one corner, a stove in another, bits of salvaged equipment in the third, and a desk underneath a bright headlamp in the fourth.  Aldon dragged Botone over to the desk.  He let go of her, and met her eyes.  They focused on his own in a precise fashion.  A piece of vegetable matter hung on her cheek.  Aldon wiped it off.  He leaned up close to her face and inspected it under his light.  He picked up a device from the desk and pushed it into her ear.  He took another device, with two sharp blades, and slit open her throat with it.  A blue line appeared, and Botone’s skin unraveled to reveal a dark plasteel interior.  Artificial tendons crisscrossed in front of ultra-light fiber spine disks.  Electrical wires bunched up in the corners.  Some of them sparkled.  Black spots encroached upon a white sythrubber tendon. 

Aldon shoved his desk clean.  A half-put together miniature computer tablet clattered to the floor among a shower of nuts and assorted pieces of 


That's not counting the title, if you're counting.  

I'm thinking about ...

Story ideas.  They're really kind of ...

Crazy.  Disjointed.  In that sort of place of your mind where anything and everything can happen, anywhere at all.  But at the same time, story ideas that pop into my head have reason.  They have source.  For example, I will watch

One morning, and read

(And hate on

because god, it was a horrible adaptation.  Why am I doing all of this in the morning?  I don't know.)

And my brain will be full of stuff about zombies.  And then, I'll read

and listen to

And then I will think, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if ..."  

Let's be honest here.  It would be cool.  So, in this universe, what would happen?  Who would be our protagonist?  What would our problem be?  Would it be like

Fighting

on 

?

Or would it be like 

and 

at the same time and

would have to save them all?

I'll go with the first one.  Vocaloids, they sing, right?  Well, what if, they're like they are in their own world, they're robots produced to sing, and then, because they're fully functional androids, they get drafted into the militia to fight the zombie virus that's sweeping the galaxy.  So these vocaloids don't want to fight, all they want to do is sing, but the galaxy is at stake.  The zombies--let's make them traditional zombies, that spread through infected ship hulls--are everywhere.  But the vocaloids are androids, so they're immune.  And so they're put into a special task force that extricates people from planets all around.  No, they'd be part of a shock force.  An army.  An army of re-purposed androids to liberate the planet under quarantine.  

Now, let's twist it.  They're re purposed androids of all kinds.  Burger flippers, schoolteachers, vocaloids, all of them form the core of the army.  They've been drafted because the galaxy is in peril.  There is no economy.  All of the major cities on all of the major planets have been infected.  Only one little moon is left for humans to make their stand on. 

So our main character is a vocaloid, yes.  But she has comrades that are of all types.  They don't want to do this job at first.  They do it so that they won't get scrapped, because they have no other use in a war-time economy.  They're reluctant, zombie-immune soldiers that are tasked with the assistance of the main human liberation force.  All they want to do is survive.  

Our character.  Let's call her Rain.  What happens to keep her from her goal of survival?  

She gets trapped.  She makes a dead drop, into a backwoods part of the planet--an old prison, occupied by a motley crew of distrustful survivors.  At first, they want to kill her.  When they realize she is an android, they want to scrap her.  

She fights them.  She beats them to a stalemate.  The zombies push on the outside.  They're coming.  In the distance, the liberation is happening.  

But oh no.  The liberation fails.  The humans are wiped out.  In an act of desperation, the commander of the orbital fleet commands the destruction of the entire world.  All of its cities will be glassed.  He sends the message out on a universal channel that Rain picks up.  

Loud and clear.  Right where the survivors can hear her.  

There is a spaceport one hundred miles away, through most of the downtown city.  The bombardment will start at sundown.  At sunrise, it will reach them.  They are running out of time.  Rain is their only hope.  They have a million zombies of an infected city between them, and life.  

Shit is going to go down.

Afterthought:  this is a pretty cool idea.  If someone doesn't write it out soon, I will.  It goes on the rack.

And that, is how I come up with stories.  Pretty crazy, huh?