User blog:Vleetonk/Reanimation (Novel)

Hey guys! I'm writing my second full-length novel. This is the first chapter, please tell me what you think of it!

Reanimation

Max Turner

Chapter1

Russia’s Greatest

September 27, 1949

Eastern Russia

Dmitry Cherkesov walked beside the metro tracks, thinking to himself why he had ever opted for this mission. When he had, they never said he was going to spend months underground with nothing to do but looking for someone who may or may not exist. All they had told him was that he had to locate Metro Station Альфа Девять and join its leading militia, M402. He wasn’t told he would have to fight endless waves of undead with an army that didn’t trust him, or get harassed and attacked by the Street Walkers at night. But here he was. While he was muttering to himself about what he would do to the Delta, a Street Walker dropped from the ceiling of the tunnel, landing right behind him and taking a wheezing breath. Dmitry turned pale as he looked up from his feet, staring at the endless tunnel ahead of him as the Walker breathed on his neck.

“Please, no. Please, oh please, oh please, нет нет нет…”

“Здравствуйте, американские. Как Вы”-the Walker drew a noisy, wheezing breath- “в последнее время?” Dmitry ran over the words in English in his head. “''Hello, American. How have you been lately?” ''The Walker cackled noisily as it grabbed him by the neck and hoisted him into the air. “НЕТ, НЕТ, НЕТ! Oh, please, нет!” Dmitry was speaking with mixed English and Russian words out of lack of blood flowing to his brain though the strong grip on his neck as the Walker moved his other hand to Dmitry’s face, showing his palm to reveal an eye and a nose protruding from the skin. The nose wheezed loudly as the eye looked him over. Then, the Walker threw him to the ground and fled to the darkness of the Metro tunnel. Lying propped on his forearms, facing the ground, Dmitry lay gasping for air and shaking. He rolled over onto his back, pulled a TT33 Tokarev 7.62 from the front of his vest, blindly firing the full magazine into the darkness. Drawing rapid, shuddering breaths, Dmitry got up and ran as fast as he could from the light, plowing into darkness and switching on his shoulder pad light. He ran until his lungs felt like they were gushing blood into his chest, his legs could support him no longer, and his throat was burning from the cold, sharp air of the tunnel. The Walker had let him live, but he had to get away from there as fast as possible. He collapsed on an old pump cart. Propping himself up slightly made his light shine into the cart. At the bottom was the head of a Street Walker and a charred body with the Walker’s eye forever stuck in the socket. He looked up and saw a sign that read Станция T. Station T. He stumbled over to the landing. He could barely lift himself onto it. He looked up and unhooked his light, shining it around the station. Dead Walkers and humans were scattered around the floor and walls. There was blood spattered all over the floor. He staggered through the horrific scene, looking for a radio. Dmitry walked to a staircase in the back, no radio in hand, and looked up.

“I really have to do this?” Dmitry sighed, pulled down his mask and goggles, and climbed up the staircase.