Writing Apocalypse and Survival

by Jackson Dean Chase

  Your characters are on the road or quickly end up there. They either have a “safe” destination in mind or are actively looking for one. If not everyone knows each other, this is the place to reveal more about them―both to deepen their relationships and to lay the groundwork for schisms you can exploit later. Alternately, a loner hero may wish to stay on the move, one step ahead of trouble.

  Other survivors show up seeking similar resources or shelter; these people can be friendly or hostile. If they appear useful, the characters' group further argues and schisms over whether or not to let the new people in. One of the new people is wounded. If infected, they become a secret (or not so secret) threat, depending on if they reveal the wound was caused by a zombie or not.

  The characters seek shelter and supplies, encountering various obstacles and clues to an alleged “promised land.” Their group suffers attrition through fighting internal and external threats but hangs onto a glimmer of hope―just enough to keep going.

  The characters find the “promised land” is not all it's cracked up to be. Either it is abandoned, overrun, damaged, or occupied by hostile or unfriendly forces. The characters must find a way to make the shelter work by repairing it―or, if it is already inhabited, by proving themselves to the occupants or defeating them.

  The shelter now appears “safe” and the characters allow themselves to relax. This is where you contrast the characters' new way of life from their one on the road. This is a prime place to slow things down by exploring and deepening the characters' relationships―as well as their schisms. Any unrevealed back stories, secrets, or traumas go here.

  Factions within the group that had previously held together in the face of external threats now have an opportunity to fight for dominance. This fight directly or indirectly leads to the group being unprepared for the siege.

  If there is still power and access to media, the characters may use TV, radio, or internet to get more information―that information could lead to more conflict within the group as they argue over what should be done with it. If the news says a better shelter is available nearby, some of the group will leave at this point (either by sneaking out and stealing vital weapons and supplies, or on amicable terms, promising to send back help).

  More survivors show up seeking the same shelter; these can be friendly or hostile. If they appear useful, the characters' group further argues and schisms over whether to let the new people in or not. One of the new people might be wounded. If infected, they become a secret (or not so secret) threat, depending on if they reveal the wound was caused by a zombie or some other contagious disease.

  Zombies and/or hostile human forces (possibly following the new arrivals) besiege the shelter.

  The characters must decide to stay and fight (and likely die) or flee back to life on the road. Not everyone will believe the situation is hopeless, and some may stay knowing it is suicide, but are willing to sacrifice themselves to help the others escape.

  Those who stay either die or manage to survive and flee or restore security to the shelter. Those who flee either live and face an uncertain future or are killed in the process. Neither the characters who stay or the ones who flee may know what happened to the other group. It is OK to leave some doubt as to the fates of both groups in the reader's mind, but most stories will show the fate of one, implying they will survive—for now.

  “THE SEIGE” PLOT TEMPLATE

  The apocalypse strikes suddenly or is already underway (this choice determines how knowledgable your characters are about the threat).

  The characters begin in a “safe” or “safe for now” shelter or quickly find one as the world crumbles around them. If not everyone knows each other, this is the place to reveal more about them―both to deepen their relationships and to lay the groundwork for schisms you can exploit later.

  Since the characters are stationary, other than events in their immediate vicinity, the greater collapse is often illustrated through watching TV, listening to the radio, or phone and internet connections as long as the power lasts. The information the characters receive will be fragmented and often wrong or out-of-date, full of deliberate or unintentional misinformation, and paint a far rosier or blacker picture depending on the news source. If your story takes place in modern times, internet information will be all over the place in terms of quality. Every crazy or malicious weirdo will be on social media spouting vitriolic, panicked nonsense that will get the people who listen to it killed or worse. If the characters are influenced by outside advice or “facts,” this may cause them to abandon their current shelter. If they do, this becomes “The Road” plot. If they stay, “The Siege” plot continues. Either way, you want your characters to argue and discuss the information they are receiving and what they should do about it. This creates a schism in the group you can exploit later.

  The characters run low on supplies and decide to get more by mounting scavenging or raiding parties that send them further and further from their shelter as time goes by and the surrounding areas are picked clean. The characters might need general supplies or specific ones like a certain type of medicine.

  Other survivors show up seeking the same shelter; these can be friendly or hostile. If they appear useful, the characters' group further argues and schisms over whether to let the new people in or not. One of the new people might be wounded. If infected, they become a secret (or not so secret) threat, depending on if they reveal the wound was caused by a zombie or some other contagious disease.

  Zombies and/or hostile human forces (possibly following the new arrivals) besiege the shelter.

  The characters must decide to stay and fight (and likely die) or flee back to life on the road. Not everyone will believe the situation is hopeless, and some may stay knowing it is suicide, but are willing to sacrifice themselves to help the others escape. Those who stay either die or manage to survive and restore security to the shelter. Those who flee either live and face an uncertain future or are killed in the process. Neither the characters who stay or the ones who flee may know what happened to the other group. It is OK to leave some doubt as to the fates of both groups in the reader's mind, but most stories will show the fate of one, implying they will survive—for now.

  Notice that “The Siege” plot has twelve steps and the “The Road” only has seven. That does not make it easier to write! If anything, it makes it harder, because much of the Siege ends up being like a one-room stage play.

  In a Siege, if you write yourself into a corner, you don't have the luxury of saying the characters just “move up the road to see what's next.” The Road is a proactive plot, while the Siege is reactive. The people won't leave their shelter unless they're absolutely sure that's the right move. That means you have to get more creative giving them a reason to leave. And of course, a “good reason” to one character will be a “bad reason” to another. So they will argue and waste time until one side wins, or until hostile forces make it impossible for either side to stay.

  Remember that these templates are guidelines to help you construct a satisfying plot, they aren't meant to restrict you. Think of it like a recipe: some people like certain spices, others don't. Some like a pinch, some like a heaping spoonful. Season your plot to taste.

  HIT THE EASY BUTTON

  You can move the template plot points around if you want. Or, you can cut or combine some. And you can always add more. In particular, plot points 9-10 in The Road (5-6 in The Siege) can be repeated as often as needed. Throwing more survivors and/or hostiles into the mix can help get your plot back on track. It can also squeeze in some much needed action to pick up the pace.

  As hardboiled author Raymond Chandler said in his famous essay, The Simple Art of Murder: “When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand.”

  You can substitute the words “man” and “gun” with anything. For example, “When in doubt, have a zombie come through the door holding a severed head in his hand.” Or, “When in doubt, have a woman pull a ma
le character aside and tell him 'We need to talk.'” Now that's scary!

  Don't let too many chapters go by without your characters at least seeing, hearing, or thinking about the threat they're facing. It doesn't have to be a fight, but the threat must be present in some way. For example, placing zombies as menacing sounds or shadows in the distance can drive home your otherwise safe character’s increasing loneliness and isolation.

  Have one of the characters go crazy. By “crazy,” I don't mean foaming at the mouth, full-on axe murderer crazy. I mean give them a temporary psychotic break where the stress they're under freaks them out enough that they make bad decisions that could get the group killed. They may have to be restrained, knocked out, killed, or banished. Or maybe they unlock the back door when no one is looking and run away, leaving it open behind them―and in walks the villain and his henchmen, or some zombies…

  You can also hit the easy button with any villains or traitors that are already within the shelter; have them hatch a plot to take over the group, deny others important resources, or attempt to get away with something selfish or nasty. They could hoard food, ammo, information, anything. Maybe they do it not to be a dick, but simply because they don't trust the main character and want to be sure they have some “holdout” supplies in case things go badly. The end result is pretty much the same regardless of their intentions: a fight that's verbal, physical, or both.

  Feed the characters new information from a “trusted source” either through the media or a character they meet. After a brief argument/discussion, this information sends the characters in a new direction―and into new danger. Is the source of the info compromised by a villain? Or is it just plain wrong, misguided, or out-of-date? Maybe it's a prerecorded message on a loop and when the characters get there, they find the promised shelter abandoned or held by hostile forces.

  Remember, if something sounds too good to be true, it usually is—but in the apocalypse, you'll still have plenty of survivors ready to believe anything that gives them hope…

  13

  SURVIVAL HORROR

  MORE PLOT IDEAS AND TIPS

  WHEN YOU ADD ZOMBIES, monsters, or other survival horror elements into your plot, there are a few things to be aware of. Remember you can replace the word “zombie” with whatever type of villain or creature you want. You can also replace “apocalypse” with “disaster” or “invasion.” Zombies may be the most common survival horror story, but they are by no means the only one, especially outside the post-apocalyptic genre. Films like Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986), Predator (1987), Cabin Fever (2002), and ‘Salem’s Lot (TV miniseries, 1979) are all about surviving, whether against aliens, disease, or vampires.

  THE FIRST NEWS THE APOCALYPSE HAS BEGUN

  For pre-apocalypse stories, you need to be careful how you dispense the information the danger is coming. You don't want to just blast it out in the first few pages or even the first chapter (unless you are writing a short story). That's called an “info-dump” and readers hate it. Instead, you want to spoon feed clues, slow and steady.

  The characters should never have the whole story in the first few chapters. Tease them with traffic accidents, distant screams or sirens, shadowy figures shambling in the distance, odd but not overly alarming news reports, missing person flyers on telephone poles, that sort of thing. Build mystery and suspense now, while you still can. The horror will come soon enough.

  THE FIRST ZOMBIE SIGHTING

  Note that a sighting does not mean an attack. In a pre-apocalypse setting, the first time the characters see a zombie, it should be ambiguous as to what it is. They should think the zombie is alive, that they're simply drunk or sick or crazy. When possible, keep the zombie at a safe distance, one step removed from the characters so there is no way the zombie can immediately attack. The zombie may be preoccupied and not even notice the character. What's important is that the character notices the zombie, wonders about it briefly, then moves on with their life.

  Honestly, this “zombie” could just be a drunk or homeless weirdo. That part doesn't matter. What matters is we plant the idea of zombies in the readers' mind. The character, on the other hand, remains oblivious, which builds suspense.

  If you begin your story in the pre-apocalypse, you have 25 pages at most to reveal the first “zombie” sighting (which could be someone who is merely infected but not yet turned, or a drunk or crazy person as previously suggested) and 50 pages to bring on the first zombie attack. If you can't get to the zombie action in the first 50 pages, you're probably telling the wrong story―one that will bore and annoy zombie fans.

  If you begin during or after the apocalypse, you only have 10-15 pages to show the first zombie and 25 pages to begin the first attack because expectations are different. Once our society is in a state of collapse, you expect to see zombies pretty damn quick.

  This rule more or less applies to screenplays too, regardless of whether they are pre-, during, or post-apocalypse. That's because each page in a screenplay translates to an average of one minute of screen time. Most movies are only 90 minutes, so they need to move faster than fiction.

  Due to the variable length of short stories, change the above page counts to the percentage of story. So by 25% of the way in, you'll have revealed the first zombie sighting. By 50% of the way in, you'll hit the first zombie attack. In a short story, it may not always be possible (or advisable) to have more than one zombie attack, so choose it carefully―both when it happens and what it consists of.

  Not every story needs a ravenous horde of undead. You could get by with just a few zombies, or even one, as long you do two things:

  Imply there are more lurking around; and

  Use the ones you've got to maximum effect.

  In the film It Stains the Sands Red (2016), there is only one main zombie, but this works because it takes place in the Nevada desert. It’s logical there’s only a few undead around, and only one doggedly pursuing the heroine.

  THE FIRST ZOMBIE ATTACK

  The first zombie attack should come as a complete surprise to the character(s). It must be terrifying, not horrifying. What do I mean by that? I'm going to paraphrase the Alfred Hitchcock definitions: Terror is when the audience knows there is a bomb set to go off under a table two men are sitting at. They talk in a casual, friendly manner, neither having any idea they are about to die. But the audience knows, and the audience fears for them. That is terror.

  Horror is when the bomb goes off and we see the men die, their limbs flying, their faces blasted off. In a zombie story, the fans want horror, they expect and demand it, but they need terror if you want them to remember your story as something other than a mindless gore-fest.

  The entire opening to Night of the Living Dead (1968) is devoted to setting up its first zombie attack, and does so in the smartest way possible:

  A brother and sister drive to an old cemetery to lay flowers on their father's grave. They tease and argue with each other about the drive, about how they should move the grave closer to their homes, why they don't have any candy left, etc. Through this sibling banter, we get to know and care for the two characters, Barbara and Johnny.

  Slowly, Johnny realizes the empty cemetery frightens his sister, so like any good older brother, he tries to spook her. Barbara gets angry.

  Meanwhile, in the background, we see what looks like a drunk weaving his way between the tombstones. Johnny uses the man's shabby appearance to further frighten his sister, and in a nice bit of foreshadowing, tells her, “They're coming to get you, Barbara… Look, here comes one of them now!” He laughs and runs a short distance away to watch his sister embarrass herself.

  As expected, Barbara tries to apologize for her brother's childish behavior. The man attacks her. Great Scott, he's a zombie! Johnny rushes to the rescue but the zombie kills him, then chases Barbra until she takes shelter in a not so empty farm house.

  More survivors and zombies arrive. The Road part of the plot is over. The Siege begins.

  Thi
s opening works because we spend time getting to know Johnny and Barbara. We like them, even if Johnny’s an ass and Barbara’s prim and uptight. They feel like real people, going about their lives. If the film had not spent the time it did establishing the characters and their relationship, then no matter how gruesome, the horror would have been “who cares?” instead of “holy shit!”

  It’s one thing to say, “watch the movie,” and another to say “now write a novel.” So let’s take a look at how to do that with the novelization of Night of the Living Dead:

  At dusk, they finally spotted the tiny church. It was way back off the road, nearly hidden in a clump of maple trees, and if they had not found it before dark, they probably would not have found it at all.

  It was the cemetery behind the church that was the objective of their journey. And they had hunted for it for nearly two hours, down one long, winding rural back road after another with ruts so deep that the bottom of the car scraped and they had to crawl along at less than fifteen miles per hour, listening to a nerve-wracking staccato spray of gravel against the fenders and sweltering the a swirl of hot, yellow dust.

  They had come to lay a wreath on their father’s grave. Johnny parked the car just off the road at the foot of a grassy terrace while his sister, Barbara, looked over at him and breathed a sigh intended to convey a mixture of happiness and relief.

  Johnny said nothing. He merely tugged angrily at the knot of his already loosened tie and stared straight ahead at the windshield, which was nearly opaque with dust.