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

by Matthew Siege

  The Flicker from the roof dropped down behind the crack team that was quickly proving to be the Survivor’s ace in the hole. He was going to flank them, but just before those modified arms could begin their butchery a couple of the sharp-eyed Survivors saw them coming. They pivoted and, to my astonishment, drew long survival knives and plunged them into the space the Zombie was going to materialize even as he was taking form.

  The Flicker died, pierced in four different places, his body coalescing around a particularly wicked blade that was waiting for his skull.

  I felt my jaw hanging open. They’d known. They’d been prepared for the Flicker, a type of Zombie that I didn’t even realize had existed until about two minutes ago and I hadn’t seen until ninety seconds later.

  How could they? Fighters with that sort of experience would have a deadly, professional response to just about anything I could throw at them. And worse, there were so damn many of them. Between Briggs and his lieutenants and these newcomers, we were done.

  I refused to panic. That wouldn’t do anything but hand the Survivors a victory, so instead I threw all the experience I had left in reserve at whoever was in the vicinity.

  There are no more members of your Horde in the vicinity. Would you like to invite nearby Zombies to your Horde?

  Yes!

  Zombie 450098 [Tank] Is now a member of your Horde

  That was it? Just one? So be it…

  I gathered every scrap of intangible experience I could donate and pushed it along the invisible bond between the lone Zombie that was part of the game’s smallest and possibly most pathetic Horde.

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

  Zombie 450098 [Tank] has become a [Trampler]

  Trampler? That sounded good to me. If anything, it was exactly what I needed…

  And there he was, looming large out of the night on my right-hand side. I hadn’t even known he was there, but he must have snuck up along with the Runners from before. Sure enough, as I heard the ground rumble at his approach, it sounded like the world's most vertically-prolific, careful and downright lucky Tank had somehow managed to make his way up the side of the hill despite his bulk.

  He’d done incredibly well for me not to hear him up until now, but as he stepped out into the illumination of the floodlights his days of secrecy were over. All eyes were on him, and for good reason. He was absolutely massive, at least sixteen feet tall. Studded with armored plates and padded with rippling muscles, he could have picked up a normal Tank and torn it in two with next to no effort. His shoulders were so enormous that they came up almost to his ears, making it look like he didn’t have a neck.

  When he lowered his head, he was the perfect physical embodiment of a battering ram, and blitzed the strike team with a speed that surprised even them. I saw a few of them break and run in the fleeting moments before he crashed through their formation, sending broken bodies flying so far that some of them were knocked completely off the top of the hill.

  As if to add insult to injury, he grabbed a set of floodlights in his scarred hands and started smashing what was left of the rapid response unit that had seemed such a game changer only a minute prior into a thin gruel.

  Of course, the Survivors weren’t ready to give up the ghost just yet. The few remaining spotlights spun to focus on him, and the Trampler started taking fire from the rooftop. Briggs and his advisors turned on him as well, and before either my Horde-mate or myself could react the leaders of the Beverly Hills resistance showed why they’d been put in charge. They were brutal and efficient with their shots, and the rounds they were using must have been armor piercing, because they ripped out one of his kneecaps with combined fire and buckled the other as well.

  The Trampler roared and whirled on them, but they’d already eroded his base so badly that his broken legs failed him. He lurched at them, tumbling to one side and exposing his chest to even more concentrated fire punched holes in his rib cage. He flailed, picking up one of Briggs’ lieutenants and physically throwing her into the wall of the mansion so hard that she literally popped.

  But they’d done their damage, and the Trampler’s life poured out of him as he slid lifeless into the huge pool, taking up most of it. Dark, viscous Zombie blood drifted up in huge plumes and floated on the surface of the water like pond scum.

  There weren’t very many of the Survivors left, at least not that I could see. Briggs and a couple of his defense council, and that was it. Everyone else was smashed flat, broken at the bottom of the hill or running for their lives into the teeth of the wave of Zombies that I hoped would be on their way to us as they cleaned up the defenders dug into the sides of the hills of Beverly.

  Briggs didn’t look anywhere near as confident as he had a few minutes ago, and I figured that this may be the only real chance I had to take him out before he pulled another rabbit out of his hat and managed to turn the battle around in his favor.

  I took two running steps in his direction and then triggered my Lunge, the sharpened bone-fingers of my only hand fully extended as I tried to land on his back. He was on my side of the pool, and I was hoping that the impact would carry us both into the water. Down there, I'd have the advantage. I doubted his rifle would work once we were submerged, and if I couldn’t do enough damage with my claws and jaws I was hoping that I would be able to hold him beneath the surface long enough to drown.

  Besides, with all that zombie blood in the pool, I didn’t think his buddies would risk shooting into the pool at us since there was a really good chance they’d shoot Briggs. If I could take him out, I was confident I could deal with the others on my own.

  Unfortunately for me, Briggs was something I’d never come across. Somehow, someway he sensed my attack, and once I was already in the air he turned to face me with the cold eyes of a gunslinger. I had a sick feeling in my gut. Once again, I was being bitten in the ass because I had absolutely no idea what the Survivors could do. Sure, I had some good guesses, but they were mainly based on what I thought was common sense, typical game design, and extrapolations based off what I would do myself.

  It didn’t matter. Whatever ability or talent he’d used, Briggs wasn’t surprised by me at all. I’d been counting on the element of surprise, but that was gone. For all I knew, he’d known I was lying there in the grass this whole time, just biding his time and trying to lure me out into the open.

  Now that he had what he wanted, he calmly stepped to one side and let me sail past. As he did, he unslung his rifle from his shoulder and pumped a few rounds into me with a casual action that made me sick. The impact of the bullets spun me around, and my own momentum worked against me as I skidded past him, losing my footing on the slick concrete at the edge of the pool.

  High velocity, most likely armor-piercing round after high velocity, most likely armor-piercing shredded me, but at least I was strong enough to get out of his line of sight by slipping over into the water.

  The water was as thick as soup, and as the darkness of it swept in around me the last of the bright floodlights winked out. I was sinking fast. After a moment the crazy, distracted part of my brain not dealing with my impending doom realized that the fact that there wasn’t any air in my lungs meant that I lacked buoyancy, and I felt myself bang against the bottom of the pool.

  Would they come after me? I didn't know. Down here the sounds of the battle were vastly muted. It was hard to tell if the fight was building in intensity, but that wouldn’t matter if I didn’t get out of here.

  Would the Zombies keep making a desperate push to the top? I hoped so. I liked to think that there was some loyalty amongst them. If I had my way they’d be making one final, mad dash for the leaders of this last bastion of Survivor control.

  Besides, I was sure Headshot would reward them well if they managed to keep me around. Time and time again, Deep Dive studios had been good about making sure that there were rewards for making da
ring, risky decisions. It was the main way they guided players through the game lore and faction philosophy.

  I could only hope they got here soon…

  Even though my mind was racing, only a couple of seconds had passed. I let myself sink until my back was flat against the pool’s tiled floor, staring up through the murk at the dim light above. I didn't want to wait the battle out down here, but I knew that Briggs and at least a few of the survivors would be watching the water like hawks, ready to end me once and for all if I should try to get out.

  Most of the Trampler was suspended above me. Maybe he was floating because of his incredible muscle mass, though I already knew that he wasn’t playing possum. My former ally was deader than dead. There was far too much of him drifting in the soup around me for me to believe that he was ever getting out of this pool.

  He’d given his life to further my objective, and I had his blood on my hands just like all the rest I’d lead their eventual defeat.

  Did the Survivors up there think I was dead, too? I would have thought they’d have tried to finish me off by now, but-

  An instant later, a splash from above derailed my thoughts. I watched in horror as a bandolier of grenades plunged through the water, coming to rest just beside me.

  Chapter 48

  They were right there. If I trusted in my own strength, I could have reached out and grabbed them, then pushed myself to the surface in one powerful motion and thrown them at Briggs. But strength wasn’t my forte. In theory, intellect was, and the only thing that flashed through my mind was, Well Ryan, you always wanted to be Luke Skywalker. Time to reenact that scene with the Tauntaun…

  It was a crazy idea, but it was the only one I had.

  I was lucky that I was already at the bottom of the pool, since all I had to do was hurriedly gather my legs beneath myself and plant my feet before springing upwards as hard and as fast as I could. I crashed face first into the bulky remains of the Trampler, but that was by design. In a frenzy, I clawed and ate and climbed my way into the massive husk barrel chest, convinced that the only place I'd find anything that resembled salvation was within the meat of his muscle and the armor of his flesh.

  I wasn't thinking about the damage I’d already taken but with every bite and swallow I grew more and more whole. In the end those last few morsels of the Trampler’s vitals, combined with the protection of his reinforced frame, saved me from the concussive blast that ripped through the water just behind me.

  Even so, I felt the impact smash me from every direction, making my ears ring and my eyes rattle in my skull. The fact that my lungs were eternally empty meant that there was nothing in there to decompress, and that probably went a long way to keeping me in the fight.

  But I was terribly injured, yet again. Whatever hit point I’d gained in my feast were all but gone. At least I might be safe, for the moment. Anyone in their right mind would have to assume that I was anything more than giblets, after an explosion like that. The fact that they didn’t drop more deadly presents on my head seemed to confirm that. Too bad for them; you can’t keep a good Zombie down.

  I was still in my meat cocoon, so I ate and ate, glad that the developers had never bothered to code a capacity for my stomach. It didn't take long for most of the Trampler’s meat to vanish down my gullet as I gnawed straight down to the bone.

  It had only been about thirty seconds or so since the grenades had gone off, but I felt healthy enough to get back into the fight. I couldn’t imagine they were still watching the pool, not with the inevitable arrival of the Zombies from every direction. Even from underwater I heard the pitch of the fight up there change, becoming more frantic. Careful shots gave way to precise bursts, but those only lasted a few seconds before the gunmen were holding down the triggers until they’d burnt through their ammo.

  Then, they either ran or died. Either one was fine with me.

  I actually ate my way right out the back of the Trampler and then pushed off of his shoulders, grabbing for the edge of the pool. I broke the dark surface as quickly and as quietly as I could, though the chaos that surrounded me provided each and every combatant with a lot more to worry about than little old me.

  The spotlights on the mansion were out, now. I'd seen the Flicker Zombies take a couple of them down, but the rest were dark now too. A few of the banks of floodlights were still going strong, even though some were strewn about the mansion’s ground, but at least that damn makeshift alarm had been cut off.

  The air was choked with smoke. I could hear the roar and crackle of a dozen fires, fighting for decibel space with the throaty, diesel growl of vehicles as the Survivors desperately tried to shuttle troops from one overrun area to another.

  And through it all, I heard Briggs’ voice. His back was to me, and he was on the radio. Everything about him, from his tone to his stance, projected a cool, collected confidence that was unnerving. The enemy were at the gate, so to speak, and here he was, directing his troops as best he could.

  A leader to the end. He must have known he had no chance to hold this ground, but he wasn’t going to retreat. He was going down with the ship…

  He sighed so loudly that I heard it from where I was, and then watched him stare off into the distance for a moment.

  The enemy commander has attempted to upgrade [Beverly Hills] to a [War Zone]. [War Zones] will allow Players from either faction to instantly reinforce you from other areas of [California]. These reinforcements will arrive in preset holding areas at the outskirts of the battle. All allies who accept the offer to fight in the [War Zone] will gain benefit from triple experience gains.

  Be aware that this escalation in aggression will likely quickly turn your engagement into a much larger battle, resulting in a fight to the death which you may not survive.

  As the ranking Zombie in this area, do you agree to upgrade the [Battleground] to a [War Zone]?

  I smiled to myself. There was no way in the world that I was going to fall for that. When I’d tried to bring in reinforcements by upgrading the zone Briggs had blocked me, and rightly so. The fact that he was trying to change his decision now meant that he was about as desperate as he could get. Sadly for him, I wasn’t that dumb. What good would zombies in the staging areas at the bottom of Beverly Hills be to me, when there was every chance that his reinforcements would warp in right around me, at the Survivor’s headquarters?

  Fuck that.

  I didn’t even give him an answer, choosing instead to ignore the game’s message. Everywhere I looked I saw running battles, and it was clear that the Survivors were about to get overrun. In the tumult, I slid stealthily out of the pool and stole a glance down the hill. The scene was full to the brim with panic and fear. Bitten Survivors held weapons in the limp hands as they turned on their previous allies. There were still a lot of those sort of AI Minions out there, but there were a lot more Player Zombies of every description.

  And all of them were running amok, destroying this once pristine little Mecca of luxury and its last bastion of defenders.

  As I crept up behind him, Briggs was looking down at the invading Horde as well. Either that, or he was motionless because he was hurriedly swiping through menus and Headshot notifications only he could see. For all I knew there was a solution available to him, which meant I couldn’t let him get a chance to bring it to fruition.

  He was probably waiting for me to accept the invitation to upgrade Beverly Hills to a War Zone so that he could flood the area with wave after wave of reinforcements. Too bad.

  I reached out and grabbed him with the only hand I had left, making sure to spin him around so that he could stare death straight in the face through the haze of his menus for a moment before I tore his throat out. His last strangled scream and his life’s blood both tried to force their way out of his body at once.

  Chapter 49

  I let his body fall to the concrete. This resistance was dying all around me, and after a few more minutes it was no more. The g
un shots were already beginning to fall silent, and the winding road that led to me was growing crowded with the dead.

  You have slain the enemy commander in glorious battle. As a boon, you may choose a fallen ally who deserved to be rewarded for their participation.

  Beverly Hills is now yours. The enemy faction will be unable to log out until they retreat to a zone that is either friendly or contested.

  I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t been expecting to be able to reward anyone for anything, but I certainly knew who deserved it. So, I spun on my heel and walked back in the direction ruined Trampler in the pool. Without him, that strike team would have held the mansion and Briggs would have, no doubt, been able to pull the fight out of the fire.

  As I strode to the edge of the water I noticed that a Flicker, and some Runners looked up from their current victims and stood, falling into step behind me. They seemed to defer to me, which I suppose made sense. I liked having a little phalanx of killers to protect me, and as I looked down into the murky depths at the Trampler I reached out with my willpower and tried to force new life back into the remnants of the beast below.

  Even after the bullets and the explosions had torn him apart, not to mention my own desperate bites, he still took up a huge amount of the pool. I was expecting him to either stand up or materialize beside me fully formed but he didn’t so much as tremble. The only movement he made at all came from the sloshing of the water due to the explosions down below as they rocked the hillside.

  The selected Player has been contacted. If they accept the invitation to return to their body, you will be alerted.

  I nodded to myself. That made sense. After all, I was sure that whoever had been playing the Trampler had already logged out in disgust. I know I’d be pissed off, but hopefully somewhere out in the real world his phone was ringing or his email notification was going off so that he could decide to hop back into Headshot, because I felt like I needed him. At the very least, I wanted him to know that I was thankful for the sacrifice he’d made.