Galactic Fist of Legend

by Scottie Futch

  The massive undead monstrosity was still a good distance away. It had not seen him yet, but it obviously knew that something was going on nearby.

  A zombie in body armor was automatically a lot more difficult to deal with, but when that zombie was the size of a bear it made things far worse. Scott doubted his pistol would kill the thing. No, he needed something more damaging.

  He looked around the parking lot. "Maybe..."

  Scott quietly slipped down the side of the bus in an effort not to get noticed. What he needed was a minor miracle. He'd played enough games to know that rushing a zombie like the one clomping around would lead to dying frequently. There was no way back for him if he died. He had only one shot at surviving this.

  The bus had no keys on hand. None of the cars that he could reach easily had any either. He did not know how close he could get to the big bastard before he was noticed, but he did not want to risk it till he had a plan that would work. Unlimited ammo did not mean much if the shots pinged off the side of a helmet.

  So far, so good, he thought as he circled quietly around the parking lot. If he could not find a car with a set of keys in sight, he might still be able to get away from the big bastard and cut down on the rest of the zombies that he had to deal with by entering the building. He was pretty sure most, if not all, of the others outside were taken care of during that scuffle.

  His hopes were dashed, however, when something truly surprising occurred. The door to the school burst open and several people ran out. Each of them wielded some makeshift weapon and made a bee-line for the bus.

  The big guy heard the commotion and turned toward the new comers. The one in the lead, a young man with black hair and a baseball bat shouted, "There's the bus!"

  A woman wearing a skirt that was a little too tight to be allowed in school cried out. "Wait! Wait! What about the guy who killed these things?"

  "Fuck him! We gotta go!" shouted the supposed leader.

  Scott snorted at the assholish way the guy disregarded him. He had no interest in leaving anyway, but that dismissal caused him to develop a special sort of impression about the guy.

  The seven people ran to the activity bus nearby and piled inside. Scott shrugged and stayed out of it. There was no reason to get involved since they clearly had a plan. Instead, he continued looking for a car to use since there was no way he would be able to get control of that bus completely without taking hostages. That would cause more complications than anything else.

  The bus roared to life and pulled out with a screech. Scott shook his head then turned away. A few seconds later he heard a loud crashing sound, followed by screams of pain. He snapped his head around then tried his best not to laugh, or cry. He was conflicted to be honest.

  Initially, despite the douchey nature of their leader, he hoped that they would get away. Life had other plans for them. The bus had rammed into the invisible wall at a high rate of speed. "Guess it doesn't just keep me and the zombies in..."

  He was not a cold hearted man, even if he was annoyed at how the supposed leader of their little survival group was happy to leave someone behind to save his own ass. Scott ran over to check on the survivors. As he did so, several zombies staggered out of the open door of the school. A few more were there for the party.

  Cries of pain echoed from the bus as those inside started to move around. The big bastard stomped closer with every passing second. Scott had little time to get to them, but he felt that he should to try.

  By the time he arrived, the woman in the tight skirt had opened the door. "Oh, what happened!" she cried desperately after she staggered out.

  "Hey, no time for crying," snapped Scott as he came up on her.

  She turned to him quickly then her eyes widened. "You're that guy!"

  "Fuck all that. Get everyone who can move and get to a sturdy building in the school area. You can't leave, yet," said Scott heatedly, before he spun around to check the progress of the mini-horde and their big brother. They were getting too close for comfort. Though, thankfully the big bastard did not seem to be able to sprint.

  "What... We can't leave?" she asked confused.

  Scott opened fire on the zombies shambling nearby, then glanced back at her. "Did I fucking stutter? There's some kind of invisible wall around the place. You can't get out till I kill all the zombies here."

  "You did this?" she asked.

  Before Scott could answer, the black haired guy with the bat popped out of the bus. "What the hell!"

  Scott fired at the zombies again then shouted. "I'm moving out if they get much closer. Stay here and die, or move your ass."

  "Who the fuck are you? What did you do?" snapped the guy.

  Another series of shots were fired. Scott took down a zombie, but he was forced to switch the safety on afterward. It would take three seconds to reload.

  "You want to live? Fucking move," Scott snapped. He had enough to worry about without having to babysit people who should have had a hell of a lot more experience with zombie survival than he did.

  Scott jogged forward a few steps then switched his safety off and fired. This was starting to become a hassle.

  "You're going to leave us?" called the woman desperately.

  "Didn't you choose to abandon me to save your own ass?" called back Scott, before dropping another zombie. Six more shambled toward them, and the big bastard started to pick up speed.

  A rapid fire discussion began behind Scott as he continually fired at the oncoming group of undead. He was forced to switch his safety back on not long after.

  "Hey! Give me that gun. You can't shoot for shit," called the black haired guy after seeing Scott waste a dozen bullets trying to drop a zombie. Aiming downward at a skull was easier than trying to hit one that was straight across.

  "Fuck you," replied Scott casually, before he ran over to a nearby car and hopped up onto the roof to get a little elevation and more distance from the hungry horde. He began to fire once more, just as a few more people left the bus.

  "We can't get out!" shouted one girl as she pressed her hands against the invisible wall.

  "Yeah, that guy did something to keep us here," snapped out the black haired guy.

  "What are we going to do?" asked another girl.

  It was then that Scott noticed something strange. The entire group of survivors was comprised solely of one guy and six girls. Something about that did not sit right with him. What were the odds that only one boy would survive out of the whole school? What was he, the hero of a badly written light novel? How much plot armor did the guy have?

  Scott turned his attention to big boy when he was a few car lengths away. Even if he did not think that the oversized undead asshole would take damage from his shots, he had to try.

  The big bastard whipped his utility pole around wildly whenever a shot connected with his helmet. Otherwise, he acted like he did not feel a thing. The damage level of the pistol was not high enough to even make him take a step back.

  Scott cried out in shock a moment later when something hard collided with his side. He looked down to see a baseball bat clatter on the ground, and was just in time to see the black haired guy running toward him. Briefly he wondered if the guy was born an idiot. He pointed the gun at the guy and shouted "Stop."

  The supposed harem boss did not stop rushing forward. Scott fired. The shot penetrated the black haired guy's shoulder and sent him spiraling sideways to the ground with a loud cry of shock and pain. The guy was right, though. Scott's aim was total shit. He had wanted to shoot him in the face.

  "Looks like your plot armor broke, jackass," said Scott with a snort. The fucker actually tried to take his gun! What special sort of idiot does something like that when the guy with the gun was providing fire support and a chance to get away? He was not an especially vindictive person, but he would be damned if he let some idiot attack him and take his only means of survival.

  "After that shit, you people are on your own. I need to move," called Scott before he hoppe
d down. He winced heavily due to the pain in his side. For a moment he wanted to put another hole in the idiot.

  "Johnny!" called one of the girls desperately. She favored her arm like it was injured or broken. Scott glanced at her then snorted.

  "Get your asses somewhere better than an open parking lot if you want to live," he said before he jumped back and fired at the big bastard a few more times to keep his attention.

  Tight skirt woman grabbed one of the girls by the hand and pulled her to the side. "We have to go!"

  "But Johnny!" cried the girl again. "We can't leave without Johnny."

  Scott groaned as he noticed the desperate look on their faces. The numb-nuts crying on the ground was probably the only source of hope that they had.

  Well, whatever. He had to deal with the zombies anyway. Scott shouted out, "Hey, big sexy! The real protagonist is over here."

  Scott whistled to the oversized zombie like he was calling to a dog. "Come get some sweet hero meat!" he called out before he fired on the oversized zombie once more.

  Several more zombies had staggered out of the school by that time, but they were no threat at the moment. He would simply have to keep abreast of the situation. The parking lot was large. The zombies needed to cross it almost completely to get to him.

  The oversized undead riot cop flailed his utility pole around wildly as another shot dinged off the side of his helmet. A decidedly nice looking crack appeared in it to match the several dings in the ceramic.

  He had the thing's full attention now. Scott trotted away as fast as he could go while he favored his injured side. The zombies followed the sight of moving meat, and soon the little group of high school girls, and an inappropriately dressed teacher, were left alone to tend to their own fate.

  Scott ran a short distance away and fired his weapon at the beast to keep his attention. At least a dozen zombies had come out to play in the interim.

  The riot cop zombie bumped into a convertible on his way to send Scott to pound town. A car alarm went off that caused the oversized bastard to go crazy. He whipped his utility pole down repeatedly in an attempt to bash the offending vehicle to pieces.

  Scott rounded a corner in the distance and saw that he was near a maintenance building. Just outside of it he saw something that he initially ignored, but soon realized might be useful. "Man. I hope this place really does work on game physics and not real ones."

  He struggled to lift the bright red barrel that he found. It had a fire symbol on the side with the words highly flammable printed underneath, and it had an open hole in the top stuffed with a blue rag. He lugged it around the corner the set it up in the big guy's path before running off to what he hoped was a safe distance.

  The oversized creature came within a hopeful striking distance and Scott fired off several rounds toward the barrel. His shots punched a few holes in it, but there was no explosion. A viscous fluid began to spurt out of the holes and pool around the barrel, but nothing else happened.

  "Well, fuck," said Scott quietly. There was nothing else to do about it now. He started firing again. If he hit the helmet enough times it might break off and give him a shot at the putrid brain it was hiding. Three shots later he hit the helmet square in the center.

  Just as he always did, the big bastard went crazy. He lashed out repeatedly with his utility pole. One strike slammed down atop the barrel and bashed it downward. Fluid gushed up out of the hole and splattered thickly against the beast. Sparks flew as it continued its tirade. The pole slammed down on a dry section of asphalt near the highly flammable fluid. Fire erupted from the tiny spark.

  Much to the surprise of everyone. It quickly raced over the top of the flammable liquid and shot up the zombie's side. The big bastard moaned and writhed as the heat intensified. The flames rose high and the heat built to the point that his flesh began to blister. It was not long till he fell to his knees then forward to land on top of the barrel. The fire blazed merrily for a moment while the beast feebly moved his limbs. Ten seconds later a green [+2.4] floated up from the corpse.

  There was no time to revel in his triumph, however. The lesser zombies were still coming for him. It was time to reload and finish this mission.

  Once Scott finished the opposition in the school parking lot, he made a quick perimeter sweep of the school building. A multi-level structure of moderate size, it was obvious that he would need to go in to finish the job. There were less than one hundred bodies to be found outside.

  He entered in the same location that the survivors and the original zombie reinforcements exited the school. The side door was an emergency exit used for fire escapes, but led directly into a narrow corridor.

  "You'd think an emergency exit would have a wide area so people could get out quicker," said Scott lightly.

  Pistol up and ready, he stalked forward into the halls of the high school. Pressed with a choice to go left or right, he shrugged and went to the left. One direction was as good as another, and there were more doors to the left. Doors could equal targets.

  He tried each door as he moved along, most were locked. He would need to check them again later. One unlocked door led him into an art room. Three zombies hung out near a painting on the wall, their eyes focused on the colors. Now and then one would moan, and then the others would moan.

  They did not even notice when he entered the room. Scott smiled and raised his weapon. Even in death art critics continued to be critical. He fired off a few rounds, and managed to bring one down. The other two gave up their passionate critique of high school artwork and began to stagger toward him. Desks and tables got in their way, and provided Scott with two more relatively easy kills.

  His weapon on reload mode, he swept them room for useful items then left. The process repeated itself a few times in different rooms. The zombies were sluggish, disinterested at first. After being dormant in this school place for long period of time, they seemed to have diminished their will to hunt.

  A few hours passed while he cleared the school of the undead. There were no more special zombies, so it became a simple point and shoot adventure. Point at a zombie. Shoot the zombie. Reload. Repeat.

  Scott found it to be quite an easy job once he got inside the building. However, that sense of ease died abruptly when he was forced to begin a second loop of the school. He'd opened all of the unlocked doors at this point. He was not told that he could leave, which meant he now had to work his way into the locked rooms.

  "How the hell do I get in, though?" Scott groused lightly as he contemplated some of the thicker doors.

  He opted to return to the parking lot. Someone had to have a crowbar in the trunk of their car. After smashing out a few windows, and popping open numerous trunks, he found what he needed. Crowbar and hammer in hand, he went back inside.

  Scott cleared the second floor first, as it contained the highest number of locked rooms. Over a dozen zombies were taken out by ones and twos. The time it took to break into each room, and to deal with each zombie was extensive.

  "Man, I can't believe this is taking so long," grumbled Scott. Most of the zombies were in the parking lot. The vast majority of everything he'd taken down happened within the first half hour.

  Back on the first floor, he worked at opening a locked door near the end of a dead-end hallway. "I wonder if the janitor's in here?" he asked idly. It was the janitor's closet, so it was entirely possible.

  Scott glanced to a door on the opposite side that was near the exit from the hall. Zombies pounded and clawed at the door. "I'll get to you in a minute," he said with a snort.

  "Damn impatient ass zombies," he said, just before the janitor's closet door gave up. He broke the door open and explored the interior briefly. "Not a damned thi–" he began, only to stop and yank his head back when the sound of multiple loud moans reached his ears.

  "Shit!" cried Scott even as he brought his firearm to bear. He fired off a few quick rounds, but the zombies had fallen over the top of each other. Their squirming caused his
shots to miss with far greater frequency. He only managed to take one down before his ammo ran out.

  Weapon on reload, he was forced to watch as the five remaining zombies regained their feet. There was nowhere to run, no convenient platform to stand on. If he did not make his next few shots count, he would be in serious trouble.

  Scott did his best to remain calm and aimed as well as he could. Twenty feet away? It was a good range. He fired off single shots while trying to maximize his aim. Sweat beaded up along his forehead as he missed twice before tagging a zombie in the skull. Four remained, and at less than half the distance.

  Another zombie, a professorial-looking fellow who wore glasses and a tweed jacket, fell to a solid head shot. Scott growled angrily and fired off the rest of his ammunition before twitching the safety on once more. The closest zombie was within striking distance, and immediately proved that point by lunging toward him. Its rotten face opened wide to receive its long-awaited meal.

  Scott hopped to the side and bashed it on the back of the head with his crowbar, but even as it continued forward off-balance, the second zombie lunged for him. It pushed him back toward the wall while trying to gnaw through his leather jacket.

  Luck favored the zombie killer that day, however. Somehow he did not lose balance and was able to twist to the side. The hungry beast lost its weak grip on him and fell to the ground.

  The third zombie was already lunging forward as well, however. More by instinct than skill, the crowbar flashed upward and busted the monstrosity in its overinflated zombie chin. The fat student staggered back just enough for Scott to get free of the wiggling zombie at his feet.

  The grounded zombie lurched for his legs, but Scott was ready. He hopped forward a few steps and spun to the left before bashing the fat zombie in the side of the head. Its neck snapped with a loud visceral cracking sound, but other than the disturbing noise and broken neck it was not harmed greatly by the blow.

  It turned to him to get at his sweet meats again even as the closest crawling zombie tried to grab his legs. Scott met it with a hard kick to the side of its knee that caused it to drop to the ground. A feral howl echoed from its rotting lips as its would-be dinner moved to escape.