World War Z Fanfiction: World War Z: The Lost Interviews Summary
World War Z Fanfiction: World War Z: The Lost Interviews is a World War Z Fanfiction write by a fan. we do not own the original story. New chapter release will be updated instantly on novelgates.com
World War Z Fanfiction: World War Z: The Lost Interviews Summary:
A Mexican doctor. A British police sergeant. A Vietnamese politician. These individuals, as well as other men and women, tell their tales from the zombie war in this series of interviews that was thought to be lost forever. I do not own World War Z; all credit goes to the genius of Max Brooks.
World War Z Fanfiction: World War Z: The Lost Interviews first chapter:
1. Africa (Warnings)
Hey guys! I’m not dead! How long has it been? Two years, I believe? I cannot fully express how sorry I am for not posting or updating anything in quite some time. Multiple factors have contributed to this: lack of inspiration, lack of interest, and many transitions and important events in my personal life have all played a part in this. But I’m back, and ready to produce new material!
Before I start the first chapter in this new story, I want to state a few things:
1. In order to fully understand this story, I highly suggest you read the novel World War Z by the wonderfully talented Max Brooks first. Obviously, this story will be in the World War Z fandom, so 99.999999999% of the people who will read it will have a good sense of what it’s about, but still, you never know who comes across these things.
2. For those of you wondering about my first story, Surviving the Dead, well…it’s in a weird place right now. Half of me wants to abandon it, but the other half of me wants to conduct some serious re-writes and continue on. Honestly, looking back, the vast majority of stuff written in there looks like something a twelve-year-old would write. So as of right now, the story is still on hiatus, and its fate is still up in the air. Eventually I’ll come to a final decision regarding it’s fate, but this new story will receive all my attention for the foreseeable future.
I’ve wanted to do something like this for a while, as I feel that while Max Brooks did a great job covering multiple perspectives from seemingly all walks of life, I feel like there are some countries or perspectives that would’ve made the book even better. Throughout this poorly written fic, we will revisit a few locations already in the book such as the United States and the Holy Russian Empire, but we will also visit some new locations such as Argentina, Vietnam, Great Britain, and Aztlan (formerly known as Mexico in the book), just to name a few! I’ve tried my best to make these as historically accurate as possible, and have also tried to keep these chapters as closely tied to the novel’s universe as possible.
Also, I’ll be posting these chapters in chronological order as the book, as many of these chapters take place during different time frames in the book (for instance, this first one takes place during the first chapter “Warnings”, while others take place during chapters such as “The Great Panic” and “Around the World, and Above”. I’ll be sure to add a parentheses at the end of the chapter names so those who have read the book know what section it takes place in. I’ve decided to write them at different parts in the story because the majority of the World War Z fics I’ve read take place during “Around the World, And Above”, but I digress.
And one last thing: as with everything else, I (unfortunately) do not own World War Z. All credit goes to the genius of Max Brooks, and these chapters are not for monetary gain, but rather for the entertainment of myself and others.
Be sure to read, review, and comment. So with all that being said, I hope y’all enjoy!
BARRANQUILLA, NUEVA GRAN COLOMBIA
[Business is running as usual in the country’s most populous port city. The people seem to be in pleasant spirits, as the nation’s newly elected president has recently declared that eight new oil wells have been opened in the eastern part of the country, far from Colombia’s pre-war border. Alejandro Ortega and I relax on his apartment balcony, overlooking the bay.]
When you think of Colombian criminals, or just Latin American criminals in general, you probably imagine either a drug lord or human smuggler. There’s not without merit, given our nation’s rather tumultuous history during the twentieth century. Escobar’s drug empire and the rebel insurgence have both left a dark mark on our international reputation. So at the start of the early cases, we weren’t exactly in the best position. [He grins.] Can’t say that now, can we?
I was an arms-trafficker back in the day. While my pre-war profession was not as documented in the mainstream media as, let’s say drug traffickers, or even human traffickers, it still played a major role in helping certain places stay stable or unstable, depending on who my client was. I first got started in the late-80s, selling weapons to the FARC  rebels in the north, and when the 90s rolled around, I expanded my business beyond the Americas. And yes, you heard me correctly. I did in fact sell guns and bullets to people to destabilize my own country, but at the time, I couldn’t give hot blue shit about what happened. I wasn’t even living there anyway; when I wasn’t selling AKs or M60s to some backwater gang on the other side of the globe, I was having crazy, drug-fueled sex parties at my Mexican beach house.
What kinds of clients did you conduct business with?
All kinds. Drug cartels, warlords, rogue separatist groups like the Basque ETA . Africa and the Middle East were my biggest markets. So many nations filled with so much hatred between various ethnic and political groups, and with little to no hope of putting an end to it by their national governments in a short amount of time, it was practically Heaven for people like me.
You had al-Qaeda groups in Iraq fighting you Americans, you had Hamas agents in Lebanon and the Palestinian Territories waging perpetual war against the Israelis…I even sold small arms to the Ku Klux Klan and other Neo-Nazi, white nationalist groups in the States. [He chuckles.] What I could never understand was why would they need more? America has the highest rate of private gun ownership per capita in the whole world, so would these swastika-tattooed, wife beater-wearing sons of bitches needed more in the first place. But then I remembered that a good chunk of them were ex-convicts, so getting their hands on guns legally was challenging. But I didn’t worry too much about; at the end of the day, they got their guns, I got my money.
With that being said, I personally never felt responsible for any of the bloodshed and misery that my job caused. I was there to do one thing: to fatten my bank account. I had never much consideration for others. I guess that’s a result of my poverty-stricken childhood in Neiva. Always looking for a chance to earn a few extra pesos, always looking for an opportunity…
[He leans further back in his seat.]
Have you ever heard of Viktor Bout? You know, the Russian arms dealer who was once called the “Merchant of Death”? If you haven’t, there’s a really good film partially based on his career. Lord of War, I believe it’s called. Anyway, he got his nickname as a result of both his international operations and impressively massive clientele. I once did business with him, you know. No really, I did! While we weren’t partners in the traditional sense, we got along better then our competitors did with us. While he sold Kalashnikovs to Sierra Leoneans, I sold RPGs to Afghani Mujahideen. But please remember, we were not friends, more like “respectable rivals”, for lack of a better term.
[He leans forward in his chair and spits over the rail.]
But you’re not down here to talk about that, I know. You’re probably wondering when did I first pick up the scent of something amiss.
[Before I can answer…]
The moment I began suspect something was when I was in Nigeria, attempting to strike a new deal with the Boko Haram unit in the area. They had placed a rather large order; twice as many grenades, and nearly thrice as much ammunition. I even had an order placed for a bunch of anti-tank grenades, which was rare considering the terrain.
Was it then you realized things didn’t seem quite right?
Not immediately. I was too happy that I was going to get an even bigger ass-load of money than I usually got that I didn’t think too much of it. When I arrived at the location, this humid, miserable jungle, in the middle of the afternoon, the clockwork routine went as usual: I introduced myself, I showed the client the products, and I received my pay. I was just about to leave when I noticed something in the background. Two fighters were shouting something in their native tongue and were scurrying down the hill. I didn’t see what they were shooting at; I was too occupied counting the stack of Nigerian nairas to make sure I wasn’t being cheated.
I boarded my plane out of the area immediately afterward. I didn’t like to stay too long in conflicted territory, you understand. As the plane began going down runway, I looked out the window to see the two soldiers returning. One was helping the other one walk; he appeared to be injured. From that distance I couldn’t make out the injury itself, but the fucker looked pretty banged up; even from that far away I could see the blood staining the man’s clothes. The guy in charge running up to them was the last thing I saw before I was up in the air.
Did that concern you?
Hardly. They knew what they were getting themselves into. For all I knew, the poor bastard probably got shot by government forces, or maybe attacked by a wild animal. That’s what made me sleep like a baby on the flight home.
My next deal was in Zimbabwe, selling high-powered rifles to poachers. That was the moment of truth right there, the moment that I realized something was wrong, or were going to get bad. Unlike my previous deal, this exchange wasn’t illegal per se, as elephant hunting was a popular activity in the area. Yes, that sleezeball of a president actually allowed that shit.
After the transaction and shaking hands with the buyer, I went back to my Jeep to count the diamonds I had just received. I heard the crack of one my products as one of the buyer’s goons tested it out on a passing gazelle. But what happened next was what really stole the show. A herd of elephants were stampeding toward us, honking their trunks wildly. I ducked down in time to see the herd run past us, dust clouding my sight. When the dust settled, I looked down to see the buyer, bloody, mangled, and lifeless on the ground, his rifle completely smashed beside him.
I looked up ahead, and I could easily make out the shapes of four or five people shambling toward us. One of the poachers raised his newly acquired hunting rifle, chambered a round, and ordered the people in broken English to halt. The shapes continued toward us, ignoring the man’s orders. The man soon fired, sending a bullet straight into the man’s chest. Now these were .30-06 rounds, powerful enough to knock a man off his feet if hit by one. But this man…he just stumbled back a few feet, then continued stumbling forward as if nothing had happened.
The other poachers raised their guns and fired as well. I myself withdrew my own nine millimeter just to be safe. Most of their bullets passed harmlessly through, but one of them managed to hit one of them, a woman, in the side of the head, blowing her brains out as she collapsed onto the ground. Once they got the idea, the others went down in seconds. I didn’t have to fire a shot, praise God.
This was before the outbreak in Cape Town, you see, so the incident went virtually unnoticed. However, rumors began to spread among my fellow traffickers about their clients engaging in direct conflict immediately after purchasing our goods. This wasn’t unusual, but what made everyone scratch their heads was why these people didn’t go down when shot anywhere but the head. But what really made things weirder was either my clients or competition seeing people wandering around in places they weren’t supposed to be in.
Like people with barely any clothes on wandering around through the frozen wastelands of Kazakhstan, or people wandering into animal reserves in Zambia and the animals going crazy. You know, weird shit like that.
What I was doing might have done some good if we knew what we were up against, however. If we had known who, or what we were dealing with, maybe my illegal trafficking could have saved countless lives.
It’s not your fault, you know.
I know, I know, but I just can’t help it. I’m sure everyone thinks that from time to time. I wouldn’t say it’s survivor’s guilt, but it’s definitely something that bugs you, no matter how much booze you chug.
- Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia: A far-left, communist guerilla group that promoted agrarianism and anti-imperialism that was first formed in 1964. Their main activities included illegal mining, kidnapping for ransom, and production and distribution of illegal narcotics.
- Euskadi Ta Askatasuna (Basque Homeland and Liberty): A far-left Basque nationalist organization that sought to form an independent Basque state in northeastern Spain.
You are reading World War Z Fanfiction: World War Z: The Lost Interviews on novelgates.com. To read more World War Z Fanfiction or Books Fanfiction please check the tags bellow chapter list.
The original author of this fanfiction is Patrick the Fan
- 17. Switzerland (Around the World And Above) January 7, 2020
- 16. Animals (Around the World, And Above) January 7, 2020
- 15. Tennessee (Home Front USA) January 7, 2020
- 14. Australia (Turning the Tide) January 7, 2020
- 13. The Netherlands (Turning the Tide) January 7, 2020
- 12. New Zealand (Turning the Tide) January 7, 2020
- 11. Aztlan (Turning the Tide) January 7, 2020
- 10. Texas, USA (The Great Panic) January 7, 2020
- 9. Ethiopia (The Great Panic) January 7, 2020
- 8. France (The Great Panic) January 7, 2020
- 7. Egypt (The Great Panic) January 7, 2020
- 6. Nevada, USA (The Great Panic) January 7, 2020
- 5. DC, USA (The Great Panic) January 7, 2020
- 4. Aztlan (Blame) January 7, 2020
- 3. CDC (Blame) January 7, 2020
- 2. England (Warnings) January 7, 2020