When the entity was fifteen feet away, it exited the plant cover and Gus saw a humanoid figure, slowly shambling toward him. Gus’ brain did two things. The first was to trigger a jolt of adrenaline as he dropped into a crouch, ready for attack. The second was correctly ascertaining that only one type of creature shambles. *Ding!*
You have just unlocked the skill: Wreck-ognize.
Wreck-ognize: You can now recognize and identify basic stats of various creatures. More information available as this skill levels. Since you like to wreck inanimate objects, you probably feel the same about living creatures. Critical areas will be highlighted in your display. As you defeat enemies, information will populate the bestiary database and define a range of their typical stats.
100 XP awarded
790 XP to level 4
Gus shivered as the information on the creature displayed along the upper border of the display:
Shambler (Level ??)
HP: ??
MP: ??
Special skills: ??
“Nick! What the hell, is that a zombie?!” Gus screamed mentally, paralyzed on the spot as his brain tried to assimilate what it was seeing. He stared at the zombie, who in turn stared at him, jittering his head left and right while maintaining constant eye contact. The zombie clawed his arms outward and moved toward Gus in an aggressive but slow manner. A red aura outlined the Shambler and the yellow highlight made its return, lighting up the head and spinal column. Gus jumped back and sidestepped to keep some distance between himself and the creature.
“Do not let it touch you, Gus!” Nick screamed, giving Gus a start and another accompanying jolt of adrenaline that broke him from his shocked state.
He gritted his teeth and watched his step carefully. No way he was going to trip and be set upon by this thing that could barely walk like suckas in thousands of zombie movies. Gus held onto Razorback and quickly crouched to grab rocks, lobbing them at the Shambler’s face.
This seemed to have little effect, so Gus got the idea to bend a small tree branch back and waited for the zombie to come closer. Wanting its creepy hug, the Shambler approached arms outstretched and walked right in the path of the branch. The zombie was flipped on its back, where it flailed about like a giant, gray desiccated bug.
Gus approached the head and lanced Razorback into the top of the skull… only to have it deflect away from bone. Razorback was sharp, but it didn’t sink into the skull like a rotten cantaloupe as seen in all the zombie movies. The zombie was now reaching around his head instead of in front of it, making another assault too risky without getting scratched. This shouldn’t be this hard!
Luckily the zombie seemed to have lost the ability to stand up, or was so distracted by Gus that it did not access that particular set of skills. Gus spied some bamboo by the river. He quickly sliced off a long shoot of bamboo at an angle and used it like a lance to poke the creature in the neck. He didn’t have the strength or skill to dual wield his bamboo spear and Razorback, so he tossed the weapon behind him so he could handle the bamboo more easily. The close range it required to use made it less than ideal for this fight. He tried lancing the zombie again, but he succeeded only in pushing the zombie sideways on the ground. The creature’s skin was dry and tough, like leather.
“This isn’t working!” Gus shouted in frustration. He lifted the bamboo high overhead and swung the bamboo down on the creature’s head. There was a loud *tonk!* as the bamboo connected, but the zombie only flailed around more as a measly red ‘-3HP’ floated up from his foe. He tried laying the bamboo across the zombie’s chest and stepping on the other end with one foot, Captain Morgan-style, but the zombie was wiggling and gesticulating so much that Gus couldn’t keep the bamboo in place.
Gus’ anger flared as he felt all his attacks easily repelled by this shriveled, beef-jerky looking creature, who should not be a threat, lying there on its back. He let out a guttural yell as he used the bamboo to stab the zombie over and over in the face. His plan was to go for the eye socket, as the bone should be thinner behind the eye. Again and again he hit the creature as it turned from side to side, reaching and grasping.
Gus got bolder after multiple attempts finally tore the skin, revealing a cheekbone smeared with a black slime. He was losing stamina quickly, so he had to do something different. Panting and lining up his shot, he made his move and plunged the sharpened tip down and finally hit the eye. BAM, direct hit! The wedge of sharpened bamboo penetrated and sunk in four inches. The zombie shook like it had been electrocuted, and its flailing slowed considerably. Since the zombie did not die instantly, Gus picked up Razorback and stabbed the other eye. That seemed to do the trick. A chime sounded.
You have killed a Shambler (Level 3)! 500 XP awarded!
290 XP to level 4
Bestiary updated.
Skill gained: Small blades (Level 1)
Small blades: Allows more proficiency with smaller sharp-edged melee weapons. (5% increase in damage x level)
100 XP awarded
190 XP to level 4
Yanking Razorback out, Gus scuttled back and fell in a heap. Black ichor stuck to the blade, dripping off in rivulets like runny tar. Gus wiped the blade as clean as he could on a nearby tree trunk, getting most of the ooze off the blade. After a couple minutes, when the adrenaline surge began to fade, he stood and approached his foe. Gus had limited medical knowledge, but this former human was grayish and had a dark leathery skin, which hung intact but in a loose, jowl-like fashion everywhere. From the wounds he inflicted, there was only the thick black sludge where he stabbed the zombie. There appeared to be no active circulatory system, and the creature, however old it was, had lost a lot of moisture and muscle mass that kept normal skin taut.
“Nick, what do you know about those zombies? Why didn’t you want it to touch me?”
“That was an individual with Nth with a tampered OS, probably augmented constitution, which was why it was so hard to damage. This happens occasionally, when life-forms who want to game the system to artificially increase their stats without using the standard exertion to improve skills. Perhaps it is part of the design of the Nth or the ineptness of these ‘hackers,’ but it causes a fundamental change in how the Nth interact with a lifeform.” A shiver crawled up Gus’ back as Nick elaborated.
“What usually occurs is that one stat is upgraded and the system locks,” Nick continued, “but the Nth that are modified like this cease to maintain their host’s systems as they did before.”
“What actually happens with their bodies? I mean, when you watch zombie movies, you just accept that they can move and live, but they should rot and be eaten by maggots or something pretty quickly after turning,” Gus asked with morbid curiosity.
“The endocrine system runs amok and in humans, they lose the ability to sleep and dream. Natural appetites are suppressed and the body deteriorates as it does not receive adequate nutrition. Modified Nth will often attempt to access the quantum server, but contaminated Nth are locked into a read-only mode where they cannot alter the contents of the server to prevent corruption of the files. After excessive fatigue sets into the host, psychological problems arise.
“As regular body systems fail, they stimulate and encourage the host to seek out more neural tissue. Nth can utilize neural tissue to maintain basic life processes and extend their functional matrix. Once this tissue is obtained, they then attempt to recreate failing structures. For a while they maintain all body systems, but eventually abandon regular maintenance and form a continuous sheath of Nth surrounding the bones, then replace lost muscle tissue, allowing movement. At this point, there is little of host control remaining.
“We call these abominations ‘Dark Nth.’ They will seek out neural tissue to prolong their ‘life,’ and secondarily will consume other tissues that can be used for building blocks to maintain their lifeforms, but they are not strictly needed for the Dark Nth to survive and persist. Because Dark Nth are hard-wired to survive, they will do anything to cling t
o their pseudo-life.”
Gus looked at the remains, the clothes were dirty and ragged. He wondered how old this thing was. Or how many more of these there were. His gut told him that this slow creature could only really attack something sleeping or injured. Was it the cause of the shrieking animal? His gut told him no. He would have to cut this excursion short and make some improvements to his shelter in case more of these were wandering around.
“You warned it shouldn’t touch me, is that for typical zombie reasons?” Gus guessed.
“Yes, Dark Nth are able to recruit unaffected Nth and overwrite their programming. Breaks in the skin or body fluid to fluid contact can easily transmit enough Dark Nth to start a contamination event. The majority of secondary-infected Nth hosts tend to be constitution-based. This is because it is the easiest form to maintain due to their increased durability and lower maintenance costs. They are easily distracted and do not always work in unison with other Dark Nth. Let’s hope that this one is a straggler and wandered off on his own,” Nick finished.
“Dare to dream, right? I need to repurpose Razorback, at least for now, so I can avoid close contact situations if we come across another or multiple unfriendlies in the future.” Gus went over to the zombie and following his gamer instincts, took a quick perusal to see if there was any loot dropped from the Shambler. He gingerly tapped the pockets and did not feel anything inside, but the cloth depressed and Gus could feel just how skeletal the Shambler was. The black ‘blood’ of the creature stunk so badly that Gus almost started gagging.
Overcoming his revulsion, Gus saw that the ragged clothing did not seem worth salvaging, and he doubted that the funk that had permeated through it would be able to be cleaned out to the point where it would be comfortable to wear. A quick pat down didn’t show anything in the pockets, so he gave up trying to find loot. He opened one of his coco-canteens and rinsed his hands. He felt dirty and gross from dealing with the creature.
Forever Unclean! his mind shrieked as he tried to drink a bit. The stench still stuck to his hands and made it hard to finish. He used the last of the water to clean the remainder of ooze that stuck to Razorback, aided by the rags that passed for the zombie’s clothing.
“If it’s any consolation, any Shamblers will be highlighted with a red glow hereafter, so there should not be any more surprises,” Nick offered.
Gus was tense and edgy as he continued. However, after an hour of start-stop-listen travel, he became aware that the sounds of the forest had returned at some point. He allowed his psychological hackles to relax and proceeded with more confidence.
The alarm he had set up on his watch went off and Gus made a mark on a nearby tree to gauge his progress. He wanted to have time to gather some bamboo and bring it to his camp. He turned around and made his way back downstream.
“Nick, I feel like I’ve been walking forever. How big is this island?”
“From what I can extrapolate, I would estimate it between five-hundred and a thousand square miles.”
“I’m bad with distances, how would that compare to, say, the islands of Hawaii?”
“It would be closest to Oahu or Maui.”
Gus had been to Honolulu for family vacations, so the size became much easier to visualize. It would take a while to explore the whole island, especially on foot. He came back to his watering spot near his camp. He harvested more bamboo, and began dragging them back to his camp. Dropping them off, he scrubbed himself with sand and beach water until he could bear to smell himself again. He took a quick break to eat some coconut and eggs, and had an idea for the coconut shells.
He began encircling his camp with sharpened bamboo spears. He made holes and buried the spears as much as he could, having them angle up and outward. It wouldn’t do any good against an intelligent foe, but he added more and more spears until he made a decent enclosure against a stray Shambler. He broke the coconut shells he had finished eating into small shards. They made a loud *crack* when stepped on, so he scattered these on rocks past the enclosure where he couldn’t bury bamboo spears.
Satisfied with his work, he grabbed two eggs and a coconut to eat, and squeezed through two spears to make it to his reflection spot. While he relaxed in the spot he had watched the sunset yesterday, he tried to plan what he would do next.
Next level up, he would need more strength, in case he met more Shamblers. Gus often had dreams where he would fight someone and his punches against his opponents were weak and did no damage—his fight today reminded him of that same feeling. He had always been lanky and skinny, even when trying to exercise and bulk up. So far, he hadn’t noticed any big changes in regards to his perception boost. He hoped strength would be different. He watched the sunset while he ate, then rekindled the fire and turned in to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Somebody’s Watching Me
Day 2 11:44 PM
12:13:08 remaining
He felt like he had just closed his eyes but he awoke, his heart beating rapidly with sweat on his brow. It was dark, with the barest of glimmers from the remains of his fire. He strained to hear something, anything, to explain why he was so on edge. The moon was half full, and provided some light in the dark, but not nearly enough.
He checked the time: 11:44 PM. A tab stood out on his display and seeing it, he found he could activate a night-vision filter on his display.
The world sprang to life in greater clarity, everything close glowing in a green hue. Gus grabbed Razorback and slowly stood, trying to see if anything would become apparent, but he saw nothing. As he turned to the beach, he thought he saw a flash of yellow.
Don’t do it, Gus. Don’t be stupid, you’ve watched too many zombie movies to do something like that. Still, he knew he couldn’t sleep knowing something was that close to him, so he worked one of the bamboo poles loose and stepped out toward the beach. He stepped on a coconut shell and the loud crack triggered the unmanliest of yelps. He froze, scanning to see if his outburst alerted anything, but after a tense minute, he resumed walking. Cursing under his breath, he watched his step and walked down to the beach. Small yellow spots moved along the sand. Much more nimble than the Shambler. As he stared at one, Wreck-ognize activated and he saw its info on the display:
Metacarcinus gracilis (aka Cancer gracilis)
A small edible crab.
HP: 12/12
His body deflated like a balloon, expectation replacing the tension. Scrambling back to camp, Gus grabbed his visor bucket and headed back to the beach. He dumped out the cooking water still inside and began to chase the crabs down to collect them. They were fast, but it was hard for them to hide, being highlighted in the night by Gus’ perception. He quickly gathered a number of crabs, with some escaping back to the water. Is it crabs or crab? Both seem right. Gus shrugged the thought away. The curve of the visor kept the crabs from climbing out, but it was interesting to see the creatures inside. Gus was glad he had overcome his fear; the crab would be a welcome change to his diet.
He continued down the beach, hoping to find more of the creatures, but no such luck. He headed back and heard a crash in the distance. Freezing and listening, there was a clatter and then silence. His self-congratulation at overcoming his fear went under a serious re-evaluation. He slowly moved closer to the water, trying to keep a swath of open beach ahead of him so that he would have time to react if something rushed out at him. The slight *slosh* of his steps on the damp sand felt like cymbals announcing his movement to Gus’ hypersensitive ears, but they were probably barely perceptible. He could hear nothing else, no matter how much he strained. The trip took considerably longer, but Gus finally made it back.
When he looked at his camp, his whole body almost seized as he saw many of the bamboo poles pushed over and one broken in two. Standing like a deer in the headlights he slowly panned his head at the scene. His shelter was knocked down and one frond neatly sheared in two, as if from a machete. Gus whipped his head back and forth looking into the dark beyond, but saw nothing.<
br />
This camp was no longer safe.
He checked his watch again: 12:55 AM. Not much time had gone by, and Gus knew something intelligent was out there. It was fast and strong, and it was no Shambler.
What about an agility-based zombie?
Damn it, brain! Why did you have to go there? Do I need any more nightmare fuel?
Like in that zombie movie with Brad Pitt—
Will you quit!
“Gus, you do realize I can hear you arguing with yourself? I can function as a therapist if you need to talk things out,” Nick offered hesitantly.
Gus worried that maybe he was legitimately losing it. He definitely didn’t remember arguing or talking to himself ever before.
What if his brain was slowly rejecting the Nth there?
The feeling of worry intensified. It was odd; Gus usually was someone who never let things bother him, but so much of this was uncharted territory.
“Nick, is there a function on my display that lets me see around me, like a minimap?”
“There is, but it is associated with certain skills that you do not have. I can display a minimap, but it will only show the geography around you where you have already visited. You need an ability that can gather data and display the results on the minimap.”
Gus ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled. He was too shaken to even attempt sleeping now. He would have to find something else. This shabby shelter wasn’t going to cut it. Ever. He made preparations through the remainder of the night to move out; he would have to find something on this island that would give him some protection from the elements as well as from whatever was out there. Once he finished, he blew out a long, weary sigh.
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