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Dead Rising: Chop Till You Drop (Video Game 2009)

Original title: Deddo raijingu: Zonbi no ikenie

  • Video Game
  • 20092009
  • MM

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6.4/10

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Frank, a photographer, stops at Willamette Parkview Mall to take pictures for a newspaper. His ride back home, a helicopter, will be back in 3 days. However, zombies now infect the mall. It … Read allFrank, a photographer, stops at Willamette Parkview Mall to take pictures for a newspaper. His ride back home, a helicopter, will be back in 3 days. However, zombies now infect the mall. It is up to you to rescue all remaining survivors as well as find a way to escape this zombie. .. Read allFrank, a photographer, stops at Willamette Parkview Mall to take pictures for a newspaper. His ride back home, a helicopter, will be back in 3 days. However, zombies now infect the mall. It is up to you to rescue all remaining survivors as well as find a way to escape this zombie plagued mall.

IMDb RATING

6.4/10

19

YOUR RATING

    • Yoshinori Kawano
    • Yoshinori Kawano
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    Watch Dead Rising: Chop Till You Drop: Wii Gameplay

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    • Trivia

      Differences between the Wii and the Xbox 360 version include:

      • Firearms are a completely redefined element of the game — not only do guns now have more ammunition to them, players now using an over-the-shoulder perspective with Frank with aiming, which is further aided through the use of the Wii Remote to aim where the gun is pointing.
      • A few of the psychopaths from the original appear as zombies in the Wii version, while some of the survivors of the original are absent.
      • The Wii version features zombified animals, including poodles and parrots.
      • The mall’s size is significantly smaller in the Wii version.
      • Frank cannot jump in the Wii version, and the photography system is absent.
      • Players can change the colour of the blood in the game.
      • Both 72 Hour Mode and Overtime Mode are merged in the Wii Version, to form a single, story-driven mode of gameplay.
      • Completing the main storyline on the Wii version, grants the player access to a range of minigames.
      • There are fewer items scattered around the mall that can be used as weapons, while books are now acquired through a survivor named Cletus.

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    Dead Rising: Chop Till You Drop (Video Game)

    http://tvtropes. org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/videogame/deadrisingchoptillyoudrop

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    A conversion of Dead Rising for the Wii (mistaken for port, since many think that is a catch-all term for such things). Specifically it was a conversion in terms of setting and assets, but a remake in terms of gameplay (the game engine is the same one used in the Wii version of Resident Evil 4).

    • Action Commands: This one has a few quick waggles in addition to button presses.
    • Adam Smith Hates Your Guts: Unlike in the original game where there is no money whatsoever, in this version zombies drop money in addition to ammo and escorted survivors give money. How can you use money you ask? By saving Cletus you can buy guns from him, instead of just taking them like in the original game. This is ironically the first time money has appeared in the Dead Rising franchise, as the Wii version was released before Dead Rising 2.

    YouTube Comment: Congratulations! You’ve saved Cletus so now you can buy weapons instead of taking them for free yay!

    • Adaptational Badass: The zombies are slightly tougher in this version of the game; as animals have also been infected, while Cliff, Jo, and Kent now appear as elite zombies who can wield weapons or (in Kent’s case) jump kick Frank. There also new, generic gun-toting zombie cops who will actually shoot at Frank and have slightly boosted health.
    • Adaptation Distillation: Many redundant weapons were dropped in the Wii version in favor of making each weapon more effective on its own.
    • Adaptation Expansion: The Wii version adds some new things, such better gunplay with a IR pointer, multiple save slots, linear mission structure, and bonus missions after beating the game.
    • Adaptational Wimp: Cliff, Jo, and Kent are zombified in this version and do not reappear as psychopaths
    • Always Over the Shoulder: Since it has the same gameplay as Resident Evil 4, it has this trope instead of the Free Rotating Camera of the original version.
    • And Your Reward Is Clothes: Like in the original, Frank gets different outfits.
    • BFG: The M2 machine gun is mounted on a jeep, but Frank can just carry it around after he defeats the prisoners.
    • Blown Across the Room: Cletus’ shotgun has one hell of a kick, which is why his boss fight is so damned frustrating.
    • Bottomless Bladder: Amusingly averted; while Frank isn’t required to use the restroom, doing so is the primary method of saving the game (although there are others).
    • Breakable Weapons: While all melee weapons still break over time, all have increased durability as you level up. Guns don’t break in this game, and last as long as you need (save for a couple plot relevant breaks).
    • Chainsaw Good: Both averted and played straight. Averted with the chainsaw you find (Slow, prone to needing startup time, and is low on durability), and straight with the mini-chainsaw you can obtain from an early boss (One-handed, powerful, and very fast).
    • Combat Pragmatist: Many things you see in the mall can be picked up and used to clobber Zombies.
    • Cool Old Lady: Averted. The old woman Frank encounters when he enters the mall is more annoying than cool, especially since she lets the zombies into the mall in an insane attempt to rescue her poodle. Granted, without her actions there would be no game, but still…
    • Deadly Lunge: More common than in the original game, to make up for fewer zombies.
    • Defeat Means Friendship: It takes defeat for Isabela to start to cooperate with Frank.
      • Cletus lives in this version, and opens his shop for you.
    • Degraded Boss: Jo, Kent, and Cliff were human bosses in the original version, while Elite Mook zombies in this version.
    • Dies Differently in Adaptation: Cliff, Jo, and Kent originally appeared as psychopaths who had to be killed by Frank in self-defence. In this game, they are part of the infected as elite zombies who wield weapons.
    • Drop the Hammer: The sledgehammer is one of the most useful weapons.
    • Empathy Doll Shot: When Frank meets Adam. He glances into a passing Space Coaster car and sees two bloody dolls propped up in the seat.
    • Empty Levels: Since Frank doesn’t have as many stats to increase or moves to learn, and since most of the stat increases are early on, many of the later levels don’t give any bonuses.
    • End-Game Results Screen: The game does this at the end, and gives bonuses based on it as well.
    • Escort Mission: Much easier this time. You can actually take down the enemies that get in your way instead of trying to avoid them. In fact getting the best score requires you to take a direct route for the shortest time, which means killing all zombies in your direct path. Just, as with the previous game, don’t abuse the «Follow» button.
    • Evil Knockoff: The Kent Zombie, who uses grenades and a mean kick to attack.
    • Experience Points: Unlike other entries in the series, the primary XP source in this game is killing zombies.
    • Fan Disservice: Frank does the grind when trying on women’s clothing (including the bonus bikini outfit).
    • First-Person Snapshooter: Although the camera is only used once in one mission.
    • Fisticuffs Boss: Brock.
    • Friendly Fireproof: Played straight with people you’re escorting. And it’s necessary, as the game encourages outright attacking enemies.
    • Gas Mask Mooks: The Special Forces soldiers.
    • Guns Are Worthless: Totally averted in this version. The Wii’s IR pointer makes guns invaluable. Although melee weapons are still important since you still need ammo for the guns, and ammo drops aren’t common enough to use them exclusively, they come in very handy for major battles.
    • Heart Container: White drinks give you extra health.
    • Heel–Face Turn: Cletus lives in this version, and you can buy stuff from his shop.
    • Improbable Aiming Skills: Played straight this time, since the Wiimote allows precision aiming.
    • Infinity -1 Sword: The Mega Buster and Beam Sword both require getting top scores in a series of post game missions. The Chicago Typewriter is still a good way to finish boss battles easily, and you just need to beat the game once with a decent score.
    • Katanas Are Just Better: Sort of. They are top tier melee weapons, but are slow until you get the book to attack faster.
    • Laser Blade: The Beam Sword and Toy Laser Sword.
    • Lethal Joke Item: A lot of the toys have been seriously boosted in killing ability here. You can kill zombies in one hit with the Toy Laser Sword at Level 10.
      • And the Servbot heads and cones can still be used as hats, as long as you kneecap a zombie first, but they make pretty effective bludgeon weapons otherwise.
    • Level-Up Fill-Up: The only benefit to gaining many levels later on; see Empty Levels above.
    • Ludicrous Gibs: The Ice Auger is a laugh riot. Using it impales a zombie on the tool’s spinning auger, upon which you lift the spinning, flailing undead into the air and pummel other zombies with it. Limbs and bits of flesh fly off in every direction with each hit you land. Fun for the whole family!
      • Disturbingly enough, you can have Frank inflict this on the still-living generic Cultists unlike the original game.
    • Made of Iron: Pretty much all the Psychopaths can take dozens upon dozens of bullets to bring down and are unrelenting in their desire to turn Frank into meaty chunks.
    • Multiple Endings: Averted this time.
    • New Game Plus: This can only be gained by getting the ending, but the carryovers still apply.
    • Non-Standard Game Over: There are a few, like being caught by the military and failing to escape.
    • One-Man Army: Played straight. Not only can you just kill any zombies in your way, missions encourage it.
    • One Size Fits All: Averted. While Frank can try on clothes from any shop (including children’s shops) the clothes sometimes don’t fit him properly.
    • Our Zombies Are Different: Especially since there are more types of zombies than in the original version.
    • Pragmatic Adaptation: Generally, you’re not gonna get all the features from the original game, but it’s still pretty damn faithful.
    • Press X to Not Die: The convict battle, but it’s actually easier than the way they were fought in the original game.
    • Respawning Enemies: Even the original version had the zombies appear out of nowhere (thus making about a hundred zombies at best look like even more), but in this version you can see them respawn far more often and closer. Some claimed that was to fake the zombie count, but again, the original version did the same.
    • Real-Time Weapon Change: When aiming, you can use the d-pad to switch among the four types of guns (pressing the direction of the current type instead reloads that gun).
    • Randomly Drops: Enemies often drop money, ammo, or food.
    • Say My Name: The Halls do this for each other as you take them down.
    • Scenery Porn: About 90% of the mall in the original version is recreated here, and this version didn’t even stream the areas. Each level is all loaded at once.
    • Secret Level: A lot of the rescue missions require getting a minimum grade on certain standard missions.
    • Shirtless Scene: For whatever reason, enemies that capture Frank love to strip him to his skivvies.
    • Shout-Out:
      • Mega Man’s Mega Buster is the game’s ultimate weapon, Servbots make cameo appearances, and Frank learns a few Street Fighter moves as he levels up.
      • «Jill’s Sandwiches», and the Black Ops soldiers sent in look like H.U.N.K.
      • The Cultists look suspicously similar to the killer from the Scream slasher film series.
    • Spared by the Adaptation: In the original game, Cletus gets munched on by a zombie after you beat him. In this game, he can be rescued, after which he turns into a shopkeeper.
    • Suicide Attack: The Cultists will from time to time attempt to grab or pounce on Frank while holding a lit stick of dynamite.
    • Timed Mission: This uses them to get the best rankings.
    • Unlockable Content: Beating the game unlocks mini missions as new weapons. Getting high ranks in story missions unlock bonus missions.
    • Wide-Open Sandbox: Also averted, save for in between escort missions.
    • Wrestler in All of Us: The Suplex move.
    • Zombie Apocalypse: The town is in the middle of one.

    Night Storm read online by Katherine Coulter (Page 11)

    — Yes, she mentioned it, but I warned her that she was wrong. But Ginny is too stubborn, Alec.

    «Perhaps that’s true,» Ginny replied to her father more calmly. — But I know how to build ships and I’m ready to bet that no one will overtake me in sailing races.

    — Racing, Ginny? Are you going to compete with me? Alec muttered, looking so stunned that Ginny laughed involuntarily.0003

    — It doesn’t take strength to sail a ship, Alec, just brains and experience, and when it comes to brains, you can hardly compare with me!

    Stubborn, sir? I think, rather stubborn, and, moreover, not at the door, which nevertheless leads to the exit, but into a blank wall, and, in addition, overly arrogant, unbearably impudent and impudent, in general, a real shrew. You dare to invite me to race? Alec threw back his head and laughed out loud.

    Ginny plucked a bow of some unknown number and threw it in the guest’s face. He caught it, examined it for a long time, and finally, shrugging his shoulders, raised his eyes sparkling with deceit at her.

    «Your dress looks better every minute, Ginny,» James remarked, looking at the small pile of bows on the floor between his daughter and Alec. Those that fell into the fireplace smoked terribly, spreading an unbearable smell, as the thick velvet refused to burn.

    “If you count the sickeningly nasty color as an advantage,” Alec interjected and laughed again.

    — When do you meet Laura Semon?

    “Tomorrow night,” Alec said without hesitation, realizing immediately that he had answered a question that had nothing to do with Ginny, he clenched his fists. Her hands itched to choke that rascal for making a fool out of him. Too fast acting — it costs nothing to take a person by surprise! “Yes,” Alec added with a mocking smile, “the lovely lady invited me to have dinner with her. ”

    — I bet you have no other intentions than that!

    — Ginny!

    — Sorry, father, I’m tired. I wish you both good night.

    Ginny hurried to the door.

    «And bon voyage to all Englishmen,» she added under her breath, but still not quietly enough to miss Alec’s indulgent grin, which made her grit her teeth.

    — Ginny!

    The girl reluctantly turned to her father.

    — Tomorrow Alec will take you to another milliner. Dear child, don’t be so stubborn. He suggested it himself, and you must admit, our guest has excellent taste and sense of proportion. No, no, you shouldn’t attack us with such fury.

    — Tomorrow morning at ten? Alec suggested.

    «Unlike you, Baron, I have too much to do,» Ginny snapped.

    — Not so much. You just want to go to the shipyard as soon as possible, just because it gives you the opportunity to flaunt yourself in a man’s outfit. Now you can go to your room. Tomorrow, Ginny, don’t keep me waiting.

    The next morning, Ginny disappeared from the house a little before ten, and by ten, smiling triumphantly, she was already sitting at the exquisitely carved writing desk in the captain’s cabin of the Pegasus. Mimms was finishing polishing a wide Spanish mahogany bunk. The beautiful cover of the night vase, already finished, was leaning against the wall.

    Almost ten. Alec is no doubt knocking on the door now, pleased with himself, believing that he has gained power over Ginny and can now command. Oh, how she wished she could see his face!

    Ginny sighed. Okay, none of that matters. She just has a very good imagination.

    She closed her eyes and imagined Moses opening the door for the baron.

    — Good morning.

    Indeed Alec’s voice.

    — Good morning, sir.

    — Great job, Mimms. You have golden hands.

    — Thank you, sir. The wood is as soft as a baby’s butt, and it’s too beautiful.

    Something is wrong. Ginny cracked her eyes open, only to see Alec, gorgeous as always and irresistibly handsome, standing in the cabin staring at Mimms’ work.

    “You are here…” she murmured. “But you shouldn’t be here. You should be…

    “I know where I should be,” Alec interrupted casually, turning to her. “Still, I’m not quite the hopeless idiot you seem to think I am. Ready, Miss Paxton?

    Ginny was dressed as usual today, only her head was not covered.

    — No way! I’m not going to the milliner looking like this.

    — Why not? You’ve been walking all over Baltimore before in a man’s suit!

    Mimms instantly pricked up his ears, and Ginny hurriedly got up from the table.

    Baron right. Why should she be worried about this?

    Alec’s hired crew was already waiting under a large sign and looked tiny next to the overhanging clipper masts. The workmen stopped to look curiously at Ginny and the Baron, but the girl, defiantly raising her chin, got into the carriage, refusing Alec’s help, and silently, angrily, trying to control herself, waited until Alec gave the driver the address of Madame Solange, on the corner Prett Street and Smith Street.

    “I made some inquiries,” Alec replied before she could ask.

    — Why?

    — God knows, I don’t want to buy a few more similar buffoon outfits on my conscience. Madame Solange is known not only for her delicate taste in the choice of styles and fabrics, but also for the art of sewing. I have a great sense of style, as your father said. All that is required of you is good will and consent. And money, of course.

    — I have never been with a man before…

    — Twenty-three years old and still a virgin?! The sky has robbed you of even simple curiosity!

    «…at the milliner’s,» Ginny finished coldly.

    — Everything has to be tried sometime, including… staying with a man.

    — I hope your tongue will someday be struck by a festering ulcer, Baron.

    — Don’t wish for such things, Ginny. I can do amazing things with you… and with my tongue.

    — I guess that’s the English concept of flirting?

    Alec pretended to think:

    — No, that’s too obscene for old-fashioned, boring English-style flirting.

    — And you will behave in the same obscene manner with Laura Semon?

    — By the way, what a strange name! [Salmon — salmon, salmon (English).] As far as I know, her husband was very old and rich?

    — You didn’t answer me.

    — I’m going to become a quarrel, but for now I’m training. How do you think it turns out?

    Ginny felt like kicking him.

    — Laura will probably take my clothes off before I can say a word.

    — You really think too much of yourself, don’t you?

    Why don’t you come and have a look?

    — Oh my God, you seem to be asking to be killed, right? What do you prefer? Pistol? With a sword?

    — Ah, here we are. Come on, Mr. Eugene, let’s change your pantaloons for a pretty chemise and petticoats. Do you want me to choose them for you?

    If looks had the power to kill, Alec would already be lying dead at her feet. Looking down, Ginny remembered that she was wearing boots today. Alec followed her gaze, shook his head and chuckled.

    — Very transparent shirt, with lots of lace. Perfect for these boots. Quite an interesting sight, don’t you think?

    — I’ll take off my damn boots.

    — And the shirt?

    — Go to hell, baron.

    Chapter 8

    The visit to the milliner went well, once Ginny got over her irritation and shyness and calmed down a bit. True, the girl was still cold and alert, but Alec didn’t particularly care. He introduced her in a dress of pale yellow silk, which he chose himself, and grinned, and remembering his joke, smiled even wider.

    — Imagine it’s a nightgown, Ginny, with your hair loose and fanned out on your pillow, your breasts and thighs wrapped in soft silk. A lovely vision, don’t you think?

    And Ginny, pissed off, embarrassed, hissed through clenched teeth:

    — I only wear black cotton shirts that cover my neck and fall to my heels.

    — So you are a virgin witch? Alec asked casually. — No, I doubt it. Just a little American virgin, and therefore wear exclusively white robes, reaching to the ears on one side and to the floor on the other.

    Alec smiled again, and Laura Semon naturally thought the smile was meant for her.

    — What are you thinking, Alec?

    «Ah, I’m a simple man, and my thoughts are the simplest,» he replied, suddenly realizing that he had no idea why Ginny — Mr. Eugene — was the subject of these simplest thoughts.

    «Dinner is great,» he continued. — I must say that the veal chops with a light sauce are cooked just to my taste.

    «I’ll tell the chef,» Laura replied, glad that she remembered the French word «chef» instead of the rude English «cook». In the end, she has an English aristocrat as a guest, who hardly even understands what a cook is.

    “I’ve never been to England,” Laura admitted after a while.

    — London society welcomes you with open arms.

    — Do you really think so? Provincial, with an unbearable accent? I’m southern, you know.

    Alec, momentarily remembering the prostitute at Madame Lorraine’s house, smiled:

    — Don’t forget that these provincials drove the British out just five years ago.

    — Ah, but war has nothing to do with London light.

    — Probably not.

    — Would you like some oyster patties?

    Aphrodisiac, thought Alec. He should have been told that he did not need any other means to arouse desire, and that he was constantly in a state of «combat readiness», like a mountain goat. But, perhaps, it is best, without wasting words, just to show.

    — Probably not, Laura.

    — Then sloe cakes? English dish.

    — I know, but anyway, thanks, no. I can’t swallow any more.

    — Would you like me to leave you for a glass of port with a manila cigar?

    Alec smiled very slowly, knowing full well the effect this had on women, and let his gaze drift over the rich breasts. I wonder if she’s good in bed? In his experience, recognized beauties are always selfish, extremely selfish, cold as fish and waiting to be pleased. Well, he will soon find out.

    “There is only one thing I really want,” he admitted frankly, watching the vein in her neck beat, “to pull this dress down to your waist and kiss your breasts.

    Laura sucked in a convulsive breath, feeling the dagger of pleasure, feeling her knees buckle.

    — Y-yes?

    Alec pushed back his chair and stood up:

    — Why don’t I show you?

    And squeezing her fingers, he lifted her to her feet and led her up a winding, rather narrow staircase. The woman’s hand was trembling, and Alec liked that. He stopped and kissed Laura. Her lips were soft, slightly damp, and immediately parted under his kiss. So she’s quite experienced. Perfect.

    He gave her a long look and squeezed her left breast. His heart was beating wildly under his palm. Alec kissed Laura again, caressing her nipple through the fabric of her bodice.

    Only a few moments later he pulled away, took her hand again, and they continued on their way.

    Laura’s bedroom turned out to be large, with high ceilings, wide windows all along the east wall. A dying flame barely smoldered in the fireplace. The room was classically furnished, the raised bed curtained with white frilled netting, covered with pink and green floral wreaths to match the wallpaper on the wall. Very feminine and tasteful. I wonder, thought Alec, what does Ginny’s bedroom look like? Perhaps it looks like a monastic cell.

    He snorted and shrugged.

    — Alec!

    Lord Sherard shook himself, trying to get back to reality, looked again at the lovely woman in front of him, and kissed her again, feeling her pressed against him. Alec tried to guess the last time she’d been with a man, remembered poor old Oliver Gwenn, and realized that even if the date had been last night, Laura wasn’t really satisfied. Well, he will make her understand what real pleasure is.

    Without removing his lips from her mouth, Alec deftly began to unbutton her dress, kissed her on the shoulder, carefully pulled the bodice down to her waist and stepped back to look at her.

    «Lovely,» he muttered without taking his eyes off her breasts. “Plump and white, with dark pink nipples, just as I hoped. — And, again squeezing the elastic mounds, he added: — They just fit in my palms.

    He again squeezed her in his arms and bit her earlobe a little.

    And then a strange movement, a difference between dark and light, attracted his attention. Alec raised his eyes to the window without breaking the kiss. Hesitation again, the shadow moved, shifted. The face… the nose is pressed against the glass.

    Jeannie Paxton.

    For the first second, Alec could not comprehend what he was seeing, but as soon as he understood everything, he felt an instant, all-destroying wave of rage, which was immediately replaced by an irresistible desire to laugh until you drop. He teased her, teased her, invited her to come and see.

    Well, she came.

    But how did she manage to get to the second floor?

    Damn impudent girl! He will teach her a lesson she will not soon forget! Annoying overripe virgin!

    He carefully pulled Laura towards the window, pressed her to him, turned her so that they were both in profile to the window, and began caressing her breasts again.

    Ginny, unable to look away, swallowed hard. This terrible embarrassment flooded her again, but at the same time a strange oppressive feeling did not leave the girl. What big tanned palms, beautifully shaped fingers, as beautiful as everything else. Ginny wanted him to stroke her breasts. Her!

    But she continued to watch, as if spellbound, as Alec, bending down, covered the pink nipple with his lips, heard Laura’s loud plaintive moan.

    The very thought of him caressing her, of his lips pressing against her nipple…

    Ginny’s breathing quickened.

    No, it’s just awful. She can’t, she shouldn’t have come!

    Ginny looked around, looked down at her feet. Twenty feet to the ground. Pretty shaky position, if I may say so. Ginny had climbed up the branches of a scrawny maple tree and was clinging with all her might to a narrow window sill only four inches wide.

    She looked at the couple again. And she saw Laura’s hand, a small white hand caressing Alec’s chest, sliding down, down… to his groin. .. and Ginny saw the tight lump in his trousers swell and Laura’s fingers caress it.

    The girl swallowed again. Oh God, what is she doing? Worse than any spy… she’s just disgusting, spying on people making love!

    Alec continued to caress Laura’s breasts, making her scream softly, and then Ginny was horrified to see him lift her dress, revealing her thighs, revealing her garter stockings.

    This is too much! No, Ginny is just a disgusting, pathetic creature, a weak, jealous, stupid woman who got what she deserved.

    Ginny suddenly recoils when she sees Alec staring straight at her. He looked completely furious.

    Ginny’s body twitched awkwardly, twisted, and in that instant she knew she was about to fall. And so it happened. The girl grabbed the thin branches, and they bent under her weight. Ginny landed on the flowerbed with a thud, bounced back, and hit the back of her head on the brick curb. Without this saving branch, she could easily break her leg, and so she only pierced her head.

    The girl screamed in pain and immediately went limp, plunging into darkness.

    She opened her eyes, unable to move, then slowly, very slowly raised her hand and touched her head. Pain instantly pierced the temple, but not so strong. She looked up. The windows are still lit. Perhaps she is wrong. She probably just thought Alec saw her. How long has she been unconscious? Five minutes? Hour?

    However, it’s too long anyway. We had to get out of here immediately before Alec came out and found her lying idiotically in Laura Semon’s flower bed.

    Ginny felt the thorns of a lone rose bush dig into her knee. She lay still for a moment, not knowing if she was still alive, angry with herself that she had not died, and, trying to get up, fell again. Then she rolled onto her side and struggled to her knees. A sharp pain shot through her ankle, and Ginny sank back into a sack on the soft, dead-leaf-strewn ground. She wanted to cry, to break into hysterics, but Ginny gritted her teeth and told herself to calm down immediately and not be an idiot. She came here of her own free will, no one forced her to watch Alec kiss the breasts of this vile whore. It just wasn’t possible to move it.

    Ginny tried to get up again, but, unfortunately, there was nothing nearby to grab onto, and the girl, shamefully passing, flopped back into the flower bed.

    She didn’t know how much time had passed. In all likelihood, enough for the Americans to beat the British again. And perhaps more.

    “Please God,” she prayed, “don’t let Alec come out and find me here.

    She begged, almost wept, promising the Lord to live righteously and work from dawn to dusk. After all, even if the leg is broken, as long as Alec doesn’t find it here!

    — Well, well, who do I see? Looks like some vagrant wandered in here? Or at least a complete fool.

    So, it means that the Savior did not answer her fervent prayer, not to lead a righteous life for her, not to atone for sins until the end of time.

    — Just think, what a shock for a man who is engaged in such a pleasant pastime! Kissing women’s breasts, and how perfect, moreover, in order to accidentally raise your eyes to discover the physiognomy of another female person with a nose pressed against the glass! It’s not just a shock! Absolutely incredible! Not a single person in the world would believe this!

    Ginny couldn’t bring herself to look at Alec. She was silent, stubbornly examining his polished boots. It wasn’t obvious from his voice that he was too angry. Rather, surprisingly, he is amused by the situation.

    — Well, why don’t you say anything? And why lay down in such an uncomfortable position? Fell from your precarious perch?

    — Exactly. She hit her head and sprained her leg.

    — In my opinion, you fully deserved it, although I doubt that any concepts of reason and meaning could be hammered into your brainless, stubborn head. I’m tempted to leave you here, but given that we’ll probably still make a deal with your father, I can’t afford to send for him and demand to take the vixen daughter from Laura Semon’s flower bed.

    — Oh, just get out, and hurry up. I kept wondering if you had time to notice me in the window … and it turned out, yes! So, they knew that I had fallen, and yet they continued … continued to kiss her and … and were not very in a hurry to help. What if I was already dead by then?

    — Do you think an extra five minutes would make a difference?

    — Go away!

    Ginny tried to stand up, but her legs gave way again. Alec didn’t move to help, just watched her, stroking her face with long fingers.

    — Great start! At this rate, you’ll be home in time for the next morning.

    So Ginny is sure he stayed upstairs to make love to Laura before going downstairs to see if she was alive.

    — Shut up!

    — So it’s all my fault? Poor, miserable man who did nothing but…

    — I was lying here, unconscious, perhaps dead, while you were caressing that woman there!

    — Speak quietly, or this woman may simply order to shoot us like robbers, or, more likely, knock a bucket of slop on our heads.

    read free online full book by Mary Voronov (1 Spotted Snake) #2

    one
    spotted snake

    The old nun gets up, but Sandra doesn’t want her to leave. She’s so lonely, she needs companionship.

    — Wait, sister. What to tell you?

    — Tell me about the farm, Sandra, — the nun speaks softly.

    — I was very young. I don’t remember well.

    The nun started up like a bird about to fly away.

    — My mother was going to marry … and was forced to leave me at my grandmother’s farm for some … well, for a long time. So I even had to run away.

    — Escape? Sister smiled. — How did you do it?

    — The snake helped. — It seemed to Sandra that the nun’s eyes flashed at the mention of the most ancient representative of the order of reptiles, white fingers moved in anticipation of the victim. Trying to keep the nun’s attention, Sandra went on with her story about the legless creatures.

    One snake is green and thin, its head sways over the grass. There are already two, three of them, I’m losing count. Little brown creeps at the roots. A long black one hangs from a tree branch. A thick gray one hid between the stones, but I know that the most dangerous ones, red ones, are preparing for an attack in a barn. I felt dizzy as I tried to follow everyone, and I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cold glass. The snakes don’t disappear. I can clearly see: here they are wriggling in my head so huge that it becomes even more terrible for me. I jump back into bed, but if I lie very still, you can hear them copulating and breeding somewhere under the house. There is nothing to think about covering yourself with a blanket with your head, because there, between the sheets, a milky-white snake can hide.

    “Today is snake mating day,” my grandmother warned me, “they will be everywhere, so you better stay home.”

    I don’t need to tell you twice. Today, nothing will make me go beyond the threshold. If there is a fire, I will burn down with the house — little Joan of Arc from Ohio. It seemed to me important that everything be as dramatic as possible.

    As soon as I sat down on the bed, feeling safe, the calm morning burst like a water bubble, with wild squeals full of inhuman horror. Like the guttural cry of feathered predators, they came from the barn, where in the mornings my grandmother went to take care of the cow. She probably couldn’t get out, and the red snakes attacked her. I didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to help her. I was only six years old, and unlike my grandmother, I had no idea how to kill snakes.

    Grandma was a fearless snake fighter. The first time I flew into the house, white as a sheet, yelling, “Snake! Snake!” Grandma’s look immediately silenced me. Only the storm clouds over the Ohio plains were worse than those black eyes.

    — Where, baby, where? she thundered, seizing the long, sharp hoe that was always at hand on the porch.

    I pointed to a stream where milk and butter were stored in a natural refrigerator, and my grandmother’s eyes lit up with hellish flames.

    — Milk snake? Or maybe a muzzle? she laughed and, uttering the war cry of an Indian, went towards the invader, as if she were going to battle with a sworn enemy.

    Encouraged by her courage, I also screamed and ran after her through the churning sea of ​​grass.

    We did not find the snake there. But I could have sworn I saw her. And the second time the alarm was false, and the third, after which the grandmother leaned over to me and made me describe my snake; her hair was tangled in the wind, and her burning eyes seemed about to ignite a steppe fire. When I mentioned the big white spots on the snake’s belly, my grandmother narrowed her eyes like an Eskimo squinting into a snowstorm. Bad sign. The air between us turned icy.

    «Liars end up in reform school, Cassandra,» she said.

    Grandmother called me Kassandra only on solemn occasions or when she was very angry. I watched her walk back into the house and it felt like I was standing on an iceberg and drifting off into a black and white world. It took hours for the colors to return to my poor soul, for the grass to turn green again, for the sunlight to be warm again, for the smell of honeysuckle to hit my nose. Only when she called me Sandra was I re-admitted to her side, and believe me, you would never want to be on another. Plants wilted. Animals died or disappeared. I saw the whole field wither and die when she turned her back on it. For what such sins? And so, where I imagined that I was swimming in a surging sea of ​​grain, the bare earth now suffered silently under the scorching sun. «The field must remain fallow!» my grandmother said then, and I hoped that she would never leave me fallow.

    I decided to keep everything to myself, because imagination is a dangerous thing, especially in my case. Lively, bright and completely uncontrollable, it always let me down, and I found myself in stupid situations. Here’s another reason not to go rescue grandma from snakes, I told myself. Maybe those screams from the barn exist only in my head, and there are no snakes there. In addition, nothing foreshadowed trouble: the sun was still shining, white clouds in intricate dresses marched majestically across the ballroom of the sky. Everything seems to be in order… except for the birds. Birds are not heard. So the screams were real. My stomach ached: a twinge of guilt and fear that there would be no one to take care of me. My mother is on her honeymoon, my grandmother is dying, and I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I may never have lunch again.

    The screeching stopped abruptly and there was an eerie silence. When the birds began to sing, as if nothing had happened, I decided that they were traitors. Staring out at the barn over a green grassy sea dotted here and there with yellow dandelions, I prayed that it was all just a terrible figment of my imagination. Grandma came out of the barn, covered in blood from hundreds of snake bites. And without thinking of dying, she went to the house, wiping her bleeding hands on her blood-stained apron. From behind the railing, I saw her go straight to the kitchen and take the best butcher’s knives out of the drawer. She raised her eyes, which looked like two embers, and, pointing at me with a knife, rapped out in an orderly tone:

    — Do not leave the house, do you hear? And eat your breakfast. It’s been on the table since early morning.

    I watched her gape as she walked back to the barn to deal with the snakes and save the farm. My grandmother was the most fearless snake fighter in all of Ohio.

    However, things didn’t look so heroic the next day, for I noticed that my beloved pig, Harry, was missing. I taught him to come to the sound of a rattle made from a tin can and dry corn kernels, and it seems that this trick was used ruthlessly to lure Harry into a trap. On the one hand, this is good, which means that there is no mating day for snakes at all. On the other hand, it was terrible, because the grandmother did not heroically fight the creeping army, but killed a defenseless pig in the barn. Why do they scare me with a reform school, if the lie is clearly family and my grandmother is also lying? But for all that, despite the brutality of the murder, I knew that I would rather accept the role of an accomplice than refuse a thick pork chop in breadcrumbs for dinner. This confused me. I didn’t want to point out the obvious. To tell the truth, I wanted to trust my grandmother, that’s all. Let there be chops!

    Later in the evening, in our dark, cavernous kitchen with smoky walls and an old stove, I sullenly waited for a portion of pork chop (this time the portion was two pieces, and for breakfast there would be thick, thick slices of bacon). Grandmother was sitting, holding her favorite dachshund on her knees. I watched as she deftly ripped the ticks out of the dog’s body and threw them into the fire, where they burst. The dog and I have been sworn enemies since the day I arrived in the yellow taxi, the car that took my mother away and will someday come back for me. I reached for the box of crumbled wedding cake my mom had sent me and froze as I heard a low growl. The dog would certainly bite me — I could not approach my grandmother when she was around. Left alone with me, this fool did not risk snapping, because I was chasing her all the time, but under the protection of my grandmother, lying on her lap, she was even able to bite. I had to retreat. Seeing how strong grandmother’s hands stroked the dog’s body over and over again made my chest ache. These hands have never touched me like this. I was consumed by envy.

    After dinner, having eaten my fill, I half-heartedly listened to my grandmother, sitting on her favorite horse, talking about husbands and how they are all bastards. Like a true combat veteran, she spoke of a war that still raged somewhere on the distant fronts of broken dishes and tear-stained pillows, a war that I would have to fight as soon as I grew up.

    — He returned with his boyfriend, although I could not stand him, and both were drunk. It blew from them. I said that I’m not going to sit here with them and go to the lake, and he says: «Well, no.»

    Grandmother wore gold combat medals in her ears and on her fingers; I loved the way they gleamed as she leaned over the hearth, the single red eye of the kitchen, which curled up like a black furry animal to shelter us from the piercing night wind that blows from the Ohio Hills, which bends all the trees to the southwest.

    — And what’s next?

    — It made me mad, and I hit him, how do you like it? She laughed. Her eyes were black and shiny when she got to these words in the story. “And he hit me back, can you imagine? Weak, defenseless woman. I told him everything. And she began to call for help, but his friend did not even think to intercede for me: two pair of boots. Do you know what he did to me?

    — No.

    Actually, I knew because my grandmother told her stories several times. And yet I loved listening to them over and over again.

    — I probably shouldn’t have told you this, you’re still young, but I don’t want you to make the same mistake. That’s why I named you Cassandra, so that you can foresee what will happen.

    — It was my mother who called me.

    Your mother could never do anything right. She felt bad and didn’t go to your christening, so I had to choose a name for you. And that’s good, because she was going to call you something stupid, like Nancy.

    — Ugh, Nancy… Mom calls me Cassie.

    — Well, it’s short for Cassandra, and Cassandra was a great prophetess.

    — And who is this?

    — One who predicts the future from the insides of birds.

    — Is that why the birds come?

    — What kind of birds?

    — Birds flew in when you fell asleep in the garden all tangled in a pumpkin mustache.

    — I never fell asleep in the garden.

    Your eyes were open, but you didn’t move.

    — You mean, you didn’t sleep, but… Unable to finish the sentence, she stared at me as if she was frightened of something, so I decided to return to the conversation about grandfather.

    — Tell me, what did grandfather do? What else did he do?

    — He tied me up, put me in the bath and says. «Here’s a lake for you. If you want to swim, turn on the faucet. A mean, nasty son of a bitch, that’s who he is, and what a fool I was to fall in love with him. In the yellow light of the lamp, she pulled up her skirt, revealing a huge bruise over her stocking the size of a grinning dog’s head. — Here, enjoy! I bent down, but the dachshund growled menacingly. — Your grandfather tried, twenty years have passed.

    To tell the truth, I didn’t often look under my grandmother’s skirt, so I couldn’t be sure of anything, but I knew almost everything about bruises, I’ve had worse ones myself, this one looked no more than a week old. I sat down to shut up the dachshund while my sweet old grandma poured more whiskey into her coffee. No one defended me so fiercely, no one spoke to me so enchantingly for hours until late at night … and yet, against my will, I changed. I didn’t trust her anymore. This thought made me sick. I was not at all afraid to climb a tree if there were branches to grab onto. But now, when I found out that my grandmother was lying, I had nothing to grab onto. The promise that this special honeymoon would end was as much of a lie as the snake mating day, and the hope that the yellow taxi would come back for me was gone, leaving only a thick cloud of red dust.

    Darkness gathered around me, and I became terrified. The world was no longer magical. Nameless terror filled him. I felt vulnerable, like a mouse with nowhere to hide. I could not live in this terrible darkness.

    And I decided to kill myself. By my calculations, it was best to jump from the tree. That night I got to my treehouse and even higher, so high that the branch I was holding on to swayed violently in the wind. Blindingly bright, like a searchlight looking for phantom planes, the moon illuminated the valley, turning the road into a silvery ribbon that wound between the fluffy, sleepy hills. I fixed my eyes on her. Every time I was about to jump, I thought: no, I’ll wait. What if a yellow taxi appears? It soon became clear that I would only die if I fell asleep and fell out of a tree, but that didn’t seem dramatic enough. I got down. I was destined to stay on earth, to wander through the mud where golden wheat used to grow, to serve my sentence in this hell.

    At night, when my grandmother got drunk, which happened more often, I climbed into the arms of my new friend — the tree — and persuaded the long snake — the road — to spit out the yellow piece of hope that she swallowed. Our serious negotiations lasted for weeks, and one day, while waiting for an answer, I heard the voice of a tree for the first time. The bewitching rustle of a thousand leafy tongues penetrated my ears, giving priceless treasures, stories about things inexplicable, that I am not alone, that the stars are twinkling eyes watching me through the curtain of night, that I came from there and will go to end. Sometimes the wind rushed into the leaves, swaying the branch on which I was sitting, and then they spoke all at once, reassuring me: «Do not be afraid.» They revealed a secret to me, told me how to tame the wind, the wildest animal, and how to lend a hand to it, forgetting about fear.

    Now that the wind was screaming out of the hills and crushing the grass, I no longer hid behind my grandmother’s back. To her amazement, I was no longer afraid of thunderstorms, and she often saw me standing in the street in the most inclement weather with my arms outstretched. I no longer needed her protection, and this worried the old woman, who at times furtively glanced at me anxiously.

    But I learned my lesson and didn’t talk about my new friends anymore. So when, while building a dam, I saw a black snake in the water with a white mouth, as if stuffed with cotton wool, I did not call my grandmother. I just sat quietly and talked to her seriously.

    A few weeks later, when my grandmother triumphantly announced that she had killed a snake that lay openly on the porch and basked in the sun, like some kind of cat or dog, I noticed how hurt she was that I did not even smile , but only grimly asked if I could see my dead friend. Putting the snake at the roots of the tree, the old woman pointed with a stick at two unusual white spots on her stomach, such as I said.

    “Stay away, even a dead snake can still bite you,” she warned and jabbed at the snake with a stick, causing the snake to involuntarily curl up and turn around.

    — Will writhe like this until sunset, because the soul cannot leave her body before dark.

    — Why?

    Because God punished her. The snake used to have legs. Regular legs. But God took them away and made her crawl on the ground.

    — For what?

    — Because the serpent gave Eve knowledge.

    — But at school they say that knowledge is good.

    That other knowledge is passion.

    — Sex? The word was forbidden, and I lowered my voice.

    — No, sex is the means by which all God’s creatures reproduce. Grandmother laughed and continued in a whisper: “The passion of true love, the suffering that beckons you to God like a moth to a flame.” A fire that only death can put out. It will burn the soul until you, like a madman, throw yourself into the sea.

    I felt unbearably sorry for the snake.

    — I’ll stay with her until sunset.

    — Okay… — I knew she didn’t want to leave me here with the snake. — I’ll go to the house and bake your favorite chocolate chip cookies. Maybe this will make you happy.

    Poor grandmother, she had no idea what a ferocious little warrior she had raised in me until she found her beloved dog in a rain barrel.

    With a petrified face, I sat cross-legged next to the dying snake. It was necessary to apologize; we made a solemn agreement with her that my mother would return, but my grandmother ruined everything. Of course, revenge was in the order of things. There must be a sacrifice. The black coils of the serpent rose and turned over as the wind settled on the tree above us. «Revenge,» I sang in a monotone, «revenge on that sleepy little dog with stupid short legs and a long, skinny body that is caressed all the time.»

    I knew that the leaves were trying to dissuade me, the wind was silent and the snake did not demand revenge at all, but whether I wanted it or not, there was the same rage in my blood as my grandmother. And nothing could satisfy me but killing.

    Everything went smoothly. I looked around the east side of the house. Turning the corner, I faced my enemy, the spoiled dachshund face to face. She squealed as desperately as my piglet, but I had no mercy and dipped her head first into a barrel of rainwater. And then she backed off. The impulse to save and the desire to kill her paralyzed me when I heard her scratching her paws against the walls of the barrel. They were too short for her to get out. The dog was no longer whining, she was fighting for her life, and I could not move. Waiting for someone to turn over the barrel, she could hold out for another ten seconds before she swallowed water and drowned. The more the dog struggled, the less I realized what was happening.

    When grandma found us, she grabbed me and squeezed me in her arms like in a vise:

    — Baby, come here. I won’t punish you. You punished yourself. One who is able to kill a defenseless dog will be very unhappy, but he will not even understand it. My poor girl, protect yourself, Sandra, protect yourself.

    The tears in my grandmother’s eyes frightened me, and I said that I had done nothing and did not know how the dog got into the barrel. First she called me a liar and then a murderer. But, since this is in our family, I did not see anything wrong with either nickname, so I remained unshakable and was rewarded. Everything happened just as the snake promised. Grandma called my mom, and that same evening a yellow taxi came to pick me up and take me to my new home in suburban Cleveland, where my mom and new dad were waiting for me.

    When Sandra finished her story, Sister Gabriela leaned over and kissed her. It didn’t occur to Sandra that there could be anything sad in this story, but seeing the sadness in the nun’s eyes, she began to cry.

    In the car, Sandra sat with her lips pressed tight and staring straight ahead. Grandmother didn’t say goodbye to her, and Sandra didn’t let the memory of the old woman get into the car. She took with her the wind, the language of the leaves, and the belief that snakes are friends. Unbeknownst to herself, the grandmother still managed to quietly convey something to her: the gift of foresight.

    On the way home, the old woman thought alone about all the children who at various times grew up on this farm only to leave it. For a moment she thought: why did Sandra’s mother, her own daughter, never visit her? But after all, she herself did not have time to visit her own mother — perhaps this is in their family. The sight of the hills resting on the horizon in the smooth curves of a sleeping giantess made her forget about these stupid questions. She remembered business. The garden must be weeded and the pumpkin tied up. Of course, she planted it especially for Sandra, so that the girl could eat fresh pumpkin pie whenever she wanted, so now we don’t have to bother. But my grandmother was not one to let things take their course, and two years later she died in her garden in the struggle with the third generation of the mustache of that same pumpkin.

    On By alexxlab