Lair

by Carl Stubblefield

  “FP? I think I left all of them in my other pants on the station,” Gus said wryly. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

  “Excuse me, Gus, there is so much to explain. FP, or Facility Points, are how you upgrade or unlock features of the manor. You get them as you level up and should receive some legacy FP based on your current level.”

  “Can I use FP to unlock one of those food dispensers to be placed in here?”

  “It will be done as soon as you can activate facilities controls. Do you wish to go there now?”

  “Yes, and after that, let’s go check out some more modern clothing.” Gus toweled off and donned a robe from a nearby closet. Nick directed Gus up the elevator to the control room. After finding the right console, he placed his hand on the scanner and his level was assessed.

  You are currently level 3. 1500 legacy FP awarded.

  Gus used 50 FP to place the food dispenser in his suite and scrolled through the list of available options. There were many headings, with grayed out sub-sections. Only a few were highlighted, and of those, the training tab caught his eye and he brought up the information on the first entry, training arena.

  Training Arena (1250 FP): This area provides a virtual training ground, assisted with robots to provide physical feedback. Training provided centers around primarily melee skills with some limited augmented attack skills. This area is able to sync with supers for additional functions and feedback options. More functionality and options can be obtained by increasing the arena’s level.

  He really needed some skills if he was going to take out any more zombies on the island, especially the fast ones. As a henchman, he was only given a gun and minimal amount of training. There was a reason why Stormtroopers couldn’t hit a damn thing.

  This arena sounded exactly what he needed. He spent the points and unlocked the training arena, saving the last 200 FP. He had to; nothing else was lit up after he had made his two selections. So much for base defenses. After that, Nick led Gus to an area that appeared like a large department store, with large closets. Gus’ Wreck-ognize skill triggered and he could see the improvement in stats the jumpsuits provided. Dropping his robe, Gus wiggled into a jumpsuit that was his size. The material was stretchy and comfy as he slid it on, but then he started to itch. A little at first, and then all over as if he was having a severe allergic reaction.

  “Nick! What’s happening?!” Gus shouted.

  “This clothing is above your level; your Nth are rejecting it and you are dealing with increasing amounts of histamine.” Shedding the suit, Gus kicked it away. He watched as the welts on his skin quickly subsided when they were not in contact with the suit.

  Naked again, Gus set about putting the robe back on. Looking again, he saw the minimum level was five.

  “Hells bells, that sucks. I need to level up faster.” sighed Gus.

  “You could always take up the mantle of the Winter Knight…” Nick suggested.

  Gus’ mouth dropped open. “Nick! I am loving your handle on pop culture! Keep it up, I’m loving it!”

  Nick’s only reply was a small jingle: ‘ba dah ba bah baaah…’

  Gus looked around, trying to find something level three or less, but had no luck. He felt like when he had shopped at Ross or Marshalls, where you had to hunt back and forth, hoping something you liked was in your size. He was about to give up when a pulsing alert sounded.

  “Gus, please go to the command center. A proximity alert has been triggered.” Nick urged. Gus ran to the elevator, smashing the button for the control center. He burst out when the car finally opened. One of the maps was highlighted. To the west of the large field below the manor was the green expanse of the jungle canopy. One area had a break in the trees, and a path could be seen winding through it. Some familiar gray figures could be seen on that path.

  “Zombies! Nick, can you modify my display to show them relative to my position?”

  “Yes, now that I have access to that data from the manor, transferring to your display…”

  A minimap refreshed in the upper right corner of his display, with overlapping yellow dots clustered on the left side of it. Gus saw them at the center of the circular map, with an arrow showing the current direction he was facing. Wishing he had some time to use the training center, Gus had to waste time running to his room to get dressed. He fumbled with the ties, the urgency making him clumsy. Finally done, Gus grabbed Razorback Prime and rushed to meet the invaders.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Monsters of Rock

  Day 5 9:58 AM

  10:03:50 remaining

  Gus checked the new minimap in the upper right corner of his display. The yellow dots were very helpful in showing him where to head to start grinding some mobs. A quick check with Wreck-ognize confirmed the Shamblers were from level three to six. The color coding of the dots gave a good idea of the level range of these mobs in relation to his own level—and these were perfect; not too tough, not too weak.

  “Nick, can I assume this minimap functions like most RPG games?”

  “It would be more accurate to say that games function how the Nth interact with hosts, but yes.”

  They were approaching from the jungle on the far side of the lower field, where Gus had first seen the manor. The open field would allow him to run and retreat, and avoid being ambushed by something from behind.

  “Nick, are these higher or lower levels than that first Shambler?”

  “These appear to be higher, but it is unclear by how much.”

  Gus grit his teeth and nodded as he ran even harder.

  While he thought he was innovative in re-purposing Razorback into a spear, in practical use, there were some challenges. First, the thickness in diameter of the bamboo made it difficult to get a good grip on it. The smooth, polished surface also made it less secure than he would have liked. The length was great for the purpose, but Gus had absolutely no experience with spears or any melee weapons before coming to the island. Razorback Prime was also heavier than what a normal spear would be, so controlling the placement of the sharp tip could prove more difficult than expected. If he had to start fighting any foes besides these dumb, slow zombies, he would be in big trouble.

  Gus wished he had some time to dig a trench or two, or place some logs in strategic spots that could trip some of the approaching Shamblers. They appeared to be spread out enough to handle, but if he got sloppy, they could bunch up and that would complicate things greatly. Better to meet them as soon as he could at the edge of the field, and then have room to retreat if needed.

  Gus saw the first of the creatures emerging from the jungle. His upgraded display now showed life bars above the zombies, with a fraction indicating remaining health over total health. Some were more decomposed than others, but in contrast to the one he met in the forest, these appeared to have a more directed motion. Gus approached the lead zombie, braced himself, and speared it in the face.

  It dropped, shaking, and its dot became hollow on the minimap. That would be super helpful, especially to avoid stray bites on the ankle from an incapacitated but not dead zombie. The draining of the green bar as its health ebbed away was oddly satisfying. Feeling more confident, Gus lined up his next targets, but made sure not to get too close to those who had fallen. Like Tempest always lectured, ‘trust, but verify.’ He could double check whether he could trust the interface after the threat was gone.

  He missed the next one, slicing across the bridge of its nose, getting a little off balance, but able to back-step, re-position and hit the eye on the next attack. A chime sounded, and Gus let the messages fill in their queue unread. He did like how they defaulted to a pulsing icon at the bottom of the screen, not making a pop-up that blocked his whole vision and had to be toggled off.

  The pack seemed to contain thirteen remaining slow moving Shamblers, and Gus was determined to get them all. Knowing he would rarely find easy opponents like this, he took the opportunity to practice fighting and hopefully gain a couple skills.
Hopefully, he could get a spear ability by using it frequently.

  He tripped a zombie with the back end of the spear, then stabbed it in the eye. He cut another Shambler in the middle of its back. It lost control of its lower limbs and fell down, but kept on reaching for him until he dealt a death blow through its ear. It was harder to line this strike up, but at least it stopped them from moving for the most part.

  He struck a few more, but this time on the neck, trying to buy time and thin out the herd. These ones didn’t flail with their arms, so he switched to targeting only their necks. He was taking more time than he expected, and the zombie march was relentless. Gus experimented with hitting different areas, but besides the spine, legs, head and neck, nothing had a huge effect. Hitting their legs did very little damage, but it stopped their march onward, and made them easier to attack.

  One time he got scared as a zombie pushed farther than expected onto Razorback Prime, past the cutting edge and onto the bamboo. Gus panicked a bit, but got the idea to start to spin in a circle. The idea was to fling the Shambler off the end of the spear, but the mob simply tripped and the spear was easily extricated, and the zombie was history.

  He jogged to another zombie. Suddenly, Gus’ foot dropped into a hollow in the ground and he fell forward, scoring a hit to the left side of the target’s chest. The force of the fall sank Razorback Prime deep into the creature’s chest, past the cutting edge. I’m making this a flipping habit! His knuckles cracked as his grip tightened on his weapon, and he clambered back to his feet.

  This zombie must’ve been some kind of guard in its former life, because it had an athlete’s build. Gus couldn’t trip or even move the hefty Shambler by trying to shake the spear side to side, so he pushed forward hard to stagger the zombie and rolled out of the way. The bodybuilder didn’t even flinch from the push. With Gus out of the way, the Shambler rotated to face the manor and forged onward.

  What would they want with the manor? That first Shambler didn’t have any interest in it, so what’s going on?

  Gus gripped the now-slimy cords holding Razorback in place that were protruding out the zombie’s back. Yanking the spear as hard as he could, he was rewarded with three feet of movement. The black slime coated the spear as it reluctantly slid out with each tug.

  The nauseating smell became exponentially more concentrated as decomposed offal began spilling out around the edges of the spear. Stopping when the spear was half-in and half-out, Gus caught his breath and tried to get control of his gagging fit. He wasn’t eating a ton, and wanted to avoid malnutrition by wasting the little food he had scavenged. When the feeling subsided, he made another attempt and freed the spear. Razorback Prime was now coated in the slippery, stinky goo along its entire length. The fact that there may be active Dark Nth coating the spear made him drop it and step away. The strong zombie just soldiered on once the distraction of Gus and his spear were out of its line of sight, the wound not stopping it in the slightest.

  “Once separated from their host, Dark Nth inactivate within seconds, Gus,” Nick supplied helpfully.

  Gus heaved a mental sigh of relief and tried rolling the spear, using the patchy grass and dirt to remove at least some of the greasy smear. It didn’t do much, but it did add some sandy grit to the slime, which improved his grip on the smooth bamboo. Snorting like a bull, Gus came up behind the bodybuilder and severed the neck with three violent slashes. Another stab ended the troublesome creature when it fell face up.

  “That one was a biiiitch,” Gus drawled tiredly. I can’t let them get to the manor. Why are they going there now? Gus had taken too long with his fumbling about, and the zombies funneled together as they zeroed in on the manor. The remaining mobs were pressing closer to form a zombie wall. A few tripped on their fallen brethren, so Gus waited for these to pass, then he dispatched prone zombies. Gus attempted to lead the Shamblers in a train to spread them out, but they quickly abandoned their ambling ‘chase’ as soon as he was out of eyesight, reorienting toward the manor. Gus’ shoulders and back were starting to burn with the effort of wielding the spear.

  He wanted to keep fighting but his stamina was at 5% so he rested for a minute, then picked his next target. Hurry up! He fidgeted while his stamina bar slowly filled. His panting lessened as his stamina rose, and Gus pushed himself to continue.

  He staggered after another zombie and lined up his shot. He stabbed, and the zombie turned its decayed head at the last second. Instead of glancing off, he felt a vibration that felt like it emanated from his bones when the spear made impact, and he knew instinctively that his Wreck-tums! skill had triggered. The full health bar above the zombie sank to 1 HP. Gus jabbed again and the zombie’s yellow dot turned hollow on the minimap.

  “Noice!” he thought.

  Turning around, Gus saw a zombie that was much closer than he had expected. He had ignored the minimap by over-focusing on his last foe. Rookie mistake! He reflexively stabbed the fat zombie. The spear slipped in his grasp and again sunk in too far. Gus tried to spin the Shambler, but it was much too fat and heavy. The large zombie pressed forward relentlessly, so that the spear sunk deeper into the zombie’s chest, which sucked the spear in like a spaghetti noodle.

  Dirty ragged fingernails were waving closer and closer to Gus, so he gave one final push and jumped away. Unlike his other failed attempt, the spear appeared to have lodged in the spine, as it did not protrude out the back of this obese creature.

  The zombie turned back to its destination, spear bobbing with its steps like a wagging finger, chastising Gus for his poor fighting skills. Gus had an idea and ran toward the flopping spear. Jumping onto the handle end of the spear, he tried to lodge it into the ground, and rolled away as quick as he could. His plan was to bury the end and lock the zombie in place.

  What actually happened was that the strained cords holding Razorback to the bamboo finally gave way and only the bamboo came out, one end cracked and splintered.

  Gus was dumbstruck. He barely had the presence of mind to roll out of the way. Now what the hell would he do? He had lost Razorback inside a mob and there were still four zombies left. Grabbing the remaining pole, Gus went into panic mode. Ignoring the fat one, he came close to a leaner zombie and hit him with all his force in the legs. The zombie predictably went down, and Gus commenced hitting the head. Loud *thock* noises accompanied his blows and Gus was unsure if they were more from the hollow bamboo or the zombie’s head.

  The soft ground didn’t help, since some of the force of his blows was absorbed as the zombie’s face pressed into the dirt instead of being held in place by something more solid. Meager ‘-1 HP’ and ‘-2 HP’ notices popped up, and Gus realized the others would get away if he took too long with this one.

  Gus decided to trip the remaining zombies, as they were almost to the incline that led to the lawn entrance to the manor. Of the three that were left, fatty was the hardest to down. After accomplishing that, he decided to take out the others and leave fatty for the end.

  An hour later the job was done. Gus slumped to the ground. “Woof to the woof…” he said in utter exhaustion. His stamina regeneration was maddeningly slow. He had to hit them on the head, and occasionally he would connect with a sweet spot on the back of the neck and get a slightly better damage notice. But mostly it was thwock-rest-rinse-repeat. He lay back staring at the sky, watching the clouds float carelessly overhead as sweat beaded then ran down, tickling the side of his face.

  His breathing finally slowed and he got back to his feet, loath to do what was necessary to retrieve Razorback Prime. He cleared his throat, spat, and braced himself for what was ahead.

  Walking over to the fat zombie, he tried to pull on its clothes to flip him but they just ripped apart. The skin started to tear away where the clothing bunched.

  “Nothing’s ever easy…” Gus grumbled as he stood there, hands on his hips. Getting an idea, he dragged another zombie parallel to fatty, then put the bamboo as a lever between the two. He had to reorient the
other zombie so it could fulcrum off the hip-bone, but the flip was finally accomplished. “Now the fun part…” Gus groaned as he slunk his hand into the ragged wound. “Ow, pointy… eeew, slimy… Aaah, moving!” Gus shouted as he probed inside, face turned away to avoid the powerful stench.

  His fingertip finally brushed against the flat corner of Razorback’s blade. Pinching his fingers on each side of the blade so as not to cut himself, he slowly extracted the weapon, all the while wondering why he was not just abandoning it and making another blade. Finally, it was free!

  He wiped Razorback as clean as he could upon the fat Shambler’s clothing. Ripping off a section of its shirt, he wrapped the blade gingerly, trying not to touch it too much, then headed to the stream and finished cleaning. The Dark Nth should be totally inert, but their black sticky blood still stunk and he didn’t want it encrusting his trusted weapon.

  Gus felt sweaty and gross with the gore. He was sure if he could see himself, there would be stench waves radiating off him, offending anyone nearby.

  Why did I even shower this morning!? None of the zombies had laid a hand on him, but just the thought of Dark Nth’s ichor on him was making his skin crawl and itch. The Nth may be deactivated, but this black slime would probably give anyone a raging infection if it got in a cut. He did a cursory check for any loot, but there seemed little to gather from the creatures, which kind of bummed him out. Loot made battles much more enjoyable.