Thoughts of his village friends flittered through the back of his mind. Watcher wondered how many of them were still alive and how many had been … no, he didn’t want to consider that possibility.
Snap … Watcher thought he heard a twig break, as if a boot had crushed it.
He froze and stared into the shadows.
“Was that just my imagination?” The young boy’s voice was barely a whisper.
Pulling his bow out of his inventory, he notched an arrow and scanned the forest. In this section of the Far Lands, the forest was incredible dense, with only the smallest amount of light able to penetrate the leafy canopy and reach the forest floor. Watcher knew strange things happened in the Far Lands, everyone knew that, and it made him that much more nervous.
Out of the corner of his eye, Watcher saw something move through the shadows. His heart beat faster, thudding in his chest like drum.
Strange monsters were rumored to exist in the dense forest, though no one had actually seen them. Ancient ruins from castles and watchtowers and fortresses dotted the landscape, built from some long-deceased civilization hundreds of years ago. Magical relics from that forgotten age appeared now and then, some with powerful enchantments that could harm the strongest monster or destroy the bravest villager. Everyone, including monsters and NPCs, knew to be cautious in the Far Lands, because you never knew what could happen or what kind of magical and dangerous beast you might disturb.
Leaves crackled as if they were crushed underfoot. Watcher spun around and drew back his arrow. His keen eyes scanned the shadows for movement. This was no daydream … there was something in the forest, and it was getting closer.
“I have an … an arrow pointed right at you.” Watcher’s voice cracked with fear.
No sound came from the forest. In fact, it seemed all the animals—the sheep, the cows, the chickens—all of them had become completely silent, and that silence was deafening. It was as if the forest itself was waiting to see what would happen … and who would survive.
Watcher shook as waves of panic slithered down his spine. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, he wanted to just curl up in a ball and hope it all just went away; the young boy was paralyzed with fear.
Just then, a voice whispered into his ear.
“You really need to be careful with that little bow and arrow of yours; it might poke someone.”
Watcher screamed, then spun around. Before he could fire his weapon, the bow was torn from his grip and tossed to the ground. Gritting his teeth, Watcher prepared himself for the killing blow. But instead of being struck, he was greeted with laughter.
“Watcher, you’re as white as a skeleton,” the voice said. “Calm down, it’s just me, Blaster.”
Panic faded from his mind, allowing Watcher to see who stood before him. It was one of the boys from his village—his cousin.
“Blaster?” he whispered. “BLASTER!”
Watcher enveloped his long arms around him and hugged with all his strength.
“I thought I was the only person that survived from our village and was still free.”
“Nope,” Blaster replied. “We survived as well.”
“We?”
Blaster just smiled, then put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. Up the trail, a girl dressed in a green shirt and brown pants, a yellow stripe running down the center, emerged from behind the trunk of an oak tree.
Watcher’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. “I can’t believe it.”
She walked toward him, her long blond hair swinging back and forth like waves of liquid gold. Her bright green eyes locked onto Watcher’s blues, and for a moment, all the horror and sorrow of recent events seemed to evaporate away as she smiled.
“Planter … you’re alive,” Watcher breathed, his heart pounding in his chest.
He ran along the path and enveloped her in a massive hug that threatened to crack some ribs. Her hair smelled of apples and sunshine. Watcher took in the scent, her presence filling him with relief and joy.
“I can’t believe you’re alive.” Watcher wiped away tears from his cheeks. “I figured everyone was either dead or captured by the zombies. But here you are …”
“I won’t be alive for long if you don’t let go, so I can breathe,” Planter replied.
Her voice was like the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. Watcher released the hug and held her at arm’s length, a gigantic grin on his square face.
“Sorry, I thought I was all alone out here.”
“You didn’t hug me like that,” Blaster said with a grin.
Instantly, Watcher felt his cheeks blush. “Well … I …”
He turned to scowl at his cousin, but Blaster had disappeared. Watcher saw movement in the shadows, a dark shape behind a tree. Stepping out of the shadows, Blaster emerged right next to him. For the first time, he noticed his friend was wearing leather armor, dyed black, allowing him to blend in with the darkness.
“You keep disappearing,” Watcher said.
Blaster smiled. “It’s the armor. My dad—you know, your uncle Tracker—always said it was important to dress for the occasion. And right now, merging with the shadows seems like a good idea.”
“You’re right about that, cousin,” Watcher replied.
“Have you seen anyone else?” Planter asked.
“No, I’ve been all alone … until now. I know the zombies followed the road this way, but I haven’t seen them yet.” He glanced to where the rocky trail curved behind a small hill in the distance, looking for the monstrous army. Watcher wasn’t sure if he wanted to see them or not. He swallowed nervously. “I heard the zombies say something about going to the next village on this path.”
“We need to follow them and try to help,” Blaster said.
“With what? All I have is my bow and some leather armor.” Watcher tapped his knuckles to the brown leather tunic.
“I have these.” Blaster drew two long curved knives from his inventory, holding one in each hand. “My dad trained me to prepare for the unexpected. I’ve trained with these knives since I could walk. I can handle myself if we come across some zombies. But we need better weapons for you and Planter.”
“I don’t need a weapon,” Planter objected. “I’m not a fighter.”
“Hate to break it to you, but everyone’s a fighter now.” Blaster put away one of his knives. “We need better weapons and armor, and then we need to catch those monsters.”
“And do what?” Planter asked.
Watcher glanced at his two friends, an expression of uncertainty on his face. “We free our families … I guess.”
The two villagers stared at him, surprised.
“Look, I know everyone thinks I’m not very strong or very brave, but the zombies got my dad and sister.” Watcher took a nervous swallow. “If I don’t try to free them, I’ll hate myself for the rest of my life.”
“I don’t know if the zombies have my mom or not,” Blaster said. “She sent me out into the forest when the first attack started. My dad went with the other warriors to chase the zombies; it was a trap. I saw the monsters bring the surviving warriors back and my dad wasn’t with them.” Blaster paused for a moment as the painful memory played through his mind. A tear trickled from one eye. The boy quickly wiped it away. “I’m sure he’s dead, but I don’t know what happened to my mom. I have to save her and anyone else I can find.”
“Planter, what about you?” Watcher asked. “Were your parents captured?”
The girl glanced at the ground, her long blond hair falling across her shoulders and shielding her face from view. Watcher could hear her weep softly. He wanted to comfort her, but knew she needed a little privacy for her grief. After a few moments, she spoke.
“They were at the door, pounding on it, demanding we come out.” Planter spoke softly as the memory played through her mind. “My dad knew if we opened the door, we’d be killed … or worse. So he broke out a window in the attic. It was a small window, just a single block wide. I
was able to squeeze through and climbed up onto the roof.” She raised her eyes and brought them to Watcher. “I heard the zombies crash through the door, then there was some fighting. You both know my dad wasn’t very good with a sword, but I knew he wouldn’t let them take Mom. He tried to fight them off, but there were just too many of them.” She wiped her cheek, leaving a moist stain on her sleeve. “I knew when the fighting stopped and everything grew quiet in our home, my parents were gone.”
“How did you get away?” Blaster asked.
“Our house was in a part of the village where all the homes are close together. I was able to jump from one roof to the next, and then I finally jumped to the ground and ran into the woods.”
She hung her head and stared at the ground, gritting her teeth. Watcher could tell she was fighting the storm of emotions raging within her. A few tears trickled from her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly.
“I wanted to help my dad fight, but there was nothing I could do.” Planter looked up and held out her hands, showing they were empty. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and grief. “I had no weapon … nothing. All I could do was listen.”
“Planter, I’m so sorry,” Watcher said.
“My mom and dad died in our home for no reason. Zombies are evil.” She glanced at Blaster’s knife, then looked up at the boy in his dark, leather armor. “Maybe I’m not a fighter … right now, but I think it’s time I learned. Blaster, can you teach me?”
“Absolutely.”
“But we don’t have any weapons other than your knives.” Planter looked up at Blaster, then to Watcher. “How do we get more?”
“I have my bow,” Watcher added, but Planter ignored him.
“My dad told me something once,” Blaster said. “He said, ‘Always hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.’ So my dad, Tracker, did exactly that.”
“You mean he always hoped for the best?” Planter asked.
Blaster nodded. “But he also prepared for the worst. We have a hidden cache of weapons and armor, tucked away somewhere secret.”
“Where?” Watcher asked.
“It’s in the old deserted watchtower.”
“You mean the one they say fell into a sink hole and is mostly buried?” Watcher asked. “You know where it’s located, don’t you?”
Blaster nodded, then removed his black leather cap. His hair was just as dark as his helmet, the curly locks disheveled and going in all directions at once.
“But that’s off the trail!” Watcher said.
“Yeah, it’s deep in the woods.”
“If we go there, we’ll be completely on our own, with nobody to help us.” Watcher’s voice sounded worried.
“Look around, genius, there’s nobody around to help us now,” Blaster said. “We’re on our own, whether you realize it or not. We need food and water, and better weapons.”
“It’s time we taught the zombies a lesson,” Planter said, an angry tone to her normally lyrical voice.
Watcher looked at her closely. The sadness that had just filled her eyes was now completely replaced with hate and a thirst for revenge. The thoughtful, kind, and understanding girl he knew in his village was disappearing right before him and being replaced with someone that was angry and hungry for violence. It pained his heart, but he knew they were both right. They needed weapons and supplies if they were going to help their families and friends. But something about this path they were about to follow worried him.
Am I gonna lose myself to violence and revenge, like Blaster and Planter? Watcher thought. Or can I still stay true to myself?
The question echoed in his head, causing fingers of dread to knead his soul. But then the images of what might have happened to his father and sister percolated through his mind, pushed aside his concerns. Terrible images of what might be played through his mind like a terrifying nightmare. He had to save them, somehow, though he knew he wasn’t a good fighter, or very brave or strong. But Watcher knew he had no choice.
“Okay, let’s go get us some weapons,” Watcher said.
“All right.” Blaster slapped him on the back. “Follow me.”
The boy, still in his black armor, walked down the path, then shifted to running, Watcher and Planter fast on his heels.
Blaster led them down the path, the boy now wearing forest green leather armor to blend in with the grass covering the trail. He carried his two curved knives as if ready for an imminent attack. The sight of those knives gave Watcher a feeling of security, for he knew Blaster was a skilled fighter; everyone in his family was good at fighting.
Watcher’s uncle Tracker, Blaster’s father, was the warrior of their family, and Watcher’s dad, Cleric, was the scholar. There had never been any animosity between the two; Tracker had never thought himself better than Cleric because of his muscles. In fact, everyone in the village looked up to Cleric, even though his skill with a sword was nonexistent. Watcher never understood why Cleric commanded so much respect, yet Watcher seemed to receive such disdain and ridicule from his peers for being weak. He always wanted to ask Blaster about it, but never had the courage; he was afraid to hear the answer or learn what Blaster really thought of him.
Lost in thought, he bumped into Blaster, having not noticed the boy had stopped.
“What is it?” Watcher drew an arrow and notched it to his bow quickly.
“Why are we stopping?” Planter asked.
“From here, we leave the trail.” Blaster stuck a square finger under the edge of his leather cap and scratched his ear. “If we go north, eventually we’ll run right into the old watchtower.”
“How can you tell where we are?” Watcher cast nervous glances at the surroundings. “All the forest looks the same to me. You’re sure this is the right spot?”
Oak trees stood majestically throughout the woods, their branches stretching out, sometimes brushing against their neighbor. The jagged limbs cast strange, monstrous shadows across the forest floor, creating a spooky environment that chilled Watcher’s blood. He was never much of a woodsman; he preferred staying in the village whenever possible, or at least staying on a well-known path. When he was younger, he’d gotten lost in the woods, and his uncle had to go out after him to find him. Watcher had been terrified at the time, and remembering that experience still made him nervous whenever he was far from home.
“You see that tree there?” Blaster pointed to a tall spruce.
“Yeah.” Watcher nodded.
“Anything look unusual about it?”
Watcher moved to it. He ran his hand up and down the trunk, feeling the rough bark under his fingers. The blocky leaves were a dark green, sticking out all along the length of its trunk, waving gently in the breeze. He inhaled, taking in the smells of wood and sap and rich leaves and life.
The moo of a cow floated out of the forest, mixed with the oinks of multiple pigs.
“It looks like a normal tree to me.”
“No, it’s not supposed to be here.” Planter grinned. “I can see that now.”
Blaster nodded.
“I don’t understand,” Watcher said, puzzled.
“This is an oak forest, and that’s a spruce tree.” She moved next to Watcher and ran her hand over the bark. “What’s a spruce doing here?”
“Exactly.” Blaster nodded. “My father planted that tree long ago, as a marker. It leads us to the supplies he hid so long ago. Come on.”
Blaster glanced up at the sky and watched the clouds; they always moved from east to west, even in the Far Lands. Getting his bearings, he turned to the left and headed north, his two companions following.
The thick canopy of branches and leaves overhead blotted out the square face of the sun approaching the western horizon. The shadows were long across the forest floor, making it difficult to see very far. Watcher’s imagination created monsters in the distance, lurking behind tree trunks or crouching behind bushes. He shook unconsciously. Suddenly, someone bumped into him, rescuing him from the imaginary monsters.
“Ahh … what?” He felt like an idiot.
“I said, you were looking pretty serious,” Planter said.
“Umm … I was just thinking about my sister.”
“Winger?”
He nodded.
“Did you know that your sister gave me the first pair of Elytra wings she ever made?” Planter said.
“Really?” Watcher ducked under a low-hanging branch, narrowly avoiding a face full of leaves. “Did they work well?”
Planter laughed. “I jumped off the roof to test them, but I didn’t know how to make them open.”
“Ouch,” Watcher said.
She nodded. “I was probably too young for them, but I wanted to fly really bad.”
“Did you ever get a chance to use a pair of Elytra?”
“Well, I—”
Blaster’s voice floated out of the darkening forest, interrupting them. It was hushed and cautious, silencing Planter’s comment. “We’re getting close.”
The boy had become invisible again, his black armor merging with the shadows. And then Watcher spotted him, the razor-sharp edge of his knives reflecting the last few rays of sunlight that penetrated the leafy covering overhead.
“Blaster, what do you know about this watchtower?” Planter asked, her voice hushed.
The fading light from the setting sun made them all a bit nervous. Watcher cast anxious glances around at the darkening forest. A chicken clucked nearby, startling the boy. He turned and scanned the surroundings for the offending fowl, but couldn’t find it.
“My dad told me it was built in the ancient days, when the Far Lands were first formed.” Blaster came closer and walked at her side. Pulling off his leather cap, he scratched his head. “He said it was once a wizard’s tower and was the center of magic in those days. But there was some kind of great battle that made it sink into the ground, and it was finally abandoned.”
Zombies Attack! Page 4