Survive the Apocalypse that is the internet: Digg Me!

Hey guys. So the site has been up for a few days, and is gaining a little in popularity. I'm really trying to get it out there, and a great way to do that is through Digg.

so if you could, click here and give me a Digg. It's really easy, you can sign in through facebook.

thanks for the support!

Surviving the Apocalypse: The story of the boy (part 4)

You are on Part 4.
for Part 3, click here.
for Part 2, click here.
for Part 1, click here.

In the mind's of everyone, there is a fight or flight trigger. You either fight, or you run away. For the boy, this was happening now. Something was wrong. Obviously. But did he dare to open the door?

he started to look around his room for anything. any kind of weapon. Being the kind of kid he was, there wasn't much choice. In the corner of the room was a miniature aeroplane he had made in shop class. Across the top was a 12 inch piece of steel, being used as the wings. The boy smashed it off the aeroplane, and donned his makeshift machete.

he walked towards the door.

"Mom?"
Thump.

"Dad?"
Thump.

With a crack in his voice, he softly whispered "guys?"
Thump.

His hand went for the door. A logical person would have planned an escape route. He was not a logical person. Slowly, he turned the lock on the door, and then the handle. The thumps stopped.

He opened the door. And entered Hell.

The first thing he felt were the hands. His father was grabbing the collar of his shirt, and pulling him towards his mouth. his 12 year old sister was laying on the ground attempting to get at his leg. He cried out. Beyond them he could see his mother, her lifeless eyes boring into his own.

Quickly, he brought up the machete, and attempted to slash his fathers arms. At the same time, he kicked at his sisters head. He heard a snap. Not pausing for a second, he withdrew the blade and sunk it deep into the eye socket of his father. He didn't make a sound, just slumped over in the doorway.

The boy looked around. Over on the wall, there was a window that used to open. Before his father sealed it up.

Shit.

He looked back. His mother was slowly shuffling towards him. His Sister, who's neck he had snapped, was dragging herself across his floor. He turned back to the window. He started to smash at it. If he made it through he could get onto the roof. Smash.

His mother was still coming. He looked back. He did not want to have to kill her. He loved his mother.
His sister was only a couple feet away. Smash.

With a roar, he swung his foot into the window. It gave, and swung open. Only pausing for once glance at what used to be his family, he hopped through, catching himself on a shard of glass.

He was on the roof.

Slamming the window back in place, he looked down at the street. His neighbor, John, was dragging something down his front driveway. It looked suspiciously like John's dog. He looked back. His mother's face was pressed against the glass, moaning in the agony of the undead and smearing dark brown, viscous blood all over his window.

It was time to go. Where? he didn't know.

Surviving the Apocalypse: The story of the boy (part 3)

for Part 4, click here.
You are on Part 3.
for Part 2, click here.
for Part 1, click here.


Dawn was breaking over the city, bringing a lovely golden glow to the harbour and illuminating the buildings on the skyline. However, nobody seemed to notice. At first sight, the city looked relatively normal- a bit messy, broken glass here and there, total gridlock all throughout the major roads, and people ambling along. However, as you took a better look, you might notice the lifelessness in people’s eyes, and the slow lumbering gait they walked with. You could notice the blood spurts on the cars- and the hands, always the hands, smearing it around.
There were survivors. Some boarded up in buildings, others who sensed the gravity of the situation early and made it out on time. However, it was only the beginning. The beginning of the end.

The boy usually woke around 11 a.m., after dozing for a few hours. However, on this day he was up at 6:45. He was not sure why. Something must have woken him up, he reasoned.
He took out his headphones, and walked over to his computer, still wondering why he was up this early. He tried to check his email. The internet was still down. He turned on his TV. No picture. He decided he would pop downstairs and reset the wireless router, which usually did the trick when this sort of thing happened.
As he turned towards the door, he froze. He remembered why he had woken so early. It was the smell. That horrible, ungodly smell. His feet felt moist. Looking down, he saw why.
Blood. It had seeped under the door, and he had stepped in it on his way out of bed. Then he noticed the moans. The moans coming from outside the door. The Boy felt a trickle going down the inside of his leg. He only burned with shame for a second. There was no more time for shame.

Surviving the Apocalypse: The story of the boy (Part 2)

for Part 4, click here.
for Part 3, click here.
You are on Part 2.
for Part 1, click here.


The Mass disturbances had spread to the nicer parts of town. Police were spread thin throughout the city, and were sending in reports of people possessed- four or five officers had reported receiving bites to the arms and legs. Two officers were unaccounted for. 2 members of the missing fire crew had been spotted, covered in blood, shuffling down a side road.
People had started to run. Run everywhere. Run to their cars, run down the highway, run back inside whatever buildings they came from. Reports came in on the news of mass hysteria throughout the city- nobody knew what to make of it. Similar reports had come in from other areas.
The Boy had finally gone to bed. He lay snoring, a set of headphones in his ears- music seemed to help him sleep. His door was locked, as usual. He didn’t like people barging in on him, his quiet time. He was a solitary person.
Across the hallway, his sister started screaming, quickly waking up the rest of his family. His Father rushed into the room his sister was in, stopping dead at the sight of his daughter, aged 13, mauling at the neck of his other daughter, a mere 11. That moment of hesitation was what allowed the third unnoticed person, his four year old son, to latch on to the father’s midriff. In the next room down, his mother started to scream.


Five minutes later, his mothers screams had stopped. If you were in the house, the only thing you would hear would have been the low, anguished moan of the dead. And muffled thumps on a door, a door that was locked from the inside.


It was 2:30 a.m. and the lower part of the city had been completely overrun.

Surviving the Apocalypse: The story of the boy

for Part 4, click here.
for Part 3, click here.
for Part 2, click here.
your on Part 1.

This is a little something I posted a long time ago that i had written. About a possible zombie Apocalypse, and one persons fight to survive, it remained lost, like many of my ideas, in the backlog of some second rate site. I've decided to resurface it, and continue the story. This is the first little part, I will update it regularly.

"The glow from the monitor lit up his face, as he stared bored at the screen. Wasting his time, like he did every night. The doctor had said his over-all negative health revolved around his lack of sleep- but he could never bring himself to go to bed early. In his head, he always told himself the same thing- next week ill start to go to bed earlier, eat more fruits, more vegetables. Spend more time with my family. Every week however, he was drawn to that glowing screen in the corner of his bedroom, which always stayed in a dingy, dark state of filth.

Around him, a multitude of wrappers and mugs cluttered up his desk. In the corner, a notebook sat with some writing on it- a closer looks showed random doodles, and a phone number written down. A girl he had met. As always, the boy had forgotten all about her. He forgot about everything.
A look at the clock showed 1:31 a.m.

In the lower part of the city, the police started receiving more calls than usual. A fire crew had gone missing. Several calls were made to several news stations, reporters were telling stories of mass disturbances throughout the seedier neighbourhoods of the city. It had begun."

Culdifort! Part 2! Ready for the Apocalypse!

The Culdifort. I have made some extensions and improvements to it.

First thing i was thinking about was actually being able to sustain people. So i figured i would make a little garden. Not only for food, but for water as well.

Observe:

Here is a little device I figured I would rig up. To survive the apocalypse, your going to need water, right?

Right.

This potted plant sits on a shelf, with many other potted plants around it. There will be a lot of plants, trust me. 1) Plastic bag. If wrapped around a branch, it will collect water from the plant. by using this method, and draining the water regularily, I will be able to have a) enough water for me and b) enough water for the plant to survive. 2) are the bricks holding the plant to the sun, and 3) is a pot.

 This is just a larger view of the garden. Optimally, we dig out the space shown, and plant beds of vegetables: potatoes, carrots, anything and everything that can stand the climate of Vancouver. There is a high wall there that is part of a condo complex, and of course the reinforced garage door walls.  The uncoloured blocks are the shelves, and they are facing towards the sun from around 12:30 to sundown, so there will be plenty of sunlight to keep the water source alive. Note that I am going to think up of a lot of other methods to collect water, this is just a start.

Next, we have the pit of nails. A little obvious, but quite a good addition to any home fort.

I placed it out in front of my Soldered line of vehicles. Why? well the car wall is there, and it would do a fairly good job of blocking off the entrance, but people could climb over relatively easily. Hence, the Nail Pit. it is 4). First, the base would be filled with concrete. Then, the nail planks go in- made from the torn up boards of my (and other people's) deck(s), for the backyards are inaccessible anyways (too much fence to reinforce, its why I strung the walls between the houses.

The Concept is simple. Drive nails through 2 x 4's, Line all the sides of the pit with the 2 x 4's. If somebody falls in, they are not getting out. Trust me on that one, the walls a) would hurt a lot to climb, and b) be quite impossible to climb.

if you were dealing with zombies, this pit would do no more than trap them. If you're in an average Apocalyptic scenario, and your fighting off the vestiges of humanity, this would work a lot better: for one, nobody is going to want to jump into your little pit, and there are a lot softer targets elsewhere.

Thats all for the second stage of the Culdifort. A picture of what it looks like so far:

If you have any questions or concerns regarding the Culdifort, fell free to email me at Peterlevett@gmail.com. That's all for now, and remember, Survive the Apocalypse!

The Culdifort! Ready for the Apocalypse!

There it is.

One of my brainchildren. The Culdifort.

See, I live in an enclosed Cul-de-Sac. Naturally, my mind tends to wander. In the event of a major riot (or heaven forbid, zombies, which will be a subject that frequents this website a lot), you need to be prepared. Thus, the Culdefort.

All the little blocks with the H's on them are houses. Obviously. The black lines? well, i figured normal old fences wouldn't really do much against attackers. So they are the garage doors of the houses (if you count them, there are just enough) dismantled and stretched between the gaps of the houses. Of course, one would use more support to keep them in place. The Apocalypse doesn't get held back very easily. The doors are only the skeletons of the walls.

Also, at the front, you can see a thick black line. These are cars, held in place by cement (I have quite a lot) and welding (my neighbor has a very extensive set of welding tools). Once again, there would be a lot more structure to the barrier.

This is only the beginning for the Culdefort- I will upload much more on it, with plenty more additions to the original picture and other sketches on ideas for the defense of my home.

Survive!

 Surviving the Apocalypse. You know that stereotype of the insane person, standing on the sidewalk on some busy street, spewing ridiculous nonsense? You see how everybody gives him shifty glances as he yells out his ghastly predictions? Can you see the bloodshot eyes, the raw red throat, the saliva strands flying through the air as he attempts (in vain) to get any support, any recognition? He likes to think he is a Harbinger of doom, the predictor of the Apocalypse, and you like to think he’s just injected needles into his eyeballs. Well I am that guy. Not in such a literal sense, but I am that guy on the inside.

See, I’ll be out. Out where? Out anywhere. At the local grocery store, out for a walk, sitting in class. Where other people see regularity, where other people see the daily grind, my mind escapes off into other dimensions. Constantly seeing the worst in wherever I am, and making sure I have a means to survive, a means to escape. It’s sort of the ultimate survival mechanism. Walking down a sunlit path, you might be enjoying the pleasant smells and sights. I'm envisioning a flood. A flash flood. Where can I run? That tree. It looks solid, would it hold my weight?

Probably.

Are there branches I can reach?

Yes.

Would it withstand the force of this flood?

Sure, I gue- flood? What flood? There is no flood.

Right.

I'll be at, say, Home Depot. While you are looking for ways to improve your home, I'm seeing.... an Earthquake. An awe inspiring, Jaw smacking, earthquake. Where do I run? Where do I hide? Do I have enough time to get outside?

No.

I look around- up at the ceiling- trying to gauge the weight of those steel bars, that corrugated iron roof.

I gulp. Not good, not good at all.

Another glance reveals a long sheet of metal. Pausing for a moment, I look it over. Yes! I could hide under that! Wedge it under there, with the proper leverage, I might just survive (the shelves will take most of the weight, after all). And then I notice the stare of some guy, giving me a funny look because I’m so fixated on...

A cart. I've been looking at a flatbed cart for the best part of five minutes.

See, I need somewhere to channel all this creative energy. So I made this website. Maybe, while I’m posting every little nuance of thought that I concoct in my mind, I can kick back, relax, and not focus so much on death and destruction.

I guess we’ll see, wont we? Thanks for visiting Surviving the Apocalypse.

Surviving the Apocalypse

Welcome to Surviving the Apocalypse! This site is here to keep you informed, keep you alert, and to keep you safe. If you have any questions, comments, or ideas for the site, feel free to contact me at Peterlevett@gmail.com