Zombies Attack!

by Mark Cheverton

  Slowly, he approached, glancing at the shadowy woods surrounding them.

  “You heard me … thank you,” Mapper said. “I didn’t know how long I would last. My health is almost—”

  Blaster crashed through the trees behind the old man, startling him.

  “There’s nothing else around.” He put away his curved knives and took off the green leather cap. “We’re safe here.”

  Watcher lowered his bow, then rushed to the old man’s side as he shouted, “Planter, Cutter, we’re over here. Come quick.”

  The boy pulled out a piece of steak and handed it to the old man, then offered him a loaf of bread. Mapper devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  “Are you okay?” Watcher placed a block of wool on the ground, then helped the man lean against it. “What happened to you?”

  “Well, you see …”

  “Maybe we should wait for the others,” Blaster said.

  “Good idea.”

  The sound of clanking iron grew louder.

  “Over here … we’re over here.” Blaster banged on the side of a tree with the hilt of a knife. It made a dull thud that was easy to hear.

  Cutter crashed through the undergrowth, his diamond blade held ready for battle. When the warrior saw the two youths on the ground next to an old man, he put away his weapon with a sneer.

  “I thought there were monsters around.”

  “You always think that,” Watcher said quietly. Blaster elbowed him in the ribs.

  Twigs broke and leaves were crushed as the sound of shuffling feet reached them. Cutter drew his weapons again, but Watcher only stood and waited. He could smell Er-Lan approaching and knew Planter would be with him.

  She emerged from the shadows with the zombie in tow, her blond hair glowing in the light of the afternoon sun. When she saw the old mapper on the ground, Planter tossed Cutter the end of the rope leading to Er-Lan. She ran to the man’s side and knelt, checking him for wounds.

  “I’m all right, child, just bruised and hungry.” Mapper took another bite from the bread, then accepted a bottle of water from Blaster. “There were some much worse off than me. They didn’t last very long.”

  “What happened to you?” Planter asked.

  Mapper glanced at Er-Lan, then spoke in a low voice. “The zombies … they attacked my village.”

  “We know, they attacked ours as well,” Blaster said.

  “After the attack, they rounded up all the villagers and sent us on a forced march through the forest. Some NPCs tried to make a run for it, but without any weapons, they didn’t stand a chance.” Mapper stopped for another bite of bread, then continued. “We ended up in the basement of an old church. I think that structure was left over from the ancient times. By the architecture of that building, I think it was one of the old wizards’ meeting places. You can tell from the—”

  “Enough with the history lesson,” Cutter interrupted. “How did you end up here?”

  Mapper glanced up at the big warrior, a concerned look on his wrinkled face. “They’re running out of food.”

  “What?”

  “The captive villagers … they’re running out of food.” Mapper struggled to his feet, Watcher and Blaster offering help. “That terrible zombie warlord … I don’t remember his name—”

  “Tu-Kar,” Er-Lan said.

  “Right … Tu-Kar, that’s it. Anyway, he took the old and the wounded, and just left them on the roadside. He said if a villager wasn’t strong enough to work, then they wouldn’t waste any stew on them. So they threw all of us to the edge of the trail, leaving us to starve. I think I’m the only one that survived. If you hadn’t come along when you did, I’m sure I would have died as well.”

  “That Tu-Kar is despicable,” Planter said.

  “On that we can agree, child.” Mapper pointed to Er-Lan. “You seem to have a zombie with you … there must be an interesting story there.”

  “Er-Lan is a friend,” Watcher said. “He’s helping us find the captive villagers.”

  “He’s a friend, yet you have him tied up?” Mapper turned his gaze to Watcher, the old man’s brown eyes, with their flecks of gold, boring into the young boy.

  “Well, we thought it best to play it safe and—”

  “The villagers do not trust Er-Lan,” the zombie said. “It is understandable. Zombies and villagers have many differences.”

  “Like how they smell,” Cutter said. “And you stink. It’s time for a bath.”

  The big warrior pulled Er-Lan to the stream, then shoved him into the chilly water. The zombie splashed water in all directions, struggling to keep his head above the surface.

  Planter rushed to the zombie’s aid. “He’ll drown with his arms tied to his sides.” She splashed into the stream and pulled the creature’s head out of the water.

  Cutter waded into the stream and rubbed his hands across the monster’s clothing, knocking loose pieces of dirt and filth that had long been stuck to him.

  “Be careful,” Planter complained.

  “I’ll be careful after the stink is gone from this zombie.” Cutter rubbed harder, using the nails on his stubby, square fingers to dislodge clumps of dirt from the monster’s pants and shirt.

  Satisfied with his work, Cutter then dragged Er-Lan from the stream and let him lie on the grass to dry in the sunlight.

  “That was mean,” Planter complained.

  “It’s just a zombie … who cares?”

  “We care.” Watcher moved to the zombie’s side. “All living creatures deserve to be treated with respect.”

  “Tell that to all the villagers who died at the hands of these zombies,” Cutter replied.

  “Er-Lan is not a fighter.” The little zombie stared up at Cutter, then cast a glance to Planter and Watcher. “Er-Lan has never been a fighter. That is why Er-Lan is homeless. Brother and father were great warriors, but not Er-Lan. This body and these arms were always too small and too weak to be of any value to the clan.” The zombie sighed and glanced down at the ground. “Father and brother, Pe-Lan and Ko-Lan, say Er-Lan is a disgrace to the family and to the clan. They say Er-Lan is not worthy to carry the name Lan, but it cannot be changed according to zombie law.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say to a family member.” Planter put a reassuring hand on the monster’s shoulder. “I’m sure they didn’t mean it.”

  The zombie shook his head. “It was meant. Pe-Lan told this zombie to leave the family home. They blame Er-Lan for not defending mother in the last spider attack.”

  “Your mother was killed by spiders?” Watcher asked.

  The zombie nodded. “They discovered the entrance to our zombie-town and attacked. Er-Lan was fixing the water supply, making it flow more efficiently so the clan might have more clean water. The attack happened on the opposite side of the cave, where the zombie-town resides. By the time Er-Lan reached our home, mother was grievously wounded. She died in Er-Lan’s arms.”

  “Er-Lan, that’s terrible.” Planter put her arms around the zombie and gave him a hug. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  The zombie sighed. “Er-Lan knows that, but father and brother felt differently, and demanded this zombie leave the zombie-town. After wandering the forest alone for a long time, Er-Lan found the zombie warlord. Tu-Kar forced Er-Lan to be a part of his zombie army.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened to your mother,” Watcher said. “That must have been terrible.”

  The zombie nodded. “But the strange thing was what mother said before her death.”

  Er-Lan struggled to his feet, then shook loose the last of the water that dripped from his clothing.

  “Well?” Blaster took a step closer. “What did she say?”

  “She said, ‘Value should not be judged by the sharpness of one’s claws, but by the sharpness of one’s mind. The zombie nation will soon need thinkers and not fighters. Remember that when the time comes for you to choose the right path.’ And then she died. Er-Lan has pondered her last wo
rds, but is unsure as to her real message.”

  Planter put an arm around the zombie’s shoulder. “That is so sad.”

  Er-Lan nodded.

  “I think it’s clear what she was trying to say,” Mapper said. “Worth should not be based on strength or skill in fighting. It should be based on what you can create with your mind. Destruction is always easier than creation; if we focus on the sword, then we will only be left with ashes.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Cutter said.

  “No, it’s not.” Watcher stood tall, glaring at the NPC. “Each of us have a skill that can help others. If all we do is focus on fighting, and not solving the problems before us, then we are lost.”

  “Ha ha.” Cutter laughed a sarcastic laugh. “How did your skill help people when we were surrounded by zombies? Your little bow is useful when things are far away, but face-to-face, it’s worthless. The real measure of a villager is what they do when the enemy is standing up close, and you’re staring into their hateful eyes. If you can’t push back when they’re within arm’s reach, then you aren’t very important.”

  “Sometimes, true capabilities remain hidden until needed,” Mapper said. “Sometimes, we don’t know what we can do until we are called upon to act. Then, it is not the strength of our arms that is important; rather, it is the strength of our character.”

  “I can’t believe we’re wasting time with this discussion.” Cutter grabbed the rope wrapped around Er-Lan and tossed it to Mapper. “It seems everyone is rested, and the zombie no longer stinks. We’re heading for the zombie fortress, and your little friend is going to show us the way.” He gave Er-Lan a hateful stare. “If you play any tricks, I’ll make sure you will suffer.”

  “If we’re not careful, I fear all of us will suffer,” Watcher said.

  Cutter glared at the archer, then turned and headed back to the stony trail, the rest of the party following, all of them knowing they were heading toward danger.

  The party followed Er-Lan along the forest trail as the sun gradually sank in the west. The trees cast long shadows across the rocky path, giving it a striped appearance that looked odd in the distance. Ahead, a large hill jutted up from the forest, the path climbing up the side and disappearing over the top.

  “The fortress is just beyond that hill,” the zombie said.

  “How do we know you aren’t leading us into a trap?” Cutter drew his diamond sword and pointed it at the monster.

  Er-Lan glanced at the weapon. His dark eyes seemed to light up for just an instant, but then he looked at Watcher and Planter and sighed.

  “This zombie does not want violence. These villagers have been nice to Er-Lan. Only desire is to find their families and friends. Er-Lan wants peace between zombies and NPCs, not war.”

  “That’s a very reasonable thing to strive for, Er-Lan.” Mapper had been tasked with holding on to the monster’s leash. “Soon, when we find our friends, you will be free to go on your own way. Maybe go back to your home in your zombie-town.”

  “Er-Lan has no home.”

  “That’s so sad,” Planter said.

  “Don’t feel sorry for it,” Cutter snapped. “None of them can be trusted. His monsters attacked our villagers and took our friends captive. I don’t believe for a minute that he wasn’t involved. Zombies can’t be trusted … they can never be trusted.”

  “Maybe we should keep our voices down,” Blaster said. “There could be monsters anywhere around us.”

  Watcher nodded, then glanced at Cutter, speaking softly. “He’s right, we need to keep our voices down.”

  “Okay, we go up the hill, quick and quiet,” the warrior whispered.

  They climbed the hill, jumping from block to block, the sounds of the forest and the clanking of Cutter’s armor the only thing they could hear. Cows mooed somewhere off to the left. The leaves rustled on the oaks. Tree branches creaked as they bent in the wind. It was all peaceful and calm, but knowing there was a zombie fortress nearby made the quietude seem almost frightening.

  “Why can’t we hear any monsters?” Planter asked in a low voice.

  Watcher shrugged, then whispered. “Maybe we got here before they did?”

  “I’m gonna go ahead and look around.” Blaster put on his green leather cap, then darted up the hill, his armor allowing him to merge with the grass as if he were a ghost.

  When they reached the top of the Hill, Watcher glanced around at the forest. The trees were densely packed, as was common in the Far Lands. Patches of oak trees butted up against sections of spruce, with the bright green of jungle wood trees peeking through the haze in the distance. The square face of the sun was beginning its gentle caress of the western horizon, the sky blushing a deep crimson, while stars peeked through the darkening sky to the east.

  “Stop the sightseeing and get moving,” Cutter’s deep voice said.

  Turning, Watcher followed the stony trail. It led down into a narrow valley with trees lining the steep slopes. The grass between the stone blocks that made up the trail was trampled by many feet, the blades still bent and struggling to stand tall again.

  “Look at the grass,” Watcher whispered. “A lot of creatures came by here recently.”

  “It’s probably the zombies and their prisoners.” Cutter glared at Er-Lan. “Our friends better be okay.”

  The zombie remained silent.

  The companions followed the trail through the valley, the sides walled in with trees. Moonlight from the east cast a silvery light on the landscape, giving it an almost magical appearance, but it did nothing to ease their tension over the eerie silence that had gripped the terrain. Watcher’s eyes darted about the area, looking for movement. Images of monsters emerging from behind trees and bushes flitted through his mind. They drove his fear to even higher levels, making the boy’s nerves feel stretched to their limits.

  “Look, up ahead.” Planter drew Needle from her inventory. The purple glow of the enchanted relic lit the ground around her feet.

  Watcher moved to her side. The valley ended at what looked like the gates to a gigantic castle. Two huge towers stood on either side of the valley, the cobblestone structures cracked from lack of care. A gigantic opening stood in the center of the wall, the remnants of some kind of gigantic iron gate hanging along the sides of the opening, the rest of the barricade destroyed by the ravages of time.

  They passed through the gate and were shocked by what they saw. Sitting on a large grassy plane was a massive fortress with fortified walls ringing the structure, turrets dominating the corners. Parts of the wall were collapsed, the blocks lying on the ground in disheveled piles. Tall grass covered the grounds, making it easy for the party to move unseen. They ran along the edge, using the oak trees and thick foliage for cover. As they moved around the corner of the building, Watcher spotted a hole in the ancient wall.

  “There, we can get in there.” Watcher pointed with his bow.

  He sprinted for the opening, the rest of the companions following closely behind. The hole looked as if some gigantic beast had taken a bite out of the structure.

  When they moved through the broken wall and into the actual castle grounds, the stench of zombies became overpowering; there were clearly a lot of monsters nearby. A large doorway stood off to the right, and through the opening, dark wooden steps led up into the castle. To the left, an old stable stood tucked into the side of the castle. No horses remained, having likely fled long ago. Along the wall to the left, another opening led to a curving passage that quickly disappeared into shadows, the whole structure ominously silent.

  “I wonder if this was the Wizard’s Keep we read about in school?” Watcher asked.

  “You mean the one where the Great War started?” Planter said.

  Watcher nodded.

  “Quit it with the history lesson. All that matters is finding a way to sneak in.” Cutter shoved his way past Mapper and Er-Lan and stood at Planter’s side.

  “The passage to the left will lead to the back of the cas
tle.” Er-Lan pointed with a sharp claw.

  “You mean the dark and scary passage?” Blaster asked.

  The little zombie nodded. “It will lead to the back courtyard.”

  Before anyone could move, a growling sound came from the flight of stairs to the right. They could hear clawed feet scraping across the wooden steps and a group of zombies approaching.

  “Quick! Follow me.” Watcher sprinted into the dark tunnel, the others following.

  They sprinted through the curving passage, and the sound of zombies slowly grew quiet behind them. The corridor ended in a large courtyard. Steep walls ringed the area, a huge opening carved into the tallest side. Wide steps led through the opening with a large balcony overhead, shielding the entrance from the elements. Strong iron bars ringed its sides, giving it the appearance of a large jail cell.

  “I think I saw something moving up there, in the balcony,” Blaster said.

  Watcher looked where he was pointing with his curved knife. And then he saw it for himself; there was something behind those bars. Was it one of the NPC prisoners?

  Er-Lan moved to the boy’s side in the courtyard. “This is the rear entrance to the castle. Possibly, entrance can be gained here if all are quiet.” He pointed to the huge opening in the wall.

  A series of steps led to a raised porch made from black and purple blocks of obsidian. The darkness seemed to hug close to the obsidian, merging with the shadows. Glancing over his shoulder, Watcher spotted a large gate that opened in the fortified wall, leading to a narrow trail. The path led away from the castle and into the darkness.

  Planter moved next to Watcher, Needle held firmly in her hand. The enchantment from the weapon cast a purple glow across her beautiful face. Watcher glanced at her and could see her eyes were filled with fear.

  “Don’t worry, Planter. It’ll be all right,” Watcher said.

  “Be quiet,” Cutter whispered, giving the archer a scowl.

  Watcher wanted to return the look, but instead just turned away.