# Zombie Apoc-Fur-Lypse: Sam Cox's Prologue Author: comidacomida Tags: Gore, Raccoon, Violence, apoc-fur-lypse, zombies Zombie Apoc-Fur-Lypse-- Samuel Cox's Prologue copyright 2010 comidacomida It wasn't a good day and it wasn't a bad day; it was just another day.  Sam had been having a lot of 'just-another-day's since he first started working for United Waste Management Services but, to him, that was an improvement.  Sam's life had never been particularly hard but, then again, it hadn't been easy either.  The raccoon had always managed to scrape by, grabbing what jobs he could for as long as he could hold them, but, in the end, the jobs always ended when he couldn't take any more of the bad days that kept piling up. To Sam, "mediocre" was a good thing.  He was content to never have a good day so long as it meant he wouldn't have to have a bad one.  That was one thing that UWMS had going for it: every day was like any other.  The raccoon spent 10 hours a day, from 3:30 in the morning until 2:00 in the afternoon sifting through the grimiest dirt and rubbish that the residents of Ratherbig could fit into their bins.  At first, he considered it degrading and menial but, as time went on, he was almost able to say he enjoyed what he did.  The work was simple and even though he ended up going home smelling like sewage, it wasn't something Sam had trouble accepting.   "Hey, Sammy.  Any chance you might wanna lend us a paw over here?" came the blunt wake-up call that snapped Sam out of his reverie.  He hated that nickname. "Huh?  Yea... right."  He moved to aid his coworker Ken, another ring-tailed raccoon like himself.  Ken was the newest member of their team but, like most Americans, he was so outspoken that he always seemed to think he was in charge.  The third member of their work crew, a bulldog named Annie, was laid back enough that she didn't care to remind the newcomer that she was the shift leader... but she still got her way whenever she pushed the issue.  The three of them hefted a biffa bin away from the side of the building so it would be easier to dump. While Annie went back to work the hydraulics, Sam moved clear of the bin and Ken followed, "Hey Sammy... you know female bits are called a 'fanny' here?  You know what a 'fanny' is in America?" Sam rolled his eyes; Ken had a knack for focusing on some of the slang terms used differently in the two countries.  He could still remember the time Ken got in some pretty big trouble for mistaking 'pants' for 'trousers'.  Ever since then, the American made it a point to find some way to embarrass someone at every opportunity.  "No, Ken... I have no idea."   "It's slang for an 'arse'." Ken made the best attempt at a cockney accent for the final word. "Hmm." Sam answered simply, "Guess that'd be pretty confusing for a shirtlifter then, eh?" he flicked his tail dismissively. "Yea... sure." Ken responded, obviously focusing only on his own side of the conversation, "Anyway... in America we have these things called 'fanny packs'..." "And you wear em on your bum?" Sam inquired flatly. "No... see... that's the fucking crazy thing... you wear em around your front... it's like they were made in England or something!" "Brilliant." Annie interjected, "Now if you two are done fart-arsing-about, we've got a route to finish."  That said, she climbed into the cab, waiting for the two raccoons. "Ya know..." Ken glanced to Sam with a wry grin, "I bet if she got her fanny packed she'd be in a better mood."  Despite himself, Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the comment. The rest of the shift went pretty much the same as the first part.  The three worked well together despite Ken being pretty new to the job.  After three months he had the rhythm down and knew enough about the route to keep up with the veterans.  It was half past one by the time the three reached the end of their run and Annie finally stopped for a few minutes. Sam hopped off of the back of the lorrie, "We good for a few, Annie?  I gotta take a slash." The bulldog waved him away and the raccoon ducked inside the nearest pub.  If he had any thought that Annie would have waited long enough he would have grabbed a pint too but, as it was, he didn't have a lot of time.  He washed his paws and made his way back out onto the street after he finished up in the loo. "Took you long enough." Ken said to Sam.  It was one of the prodding statements Ken made from time to time, not meant to insult, really just for playful banter. "Good of ya ta time me, mate." Sam answered matter-of-factly, "Maybe next time you'll wanna hold my paw too?" "Hey!" Annie's shout cut their posturing short.  Both raccoons turned to where the bulldog was backed up against a wall by a weasel.  At first it almost seemed humorous since the little guy looked like he was hardly half her weight and barely as tall as she was but, as Sam took in the situation he realized why she was so intimidated; the weasel was missing an ear and blood was pouring down from his muzzle, covering the front of his shirt. "Hey, bro, relax... back off." Ken quickly moved over to join Annie. "Turn it in, mate." Sam noted, moving over to join Ken and Annie, holding his paws up, palms facing the weasel, who continued toward the three of them , "It's safe.  We'll help ya... just calm down." The weasel had no intention of calming down and, with a growling hiss, lept at the three of them.  Sam tried to grab hold of the weasel's arm, but their crazed assailant twisted easily out of the grasp.  Sam winced, recoiling as blood sprayed into the side of his face; the weasel had pushed past both raccoons and his needle-sharp teeth and clamped down on Annie's neck.   "Holy shit!" shouted Ken, and he grabbed at the weasel's arm, trying to pull him away from the bulldog, "Let go!  Let go!  Oh fuck!" Sam didn't wait or stop to think; he went straight to the lorrie and grabbed one of the dust shovels clamped onto the side.  He came back and took a wide stance, brandishing the shovel. "Let go NOW you git!"  The raccoon was almost surprised when the weasel actually did as he was commanded... but not as surprised as he was when he came flying at him, teeth bared. Sam felt the resounding impact of the shovel hitting the weasel's head.  Vibrations of the solid blow traveled all the way up his shoulders and made him feel sick to his stomach.  The fleshythud of the unmoving body hitting the ground only made it worse.  The raccoon felt his grip on the shovel loosen as he looked at the unmoving weasel, but as his stunned gaze slowly searched across the street, seeing many more furs covered in blood chasing down others, Sam's paw clenched onto it with a vice-like grip.   "Ken... get in the truck." Sam spoke quietly. "Holy shit!  She's still alive, Sam!" Ken looked at him, from where he knelt next to their fallen supervisor.  Annie gurgled and weakly raised a paw.  Ken grabbed it tightly, "Stay calm, Annie... help's comin'... don't go to sleep."  Sleep wasn't on her mind. Sam turned around as he heard Ken scream and was just in time to watch Annie's stout jaws close around the American's shoulder.  Ken screamed again as blood poured down his side and Sam looked at both his coworkers.  "Sam!  HELP!" Ken cried. For the second time that day, Sam's shovel collided with a head.  While the first attack was a right-to-left cricket-bat swing, the newest one was more like the swipe of a golf-club.  The raccoon felt the remnants of his lunch shift in his stomach as the flat of the shovel collided with Annie's nose, knocking her completely off of Ken, who quickly stumbled up to his feet and backpedaled away from the bulldog. "What the fuck, Sam?  WHAT THE FUCK?!?!" the American cried out, paw holding his injured shoulder, doing little to staunch the bleeding from the broad rip.  "Annie?  What the fuck?!?" he seemed unable to say much more.   Sam watched in muted horror as the bulldog slowly rose to her feet again, nose smashed into her skull, slightly twisted.  Her bottom jaw remained attached to her head by tendon only, hanging loosely.  Annie's tongue idly reminded Sam of a too-short, gag necktie, and the thought made him even sicker.  The most unsettling thought was that her injuries did not even stop her, and it was little more than a handful of seconds before she launched herself at Sam again. \*CLUNK\*.  Annie dropped like a stone as Ken's shovel connected with her head like a blacksmith's hammer.  An overhead chop sent the bulldog's head right into the pavement.  She twitched once... then again... then stopped moving.  Neither raccoon dropped his shovel... but both heaved, and vomited right onto the street. "Fuck, Sam... what's going on?" Ken asked, moving slowly back to the lorrie.  Sam had no answer for him, but kept in pace, not stopping until his back was against the secure metal of their work vehicle. "Dunno..." Sam answered after a long pause, "But it's not safe on the street."  Just then, the sound of a loud crash came from the pub that Sam had used for his loo break.  There were numerous screams, followed by the sound of more destruction, "I don't think anywhere's safe." he added, and looked back to their work rig.   Ken glanced at Sam, then at the rig, and pulled down on one of the levers at the back.  The hydraulics slowly opened up the gate, allowing entry inside the rubbage bin, "Few inches of metal between us and the world?" Sam nodded silently.  Not letting go of the shovel, the raccoon quickly climbed inside.  He reached out a paw to help Ken inside, but his coworker looked at him with wide eyes, and grabbed hold of the lever with a death grip.  The American shouted, "MY LEG!", and Sam saw a spray of blood shoot up from below.  He grabbed for Ken, who was staring down beneath the lorrie with wide, frightened eyes.  He had just enough time to look up and meet Sam's gaze before he was pulled off of the switch, and under the vehicle. Thrusting his shovel out of the rubbish bin, Sam struck the lever, causing it to flip.  He shivered as the doors slowly closed on the outside world, surrounding him in blackness.  Things had changed so quickly... it was NOT 'just another day'. Source: https://sofurry.com/view/146362