A groan came from dead Edith as it shambled forward a step. Its hands made grasping motions as it came.
“Edith is dead. That’s a zombie and I’m going to brain it,” Alvin replied as he waited for it to close the next few feet.
“She isn’t dead,” Terry retorted but her voice sounded unsure. “She’s just having an episode of some kind. We can call for the medics.”
Alvin gripped the bat tighter, “Nope, she’s a zombie.”
“But she isn’t dead, she doesn’t have any wounds on her, she wasn’t bitten,” Terry said, her voice quavering the tiniest bit.
“I’ve put down zombies a hundred years old that got up out of the ground. You don’t have to be bit to be a zombie.” Alvin grunted as he swung the bat, braining Edith, the blood splattered onto the pavement.
The sound of Terry being sick behind him brought him around. Terry was hunched over the shrubbery of the mobile home she was next to, emptying her stomach. Alvin waited for her to finish even as he wished for a bottle of water. After a minute Terry stood up and pulled a bottle of water from her bag to wash her mouth out.
“This can’t be real,” Terry muttered as she closed the bottle. “Zombies ain’t real.”
“They are now,” Alvin replied. “We need to get moving, your grandson is waiting. He’s holding the front gate so people can escape.”
Terry looked back at him, her mouth set in a hard line. “Right, no more pussyfooting then. Keep up with me, boy.” She took off at a jog, which caught Alvin at a loss for a second before he took off after her.
He caught up to her and they jogged down the road. Terry seemed to be struggling after a hundred yards. “Drop the excess baggage,” Alvin told her.
“Not happening,” Terry wheezed. “It belongs to James. He will want it.”
Alvin was about to retort when three zombies came around the corner in front of them. He grabbed Terry, stopping her as her head was down. “Hold up there Gran, we have company. Stay back and let me handle them.”
Terry panted as she stopped and took another drink of water. Alvin stepped forward, the zombies turning toward him at his voice. “Hey, batter batter,” Alvin quipped as he looked over the shambling threesome. He couldn’t run them around with Terry so close by, so he needed to kill one quickly then figure out how to get room between the other two.
“Can you take three?” Terry asked as she began to catch her breath. “I can take one,” she added, pulling a Maglite from her bag.
“You are a last resort. I have to get you to James safely,” Alvin replied as he stepped forward to kill the first zombie. His swing was on target and the first zombie fell, with the same sickening crunch he was growing used to. He sidestepped quickly as the other two lunged for him, just missing him.
He backed up, looking for an opening, but the duo stayed right next to each other. “I really don’t want to get bit,” Alvin spat as he kept backing up.
Terry threw her empty bottle at the zombies, striking one of them in the head. “Hey Frank, you asshole, over here. I always knew you were useless.”
Alvin blinked as he heard Terry taunt one of the zombies. “What the fuck are you doing?” The zombie Terry had pelted turned at her provocation, starting towards her.
“Giving you room, now hurry it up. James is waiting,” Terry replied in a level tone.
Laughing, Alvin stepped forward and crushed the zombie in front of him before taking the few steps to kill the one that had turned on Terry. “Well, thanks for the assist. You’re fucking nuts, but I think I like you.”
“Sure, and if I was even still 68 instead of 78, I would be showing you how it’s done.” Terry started walking again for the front gate. “Can’t jog any more, my heart just won’t take it. I took my meds though, so I should be okay as long as I don’t run again.”
Alvin fell into step with her, “Understood, ma’am. Can I just say thanks? You are already way more useful than the last person I tried to help. All she did was pass out, then blubber about how it couldn’t be happening.”
Terry gave a snort, “Probably one of those useless college kids. So soft and lazy, wanting people to do everything for them. Back in my day we did for ourselves.”
“What year were you born?” Alvin asked.
“Nineteen twenty-two,” Terry replied.
Alvin stopped walking for a second as he did the math. “Wait, it’s the millennium?”
“Of course it is,” Terry replied giving him an odd look. “What year did you think it was?”
“Sorry, been killing zombies so much my sense of time is off,” Alvin lied.
“Killing zombies is nothing. Try being chased by the neighborhood kids because you’re Italian. They chased me all the way home, taunting me about being Mussolini’s daughter. If my father hadn’t been on the porch they might have caught me, too.”
Alvin shook his head, “Wow, so World War Two was during your younger years.”
“It was bad,” Terry replied. “Maybe this is worse, though. At least in a war the other guys wear uniforms.”
“True enough,” Alvin replied as they kept walking.
They killed another ten zombies before they reached the main gate. An old car was idling in front of the gate as a twenty-something man was manually opening the gate. “Gran!” the young man shouted as he paused in opening the gate. “I was just coming to save you.”
“James,” Terry smiled as she squeezed through the opening. “Your friend here saved me and got me to you.”
James looked up at Alvin, his eyes sharp, “Who are you?”
“Just a passerby. You get her to safety. She is an amazing woman and good luck with the zombies.” Alvin replied just before the light swallowed him, returning him to his room.
Mission Summary: Story Mission Successfully Completed.
Total Experience Earned: 550 XP
Breakdown: Story Success 320 XP, Shamblers killed 130 XP, Take no damage Bonus 100 XP.
“Scott, why didn’t you tell me the zombie game was set in 2000 A.D.?” Alvin asked as his eyes cleared.
“You never asked,” was the reply.
“Okay. Better question, who came up with the quirky grandma with the silly back story?”
“It is based on one of our employee’s ancestors. Her story about being chased is completely factual, weird but true,” Scott told him.
“Weird is right. Well, seems I’m doing good with Story Missions. Let’s see what my current total is now. A little over a grand, and I’m going to need a new weapon soon. Maybe I should take the metal bat. This bat should last through my next mission, so maybe I should wait.”
“You’re going to do a third one today?” Scott asked, clearly shocked.
“Yup, at least one more. I need to save up and get a firearm to make this easier.”
“Those are a bit expensive, at the start of the game,” Scott told him.
“Yeah, which is why I want one before I reach World Mode.”
Alvin took a couple of ibuprofen and downed them with the stale tasting water from the sink attached to the stainless-steel fixture in his room. “Okay. Wish me luck?”
“Don’t die,” Scott dead panned.
“Ah, my own personal sarcasm-bot,” Alvin laughed as the light enveloped him once more as he started his next mission.
Chapter Six
Alvin blinked as the light cleared, finding himself in the parking lot of a high school. Independence High had a lion as the mascot, painted in bold colors on the side of the gymnasium. It also had a zombie issue, as Alvin could make out a few undead going through the shattered doors at the front of the building. His mission pop-up appeared as he took in the scene.
Story Mission: Undead High.
Save as many teens as you can from the zombies.
(School days are here again? This is a closed environment for you, until all teens have either fled the school or died you can’t leave the grounds.)
Alvin paused, considering the mission before dismissing the pop-up. He had no
reason to be reckless. Find a small group that would listen and everything would be fine. He walked towards the gym, hoping that it hadn’t been swarmed yet. As he got closer he heard screams from inside. The zombies had beaten him there apparently.
Just as he reached the door it banged open, as a dozen kids ran by him in gym clothes screaming. A step behind them came a zombie which Alvin brained with a practiced swing, sending blood flying against the doors it came through. He looked inside to see another dozen zombies. Some were busy chewing on people, while others were staggering after more students. He walked through the door, breaking the skull of a zombie that had torn the throat out of the over muscled teacher it was eating, then he crushed the skull of the teacher as well. Another teen went by him with crazed eyes, straight out the door without even glancing at Alvin.
“You’re welcome,” Alvin told the fleeing teen before he turned back to the gym floor which had a lot of blood on it now. The remaining original zombies had finished chewing on their first victims as the victims started to twitch to life. Alvin noted that each of the new zombies all had lethal wounds. “Maybe they want the blood?” Alvin muttered as he tried to make sense out of what he was seeing.
“Help us! Mister, help!” came the cry of a panicked female from the second level of the gym.
Alvin looked up and over to the far side of the gym, where a good twenty kids were on the second floor. Alvin glanced at the zombies, shambling toward the door to the locker room right under that level. If it was anything like the schools he had attended, the small hall to the locker room held a set of stairs up to the second level, and it was the only way down or up. “You’re all going to have to jump,” Alvin said, heading that direction and braining the trailing zombie as he went.
“Open the bleachers,” the girl shouted, pointing to the mechanism that lowered or raised the bleachers that were accordioned to the wall. “Hurry!”
Alvin brained another zombie as he went to the mechanism. “Be ready to go,” he said and tripped the switch. It didn’t budge. Alvin finally realized that the only light in the gym was from the glass that covered the second story of the gym. “No power,” he called, killing another zombie with a left-handed swing.
“Use the chain then,” the girl screamed at him. The sound of something beating on the door to the second level started.
Alvin had to brain yet another zombie before he grabbed the chain next to him and began to manually lower the bleachers. The sound echoed through the gymnasium as the metal stands began to lower and spread forward. He got them about half deployed when the door on the second floor gave way. “No more time, you have to jump,” Alvin told the girl, who screamed at the people behind her. Alvin went to the locker room door in time to catch another zombie in the head. “I’ll hold the door, hurry.”
He heard people screaming and some thumps as people jumped behind him while he killed another zombie. He killed two more before he got yelled at again, right after an agonizing scream. “Mister, help, Fred broke his ankle.”
Alvin turned his head to see a chubby brown-haired girl crouched next to a good looking blonde guy who was on the ground holding his ankle in pain. “You have to help him, I’m killing zombies,” Alvin replied, turning back to kill another zombie as it stumbled over the bodies of the ones he had previously killed.
“Come on, Doris, we need to go,” another voice called from the doorway that everyone had fled through.
“I can’t leave without Fred,” Doris yelled back. “He loves me.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s only using you for help with his homework and easy sex,” the guy yelled at her from the door. “Either come on or I’m leaving you here.”
Doris looked down at Fred, who was focused on his ankle which was very swollen and discolored above his sneaker. “Fred, come on. We have to go,” Doris pleaded with him as she gave his arm a gentle tug.
“Fuck off, you fat bitch. I need some crutches, go find me some.” He shoved her away with a snarl.
Rapid footsteps made Alvin look behind him, he saw the guy from the door running over to kick Fred in the head, hard. “You useless dickhead! Doris was only trying to help you!” With another kick he spun to Doris, who was watching with wide eyes. He dragged her toward the door. “Come on, Doris. We need to get out of here.”
“O…kay,” Doris said, her eyes looking a bit distant as the other guy towed her along behind him.
“Kids,” Alvin muttered. He didn’t see any more zombies moving in the locker room. He glanced at Fred, whose head lay at a very bad angle. Broken neck, Alvin figured, so he broke Fred’s skull open just in case. A loud thud pulled his head around. A zombie had fallen over the railing to the gym floor, breaking its own head open. “Heh, now that is funny,” Alvin muttered as he left the gym to go further into the school. “Let’s go find the rest of them.”
The school had emergency lights, probably run by a generator that was functioning. One out of four lights were functioning, which was good because the interior of the school would have been dark as hell otherwise. Bodies littered the hall, making Alvin pause at the door. Some had their heads cracked open. Others hadn’t and were beginning to twitch. It looked like someone had at least attempted to fight back. Stepping in slowly, Alvin went through the messy process of breaking every skull that wasn’t already broken. A few of them managed to stand up and shamble toward him. Pausing to kill them slowed him down, which unfortunately gave him plenty of time to look around.
Some of the zombies looked like students that had been trampled to death. The majority sported torn necks or had their chests caved in as if they had been hit with a very heavy weight. What he didn’t hear as he methodically worked through the main hall were signs of people still alive. Someone was at least still in the school though, since he hadn’t been teleported away. As he wondered what he should do to find them, a sharp report echoed from down the hall followed by a cloud of smoke.
Alvin advanced, noting that more of the bodies here had been brained so he just touched up the ones who hadn’t been. When he got down the hall he found the offshoot where the noise and smoke had come from. Pieces of bodies littered the hall, as well as a dozen zombies now pressing in on a mostly shattered door. He heard people yelling from inside the door the zombies were pushing on. With quick steps, Alvin caught the back of the pack and began to lay into them.
“Don’t set off any more bombs!” he yelled as he brained his next target, his arms starting to ache from the exertion of his day’s work.
“Is someone out there?” The voice on the other side of the doors was male. “Did the first bomb work?”
“Hang on, got a dozen zombies to kill,” Alvin yelled as he brained the next one.
“We can take a dozen,” another, deeper voice. “Come on guys. Rush the door!”
“No, don’t!” A frightened female called out.
“Shut it, Barbie doll. Let the idiots go get eaten. Maybe we can get away while they become chow,” said a second female voice, that dripped with anger and disdain.
An argument broke out behind the mostly shattered door. “Fucking kids, shut up for a minute and let a man work in peace,” Alvin shouted as he killed another zombie. His voice caused the rest of the horde to turn to him, so Alvin started to back up. A hand clenched onto his leg, making him stumble slightly. The grip was painfully tight. Alvin looked down to see that the torso of a zombie with only one arm, which had a hold of him and was grinding his ankle bones with its grip. “Fuck! On second thought, help!” Alvin called out as he broke the zombie’s skull, before stumbling back, his ankle throbbing in pain.
The remaining eight zombies came after him, groaning as they did. Alvin tried to step forward, but his damaged ankle didn’t want to let him put weight on it. “I’m fucked,” Alvin muttered as he leaned against the wall, to help get pressure off his ankle, as the zombies closed in on him.
The classroom door was shoved out of the way and four very large teens with makeshift weapons came out of the r
oom and started to brain the rear most zombies. Alvin cheered slightly until he felt a grinding on his damaged ankle. Another mostly shredded zombie had crawled under him and raised its head to bite him, tearing at his already damaged ankle through his jeans.
Screaming in agony, Alvin slammed the bat down on the zombie repeatedly before he slumped down the wall, his ankle refusing to support him. He dragged his tattered jeans up past his swollen and discoloring ankle, thankfully not seeing any puncture marks or actual breaks in his skin. He pulled the ibuprofen from his fanny pack swallowing them dry, hoping they would help dull the pain. The teens killed the last of the zombies as he stuck the bottle of pills back into his pack.
“The broken ones can still fight,” Alvin spat through gritted teeth at them as he pulled his pant leg back down.
“We know, John already lost a finger,” the biggest guy replied. They set about killing the remaining zombies that had been damaged by the explosion earlier. “Who are you?”
Rapture (Apocalypse Gates Author's Cut Book 1) Page 5