Headshot: One in the Gut (Book 1 of a Zombie litRPG Trilogy)

by Matthew Siege

  Maybe. But if Sasha was here right now, she certainly wasn't helping me. At least, not that I could see.

  The firefights that had been going on had seemed to be chaos incarnate, but when I heard the guy at the table I’d taken to be the leader speak a hushed code word into his radio, the Survivors down there responded by unleashing hell itself on the Zombies in their sights. A roar of high-caliber, belt-fed automatic weapon fire tore through the night, and since I was already looking in that direction I saw the muzzle cough of mortars and howitzers go off as well.

  They’d obviously spent the last few minutes triangulating the firing zone, and the Zombies caught out in the open were going down fast. I grit my teeth, telling myself to hold still. I needed to have some faith. The players down there weren’t fools. Now that the defenders had shown their hand, they wouldn't walk into that death trap. They’d dig in, and if they had any sense they’d do what I had done and make their way up the hills in other ways.

  The assault wasn’t over, not by any means, but now it became clear that it may turn into a slow, painful grind. Worse, the Zombies would be exposed to fire all the way up. Some of them would get through, but most of them would be spotted and either sniped, blown up, or worse.

  I looked back at the Survivors as the stood over by the table near the pool. They didn't appear to be worried, though now and then they gesticulated a little wildly as they argued some point or other, pointing in the direction of the wave of concentrated gunfire that had just begun.

  I like to think that I recognized the looks on their faces. They were planners too, and things were going the way they’d thought they would. They were in control, at least in their minds.

  One of the guardians on the roof saw something in the darkness and snapped off a wild shot at it. I couldn’t tell what he’d been aiming at, but whatever he thought he saw had been only in the shadows to the side of the tech mansion; much closer than I expected.

  Could I already have allies up here and not even know it?

  The Survivors in charge of the defense looked up at him, but he was still sighting down his scope, trying to work out if he’d hit the target. When at last he glanced at them and gave them a sheepish shrug, not one of them appeared to be very happy. I can't say they were worried, at least not exactly, but whatever plans they'd been making had definitely not included an unknown assailant less than a hundred feet away, skulking through the night as it stalked them.

  There was a chance that the guard had shot at one of my AI minions, but an odd tickling in the back of my skull told me that there were already other players on the periphery. Just in case I was right, I took the opportunity to silently gather my legs underneath me and braced myself for the sprint across this field.

  I didn’t want to have to get my hands dirty, but I wasn’t going to let my chance slip by. I’d rather take a chance and risk success than watch the attack stall and guarantee failure. If my presence would turn the tide, I’d be there. Besides, if something happened to me I had no doubt that the next highest-ranking Zombie down there would be offered a chance to assume the Battlefield commander status that the game had given me.

  Not that it would matter to me, since I'd be dead… If worst came to worst, I’d be stuck right back in my shitty house, surrounded by my shitty life, with nothing to look forward to but more of the same.

  Those thoughts made the fear of getting killed loom large, and I knew that I had to let the rest of the world, complete with all the baggage, drift away. My life, the real one I'd been trying to get away from for so long, didn't matter right now. All the angst and bullshit of work had to be forgotten too, or it would trip me up and land me right back in amongst it.

  For now, I was a Zombie. A Schemer. And I was possibly the last, best hope of guiding my side to victory.

  And, once I pushed al the errant thoughts aside and made room for the thoughts Headshot was pressing into my head, I realized that I wasn't alone. All of a sudden I knew which direction to look, and when I did I saw movement in the shadows on the other side of the clearing dominated by the mansion and its pool. It wasn't just one of my minions, either. It was a real, intelligent, hopefully capable Zombie, and I grinned to myself as I realized that I already had a little strike group of allies up here with me.

  Even better, they were on high alert, taking up positions in the darkness at the edge of the floodlights.

  Maybe I had been a touch too arrogant by telling myself that I had to do it all myself. The Zombies down there were already pushing back, proving to me that they were far from overwhelmed by the task at hand.

  I waited a minute or two, and when it felt like everyone was in position, I followed my instincts, closed my eyes and did my best to stretch my attention out beyond my own dead flesh in an effort to reach the Players around me.

  I didn’t know whether to be surprised or not, but when the game rewarded me I felt a splash of dopamine rush through my system with such force that it made my muscles twitch with ecstasy.

  Zombie8895559 [Runner] - Ready

  Zombie1158088 [Runner] - Ready

  Zombie36558899 [Runner] - Ready

  Zombie456822178 [Runner] - Ready

  Zombie22187033 [Runner] - Ready

  Perfect. A ready check. I was glad that the game had given me the option, even if, as usual, Headshot hadn't spelled out my abilities for you. It made me work for everything I got, but that was better than getting everything handed to me on a silver platter like the Survivors got.

  It made sense that it was Runners who had gotten up here first. They could breeze past the Survivors and their fortified positions, making them the perfect hit and run shock troops and therefore exactly what I needed.

  It seemed like everyone was ready, so I got ready to send the mental signal to begin.

  But something didn’t feel right… I couldn’t get past the thought that I was forgetting something, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, it just sat there, like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

  My new ability! I didn’t know exactly how it worked, which was hardly a big surprise, but hadn’t it told me that the experience I could no longer use could be shared with my followers? I experimented by thinking of each of the five Zombie Players waiting for my orders, visualizing a circle and cutting it into five equal pieces.

  Nothing.

  You can only share [Experience] with members of your Horde. Would you like to invite the intended recipients to your Horde?

  I wanted to scream, but instead I thought YES! at the game in what I hoped was a deafening roar.

  Zombie8895559 [Runner] Is now a member of your Horde

  Zombie1158088 [Runner] Is now a member of your Horde

  Zombie36558899 [Runner] Is now a member of your Horde

  Zombie456822178 [Runner] Is now a member of your Horde

  Zombie22187033 [Runner] Is now a member of your Horde

  After that, the notifications came fast and furious.

  Zombie36558899 [Runner] has accepted your donation of [Experience]

  Zombie8895559 [Runner] has accepted your donation of [Experience]

  Zombie1158088 [Runner] has accepted your donation of [Experience]

  Zombie22187033 [Runner] has accepted your donation of [Experience]

  Zombie456822178 [Runner] has accepted your donation of [Experience]

  Well, that was something, at least… Hopefully they’d put it to good use. It was interesting to, the way the word experience was in brackets. Did that mean I could donate other things to them, too? Like what?

  Before I could puzzle that out, my train of thought was interrupted by a cascade of messages.

  Your [Mentorship] has allowed the chosen members of your Horde to unlock a new level of their archetype.

  Zombie36558899 [Runner] has become a [Speed Demon]

  Zombie8895559 [Runner] has become a [Flicker]

  Zombie1158088 [Runner] has become a [Flicker]

  Zombie22187033 [R
unner] has become a [Speed Demon]

  Zombie456822178 [Runner] has become a [Speed Demon]

  I had no idea what that meant… I mean, obviously the Runners had further evolved, but the message was making it clear that I had something to do with it. I was glad I could be of service, of course, but the very thought that I could somehow boost the Zombies that I’d thought that had already progressed as far as the game would allow was nothing short of groundbreaking. That was even more reason for me to make it out of here.

  With me getting a percentage of the experience my Horde members received, this could change everything.

  Okay, I thought to myself, now that I was no longer feeling like I was forgetting a vital part of my preparation. I shoved my thoughts out on to the Horde. Let’s do this!

  Chapter 47

  Once the command was finally given, a strange sort of peace dropped down around me. Everything in my head went perfectly silent, and there was this odd sensation of letting go, of being willing to let the whirlwind of the battle that was about to begin wash over all of us and do what it would.

  I heard a few audible growls press into my mind. That was the sound, I assumed of the other Zombies acknowledging that the assault was on.

  It was the perfect time to do it, as well. There was more gunfire than ever thundering beneath us, and a few fights were breaking out much nearer by as well. Worse, at least for the Survivors, was the fact that now I could hear shouts and, of course, the inevitable screams of pain. An engine roared and tires screeched, followed only seconds later by the metal on boulder rolling grind as the vehicle left the road and careened down the hill.

  Someone had obviously tried to make a hasty retreat, and the Survivors up here were finally starting to realize that the guy behind the wheel wasn’t the only one who’d lost control of the situation. They moved away from the table and came back in my direction, their worried gazes scanning the dozens of running battles below.

  Wait, I told my allies at the last possible moment. Hold your position.

  The Survivors in charge knew how bad it was going to be. I could tell just by the way they were standing, shoulders slumped in defeat. They were getting a front row seat to the show, and their plans were coming undone right before their eyes.

  Even worse for them, we were well past the point of no return.

  I watched as the Survivors, absorbed by the chaotic scene, drifted even closer to my hiding place. One of them was even near enough that I probably could have triggered my Lunge ability and landed on him, but I didn’t have that guy pegged as the leader, so I held off on the urge.

  They were staring past me, some of them looking right over my motionless corpse as they watched the progress of the war below them on the hill. I wanted to turn my head and see what had caught their attention, but there was no way I could risk it.

  The leader was a tall guy, as thin as a whip. He had what looked like a cut-down AK97 slung over his shoulder, and I saw the edge of a bandage poking out of his shirt at the neck. "They’ll be here soon,” he said with surety. “Peter and Skye, I need you two to break left. They’ll try and take the house, and if we let that happen the whole thing’s over. Denny, Faye, you and Millions are going to have to cover me. I can’t imagine how we make it out of here alive, but we’ll do enough damage that these guys won’t get much further than LA before the server boots them. California won’t fall. Not on my watch."

  One of the girls wrinkled her nose. "There's not enough of us to hold this place," she said, clearly worried. She waved her hand down the hill at the firefights that were picking up strength even as she spoke. "Just listen to that. We’re going to need reinforcements, especially since you decided in your infinite wisdom to build our headquarters at the end of a road with only one way and in one way out. The Zombies will have numbers. If we don't act fast, they’ll isolate us. You know what you need to do, Briggs."

  Briggs gave her a look was obviously intended to put her in her place. Obviously, he didn't like to be questioned. "So that's your plan, is it? If you were me, you’d upgrade the zone?"

  She nodded. "Just bump this place to a War Zone. You already said you got the game’s message about it, which means that wherever the Zombie commander is, he's willing."

  For a second it looked like he was going to lash out and hit her, but even though he flexed his muscles and squared up to her, he kept his hands to himself. "Don't you think that that's exactly what he wants? There will be Zombies spread out all over the state, in a thousand little engagements. The only way he's going to get them here fast is if I accept the prompt to make this a War Zone.”

  “And…?”

  Briggs was clearly getting frustrated. “And what good would that do us? Whatever reinforcements spawned in to “help” us wouldn’t know the plan. They’d be unfamiliar with the area and complete strangers to our firing positions. They’d get us killed, and most of the ones the Zombies got would end up turned against us as well. Use your head. Right now, we have the firepower to turn them away. There only strength is in sheer numbers, so the last thing I’m going to do is swell their ranks even more. Trust me on this; if I let his allies warp into the staging areas down there I’ll be signing our death warrants. Now shut your mouth and cover me. I’ve got an idea."

  That was all I needed to hear. There was no way I was going to wait around to find out what his idea was.

  I reached out one more time and let them all into my head. Now!

  They were so eager to begin that barely a split second later I heard the crystalline smash of exploding glass as one of the spotlights shattered. The Survivor standing next to it, the one that had taken a pot shot into the darkness a couple of minutes ago, watched as his arm separated from his body in one short, effortless fall.

  I saw something flicker into existence behind him, and the archetype I’d only just learned about made sense. The thing was even skinnier than the Runner he’d once been, and his forearms and lower legs had further elongated in the course of the transformation he’d undergone. I saw when he plunged the ends of his arms through the shocked Survivor’s back and out his chest that the Flicker didn’t have hands anymore.

  Only spikes as long as spears…

  I saw a blur out of the corner of my eye, and what could only be a Speed Demon was already on one of the female Survivors. The force of its tackle spun them both into the night, and then the shit really hit the fan. Suddenly, just about every Survivor guarding the mansion was shooting, most of them wildly into the darkness. People shouted. Grenades went off and then another series of closer, much larger explosions threw shrapnel in wide arcs. They had claymores or something out there, and from the pair of high-pitched wails I heard to my left it sounded like a couple of my new allies had been shredded.

  In the pandemonium, I watched a flickering shadow peel away from the blackness across from me, though even with my Low Light Vision I had trouble tracking its progress. Everything about it was shifting and unsettling, and just when I thought that I'd finally managed to lock on to it so that my mind could pin its outline down to something that made sense to my eyes, it flickered into nothing, only to shimmer and coalesce a few feet from where I’d last seen it.

  These Flickers were obviously some sort of stealth-mode Zombie, but the fact that he’d only been able to rise to this level of badassery because I’d granted him a bonus made me almost paternal toward him. I wanted my children to do well, and like any proud father I was willing to bust a few skulls on their behalf.

  Even though I was about to plunge into the thick of the battle, part of me was taking a moment to sit back and acknowledge just how deep this game was. I'd been playing a lot more hours than I'd expect a reasonable person to invest and I was still finding secrets. Not for the first time, I wondered if Deep Dive studios had found and implemented some previously unmentioned way of scanning our brains so that, when we selected our archetypes, they made sure that the options we’d be able to select later on down the
road suited our personalities.

  If I’d been a Runner, would I be the same as them? Or would I be something else, something unique to myself, a Zombie with a playstyle all their own?

  I didn't know. I didn't even know how to know, but the possibilities were both fascinating and frightening.

  The flickering figure didn't even break stride as he climbed swiftly up the wall of the big, fortress-like mansion that dominated the top of the hill. A moment later and, knowing what to look for now, I saw a Speed Demon whip across the field, running so fast that he actually ran straight across the surface of the pool without even breaking stride. Once he’d done his Jesus impression, he sprinted straight up the wall of the house and made a Survivor into a pink mist that hung in the air long after the enemy player had slumped to the ground.

  At last, I had real allies. The AI had served a purpose, but these guys meant business.

  The Survivors did too, though. One of them must have triggered an alarm, and I saw too late that the big poles that were holding the flood lights also were wired with massive sets of speakers. The unearthly wail they vomited into the air mixed with the sort of distortion you get when you try and wire up some makeshift perimeter security and you’re hoping to never need it.

  Just like that, a strike team of more than twenty fast responders poured out of the mansion. They were dressed in battle armor that was an intimidating mix of riot gear and military kit. That was bad new already, but the way they responded to our attack by laying down a thunder of precision fire told that things were going to go downhill for us fast.

  They put at least a hundred rounds into the Speed Demon just as he cleared the edge of the pool and made a dive at them. The bullets cut him to pieces, and he landed with a wet splat on the concrete before tumbling to a stop a few feet in front of them.