Graduating university is an emotional time for everyone. But when a group of ex-students decide to spend one last night together at a zombie experience facility to create lasting memories, none of them anticipate just how memorable it will turn out to be. It quickly becomes apparent that the undead actors are very good at what they do. Too good.
Armed with only an arsenal of Nerf guns, the group quickly figure out that they'll need more than foam bullets and sandwiches to get them through the night.
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NECROVILLE
By
Daniel Parsons
CONTENTS
PART ONE: THE GAME
PART TWO: NEW RULES
PART THREE: EXTREME TACTICS
PART FOUR: FINAL TURN
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PART ONE: THE GAME
The moment a ferocious black Hummer blasted into the parking lot, I knew the rest of the day was going to be insufferable. Turning off a wailing AC/DC compilation, the driver – a young man in a military uniform and aviator sunglasses – dropped from the mechanical beast, grinning, an unlit cigar dangling between his lips.
'Oh my God! Where did you get a Hummer?' Cathy squealed as the driver trudged towards us, his boots crunching on the car park shingles.
'Rented it just for the occasion,' the soldier replied in a bad American accent. His voice was so gravelly even Batman would have offered him a lozenge. 'Maxed out my credit card. But, what the hell, you never know which day could be your last when you're going to war.'
I groaned, rolling my eyes.
'Shouldn't you be saving money now that your degree's over, bro?' I asked. 'I mean, it'll probably take you a while to find work.'
'Hey, Will, don't crush his dreams,' Charlie said next to me, loud enough for Cathy to hear. He pulled a scruffy hoody over his head and adjusted himself inside his skinny jeans. Then, leaning in, he added, 'Cathy loves the whole fancy dress vibe Theo's got going on – it gives her something to psychoanalyse – so give him a break. If my girlfriend's using her psychology degree on him, she won't be trying to break down everything I say and do. Anyway, I hear a third in musical theatre's tough to get.'
'Yeah, it is,' I quipped. 'Getting anything below a 2:1 takes real effort.'
Charlie smirked, taking a drag of whatever questionable substance he was smoking at the time.
'No need to defend me, Charlie!' Theo shouted, a slightly camp, theatrical voice leaking through his drill sergeant persona. He leaned confidently against a tree in the car park. 'An hour from now Will's gonna be screaming for my help. You know why? Because he ain't a soldier. He ain't had the training. He ain't strong. He ain't fast. He ain't – argh!'
'...afraid of leaves?'
Theo glared, chewing his cigar. 'Let's just get this show on the road.'
I agreed, smiling.
Although, he inevitably got tiresome, watching Theo's failed attempts at method acting was one of my favourite pastimes. I'd never admit it, but he was kind of fun to have around. His enthusiasm for every situation was almost worth the three drama-laden years of having to share a student house with him. Almost.
'Necroville: Village of the Dead. The ultimate zombie survival experience,' Cathy snorted, quoting a sign above the log cabin marked 'Visitors' Centre' after we had taken our backpacks full of basic survival gear out of Charlie's old Ford Focus. 'Sounds super scary, right, guys?'
'Chilling,' I deadpanned. 'Pompeii ain't got nothin' on this.'
As you can imagine, spending a night at Necroville wasn't my idea. Our old flatmate Mia had organised it to celebrate the end of our university stint together. The zombie run was supposed to be a shared memory that would 'tie us together forever'. Being caught up in the nostalgia of leaving university, I foolishly agreed to come. The others weren't bad, and I actually got on really well with Mia. Though, she was the only one with which I actually planned to stay in contact. So when she bailed on us last minute for a holiday in Pompeii, I was understandably a little irritated.
'I agree, Will,' Cathy said, missing the sarcasm. 'Who'd want to go to Pompeii, anyway? The thought of being stuck in a village full of actual dead people freaks me out. Charlie, you'd better put that out now. I doubt you're allowed to smoke inside.'
'I don't see why not. It's only a plant,' he complained, sucking one last drag from the joint and stepping on it. 'You know I have to get at least three of my five-a-day, babe. It's the only way I don't lose my head when the stress piles on.'
I coughed ostentatiously, waving stray wisps of the smoke away from my face. Charlie had been using that excuse for the last three years. I realised long ago that, if he spent more time working than he did smoking, he wouldn't be so stressed all the time. He wouldn't admit that, of course – and I wasn't going to be the 'mindless government sheep' to bring it up – but deep down everyone suspected he knew it was true.
Inside the log cabin, a portly woman with an olive t-shirt, khaki trousers, and a tight ponytail leaned against an information counter.
'Hey, guys! I'm Amanda,' she yelled as we entered. 'You guys reserved under the name Mia?'
'Yep. That's us.'
'Rightio.' She reached under the counter, slapping four comically-large, plastic Nerf guns onto the polished wood, alongside sashes of highlighter yellow, suction-cup ammunition. 'I could give you a rulebook, guys, but it's easier if I just tell you how everything's gonna go down. In about ten minutes, you'll be released into Necroville. The forest has been pimped out to look like a warzone. Yellow markers on the trees'll tell you if you've reached the edge of the map. Shortly after your departure, we'll release a set of actors onto your trail. They're dressed like the undead. One shot to the head will bring 'em down – please try not to hit 'em in the eyes. I don't want another lawsuit... Once shot, the zombies will recover in ten minutes and re-join the game. If you get caught, they'll bring you back to the visitors' centre where you'll get done up as a zombie yourself so you can be kept in on the fun. Anyone allergic to contact lenses?'
Nobody was.
'Good. Because all zombies get fitted with fish-eye contacts. They'll slow you down and throw you off balance, just like a real dead person. That way, there's no arguing if someone catches you. If you get caught, you were just too slow. Now, for the guns. You've got three hundred bullets each–'
Theo snatched a blaster off the counter. 'This ain't my first rodeo, missy. I know how you pull a trigger.'
'Wow, someone's keen,' Amanda chirped, a little alarmed. She shot me a curious glance.
'Drama student,' I clarified. 'Just ignore him.'
'Okay. Right, you're late so there are only sixteen hours left on your slot. You'll be glad to know that there are no other teams booked in for the rest of the day, though, so you won't have any other "survivors" getting in your way when it gets dark. I'll be here in the morning when you've finished. Report back here before you leave to hand in your guns and your – oh, almost forgot. You guys need waterproofs. Zedd!'
She flipped the counter open and beckoned us through to a back door. Outside, a large woodland area had been cleared. A massive machine that looked like a cherry picker with a wood chipper attached to the end of the arm was disintegrating whole trees to waterfalls of sawdust while they were still planted in the ground. Beside the clanking leviathan, actors dressed as zombies sat around a patio table on a tea break. A four-by-four was parked next to them. One of its rear doors hung open, exposi
ng a pair of feet that hung off the end of the back seats. They swayed dreamily to the crackling tones of an old radio.
'That terrifying thing is an excavator mulcher. We're having a bit of work done,' Amanda explained when she saw me eyeing the tree-eater. 'One of those giant American companies have bought us out. They're expanding us and making room for a horror-themed adventure park. Apparently, we've got no direct competitors so they think we're a good investment. It's all very exciting! We're extending our buildings right up to the nearest village – Bleakmoor – over the next few months. After that, the money-men say, there's nothing stopping us from spreading worldwide! Imagine that; a Necroville park in every country!' Her eyes lit up. Then she frowned. 'Zedd! Where is he? Oh, look, he's dead to the world in the back of his pickup, as usual. Honestly, I doubt those billionaires would be so optimistic if they actually met my staff. Zedd! Get up! We've got customers!'
The feet shuffled and an ancient man clambered out, turning off the radio with one hand as he brushed back his mess of white hair with the other. Offering some mumbled apology, he pulled a knot of dark boiler suits from the truck's passenger seat. Everyone accepted the one-size-fit-all uniforms, except Theo who had put too much effort into his costume to let it go unseen under the bland overalls. Then Zedd locked the jeep, looping his keys over a hook next to the back door of the visitors' centre, and vanished, presumably to slack off somewhere else.
'Rightio, guys,' Amanda repeated after we had all zipped up, and locked and loaded. 'There's a big digital clock above the visitors' centre if you wanna know how much time you've got left. Now, you'd better get going. You have a whole night to survive. Good luck. Knock 'em dead!'
'They're already dead!' Theo reminded her.
'Um, yeah. Of course they are. Well, knock 'em deader, I guess. Time. Starts. Now.' She plunged her hand onto a wall-mounted red button and a klaxon sounded.
We ran. I felt more like an extra in a kid's TV show than an action hero as we thundered into the treeline with the plastic weapons, but despite my earlier protestations, I was thrilled. There was something about putting on the gear that awakened a sort of childish excitement in me. Lost in the moment, I even went as far as to allow myself to shout an American, 'Hoo-rah!'
'We're probably far enough now!' Charlie yelled breathlessly as soon as we encountered the treeline. He gripped Cathy's hand and yanked her behind a trunk. Theo darted in the same direction, diving unnecessarily and rolling to his knees. On arrival, he eyeballed me, throwing up hand signals, silently commanding me to join them, just as a black-ops soldier would have done in a movie. Sighing, I jogged over to the base of the tree and crouched.
There I sank into the soggy moss. A cold sensation radiated through my waterproofs, and the earthy scent of wet plants tantalised my nostrils. There was something about the glade's serenity and flawed ancientness that made me suspect it was a natural forest. Shards of light from the canopy curtained the view. A chorus of birds echoed from above, singing so sweetly that I could only assume they must have rehearsed just to add atmosphere to the zombie run.
Then another klaxon shattered the tranquillity. The zombies were free.
'How many do you think there're gonna be?' Cathy chatted excitedly.
'A sign on the way in said there were forty extras. I guess most of them are volunteers; roleplaying is massive right now,' Charlie breathed. Now away from the visitors' centre, he had already started to roll another joint. 'Obviously, there'll be more when some of us get captured and join them.'
I nodded. 'I suppose we should find shelter or something. If we're gonna last the whole night, we'll need somewhere to hide. Forty zombies will catch us in no time if we stay out in the open.'
A cacophony of groans and snarls melted through the leaves.
'Showtime,' Theo whispered. I turned, but the space in which I expected to find him was vacant. 'Shh, up here.' I craned my neck. He was high above us in the tree, training his Nerf scope on a grey head that had emerged from the brush.
'Aaaauuuuuuuuuur, Aauu – argh!' The poor actress never saw it coming. Before she even hit the dirt, her forehead was a porcupine of foam bullets.
'Yeah!' I laughed, firing my own round of shells into the bushes.
Two more actors tumbled into view. One fell dead with a yellow bullet stuck to his cheek. The other continued to approach. A shot had glanced off his shoulder. I reloaded shakily as Charlie and Catherine provided cover. But by the time I had slotted a handful of foam cylinders into my firearm, they were on us. There were about fifteen in the herd, mostly young men and woman, each expertly lacerated and dripping in blood. Their prosthetics were Hollywood standard. I assumed the missing extras had fanned out to cover more terrain or create traps. If they were anything like me, they were probably just sitting in the sun for a while, pretending to work, like I had done at every minimum-wage job I'd ever had.
'Fall back!' Theo bellowed. And then he did, tripping over a vine, his backwards fall cushioned by moss. He screamed like a seven-year-old girl, kicking his legs as a pair of delighted cadavers circled like vultures towards his exposed underbelly.
Lunging back, I grabbed him by his backpack and hauled him to safety.
'A good soldier never leaves a man behind,' I joked, mimicking his cadence, and we sped away.
Leaving behind the din of moans, we entered a clearing rigged with sheds, dugouts, and overturned cars. Escape hatches in the shed roofs led to a network of rope bridges in the trees. Piling into one of the cavities, we hunkered in silence for a while. A handful of monsters trundled through the camp and carried on into the greenery, unaware of our presence. When we were certain the coast was clear, we opened our backpacks and laughed about the close call over snacks. During that time, darkness approached like a predator and the birds disappeared.
***
'That one's very realistic,' Charlie remarked, watching as another silhouette bumbled past.
He was near the window, the only place where he had enough light to roll a joint. We hadn't noticed earlier, but green lamps were posted throughout the forest like fairy campfires. When it got dark, their dimmed light soaked the woods in an eerie hue. Our earlier mirth had evaporated. Now every dark flash sent us twitching.
'Woah, yeah, that is very realistic,' I agreed, leaning over his shoulder.
It was true. This actor looked dead – actually dead! The bottom half of what I could only assume was a prosthetic jaw hung awkwardly from his face as if fractured, and his fingernails were cracked and bloodied. His shirt had been torn open and the sickly green makeup that tinged his face continued down onto his chest and stomach. Even there, his flesh looked waxy and taut. And talk about staying in character! He hadn't even spotted us yet, but his wails and growls were so genuine even Theo was in awe of his talent.
Behind us, the boy-soldier grinned behind his shades. Creeping from his seated position, he unclipped the bolt on the ceiling shaft and skulked onto the roof. I heard a pop as the air pressure in his blaster was released and watched a tube of yellow foam sail through the air. With a resolute thlump, the suction cup fastened itself to the actor's head.
For a moment, he paused, his features gormless and perplexed. I waited for him to realise what had happened and fall, but he didn't. Instead, he let out a throaty hiss, like an alligator, and slowly zeroed in on our cabin. When he saw Charlie and me in the window his hollow eyes widened and his disjointed mouth contorted into a snarl – not totally broken after all. It was then that I could make out the body of a rat still twitching in his clenched teeth. Puss and blood dribbled down his chin.
'What?' My eyes narrowed.
'Hey, man! I shot you! Go down,' Theo ordered. He dropped from the roof and moved toward the haggard man. 'Didn't you hear me? I said I shot y–'
The guy lashed out, fingers fumbling at Theo's throat. Alarmed, he pushed back, grappling with the unruly employee. I exploded from the shed, Cathy and Charlie not far behind. Together, we fired clip aft
er clip of foam tubes, laughing at the tussle. For some reason, though, the guy stayed in character, refusing to fall. Theo managed to hold him off, deflecting him as he attempted to take chunks out of his arms with his teeth.
'What's wrong with you?' Theo grunted. The emergence of his feminine twang told me that he was turning nasty.
Realising that things were getting heated, Cathy moved in, lowered her gun, and put her hands on the thrashing maniac. Instantly, he turned his attentions to her, sinking his teeth into her arm. She screamed. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
'Argh! He bit me! The freak actually bit me!'
PART TWO: NEW RULES
'What the hell are you doing?' Charlie yelled, his nostrils flaring.
He punched the madman square in the face. When the actor didn't react, I decided that I needed to step in. Something was wrong. Shunting him with my shoulder, I sent the lunatic sprawling, then grabbed Cathy and Theo and pulled them to safety.
'Come on!' I shouted. 'He's obviously had some sort of mental breakdown. We can complain about him at the visitors' desk tomorrow. Let's just forget about him for now. Let one of his colleagues sort him out.'
The others agreed and, before the thrashing zombie had time to self-right, we all ploughed into the shed, up through the escape hatch, and across a rope bridge into darkness. A procession of actors greeted us when we descended in another area of the Necroville site. Firing off a few rounds of ammo, we took out five or six before we hit terra firma. The actors growled, but fell obediently, and we sailed past them.
'Quick! This way!' yelled Theo.
He scouted on ahead while I guarded the rear. Between us, Charlie helped Cathy to walk. Her movements were laboured and I could tell that she was sobbing by the movement of her shoulders. She cradled her arm as though it were in an invisible sling. As we relocated from the shed camp, the green lamps became sparser then petered out altogether. Theo melted into view, returning from his scouting mission.
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