Zombies Attack!

by Mark Cheverton

  “I know what my faults are, zombie. I don’t need you to lecture me.” Cutter took a step closer. “I’ve come to terms with my mistakes in life.” He glanced at Watcher, then turned back to the monster. “I’ve misjudged people, and I’ve treated people poorly, but I won’t hide from those mistakes, and you can’t use them as a weapon against me.”

  “Blah … blah … blah … villagers talk too much when they’re afraid.” Tu-Kar glared at him. “Begging for mercy will probably come next. All you villagers are pathetic.”

  The zombie smiled a toothy grin, then charged. Cutter stood his ground, deflecting the attacks with his enchanted iron blade. But for the first time, instead of trying to use strength to overcome his attacker, he merely allowed the monster to tire himself out. When opportunities appeared, he stabbed at the warlord, his razor-sharp tip jabbing at the monster, scoring hit after hit.

  It seemed as if Cutter was going to defeat the zombie warlord, and by the look on Tu-Kar’s face, the monster knew it as well. Landing a strong kick into Cutter’s chest, the monster pushed the NPC back, then quickly reached into his inventory and draped the Mantle of Command over his shoulder.

  “He’s gonna bring all the zombies back!” Watcher shouted.

  “If he does that, we’re doomed,” Planter added.

  “Zombies.” Tu-Kar smiled as he backed away from Cutter. “Come back to the—”

  Suddenly, a green creature dashed out of the darkness and collided with the zombie commander, hitting Tu-Kar hard in the chest and knocking the wind out of him. The monster fell on the floor, another smaller zombie on top of him.

  “Er-Lan … it’s Er-Lan.” Watcher sprinted forward, firing arrows at the zombie warlord. “Planter, protect our friend.”

  The two of them closed in on Tu-Kar while the two zombies wrestled. The warlord pushed Er-Lan off, then raised his sword and swung at the defenseless monster. Watcher fired arrows as fast as he could while Blaster and Planter closed in, their blades inflicting wicked damage. At the last minute, Cutter grabbed Er-Lan and pulled him back, then brought his big sword down upon Tu-Kar. The warlord’s face changed from one of rage to uncertainty and fear. He disappeared as a sorrowful moan escaped his lips, leaving behind his items: enchanted chain mail, the three balls of XP.

  Watcher bent down and picked up the chain mail, then handed the diamond sword to Cutter. The warrior took the weapon by the handle and stared down at it as if it were an old friend.

  “You earned this.” Watcher nodded his head. “Fisher would be proud of you.”

  Cutter nodded, then put the weapon away.

  “I think it would be best if we ran, in case the warlord was able to get his command out to his army.” Mapper bent down and retrieved some of the warlord’s items. “I don’t relish the thought of being here when a hundred zombies return looking for a fight.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Cutter agreed.

  “Wait … Er-Lan.” Planter rushed to the zombie’s side. “Are you okay?”

  The monster looked up at Planter, then saw Watcher and Blaster approaching. He smiled. But then he saw Cutter approach, and his smile turned to a frown. The big warrior gently pushed the others aside, then held out a hand to Er-Lan, helping him to his feet.

  “We probably owe our lives to you.” Cutter dusted him off. “You stopped the warlord from issuing that command. If you hadn’t, we’d probably be …”

  “All these friends would have done the same for Er-Lan,” the zombie said.

  Cutter nodded. “Let’s get out of here. We have a date with a wither.”

  “We do indeed,” Watcher agreed. “Kaza, you’re next.”

  Kaza floated over the collection of zombies and prisoners as they trudged toward the coastline. The aroma of salt permeated everything, smelling clean and fresh; it was a welcome relief compared to the stench of these pathetic zombies.

  The company of monsters and their prisoners crested the last hill and passed by the ancient watchtower that guarded the fishing village nestled on the coastline. The dark ocean, with its rippling waves and splashing squid, stretched out into the darkness, the distant edge engulfed by the night. The only land mass visible on the rippling waters was an island upon which was built a tall stone and brick castle: the Capitol. A large seawall, made of the same bricks, stood in the water, forming an enclosure where ships sat empty, abandoned since the wither king had taken everything over. This site had been a prominent figure in the history of the Far Lands, and until recently, the seat of power for the NPCs. Now, it stood as a reminder of how violence could change the fortunes of anyone.

  “Hurry up,” the right head of the wither king growled. “You’re too slow.”

  “But the zombies are tired,” one of the monsters complained. “Marching all through the night has brought many to exhaustion.”

  “You need to rest?” Left asked. “Very well.”

  Suddenly, a pair of flaming black skulls shot out of Kaza’s left head and slammed into the complaining zombie, exploding. Instantly, black swirls formed around the zombie’s head as the wither effect took over the monster’s body. Kaza knew the monster could no longer tell how much health it had left, which made the creature afraid. Left loved this part, when their victim panicked.

  “Just finish him off and stop torturing the monster,” Right grumbled.

  Center nodded in agreement.

  Left gave a sigh then fired another flaming skull at the monster. The blast from the projectile took the last of the monster’s HP. With a look of terror on its green face, the monster disappeared, a sad wail leaving his lips.

  “Let that be a lesson to all of you,” Center shouted. “March too slowly and you will be destroyed.”

  Some of the zombies growled, but they all shuffled faster down the trail. The army of monsters moved along the stone pathway, down to the sloping beach and into the fishing village that sat nestled along the shoreline.

  The coastal village was like a ghost town, the NPCs having been captured long ago and put to work in the mines until their HP ran out. The doors to some of the homes still sat open, items of clothing and children’s toys lying on tables in the buildings. It was as if the community had been frozen in time, devoid of life.

  “I remember when these villagers came to the Capitol in hopes of stopping our takeover.” Left laughed a harsh laugh. “It was fun blasting them out of the water.”

  “Yes, many were destroyed.” Center glanced at Left. “The greater surprise was what we found down in the secret vaults, below the great castle.”

  “That was a great day,” Right added. “I’d never seen that much gold in one place.”

  “The caretaker of the Capitol thought that gold was left over from the ancient war between the wizards and the warlocks.” Center glanced at Right, then glared down at the prisoners that were moving onto the docks. “It was that pile of gold that caused me to come up with our great plan.”

  Left lowered his scratchy voice. “Just think, when we have the gold we need to awaken all the other withers, then we can destroy all these villagers once and for all.”

  “We can also destroy the zombies as well.” Right’s voice was soft and lyrical. “It will be good to be rid of that terrible stench.”

  “Absolutely,” Left added.

  “We will destroy them all, but not until I say so.” Center glared at the other heads. “When we see our sleeping brothers and sisters arise from their subterranean prison, then we will have achieved our goal. Until then, the zombies and villagers are to remain untouched.” The tone of his voice made it clear that neither head should dare to object.

  The zombies forced the prisoners into a fishing village and out onto the docks.

  “Villagers, get into the boats,” one of the zombies growled. “Head for the dock on the edge of the island. Any boats heading away from the island will be destroyed.”

  The villagers, terrified and half-starved, obediently piled into the small rowboats and paddled toward the nearby i
sland, the main building looming tall over the rest of the Capitol. A few NPCs made a run for it, turning their boat away from the coast and trying to flee out into the ocean. Kaza quickly destroyed the fools, his flaming skulls making an example of the slaves and extinguishing any hope of escape.

  When they reached the loading docks, the villagers climbed out and moved into a central square, empty homes silent and deserted around them. Zombies moved out from between the buildings, their swords and armor gleaming under the waning light of the setting moon.

  Once all the villagers had successfully disembarked onto the island, they were led through the ghost village, the zombies goading them along with their sharp claws. Some wept as the possibility of escape or rescue became more remote. They knew they’d likely never leave the island alive.

  At the edge of the village, a steep set of stairs ascended along the edge of the mountain that formed the core of the island. Halfway up, a lone NPC sat huddled in an iron cage, the pathetic man begging for mercy.

  “Please, release me,” the gaunt villager said from behind iron bars.

  “We will never release you.” Left glared at the prisoner as he floated up the steps.

  “You know too much about the Capitol,” Right said. “We cannot let you run free. You were the caretaker here for a long time, and your knowledge of the Capitol is vast. Instead, I think we’ll keep you here in case we need any information.”

  “But I’m barely alive,” the man moaned.

  “We know, but we’ll make sure you get enough food to stay alive.” Center laughed. “Have we ever failed to feed you?”

  “Please … just let me die.”

  “You’ll die when we give you our permission.” Left scowled at the sickly villager. “Until then, suffer.”

  The new prisoners glanced at the imprisoned villager as they climbed the steps, moving past him. When the captives reached the gates of the huge castle, they swung open, revealing more zombie guards. The solders escorted the NPCs down a flight of steps and into the mines, a place many villagers entered but few ever left.

  “Where is my general!” Center’s voice boomed through the castle as he floated near the entrance to the mines. He had no desire to go down into the cramped tunnels; withers hate confined passages. Open spaces were what Kaza always preferred.

  “Here is So-Mal.” A fat zombie struggled past the stream of prisoners heading down the steps into the mines.

  “Stand before us.” Kaza floated closer to the ground. Right glanced upward, making sure there was still room to rise if anyone attacked. Left scanned their surroundings, watching for threats. “We bring new prisoners. They must be put to work right away. We are nearing our goal, but still need more gold. You will put these slaves to work and find us the gold we need.”

  “Yes, Kaza.” So-Mal bowed low, his large belly making it difficult. “The new slaves will work hard.”

  “I hope so, for your sake.” Left’s voice was scratchy, a not-so-subtle promise of violence in his statement. “I’m sure there are other zombies that can do your job.”

  “The slaves will dig with all their strength. So-Mal will see it done.” So-Mal bowed again, his iron armor creaking under the strain. Turning, the zombie pushed one of the prisoners into the descending passage, yelling at the top of his lungs.

  “Soon, brother and sister, we will have the gold we need.” Center glanced at the other two heads, his eyes bright with anticipation. “And then we can put the next part of our plan into action.”

  The three heads chuckled, each in a different tone, creating a symphony of malicious laughter, adding to the sad and hopeless wails of the NPCs.

  The comrades walked in pairs of two, each scanning either the left or the right, looking for hidden monsters or traps. After the battle with the zombie warlord, their spirits had been high, but as they drew nearer to the Capitol, each grew more and more nervous.

  “We should be able to see the Capitol after this next hill.” Mapper pulled out an apple and ate it as he walked. “But before that, I think it’s best we come up with a plan.”

  “There will be zombies … many zombies.” Er-Lan walked next to Planter, his arms no longer bound by rope. “It will be impossible to just fight through them.”

  “Zombie, aren’t you worried about us killing your fellow zombies?” Cutter asked.

  “His name is Er-Lan.” Planter scowled at the big warrior.

  “Ahh … right, whatever.”

  The zombie gave Cutter a nod. “Er-Lan has been an outcast for a long time. The other zombies hate Er-Lan because Er-Lan is not the same. Er-Lan is not strong. Er-Lan is not a fighter. Because of these differences, Er-Lan has been despised by other zombies. Only when it seemed as if Er-Lan betrayed these villagers was this zombie accepted. But it was still clear, many zombies still have hate in their hearts.” He reached up with a claw and scratched his bald head. “Er-Lan has no love for other zombies … best to be alone.”

  “Or maybe with friends that appreciate you,” Planter added, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  The zombie smiled and nodded.

  Cutter guffawed then rolled his eyes, drawing a glare from Planter. The big warrior didn’t respond.

  “Let’s go into the jungle and talk.” Watcher turned and climbed over blocks of leaves. Long vines hung down from the jungle wood trees, making it difficult to see anything … which is just what he wanted. Once they’d moved deep enough into the verdant growth, he found a place where the group could talk without being easily seen.

  “The sun will be up soon.” Cutter removed his iron helmet and rubbed his stubby hair. “I understand we need to use boats to get to the Capitol. I’d rather cross the sea while it’s still dark.”

  “Agreed,” Blaster said.

  “What do we do about all the zombies?” Watcher put away his bow and pulled a loaf of bread from his inventory. He took a bite.

  “The Mantle of Command should help us,” Mapper said. “But I think it would be wise to test it out before we’re faced with a hundred monsters who all want to kill us.”

  Cutter nodded. “I agree.”

  “I’ll test it.” Watcher removed the mundane chain mail he was wearing and put it away in his inventory, then pulled out the sparkling armor dropped by the zombie warlord.

  “Come, Watcher … sit here.” Mapper motioned to a leafy block next to a jungle wood tree.

  Watcher sat down, removed his leather cap, then slowly lowered the enchanted mail over his head. He gasped as images formed in his head. Instantly, he was submerged into an inky blackness that wrapped around him like a funeral shroud. The darkness reached into his soul and a great emptiness filled him with such fear that it was almost too much to bear. Just as Watcher was about the surrender to the shadows and lose himself to the magical armor, the darkness parted and he could see monsters with his mind’s eye.

  “What do you see?” Planter asked.

  “I can see zombies moving through long tunnels. They’re guarding the prisoners as they dig.”

  “What about spiders?” Cutter asked. “Are there any spiders?”

  As soon as Watcher thought about spiders, the image changed to that of a huge cave. Lava spilled down one wall, casting an orange glow across the chamber. Hundreds of dark, spotted eggs covered the ground, each nestled between blocks of spider web. One of the spiders was larger than the rest, with long, wicked-looking claws at the end of each leg. Instead of having eight red eyes, one of the eyes on this creature was a deep purple, and seemed to pulse as if alive with some kind of magic.

  “I see a nest of spiders, with tons of eggs all over the place.” Watcher took a calming breath. “Hopefully, that place is far away. I wouldn’t want to be there when all those eggs hatch.”

  “Can you see any skeletons?”

  The image changed again, moving at the speed of thought. Instantly, his vision was of a long room built underground. Tall columns of quartz stretched up from the ground to the ceiling, redstone lanterns ringing eac
h. Hundreds of the bony creatures moved about, one of them much larger than the rest.

  “Yes, there’s some kind of hall with tall pillars made of something white. The ceiling is impossibly high and there are hundreds of …”

  But then the image faded from his mind. It was as if the magical armor had lost its power. Suddenly, the Mantle of Command reached out for the nearest source of energy to recharge its magical enchantments … and that source was Watcher himself. Pain exploded through his body, the Mantle using the wearer’s HP for energy. Watcher flashed red as more health was torn from his body.

  He groaned and slumped to the side, his shoulder resting on the tree next to him.

  The vision grew even brighter as the newly energized Mantle projected the images into his head. Somehow, Watcher could feel connected to the skeletons, and knew he could issue a command to them if he desired. But for some reason, the thought scared him.

  The image grew dim again, as before, and again pain spread through his body like a raging inferno. Watcher gasped as fingers of agony wrapped their torturous grasp around his body. He knew it was the armor doing this to him, draining his health and pumping the energy into the enchanted relic; he could feel his health flowing into it. He had to take it off.

  Slowly, he reached up, but his arms felt as if they were made of lead. He could barely move. Another blast of pain flooded through him, every nerve feeling as like it was on fire. Using every bit of strength, he raised his arm again, but before he could reach the armor, it was pulled off his shoulder.

  It felt as if a million pounds had been lifted off his body. Watcher collapsed, falling to the ground.

  “Watcher, are you okay?” Planter was helping him up. “What happened? You flashed red and groaned, then were quiet.”

  He tried to speak, but was too weak.

  Mapper reached into his inventory and brought out a splash potion of healing and threw it on the boy. The glass shattered on his shoulder, splashing pink liquid across his body, rejuvenating his HP and bringing color back to his skin.