When I started thinking way too much about zombies: after watching lots of zombie movies
What started my zombie fixation: Dawn of the Dead
Favorite zombie book: Resident Evil Favorite zombie movie: Dawn of the Dead
Favorite quote in any zombie movie: OK i threw the f****** Molotov, NOT good. all it did was roast 'em a little and now they smell like jimmy dean sausages and now I'm really f****** hungry!!!

My location: currently living in Marinette, WI, but will go to Milwaukee, WI. Is my plan dependent on zombies in your home town, or anywhere?yes
Will I be staying in my home or headed somewhere else?group up with survivors under train tracks then go to Milwaukee
If I'm heading out, how do I plan to get there?tankish truck
Got anyone I want to take with me?father William, uncle Brent, grandfather Sylvester, little bro, Dustin, friend Wayne and diver Ryan
How will I communicate with the outside world, or do I plan to go the hermit route? Internet
How am I planning to get food and water?malls and livestock What’s my weapon of choice? semi-auto gewer 43, 12 gauge shotgun, masterkey, SVD, Colt .45, and M4 custom w/vertagrip
Got a survival philosophy?live, shoot, run!
Am I willing to hook up with other survivors?oh YES!!!!!!
Is my plan based on a book/movie/blog/scientist other survivors may have heard of? no

my good and bad traits:
PROS: very knowledgeable of the military, VERY good with computers, great tactical mind, and high IQ(121)
CONS:ADHD, was in a gang(Lost Prophets Gang), arrested for burglary and have Bipolar

"RAT" training available to train others in the fine art of living in harsh conditions (urban environments only :()


"A prisoner of war is a man who tries to kill you and fails, and then asks you not to kill him."-Winston Churchill

"The more you sweat in peacetime, the less you bleed during war."- Chinese Proverb

"the object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his"- George S. Patton

"War does not determine who is right - only who is left."-Bertrand Russell

"A great war leaves the country with three armies - an army of cripples, an army of mourners, and an army of thieves."-German Proverb

"War makes thieves and peace hangs them."-George Herbert

"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers."-José Narosky

"People that ignore the problems of the world are the first ones to say "What the hell's going on?"."-COApersident01

"War! that mad game the world so loves to play."-Jonathan Swift

"In war, truth is the first casualty."-Aeschylus

"I think war might be God's way of teaching us geography."-Paul Rodriguez

"The military don't start wars. Politicians start wars."-William Westmoreland

"Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity."-Author Unknown

"God has taught that thou shalt not kill, but hear this. f*** that s***!"-Jarhead

"A man walks into a bar with a giraffe, they both have a bunch of drinks. the man gets up and starts walking towards the door and the bartender says "Oy, you can't leave that lying there" the man turns around and says "that's not a lion, its a giraffe"-28 days later

"People always think that helps gonna come in a disaster, but what if help has been devoured, torn apart, and mutilated? Then what do you want?"-COApresident01




symptoms:
Hour 1: Pain and discoloration (brown-purple) of the infected area. Immediate clotting of the wound (provided the infection came from a wound).
Hour 5: Fever (99–103 degrees F), chills, slight dementia, vomiting, acute pain in the joints.
Hour 8: Numbing of extremities and infected area, increased fever (103–106 degrees F), increased dementia, loss of muscular coordination.
Hour 11: Paralysis in the lower body, overall numbness, slowed heart rate.
Hour 16: Coma.
Hour 20: Heart stoppage. Zero brain activity.
Hour 23: Reanimation.


2002 A.D., ST. THOMAS, U.S. VIRGIN ISLANDS
A zombie—bloated, waterlogged, with skin completely dissolved—washed ashore on the northeast coast of the island. Local inhabitants were unsure of what to make of it, keeping their distance and calling for the authorities. The zombie, stumbling up on the beach, began to pursue its onlookers. Although curiosity kept them close, the crowd continued to retreat from the approaching ghoul. Two members of the St. Thomas police arrived and ordered the “suspect” to halt. When no reply came, they fired a warning shot. The zombie did not respond. One of the officers fired two rounds into its chest, producing no effect. Before another volley could be delivered, a six-year-old boy, excited by the events and not realizing the danger, ran up to the zombie and began to poke it with a stick. The walking dead immediately grabbed the child and tried to raise it to its mouth. The two officers rushed forward and attempted to wrestle the child from the zombie’s grip. At that moment, Jeremiah Dewitt, a recent immigrant from the island of Dominica, stepped out of the crowd, grabbed one of the officer’s sidearms and fired a round through the zombie’s head. Amazingly, no human was infected by the ghoul. A criminal trial acquitted Dewitt of all charges, claiming the act was in self-defense. Photographs of the zombie corpse show it, even though decomposed horribly, to be of Middle Eastern or North African descent. The tatters of clothing and rope make a convincing case that the creature was one of those dumped into the ocean off the coast of Morocco. Theoretically, it would be possible for an undead specimen to travel with the currents across the Atlantic, although it would be the only case on record. In one of the strangest twists of outbreak cover-ups and suppression, this case has taken on celebrity status. Like Bigfoot in the Pacific Northwest or the Loch Ness Monster in Scotland, tourists can buy “St. Thomas Zombie” photographs, T-shirts, sculptures, clocks, watches, and even children’s picture books at many of the shops in downtown Charlotte Amalie (the island capital). Dozens of bus drivers compete (sometimes fiercely) every day for the chance to drive newly arrived tourists from Cyril E. King Airport to the site where the famous zombie came ashore. After the trial, Dewitt left for a new life in the United States. His friends in St. Thomas and his family in Dominica have not heard from him since.


1998 A.D., ZABROVST, SIBERIA
Jacob Tailor, an acclaimed documentary filmmaker for the Canadian Broadcast Company, arrived in the small Siberian town of Zabrovst with the intention of photographing an intact, and potentially cloneable, saber-toothed tiger carcass. The body of a man in his late twenties, whose clothing matched that of a sixteenth-century cossack, had also been found. The shoot was due to take place in July, but Tailor arrived with an advance team in February to familiarize himself with the area and his subjects. Tailor believed the human corpse would not be the subject of more than a few seconds in his film, but asked that it be stored with the tiger’s until his return. Tailor and his crew then returned to Toronto for a much needed rest. On June 14 a few members of Tailor’s crew returned to Zabrovst to prepare their frozen subjects and the dig site for filming. That was the last time they were heard from.
When Tailor arrived by helicopter with the rest of his film crew on July 1 he found all twelve buildings at the site deserted. There were signs of violence and forced entry, including broken windows, overturned furniture, and blood and pieces of flesh on the walls and floor. A scream brought Tailor back to the helicopter, where he found a group of thirty-six ghouls, including local villagers and the missing members of his advance team, feasting on the pilots. Tailor did not understand what he was seeing, but knew enough to run for his life.
The situation seemed grim. Tailor and his cameraman, soundman, and field researcher had no weapons, no supplies, and, being in the middle of the Siberian wasteland, nowhere to turn for help. The filmmakers sought refuge in a two-story farmhouse in the village. Instead of boarding up the doors and windows, Tailor decided to destroy the two staircases. They stocked the second story with whatever food they could find and buckets of water filled from the well. An ax, a sledgehammer, and several smaller tools were used to destroy the first staircase. The arrival of the zombies prevented the destruction of the second one. Tailor acted quickly, taking doors from the second-story bedrooms and nailing them onto the second stairway. This created a ramp that prevented the approaching zombies from gaining any traction. One by one they attempted to crawl their way up the ramp and were pushed back down by Tailor’s team. This low-intensity battle went on for two days; half the group kept their attackers at bay while the other half slept (with cotton stuffed into their ears to deaden the sound of the moans).
On the third day, a freak accident gave Tailor the idea for their eventual salvation. For fear the ghouls would grab their legs if they attempted to kick them back down the ramp, the filmmakers had resorted to shoving the zombies down with a long-handled wooden broom. The broom handle, already weak from so much use, finally snapped as it was grabbed by one of the attacking fiends. Tailor managed to kick the zombie back down, and watched in amazement as the sharp, broken tip of the handle, still clutched in the falling monster’s hand, went right through the eye socket of a fellow ghoul. Not only had Tailor unwittingly killed his first zombie, but for the first time he realized the proper way to dispose of them. Now, instead of trying to force their attackers back down the ramp, the film crew aggressively encouraged them. Each one that came close enough to attack was given a devastating blow to the head with the team’s ax. When this weapon was lost (stuck in the skull of a dead zombie), they switched to their sledgehammer. When its handle broke, they resorted to a crowbar. The battle took seven hours, but by the end the exhausted Canadian filmmakers had dispatched every one of their attackers.
To this day, the Russian government has no official explanation of what occurred at Zabrovst. Any official asked about the incident will explain that it is being “looked into.” However, in a country with as many social, economic, political, environmental, and military problems as the new Russian Federation, there is little interest in the deaths of a few foreigners and backwoods Siberians.
Tailor, amazingly, kept his two cameras rolling throughout the entire incident. The result is forty-two hours of the most exciting footage ever recorded, digital video that the Lawson Film cannot hold a candle to. Tailor has tried, for the last few years, to have at least a portion of this footage released to the general public. All international “experts” who have viewed the video have labeled it as an expert hoax. Tailor has lost all credibility in an industry that once hailed him as one of its finest. He is now in the process of settling a divorce and several lawsuits

JAN. 1993 A.D., DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
An investigation is still underway regarding the earliest phase of this outbreak, including how it initially spread to the immediate area. The outbreak was first detected by a group of youths, members of a street gang known as the V.B.R., or Venice Boardwalk Reds. Their reason for entering this area of the city was to avenge the death of one of their members, murdered by a rival gang known as Los Peros Negros. Around oneA.M., they entered a post-industrial, nearly abandoned area where the Peros had their hangout. The first thing they noticed was the lack of homeless people. That area was known for its large shantytown in a local vacant lot. The cardboard boxes, shopping carts, and other various paraphernalia that belonged to these vagrants lay strewn around the street, but there was no sign of the people. Paying little attention to the road, the driver of the Reds’ vehicle accidentally ran over a slow-moving pedestrian. The driver lost control of his El Camino and spun into the side of a building. Before the Reds could repair their damaged vehicle or fully berate their companion for his lack of driving skill, they saw the injured pedestrian move. Despite a broken back, the victim began crawling toward the street gang. One of the Reds raised his 9mm pistol and shot the man through the chest. Not only did this act fail to stop the crawling man, but it sent a soundwave echoing across a several-block radius. The Red fired several more shots, all striking his target, all producing zero results. His last shot entered the figure’s skull, ending its life. The Reds never had time to discover exactly what they had killed. Suddenly they heard a moan that seemed to come from all directions. What they had taken for shadows in streetlights was a crowd of more than forty zombies approaching from all directions.
With their car wrecked, the Reds took off down the street, literally running through the thinnest line of living dead. After several blocks they encountered, ironically, the remaining members of Los Peros Negros, also on foot after their hangout and vehicles had been overrun by the living dead. Forsaking rivalry for survival, the two gangs called a truce and set out in search of either a means of escape or a safe refuge. Although most of the buildings—well-built, windowless warehouses—would have made excellent fortresses, they were either locked or (in the case of the abandoned ones) boarded up and could not be entered. As they knew the turf better, the Peros took the lead and suggested De Soto Junior High, a small school easily within running distance. With the living dead barely minutes away, the two gangs made it to the school and broke in through a second-story window. This set off a burglar alarm which, in turn, alerted every zombie in the immediate area, swelling their ranks to more than a hundred. The alarm, however, was the only negative aspect of this formidable redoubt. In terms of a fortress, De Soto was an excellent choice. Solid concrete construction, barred and mesh-covered windows and steel-covered, solid wood doors made the two-story building easily defensible. Once inside, the group acted with commendable forethought, establishing a secondary fallback, checking all doors and windows for security, filling any receptacles they could with water, and taking stock of their own personal weapons and ammunition. As they believed the police to be a worse enemy than the living dead, both gangs used the phone to call allied street gangs instead of the authorities. None of those contacted believed what they were hearing, but promised to arrive as soon as possible anyway.
This last act was, in another ironic twist, one of the few cases of overkill ever recorded in an undead uprising. Well-protected, well-armed, well-led, well-organized, and extremely well-motivated, the gang members were able to dispatch the living dead from the upstairs windows without losing any of their own. Reinforcements (allied street gangs promising their support) did show up, unfortunately at the same time as the L.A.P.D. The result was the arrest of all those involved.
The incident was officially explained as “a shoot-out between local street gangs.” Both Reds and Peros tried to relay the truth to anyone who would listen. Their story was explained as a delusion brought on by “Ice,” a narcotic popular at that time. As the police and reinforcement gang members had only seen shot corpses and no walking zombies, none could be counted on as actual eyewitnesses. The bodies of the undead were removed and cremated. As almost all of them had been homeless people, none could be identified and none were missed. The original gang members involved were each found guilty of first-degree murder and sentenced to life at one of several of California’s state prisons. All were murdered within a year of their incarceration, supposedly by rival gang members. This story would have ended there had it not been for an L.A.P.D. detective who has asked to remain nameless. He/she had read about the Parsons-MacDonald case several days before and was intrigued by its bizarre details. This allowed him/her to partially believe the gang members’ stories. The coroner’s report gave the most compelling argument. It perfectly matched Parsons’ autopsy. The final nail in the coffin was a wallet found on one of the undead, a man in his early thirties who appeared to be better dressed and groomed than the average street vagrant. The wallet belonged to Patrick MacDonald. As the owner had been shot in the face with a twelve-gauge solid slug, there was no way to positively identify him. The anonymous detective knew better than to bring the matter to his/her superiors for fear of disciplinary action. Instead, he/she copied the entire case file and presented it to the author of this book.


My score and score summary on the non-lame zombie survival test:Z+ people saved on hardcore pawn:1198 percent chance of surviving World War Z: 50% MY country's name is Coamerica and the Capitol's Milwaukee
Dead Awakening site:http://www.deadawaken.com/game.php?sec=misc&scr=vote&msglogin=yes
http://www.zombiepandemic.com