by BIG BAD WOLF
An interview between Chuck Greene and Frank West is interrupted by Zombies.
|(Setting is your typical Talk Show place, except on a really high stage with no stairs. There are two lounge chairs and a desk on the stage. There are three men on stage, minus the Unseen Cameraman, one at the desk, the other two sitting in the lounge chairs. The man at the desk is the Interviewer. He is wearing a black suit and striped tie. The two men in the lounge chairs are Frank West and Chuck Greene. Frank is wearing a casual white T-shirt with a brown suit and dark brown slacks, and has a camera around his neck. Chuck is wearing a black and yellow racing jacket and a pair of blue jean pants. Scattered all over the stage is a bunch of objects, most of which aren't normally found on a stage, like swords, axes, guns, other weapons/things that could be used as weapons, and lots of food. Moans are coming from behind the camera.)
Interviewer: I think it's safe to say, we ought to do this interview now.
Chuck: Yeah, since we're stuck here.
Frank: Especially with that crowd.
(Camera pans towards the Audience Area, the source of the moaning. At least a hundred zombies fill the Area, with more coming in through the open double-doors. The Cameraman steps a few paces away from the edge, so that the zombies can't grab his legs and pull him over.)
Cameraman: (Mutters) I want a raise.
Interviewer: I heard that! Talk to the Boss, and the Union, If we make it out of here alive.
Cameraman: (mutters) Sounds half reasonable.
Interviewer: (Grumbles) Lets get on with this. (Normal) So tell me you two; what did you do before your adventures with the undead? Let's start with you Frank.
Frank: Well, I was a freelance photographic journalist. If I heard about something, I'd go check it out, and sell my photos to the highest bidder.
Chuck: (mutters) Sounds like a mercenary to me.
Frank: (Yells) Hey! At least I don't Endanger children!
Chuck: (Shouts) You leave Katey out of this!
Frank: (Stands up and grabs a Katana.)
Chuck: (Stands up and grabs a Baseball Bat.)
Interviewer: (Slams fist on desk, getting both men's attention.) The zombies are over there, not up here. Well, at least I don't think any are up here. (Looks around, nervously.)
Chuck: That depends on if Frank here took his meds.
Frank: (Growling) I did before we came here.
Interviewer: If you two are going to fight, fight the zombies. At least then the four of us would have a chance of getting the hell out of here.
Cameraman: (Mutters) At least you counted me in that four.
Interviewer: (Mutters) Just shut up for once.
Cameraman: (Mutters) *Censored*
Interviewer: Okay, let's get back to the interview. Now, why don't the two of you sit down?
(Frank and Chuck reluctantly sit down.)
Interviewer: Now Frank, you were saying that you were a freelance photographic journalist.
Frank: That's correct.
Interviewer: So, how'd you get involved?
Frank: Well, a buddy of mine told me that something was going down in this one town, so I chartered a helicopter into town. Something was certainly going on, and I thought that it was a riot at first. However, something was wrong with that, as it was too quiet. The helicopter dropped me off at the Mall, as that seemed safe. I told the guy to come back in three days, and I went to check out the mall. I saw a couple of people getting stuff to block the door, and one guy told me that the rioters were really zombies. I thought that was ridiculous, until I put together various pieces of what I'd seen outside. Then some old woman saw her dog outside the door and tried to save it, and let in the zombies. A guy, by the name of Brad, told me and the others to get to the security room, but unfortunately, I was the only one to make it to safety. It was the longest time of my life, those four days. For the first three, I was busy trying to save various survivors, though there was plenty who had gone nuts and I was forced to defend myself against them, killing more than a few. On the last day, I had to try and find items to make something to resist the infection, which I had acquired somehow, and made the first Zombrex. After that I had to get out.
Interviewer: Surely you could have used the helicopter your friend had.
Frank: I would have, except, a zombie snuck on board the helicopter, and he crashed. No, I had to escape through a tunnel that was shoulder-to-shoulder packed with zombies, along with a friend. Then I had to deal with this soldier who tried to run us over with a tank. I'll tell you this, I've covered wars, but I never covered anything like that. I was lucky to escape from that place with my life, well, what's left of it. Now I have to take a freaking shot every single day, or the infection will resume, and I'll become one of those, things, out there.
Interviewer: I think I'd kill myself first. Now, what about you Chuck? What was your life like?
Chuck: Well, I was a Motocross racer. I did win the Championship a few times, and I did have a sponsor on occasion, but I was mostly on my own. My wife and daughter supported me, showing up at the races, cheering with me when I won a prize, cheering me up when I didn't, riding with me through the high times, and slugging it out with me through the low times.
Frank: (mutters) Nice sob story.
Chuck: (Growls) Do you want me to kill you?
Interviewer: Do both of you want to get kicked off the stage?
(Frank and Chuck grumble.)
Interviewer: Now Chuck, continue your story.
Chuck: Well, I'd heard about the zombies, but I thought that the story was crazy, until Las Vegas. I lost my wife, and my daughter got bit. For three long years I've had to work hard to get money, so that I can buy Katey her medicine. I had just recently participated on Terror is Reality, when the Fortune City outbreak occurred. Me and Katey managed to get to the Safe House, but there was a problem, I was out of Zombrex, so I had to go out to find Katey her medicine. Along the way, I had to save survivors, deal with psychopaths, AND I had to find evidence that proved my innocence, because someone framed me for the outbreak.
Interviewer: Whew, and I thought my life was rough. Now, perhaps you could clarify a few things.
Frank: Like what?
Interviewer: Like how come guns that are almost out of ammunition, or melee weapons that are about to break, don't when you give them to a fellow survivor?
Frank: To be honest, I wouldn't know why. I once gave this woman a frozen King Salmon, which normally brakes after two hits, and she was like Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! She was killing them big time.
Chuck: I've noticed that myself. Sometimes all I have to give to a survivor is an almost broken, or a weak, weapon, and they manage to kill over a hundred zombies by the time I get them to the Safe House. It makes me jealous at times.
Interviewer: That's something to think about. Imagine how many they could kill if they were each given a good killing weapon. Then the zombies might run away from you.
Frank: Personally, I wish that I got stronger when the survivors killed their zombies, like I do after I kill a bunch of them.
Chuck: That's funny, I have the same wish. I mean, I kill plenty, over fifty thousand of those things. But those survivors, they can be blood-thirsty. I wish some of those kills could be added to mine.
Frank: Same here.
Cameraman: Well, why don't they show some leadership and get us the hell out of here?
Interviewer: He does have a point there. We do need to get out, or at least clear the room and shut those doors.
Frank: Well in that case- (Stands up and picks up a Katana)- you two toss me and Chuck weapons and food, and we'll take care of the rest.
Chuck: Sounds like a good idea. (Stands up and picks up a Baseball Bat.) Let's get to killing these things.
(Frank and Chuck then start running, and yelling, and do flying jump kicks at several nearby zombies. They then start attacking the zombies, brutally killing many of them.)
Interviewer: (Yelling) You toss food and weapons at Chuck, and I'll do the same for Frank!
Cameraman: (Mutters) I damn well better get a pay raise. (Grabs a Snack and tosses it to Chuck.)
Interviewer: Just shut up.
(The camera turns to Frank and Chuck, who are still busy killing zombies. Suddenly, a girlish scream is heard, which is followed by a gunshot, and the camera falls over, the lens breaking, but sound is still recording.)
Cameraman: (Chuckling) Well, for those of you still watching, I just killed a zombie that managed to get on the stage, and it ruined the camera. It also seems that the Interviewer has just shitted in his pants.