078 - Flashback Theatre with Henry West
Mar. 22nd, 2009 02:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
major_westThe first time I had to shoot a civilian-- hostile, actually. They lose civilian status the moment the Infection hits their system-- it was the first I'd actually been faced with the Infected. In my position, I only had to supervise. Direct. For the first days, I was perfectly isolated from what was really happening. But as our numbers dwindled and the other officers...
She was an older woman, blonde, dressed as though she'd been coming back from a nice dinner. She reminded me of my mother. From a distance, I might've even thought it was her, but... No. I don't believe she ever made it out of London.
Still, the similarities were there-- strengthened, because I wanted to see them, I think, despite the blood on its face and clothing, even in its hair-- and I didn't know what to do. For all my training, I froze, and I let it tackle me. Perhaps I should have died then, but I managed to grab hold of my service pistol, and I shot it once, in the stomach, and it was enough to momentarily stun the Infected. I got out from under it, and I shot it again, in the head.
I thought it was the worst thing I'd ever done. But every time I had to kill an Infected-- adults, children, men and women-- it became easier, until I thought nothing of it at all.Sometimes, it was even fun. A game.
That day, I found my men and returned to the base. Every day, less and less came back. Eventually, we moved to a barricade outside of Manchester. After that, a fortified manor. It seemed safe, at first, but I knew it was a tomb. By then, I'd realised that dealing with the Infected was little more than attrition warfare. We just had to wait until they'd exhausted their numbers.
It's simple enough, in theory.
[OOC: BACKGROUND! He meant to make this private to Billy, messed up, then when he realized others had read it just went "Well... FUCK IT, IT'S TOO LATE >("]
She was an older woman, blonde, dressed as though she'd been coming back from a nice dinner. She reminded me of my mother. From a distance, I might've even thought it was her, but... No. I don't believe she ever made it out of London.
Still, the similarities were there-- strengthened, because I wanted to see them, I think, despite the blood on its face and clothing, even in its hair-- and I didn't know what to do. For all my training, I froze, and I let it tackle me. Perhaps I should have died then, but I managed to grab hold of my service pistol, and I shot it once, in the stomach, and it was enough to momentarily stun the Infected. I got out from under it, and I shot it again, in the head.
I thought it was the worst thing I'd ever done. But every time I had to kill an Infected-- adults, children, men and women-- it became easier, until I thought nothing of it at all.
That day, I found my men and returned to the base. Every day, less and less came back. Eventually, we moved to a barricade outside of Manchester. After that, a fortified manor. It seemed safe, at first, but I knew it was a tomb. By then, I'd realised that dealing with the Infected was little more than attrition warfare. We just had to wait until they'd exhausted their numbers.
It's simple enough, in theory.
[OOC: BACKGROUND! He meant to make this private to Billy, messed up, then when he realized others had read it just went "Well... FUCK IT, IT'S TOO LATE >("]
