But it wasn't as if the Zombies had displayed flawless logic, either. I don't know who was in charge of this Horde, but where were all the scouts? Had we done any recon at all? I didn’t know enough about what had been going on while I was asleep to judge anyone too harshly, but things were falling apart fast. We’d either gotten sloppy or unlucky but either way, we were paying the price now.
There were burning cars all up and down the freeway, and the billowing smoke was working in our favor. The pavement was gouged and cratered with clear evidence of past explosions, and the abandoned vehicles had been tossed in every direction during the initial attack. There were so many twisted, torn up pieces of metal that it was providing a lot more cover for the Zombies than the Survivors had planned. Instead of relatively ordered lanes choked with cars that the enemy could have used to direct their fire they’d managed to create a jumbled maze from which we could emerge from any of a dozen directions.
On top of all of that, they’d selected a spot too far from the city. Out here, the rooftops of Los Angeles were useless. We didn’t have to worry about snipers, and that meant we weren’t pinned down they we would have been if the Survivors had known what they were doing…
So, there I lay, amongst what looked like six lanes in each direction of pure, unadulterated chaos. Everything was blood, concrete, smoke and death. They needed a lot of Survivors to put up a hail of bullets like the one that was shredding us, but here and there, in the gaps between the vehicles, some of us were managing to get through.
The gunfire wasn't slowing down, but the screams and roars from in front of me were certainly building to a crescendo. I felt the asphalt rumble as three Tanks hurried by, shouldering a couple of cars out of the away as they charged for the front of the fight.
Yesterday, I would have stayed hidden. The day before I would have tried to retreat, however pointless that would have been. But not today. Today, I was going to be smart enough to recognize my chance and decisive enough to act on it. I’d already cowered and hidden, fed off scraps and spent hours bathed in dread. I’d probably have to be willing to do that again, but I was going to grab the reins and do what I could to get as many of us out of this as I could.
As the Tanks went past I jumped up and went after them as fast as I could. I wasn’t anywhere near as slow as I’d been when I started this game, and that speed let me just about keep up with my allies. Not quite, but at least I was able to keep their bulk between me and the players with the guns and the grudges.
My meatshields were doing their job, at least. I burnt a couple of seconds while their broad chests and muscled frames absorbed enough firepower to get us fifty yards closer to the battle to envy them their hit points. Still, they had a purpose and they were fulfilling it. Something louder coughed a stream of clearly higher caliber round in our direction, and the air was suddenly full of dead flesh as it the gun stripped it away from their bodies.
The Tanks lowered their heads against the onslaught and kept right on going. So did I. We were close enough now that I could risk a glance past them Tanks to see exactly what sort resistance we were dealing with.
There was a bus on its side up ahead. Somehow it had ended up perpendicular to the rest of the traffic. It wasn’t easy to work out exactly how big the group of Survivors was, since they kept dropping down behind the bus’s big chassis and using it for cover whenever they needed to reload. There were at least fifty of them, though I had to imagine that there were more just behind, ready to light us up if we made it over their barricade.
There were a few other Survivors darting around the edges, throwing ammo to each other or trying their luck with Molotovs and grenades. They were annoying, but the real damage was being done by the main group.
If we could get closer to that bus though, I was pretty sure we’d have a chance. It was way too big for them to get a clear shot at us if we were right up against it, and once we had that sort of an advantage we could swarm over it and bring them down. Unfortunately, I had no idea what the Survivors could do. What was it like to play on that side? Was it fairly free-flowing like the Zombies, or was that faction far more regimented? I could only imagine they had archetypes, tiers and abilities as well, though that didn’t tell me much.
What I did know, or at least strongly suspected, was that the woman I’d dreamed about with the radio was part of something special. I hadn’t seen any other Survivors wearing that sort of harness, but if I’d make every effort to investigate. Maybe they had more blueprints, or another one of those radio things. Either way, I wasn’t going to pretend that I didn’t want to get my hands on anything that would earn me another one of those mystery congratulations messages.
There was a deep, hollow whump from our left, and as soon as I heard the noise I jerked my head in that direction. I didn’t see it coming, but the Tank directly in front of me did. To his credit, he didn’t try to get out of the way. Instead, he snatched something out of the air and instantly lost his arm in the deafening explosion.
I was thrown backwards, and the lights went out. I rolled, swiping at my eyes, scooping the Tanks flesh from my face until my vision was clear enough to see that the guy with the grenade launcher was reloading as quickly as he could. The Tank missing the arm was still one his feet, but only because he was leaning heavily against an SUV, his body dumping his blood down his side.
The other two were staggered, but after a second they got themselves back under speed. It didn’t matter. The Survivor looked like he’d already whacked a new grenade into the launcher, and by the look on his face as he hefted it his shoulder and aimed it in our direction he was sure that this one would take us out.
There wasn’t much I could do, but I wasn’t going to just stand there and let it happen. I wrenched the side mirror from the SUV the Tank was leaning against, whirled and threw.
It missed. I mean, it wasn’t even close… I guess that trying to hit an actual player with a thrown object was a bit different to throwing a globe down a hallway.
Still, as the mirror bounced in front of the grenadier and then skittered toward him, he lowered the launcher for a second and gave me a stunned look that would have made me laugh in any other circumstance. I don’t think if I’d thrown a fish at him and managed to connect that he could look any more confused.
That hesitation turned out to be all we needed. I didn’t even see the Runner sprint up from the back of the Horde, but I heard him. It was a high, dangerous giggle that scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t imagine being chased by that thing, and an instant later I felt the tug of wind as it blitzed past me.
I’d seen their hands before. Their fingers were almost a foot long, and the flesh had long since left the bone behind. They were sharp as blades, and this one took a swipe at the Survivor about to kill us. I think he saw it, but not in time. He tried to sidestep the attack, but all that did was send him slopping off to the left in six untidy pieces.
The Runner raced toward the bus, and I took the opportunity to slap the back of the two remaining Tanks that were still stunned from the explosion. They got the point, as we pressed toward the bus it was obvious that was becoming harder and harder for the survivors to get a clear shot at us. The Tank on my left took line of bullets that ran up his chest until one made his head explode like an overripe watermelon but the one on my right kept going.
I stayed with him and risked one more glance behind me. I was hard to see a few more runners zipping over the open ground toward the bus, but as fast as they were more than half of them didn’t make it. One of them climbed on top of the bus only to take a shot to the head by a Survivor that was expecting it. His body tipped over and slid through a gap in the torn-up concrete before tumbling to the ground below.
Not for the first time I was reminded how quickly death could come in this game. One moment I’d be thinking I had a handle on things, and the next there was every chance that I would be staring at a loading screen back in my game room, pissed off that I had to w
ait until Monday until I could rejoin a new fray.
I wasn’t ready to go. Yesterday, I would’ve been okay with that. I’d even been confident in the fact that it was inevitable, and I’d let the knowledge that I was guaranteed to die at some point make me stronger. That way, I could take risks. It didn’t matter that my skills or abilities wouldn’t carry over. I could be bold. I could be wild, and the fact that I was a nameless, worthless free to play member of this whole twisted up game was a badge of honor that I wore with a sick sense of pride.
But yesterday, things were different. Now, I was beginning to see Headshot for what it truly was. I wasn’t part of the game. I was the fucking game. Those assholes at Deep Dive studios wouldn’t have anything if people like me didn’t login. We were fools to think that they were giving us something for free, because if they weren’t. They weren’t giving us shit. It was like that old saying went, when people first got conned into thinking they could get something for nothing in the world of tech. If they’re not selling you something, then you’re the thing being sold to someone else.
All of the zombies couldn't afford their exorbitant rates, but the developers were fine with that. They didn't need our money, since we were just unpaid employees that staffed their game with targets. All they needed to do was fill our heads with a realistic VR simulation, tap into us for the environments and then let us go. Then they sold the rights to butcher us to the people who could really afford it.
I felt that rage burning inside me, but even as angry as I was at the lopsided nature of it all I could see how genius it was, in its own way. Deep Dive knew what they were doing, but the burning coil of anger that twisted my stomach wasn't going to go away simply because they had a good idea and exploited it.
Enraged, I put my hand on the back of the remaining Tank and pushed him towards the bus. He didn’t have to move. I was nowhere near strong enough to make him, but as soon as he felt my touch he obeyed my command. We advanced. In the face of withering gunfire, I forced the Tank forward until I was ankle-deep in the flesh sloughing from his frame.
He didn’t make it to the safety of the bus, but I did. Its metal was cover for me the same way it was for them, and I turned around and tried to see if there were any others who were brave or foolish enough to follow me to this precarious position.
It was sunset. The light was sliding in sideways, casting long shadows. Most of the Zombie Horde was back in control of the players instead of the autopilot of the Tireless March, and they were pushing closer and closer to the bus.
Maybe we’d make it before they ran out of ammo, but I doubted it. I had to admit that the Survivors had come prepared, and they didn’t strike me as the type to not bring enough lead to throw in our direction.
It was incredibly frustrating, watching an army of my allies take that sort of punishment. Not like this, I felt my mouth trying to say, though even to my own ears the words just sounded like growls. Not when were so close. We can't let only a last stand like this turn the whole damn thing around.
I watched as a group of Zombies decided that maybe making a break for the bus was a good idea after all, but a trio of grenades arced from the Survivors to land at their feet. A moment later they were limbs and puddles. Even the ones beyond the blast radius that could still move were doing it so slowly that they got picked off with ease, one by one. The shots that took them out were almost casual.
To make matters worse, I was close enough to hear the Survivors, now. I might not understand their words, but I knew a laugh when I heard one. They were laughing, no doubt making jokes at our expense. Those assholes were having a ball life sending us back to the shit lives we were forced to lead.
I couldn’t take it. The Survivors didn’t need this, not like we did. They had money. They could take days off. They could get on a plane and go somewhere, dip their toes in the wideness of the ocean or their dicks in expensive pussy. They could have all of the things they wanted in the world and instead they chose to spend their time in this new one, taking everything away from us once again and, as usual, leaving nothing in return.
There was a madness there, in the back of my brain. I could feel its white-hot pain, like an oncoming electrical storm. Like a stroke. Like a blossoming neutron bomb that was about to go off and take the rest of me with it. I folded my hands into fists, staring at the dying sun until my dead eyes at last felt the burn of it.
And then I craned my neck to the sky like the animal I was and Howled.
Chapter 26
Congratulations. Not all abilities are given. As you have now discovered, some of them must be earned.
You have earned the ability (Howl). When under the effects of Howl, those around you will experience benefits for a limited duration. Their Experience Gain, Speed, and Hit Points will be doubled and their attacks will be criticals. A percentage of the experience gained by those under the effect of Howl will be transferred to you.
For the duration, your speed will drop to (2), though your Hit Points will be (150). If you are incapacitated during the effect of Howl, the effect will be canceled. This skill has a 48-hour cooldown.
It was like someone had flipped a switch. No, it was even better than that. It was more like someone had overclocked the damn game, at least on the Zombie side. Tanks that had been only slightly faster than me suddenly kicked up to the next gear, and Runners were moving so fast that they were just streaks on the freeway, tearing toward me and the bus like guided missiles.
Even the normal Zombies were now able to sprint, and I could see from the looks on their faces that the increased ferocity and rate of speed were completely unexpected. I’d seen how Howl worked before, but now that I was the one that triggered it I could really appreciate exactly what was going on around me.
The Survivors had a pretty good handle on things before, but not now. I could even see how big the radius of my Howl ability as all of the Zombies within what looked like fifty yards of me sped up and raced forward and everything beyond that didn't.
Thankfully, fifty yards was a damn big space on a crowded freeway, and that meant that hundreds of zombies were now pouring down the lane ways between the dilapidated vehicles, drool and gore spilling from their mouths, their feral eyes glinting red in the sunset, their hands curled into claws. Their bloodlust was palpable.
But there was a downside. As slow as I’d become, my only salvation was the mass of the bus that protected me from the Survivors. I thought I was safe, until I saw one of the Tanks come screaming down the freeway. I could see what he was planning when he lowered his shoulder and charged. He was aiming for one side of it, and he was certainly strong enough to spin it around on its access, and hitting the bus at that speed wasn’t a bad idea.
That is, it wasn’t a bad idea unless you were suddenly as slow as me. If I didn’t do something to save myself, he’d bat me off the overpass with the spinning metal frame.
I couldn’t run. I doubted that I was fast enough to avoid the impact, so I turned around and grabbed the side of the bus with all my strength. Hopefully, he wasn’t planning on knocking it off the freeway…
I was standing against the middle of the bus and the Tank hit it a couple of yards to my right. The metal crumpled and spun as he hit it, whirling a hundred and eighty degrees and hitting the cement barrier on the side and partially crashing through it. I held on for dear life, clinging to the side like a barnacle as the raw squeal of naked metal against pavement soon drowned out the wails of the Survivors as they realized the end was near.
Despite my precarious predicament, at least they’d lost all the advantages they’d enjoyed throughout much of the firefight. I felt the bus’s center of gravity teeter on the edge of the abyss. I was certain that it was going to topple over the edge, taking me with it, but a moment later it settled. It wasn’t stable, but it didn’t matter since I was letting go of it anyway.
But I couldn’t. The Tank’s impact had shattered the structure of the bus, and the metal of the fr
ame had crushed my left hand between two warped pieces of the frame.
Great. Perfect. I struggled, bracing myself against the bus with my legs and trying to yank my limb free. It didn’t work, but at least from my vantage point I could carefully look down at the ground below. The fight down there was turning as well, and it looked like the radius of the Howl had just managed to catch a few of the Zombies below. It wasn’t a complete massacre like it was up here, but the Survivors were starting to scatter.
I could already see that some of them would get away. It was inevitable, since they’d been smart enough not to get surrounded and had the forethought to bring enough Humvees, Jeeps and pickups to get away when the going got tough. It was possible that the Survivors were in contact with each other, but even if they weren’t I was sure that the cessation of gunfire up here and the screams of the victorious dead had alerted them to the fact that it was time to go.
I was stuck, but it didn’t matter. Once the Survivors on the freeway were gone, surely one of the Tanks would notice my predicament. After the respect I’d been shown at the diner I was pretty sure that they’d realize I was responsible for the way this battle had gone. Even if they didn’t, given enough time I was certain that I could, at the very least, gnaw my own hand off at the wrist if I had to.
So, I hung there like a piece of meat, waiting for them to finish their meal. At least I had something to look at, since my experience bar was chugging along as I siphoned off points from all of my minions and their individual successes. It might not last long, but it didn’t have to. A couple of seconds later the game was flashing a message at me from the bottom of my screen.
I focused on it, and smiled.
Congratulations! You have achieved level 6. Your hit points are now (25). Your speed is now (5). You have also consumed enough experience to unlock access to the final Zombie tier. In addition, you are once again being offered the chance to become a Tank or a Runner.
Headshot: One in the Gut (Book 1 of a Zombie litRPG Trilogy) Page 13