Max looked down at himself, he was no longer clothed in his ordinary clothes, he was not even in his lab coat: he was wearing the black and purple robes of a Mage.
He knew where he was: this was the land of Necrothoona, it was from a ‘Land of the Undead’ expansion pack to his favourite online game. He knew this land better than he knew most places in the real world. But Necrothoona is a real world he thought to himself. Here it was all around him, solid and as real as anything.
He looked inside the backpack he was carrying. There were scrolls, orbs and gems, and an impossible number of gold pieces.
He realised he was carrying a staff that was crackling with white and gold lightning, “I am SlaineMaxRoth,” the Warrior Mage powers would make the world tremble.
There were zombies in this world too. Suddenly he was aware of a crowd running towards him.
They didn’t look right. He expected slightly comical, slowly lumbering creatures, their arms outstretched in front of them. But these creatures were hideous blood-and-gore-stained monstrosities. And they were fast: far too fast.
SlaineMaxRoth spun his staff and sent a burst of lightning that crackled and hissed around the monsters. It slowed them for an instant, but they carried on towards him.
He instinctively moved his hands and shot a fireball from his outstretched palm. Several of the creatures exploded, and SlaineMaxRoth smiled at his own powers. But then through the smoke more of them emerged.
He unsheathed his +10 Sword of Smiting and braced himself to fight hand-to-hand.
The battle was bloody, but these creatures were nothing to him.
As he fought, he kept thinking he recognised faces of people he once knew: his mother, his sister, his friends at college; he even recognised the zombified avatars of the friends he had played this online game with. He gasped as he severed the head of G§dB§ll§cks, and sent NinaNymposium reeling backwards, her body split from top to bottom.
The fight continued for hours: so long it no longer seemed like fun. SlainMaxRoth started to feel tired, his arm ached, and his hand throbbed horribly.
As the last of the zombies fell to the bloodstained ground, SlaineMaxRoth heard the sound of thunder. The crashes were getting closer, then he realised that it was a huge, monstrous zombie, the size of giant, running towards him, its eyes glowing a fierce red.
“Fuck!” The hero cursed, “boss fight!”
He had to blast the giant zombie with electricity, run in close while it was temporarily paralysed, hack at it with his sword, then leap back before it could hit back at him.
He was able to land two or three blows each time. Once he lingered for a fourth, and the monstrous zombie grasped him, picked him up and slammed him to the ground. While he was on the ground the creature took a bite out of his hand.
The hand hurt, but he was back in the fight.
Then he realised he needed the Magic Pipes of Exorcism to defeat this monster.
There was another quest to complete before he could defeat the Zombie King.
He ran, glad of his +3 Boots of Speed.
He finally found the Cavern of Ultimate Protection, a place where no evil could enter.
He rested and tried to cast a healing spell on his bitten hand, but found he could no longer remember how to perform magic. He tried a potion, but it felt as though he was drinking a cross between water and thin air.
The wound looked nasty.
He considered the injury, “This is going to cost me some hit points,” he sighed.
Siobhan:
Siobhan was on the surface again. Her Priest was there.
“I didn’t know you’d survived: I thought you’d died.”
“I didn’t survive, I’m one of them now.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry, we’re both dreaming right now. Dreams are all you have left when you’re undead.”
“What’s it like?” Asked Siobhan, gently, “being dead?”
“I don’t want to talk about that now, I want to talk about why you’re out here naked.”
Siobhan hadn’t realised that she was naked until that moment, and quickly covered herself with her hands.
“Don’t worry,” said the priest, “things like embarrassment lose their sting once your’re dead. You’re worried about me seeing your naughty bits, while I’m stumbling around London with my intestines hanging out.”
“That’s-” Siobhan was lost for words, “that’s not the same.”
“No,” said the Priest, “no, it’s not.”
Misha:
Misha could fly. She had dreamt about flying ever since she had been a child. Sometimes there were terrors in her dreams of flight, but mostly they were dreams of joy and exhilaration. She would spread her arms and soar into the sky. Sometimes she would be flying over breathtaking scenery, sometimes over city streets where the people would stop and stare and cheer.
Tonight she was flying over a world that had ended. The streets were filled with the undead.
If her powers of flight failed she would be plunged into the flesh-eating horde.
She flew all over the world, round London, across the Channel to France, where Paris was dead, into Spain, on to Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, through Nepal and into China; then over Russia, Japan, and the endless blue of the turbulent Pacific Ocean. Only above the towering waves did the world seem normal, healthy, at peace. She flew high over Peru and Brazil, before the Atlantic brought back the sense of peace.
Everywhere that once had been inhabited was now full of the dead. Even deep deserts were home to some scattered, wandering creatures.
She flew over the earth looking for signs of life, but there were none to be found. She wondered if it was already too late. Were she and her little community the last survivors of humanity, and would their cure would only forestall the inevitable extinction of humanity?
She remembered once seeing a picture of the world at night, the towns and cities created a sea of glittering lights. Now the dark side of the earth remained utterly dark.
She wanted to fly further, to see the earth from space, to gain that sense of peace that could be gained by a view beyond the atmosphere.
She rose higher, knowing she had to be quick, as she wouldn’t be able to breathe out here. It was cold; ice was forming on the downy hair of her arms, until the moment she hit the edge of the atmosphere when suddenly it grew hot. She felt her clothes burn away, then her skin and flesh. She flew higher still. Though all that was left of her was ash and charred bone, somehow she could still see.
As the dark side of the earth turned round to face her she did not see the blue-green marble she had expected, but a huge bloodshot eyeball. As she stared at it in horror, it stared back at her.
Jim:
Jim dreamt he was walking by the banks of the River Medway. Slowly he realised that he was walking with Kate, his late wife.
“Hey,” she said to him, smiling.
“Hey, you,” Jim reached out his hand and took hers. It was cold, but soft and gentle in his firm grip, “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
Jim felt suddenly awkward in the presence of the love of his life, “I’m sorry I let you die.”
“Oh Jim, you did your best, there are a lot of people alive today who’d be dead if it hadn’t been for you.”
“I wouldn’t say a lot, we’ve lost a lot more recently.”
“Well, you gave them extra time, even one day’s more life is a precious gift.”
“It takes some thing like this to make us realise.”
“But then it’s too late. “
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry, Jim. Time up! I have a splitting headache.”
Kate vanished, and Jim stumbled after her, not knowing where to turn or where to look.
He stumbled and fell headlong into the river.
He was drowning, the churning water foaming red.
He went down,
once.
Twice.
The third time he did not come back up.
Summer:
Summer was the Virgin Mary; she found herself in a stable, looking down on a glowing baby. Saint Joseph was standing behind her, with funny little horns on his head.
“What’s with the head?” She asked Joseph.
“Oh they’re supposed to be a gift from God.”
“God is great, and all that,” confided Summer to Joseph, “but he does have some strange ideas about gifts.”
“Speaking of gifts here come the Three Kings.”
“I’m sure I was taught that you guys were not really kings, just wise men.”
The first visitor was a fat man with ermine-lined robes, “He looks like Henry VIII,” Summer whispered to Joseph.
Joseph smiled, “Never heard of him.”
Next was a tall, slim, dark-skinned figure in an elaborate Egyptian headdress.
“King Tut,” explained Joseph with a nod.
Next they heard a roar from outside the stable and the pounding of huge feet.
“I get it,” said Summer wearily, as a huge ape-face peered into the stable, “King Kong.”
The giant ape plucked Summer from her seat in the stable and carried her off.
In the ape’s fist she was squeezed painfully hard.
She couldn’t breathe.
“Hey,” she yelled, beating at the apes fist, but the creature did not seem to notice.
Her breath was gone, and she knew only darkness.
Rob:
Rob dreamt he was back in the Service Station with Helena. She was approaching him, walking slowly, swinging her hips, dressed only in stockings suspenders and a basque.
“No, no, you look lovely. It’s just that I’m more attracted to men.”
“You’re telling me you’re gay?”
“Yes, I’m sorry; if I was into women you’d be the top of my list.”
Helena shrugged, “I always wanted to try a fling with a woman, you know: women are softer and they smell better.”
Rob shrugged, “Gay men smell good.”
“Yes, but as my attempted seduction illustrates, it’s not so easy to get to fuck a gay man.” Helena laughed, “I can be a man for you if that’s what you want.”
Rob looked at the black, lacy panties she was wearing, and to his amazement saw a penis growing, uncoiling like a snake inside them, then becoming hard, forming a tent in the fabric.
Her other features were still feminine: “Would you like a flat, hairy chest.”
“Actually,” said Rob, “I quite like your breasts, but this is just a bit too weird for me.”
“But I want you, Rob,” Helena’s arms were outstretched.
“Sorry Helena, you know I would have gone mad without you, all those weeks surrounded by those things, but I really can’t help you out here.”
“But I want you Rob,” Helena’s eyes pleaded, while the end of her newly-grown cock poked up obscenely over the top of her skimpy knickers.
Rob felt sick, but this was way beyond an unwanted advance, and there was something wrong. As realisation dawned he noticed that Helena’s skin had taken on the mottled appearance of the dead; she was reaching for him.
“I want you Rob!”
Her long, feminine, painted finger nails were like talons, capable of tearing his flesh.
“I need you Rob!”
Her red lips looked bloodstained, hungry.
“I need you now Rob!”
Helena’s mouth opened impossibly wide. She (or was it he now?) was about to swallow him whole.
Elsbeth:
Elsbeth dreamt she was back in her house before the End of the World. She delighted in every small detail, every picture that hung on the wall, every thread in her large, feather-stuffed sofa.
She had a sense of foreboding, knowing it would not last much longer.
As she watched her sofa began to twitch.
The seams of the cushions unravelled and out poured thousands of crawling, wriggling maggots.
Blue and black moulds bloomed on her wallpaper, and her pictures were streaked with damp stains.
She ran to the kitchen cupboards to look for cleaning materials, but when she opened them more maggots spilled onto the floor, an unstoppable, wriggling tide.
The Scientist:
The Scientist could not sleep. He had not been able to sleep since he had died. He would sometimes try to spend night times lying still, eyes closed, in an attempt to give his brain time without fresh stimulation in order to process the day’s events. He wondered if the lack of sleep was contributing to his loss of mental abilities. He hoped it was, because the alternative: that his brain was slowly rotting in his skull, was too horrible to contemplate.
He had to tape his headphones to his ears at night. He wouldn’t do it by day as that would prevent him from hearing.
He gave up trying to sleep and returned the lab. He was sure everything would work. He was also sure that this would kill him along with the other zombies. He thought he should have something more profound to do during his last night on the planet, but he was a man out of time. He had already died, he was nothing more than an echo, a ghost: his last night on earth had passed long ago.
But his legacy would be to create a world at peace.
Chapter Fourteen
Power Struggle
“We need to get outside and check the tower,” said the Scientist, “the monsters don’t notice me, so if you agree, I’ll do it.”
The Scientist had no difficulty sneaking out of the door of the Bunker. The surrounding area seemed more than usually bustling with the dead. Recent activity may have drawn attention away from the Bunker door, but it had attracted every zombie in the area to the industrial estate where the Bunker had been set up.
The Scientist decided to walk a few blocks away and set off several car alarms, before walking back to the now quieter Bunker.
Once he returned he tried to examine the Transmitter Tower. The problem was a box of wiring that had been forced open during Will’s fatal fight with the zombie when installing the solar panels.
The Scientist tried to rejoin wires that had been torn apart, but found that his fingers were numb and clumsy and he wasn’t able to perform the simple task.
“Shit!” He persisted for two hours, fumbling with his pale, dead hands. His fingers felt like cold meat.
He adjusted the positioning of the solar panels so the trip wasn’t a total waste of time, and trudged back down to the Bunker door dejectedly.
“Sorry, I couldn’t do it.”
“Shit, you mean we can’t do it.”
“No, no, it’s just that I can’t do it,” the scientist held up his numb fingers, “I’ve lost fine motor control. The job looks pretty straightforward, just reconnecting some wires that have been knocked loose.”
“How do we get someone up there?”
“We could make a tent-tunnel,” suggested Summer, “sew some sheets together and tie them to some posts. If the zombies can’t see us, we can creep up and fix it.”
They began work on the tent-tunnel immediately, Elsbeth sewing with great skill and speed.
Once they were ready they decided to make their move.
“Max, are you going to join us?” Asked Jim.
“Sorry, I’m doing some research on whether the nanites deep inside the creatures will be affected. There’s a chance they could reactivate themselves after a time if every nanite is not switched off.”
Within two more days they were ready.
The Scientist set up the tunnel made of sheets and bed-frames. It took the best part of the day to construct it. Since his hands were not as nimble as they had been while alive, it was dark by the time he had finished lashing together the bed-frames, poles and sheets.
The scientist surveyed his handiwork and recalled an artist who had built curtains over hillsides and through unexpected places.
The tunnels of sheets certainly looked out of place, bu
t hopefully not to the eyes of the undead.
It was now getting too dark to work, so the Scientist anchored everything down as well as he could and then went inside to join the others and get ready for a day of work tomorrow.
* * *
There was a chorus of singing. It was the dead, they were singing “We’ll meet again.”
Summer was walking freely among them. She wondered why they didn’t attack her.
“Am I dead?” She wondered out loud.
One of the zombies stopped singing and turned to her: she was a middle-aged woman, who looked very like her old English teacher, “Oh no, we will eat you all soon enough, we don’t need to attack you in dreams.”
She felt a sudden pain in her hand.
“How many fingers an I holding up?” the zombie asked.
Summer saw that the zombie held in her hand a dozen or so severed human fingers.
“Take one, you’ll need it.”
* * *
The next day they shared breakfast in near silence. Every time anyone had left the safety of the Bunker in the past there had been an anxious mood. However, on this occasion they had two advantages: the tunnel and a sentient zombie on look out. Despite these advantages, the mood was still unsettled. They were quieter than usual, though in these days of rationing no one was off their food.
They would go out singly, there was no need to take any unnecessary risks. Rob knew some electronics, and if the Scientist could guide him he thought they should have no problem.
However as soon as they opened the door of the Bunker they realised it would not be as easy as they had hoped.
A strong wind had almost completely blown the sheets off the frame. It would take some time to fix them back in place.
As well as the wind which had picked up overnight, driving rain had made the sheets wet.
“We can do it,” the scientist soothed, “it’s better to be slow and do it right than to rush and endanger us all.”
So they waited and the scientist fixed the covered tunnel. He worked laboriously and painfully slowly with his numb hands.
Eventually Rob was able to walk along the tent-tunnel and examine the wiring.
Wild Strawberry: Book 3 Ascent Page 14