[Untitled] Chapter 1: Ignorance Part I

Robert Scott and his crew were unique, mostly linked by one thing, but none knew what that was. Scott was lounging in his captain's chair of Spacecraft Zulu whilst throwing questions at the interesting newcomer of the ship.
"What are you in for?" He scratched his thin gray beard with a smug smile to show that he was friendly. He asked that specific question because most of the crew - not all, but most - were either exempt from some form of military, or had no place to live what-so-ever.
"I'd prefer not to say," The newcomer replied as he stared into Scott's green eyes with his hazel. The newcomer's eyes were teary, as if he were about to cry.
"Okay," Scott was kind of stricken with shock by the reply. "And, sir, I think I missed your name."
"Alan Warick."
"Ah, peaceful enough. I hope to say that you'll enjoy it here on Zulu."
"Hope I will, and great respect to you, sir."
"No, you don't need to have respect for me, I am just an old fool who rose through the ranks over time."
"No, sir, I can see it in you, you are n-" In an instant, the noise of an object colliding with metal grating cut Warick off.
"What the hell was that?" Scott freaked, He wasn't one to get unnerved easy, but there was nothing at all that could have fallen against the grated floor in the airlocked cargo room. The cargo room had an airlock shield that allowed objects to pass through at any given moment, but kept needed gases inside. If anything, it was some sort of debris that flew into the airlock shield.
Warick and Scott went to check it out. The halls were cold and dark, nothing was lit, it was as if it were the dead of night. When they reached the cargo room, the lights were flickering as if there were some sort of interruption in the energy flow. Two of the crates had been moved from their original resting place - must have been struck by the object. And smack dead in the center of the room was no doubt the obvious debris. It was a dead body, but it didn't seem to have died from suffocation.
Scott was unafraid after he saw the corpse, in fact, he went over to check out the body of the damned. He slowly reached down and touched the damn thing's soft skin. But, of course, worst came to worse when the corpse's hands grew short, ice-like energy substances shaped like cones, and stabbed the captain in the abdominal cavity. The thing quickly pulled out, leaving absolutely no wound. It dropped the body of the captain as it stared Warick straight in the eyes, unsettling his nerves. Warick took a step back, frightened, and in that same moment, the creature charged at him on all fours. Of course, then Warick had no choice but to run.
On his way to the armory it kept his tail the entire time, but he knew it was toying with him because that thing was faster than any human could imagine. While taking a pump-action shotgun off of the top shelf, he heard a banging at the locked and armored door. He knew not to open it, because anyone of importance would have the code to the lock......

Unfinished and unnamed story

On the Cliffside, a man of dignity squatted. However this was more a ledge sticking off a mountainside, nevertheless, the folk of America still claimed it as a Cliffside. The only way to the ledge was a damp, dreary, and ill-lighted cave. He was cornered, if he were to jump, he'd have fallen to his death. Then came the problem. Vile flesh-eating creatures lurking in the pits of Hell crawled out of their resting places to bring an end to humanity. These creatures swarmed through the cave, but the man, known as Painkiller, was prepared for the attack. The previous night he had set up a Gatling gun, and mountains of ammunition, for he knew about the zombies since they have been going on since 1913 to his current day (Jan. 16, 1917).
Seth "Painkiller" Agron was a well-known sharpshooter, although his accuracy was almost superhuman, he was most famous for his extremely high tolerance of pain. Nobody, not even Seth himself knew how this tolerance came to be.
Painkiller manned the Gatling gun, and brought seven zombies to rest instantly by aiming for the head. Blood sprayed out of their open necks and stained the snow with a bright, shiny red. About fifty-seven more crawled up. Seth was up to the challenge until one pulled a revolver out of its holster and aimed it at him."What the hell?" He asked himself. This was the first time he'd seen, or even heard of something like this.
He was screwed for sure. The only thing he could do was jump off the ledge. As he fell, he slammed rocks with his feet and hands to slow his fall. Death was within grasp. Naturally with the speed he was falling a human would cry out in pain as they grabbed a rock and forget what they are trying to do, but his high-pain tolerance saved his life. The zombies at the ledge started jumping down along with Seth. Seth watched as they splattered against the ground turning the world another color.

Duster coat.

Terero Azane was an eyesore, obviously the structures and monuments were made of oak -what in 1911 wasn't?- but this place looked like it was struck by a sandstorm.
The villagers gasped as the gates of Terero Azane burst open. In stepped a traveller. The newcomer looked strange to the villagers. But that could just be the fact that they haven't seen a new face in over a century. He had a thin beard, and was wearing a sand-stained duster coat allong with a mexican sombrero. The gun he had holstered was a silver-coated double-action revolver filled with copper headed iron rounds which could pierce a buffalo's skull, yet merely give it brain damage. Everyone started crowding around him like he was a god. The sheriff started pulling out a repeater to force who he was and what his buisiness was out of the strange man. He took that as a challenge and flicked his revolver out and aimed from waist high. The guy in the duster coat slapped the trigger, the shell exploded as the bullet was forced out. The bullet smacked the sheriff above the right eye. This gun's bullet against a human was like playing chicken with a train from the train's perspective. The villagers whipped out their guns be it revolver, repeater, or carcano rifle. A gust of wind blew just at that moment, and the sand ambushed their eyes. They blindly fired at him. When the wind softened, they saw the pulverized body of the stranger. And although the man in the duster coat was dead, the murderous rage that he possessed was not...