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The Drunken Scotsman

The Demise Of My Brother Loscham. (Open Frequency)

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*While patrolling Svetlejorsk, Loscham and Nelson stumble upon a horde of infected and are quickly separated.  Loscham keys up the mic, accidentally slapping the radio over to open frequencies.*

There are several thundering shots of rifle fire in rapid succession, and the sound of running footfalls, as well as that of several dozen infected moaning and snarling.  A voice with a heavy German accent comes across the din.

“Nelson!  Where the fuck did you go?  They’ve got me cornered!  I made it to the church, but they’ve--ACH!”

Two more rifle shots crack off, and the sound of scuffling comes over the waves.  Loscham grunts with effort, and then comes the sound of shearing metal.

“Scheiße!  They hit my M4, it’s fucked!  GET HERE!”

There are two loud pistol shots, echoing over the waves in the enclosed space.  The radio falls silent for a moment.

* As the radio falls silent for a brief moment Nelson chimes in*

*Nelson keys in, and the sound of loud screaming and many AUG shots fired in quick succession can be heard.*

“DIE YOU UGLY MOTHER FUCKERS, WOOHOO WHO’S NEXT?! Hold on bro im just down the road from you, MY GOD how many of those FUCKING walkers did you attract?!”

*More screaming of the same variety are heard, followed by another burst of AUG shots*

*Once more the radio fall silent*

*There’s a click and a slight “snap” as Loscham jams the PTT button and breaks it in the open position.*

Three more pistol shots ring out, followed by a click.  Still, the infected are snarling and screaming.  The sound of heavy breathing comes across the waves, along with muffled curses, the sound of a magazine being ejected.

“Scheiße!  You undead motherfuckers!”

Loscham slams another magazine home and racks the slide to chamber a round.  BAM...BAM...BAM!  There’s a muffled curse, and the sound of multiple bodies hitting the floor.

“Ach!  Nelson get in here, brother!  There’s too many!”

There’s the sound of grunting and multiple fleshy impacts, followed by a bloodcurdling scream of agony and another two pistol shots in rapid succession.

*You can hear once more Nelson come over the radio*

*Nelson utters terrifying  screams of anger and anguish as he hears his friend being devoured over the radio, at this point there is only continuous gunfire and screaming.*


*Nelson’s radio clicks off, but all sounds now come through Loscham’s open radio.*

There is the sound of boots running on the tiled floor of the church.  Another pistol shot rings out followed by a click.  There is the sound of an infected snarling and then the sound of tearing flesh.  Loscham lets out a primal scream of rage and anguish.  Fluids spray out and spatter onto the tile floor.  There is the sound of a knife penetrating dead flesh, followed by more fluids spattering the floor.  All is silent other than the pulsating spraying of blood and labored breathing, as if someone is trying to breathe with lungs full of liquid.  Loscham lets out a moan, and draws a labored, crusty breath.  There is the sound of five or six shots from an AUG, followed by slamming doors, and wooden furniture being dragged and slammed against the doors.  The sound of boots on the floor draws nearer to the open radio.

Herr Nelson...James...brother.

He draws a ragged breath.

Fuckers got me...my femoral...my chest…

Another crusty, ragged breath.

It’s a sucking chest wound, man.  Learned about this enough.  I’m finished.

The sound of someone falling to their knees can be heard with deep, almost panicked breathing.

“Listen you dipshit, this show isn't over.  Now get the fuck up and push through!”

You can hear the sound of velcro being opened and the sound of plastic packaging being ripped open.

“Come on bro, all i've got to do is pack this shit and we can get your ass up!”

Loscham groans as he tries to sit up; he coughs, and blood sprays from his throat.  His leg spews more blood.  He takes a labored, raspy, wet breath, and the sound of a sucking chest wound comes across the waves.

Brother...you kilt-wearing arschloch...I’ve seen this enough in Afghanistan.  I’m finished.  You know it.

He takes another wet, groaning breath.  He screams as Nelson jams wadding into his gaping leg wound.  There’s the sound of fabric ripping as Loscham’s vest and shirt are ripped open to expose the cavernous chest wound.

I need...you to tell…

He coughs up more blood, his breathing becoming more and more ragged.

Tell Alice...tell her I forgive her.  Tell her I never stopped loving her.

“You can tell her yourself, bro!  I’M FUCKING TELLING YOU MAN, YOU ARE NOT DONE YET!!”

There is more coughing, followed by ragged, strangled speech from Loscham.

Tell her, man.  Tell Hamish I was always on his side.  Tell…


Weh mir, o'  weh...dieser Vogel singt nicht mehr…

He draws a deep, labored breath, heavy with fluid and gurgling.

End it...brother.  I love you, man...no homo.

He chuckles crustily, groans and draws in an agonizing breath.

“See you in Valhalla brother... and safe travels to you.”

*There is a slight sniffle.  Shortly after, there comes the sound of a knife being drawn from a sheath, and the twang of metal as the knife hits the barrel of his gun*

“Love you man”

There is a final, labored breath, and a soft sob.

I’ll meet you there, cunt.  I’ll have the meade hot and ready for you.  Do it.

*There is another sniffle, then the sound of crunching bone and splitting flesh.  The last breath leaves Loscham’s breast. There is scuffling around in the background as Nelson picks up the open radio. There is a deep breath as Nelson speaks.*

“Alice...if you can hear this...please contact me...you know the frequency.”

*After the short statement there is a loud smashing sound, and then silence.*

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*Joe while cooking some food at camp, Hears the radio broadcast and runs over to it*

*As he holds the radio on his knees he begins to feel sadness overcome him*

*"You son of a bitch, you were too reckless......" he thinks to himself.*

*He hears loscham's gargled last words and looks up into the sky rain hitting him in the face*


*Joe picks up his gun and begins to pack up camp*

"Ill kill all you rotted basterds! ILL KILL YOU ALL!!!!"

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As Abram hears the horrific scene that played out over the radio, Abram paces back and forth, taking all of what happened in.

Abram starts to panic, his only true friend...dead...he couldn't accept it, he had now lost everyone.

Dimitri starts to take over as Abram loses the last of his strength to fight off the virus that wasn't fully cured inside him.

Every day Abram battles this person he now shares a body with, ever since the scientists at the refugee camp tested what they called a cure on him.

He couldn't control Dimitri, just suppress him, but with Loscham dead, he lost the fight and allowed Dimitri control. 

Dimitri flails frantically, taking over the vessel that was once Abram, now the leader of the body.

Despite Dimitri being the part of Abram that is infected, his brain is still mostly intelligent thanks to the semi-cure, allowing him to not be so mindless as a normal infected.

Dimitri presses the PTT on the radio and attempted to produce words but only came out in slurs.

Finally, he was accustomed to moving his mouth and formed the words: "farmer....dead, hunter......alive"

Dimitri releases the PTT and grabs the rifle that had been laying next to him, heading out of the door to the farm house. He needed to feed...soon

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*Izaak decides to respond to the broadcast he overhears*

How disappointing. At least he redeemed himself to us before passing.

My condolences.

*Izaak cuts the transmission* 

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*Paul turns on his service walkie talkie lounging near a beach on the coast of Vietnam and hears the familiar German and Scottish Voice and decides to respond*

No.... What the fuck.


Well shit time to get off my lazy fat ass

*Paul grabs his service magnum and dusts off his AK74*

I leave to visit my place of origin before I die... Welp it was beautiful to bad not many are left here.

*Paul releases the PTT and starts hiking back to his house to prepare for travels*

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*Nelson keys back in to the frequency*

"to any of you out there that wish to pay respects to Loscham i have cremated and scattered his ashes in the town of Tulga. all i ask is that if you do go please be respectful, Thank you"

*The radio once more falls silent*

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Hope sits on the bannister, dried blood mixed with the drying from her missing earlobes as she overhears the new. Her heart drowns in gloom with an unhealthy feeling. Her right hand was shaking with half of her right ring finger missing. It still bled. She contemplated on calling for help, her body in shock and thiswas the cherry to the cake. She responds, her voice shakey and weak. Almost sounding as if she was about to drop unconcious anytime.

"Y-You have to b-be joking..."

There is a pause. The women tries holding back the breaking voice, unable to control herself. Her eyes scam the forest. Her voice almost sounding like she was freezing to death.

"I'm s-sorry I couldn't be there..."

Her eyes narrow down to the dirt as her paranoia proceeds to take over her. A crackle of the twig in the distance freaks her out; without knowing she turns and calls out in a worried tone.

"Who's there?! Come any closer and I'll sho-..."

The radio cuts off in midsentence.

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*Having heard the panic in Hopes voice Nelson keys back in*

"Hope if you can still hear me tell me where you are. I will come and help you.

*The radio falls silent as Nelson releases the PTT button* 

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*John rolls off of his hay pile bed and grabs his radio*

Locham…. Locham what the fuck. You got your ass kicked by zombies what a bitch. Fuck man I’ll add you to the list of friends of mine who got fucked. Nelson call me when you get a chance we have much to talk about.

*He sets his radio down and takes a deep breath, he grabs a bottle of vodka and slams it back in three gulps. He tries to get a tear out but he has long since lost all empathy for humanity.

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*Hearing john Nelson once more chimes into the frequency*

"I will be able to speak with you tomorrow John let me know the frequency"

*once more the radio falls silent*

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*Holds down the PTT*

Fuck that meet me in Stary Yar.

*Lets go of the PTT*

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