by Arthur Stone
“Shut up, moron!” the girl fearfully hissed, then explained her behavior. “They found us. I don’t know hor.”
“Who?” Rocky felt his whole body tense.
“An infected?”
“Just one?”
“Yes. And it’s not a level twenty-five. It’s bigger. Much bigger. It’ll snap us like twigs, Rocky.”
Chapter 19
Life Five: Master of the Town
Kitty loved to insult her companion’s intellectual abilities, but her remarks were not wholly accurate. He considered himself observant, circumspect, calculating, with a good memory and a good mind to analyze it with, weighing all of the facts he knew and the assumptions he was reasonably sure of.
He didn’t need to ask any questions this time around. A couple of seconds were enough to digest the girl’s worlds. In a paradoxically joyful tone, he pronounced, “It’s a good thing it came to us. I would have hated to have to wait until tomorrow to take it out.”
“What the fuck is good about this situation?”
“Are you saying we’re in trouble? Did I hear you right?”
“Rocky, this isn’t just your average level of bad. It’s bad beyond words. Level thirty-seven. It’s not quite a manmincer yet, but it’s too developed to be labeled a trampler. Sometimes they’re called biters, since their jaws can bite clean through a car. What do you think of that?”
“Hard to say. Can a rifle take one out? I mean, the rifle I’ve got?”
“I don’t know. I never tried. Maybe, but only barely. And it’s impossible with these bullets. Or at least close to impossible.”
“What’s wrong with the bullets?”
“They’re hunting bullets. Armor-piercing bullets aren’t sold to civilians. You can’t get them in gun stores.”
Rocky found himself thinking about a future with this girl. She had a good head on her shoulders. Could she cook? Maybe. Change a diaper? I mean, the baby probably wouldn’t enjoy the way she did it, but she would get the job done. He took a break from his chauvinist voyage when he realized this whole situation was unrealistic, even in this universe’s terms. “If this thing has found us, how are we still alive?”
“Because we’re inside. It’s outside. I barely saw it, jumping towards the house cautiously, crouching just beyond the fence, but I could make out part of its head. It must have eaten all the local cows to develop that far. Those things love beef.”
“Why isn’t it inside?”
“I don’t know. I can’t for the life of me figure out what it’s doing or how it found us. Developed infecteds aren’t as stupid as zeroes. They can even be cunning. Maybe it’s afraid to rush in. It’s studying the layout, formulating a plan. But it won’t just leave us alone, you can be sure of that.”
“Do these ones travel alone?”
“They wander in packs from cluster to cluster, but when they settle down into packs, they’re usually alone.”
“So is this a nomad? Or a local?”
“I don’t know, but I think this is its home. It was moving confidently, like it knew that its best course was to climb the fence farther down, where it couldn’t be seen from the house.”
“We have two rifles and a shotgun. Come on, Kitty, let’s hear some ideas. I don’t have enough experience to offer advice.”
“I didn’t expect any advice. One of our rifles is a semi-auto. Low penetration power, but a high rate of fire. If you’re lucky you can wound its knee. Even the manmincers don’t have very good knee protection. They’re not elites, and that might be your best chance. A lot of people have saved themselves by taking advantage of that. But these things move their legs fast. It’ll be tough to score a solid hit in the knee.”
“It’s still pouring rain. I thought you said they hated water.”
“Yeah, I don’t like that, either. If it’s hunting in the rain, it must be really hungry. The rain has let up a little, true, but it’s still not their kind of weather.”
“So maybe he’ll get fed up with the rain and decide to come inside. Tight spaces and narrow hallways in here, so it should be easier to take it out.”
“You really have no idea what you’re talking about. We’ll be the ones feeling cramped, not it. How’s your leg?”
“I don’t know. Let me stand up and see.”
As he stood, Rocky tried to shift his weight to the bad knee. He grimaced. Not good. “I don’t think it hurts as much as before, but damn, it’s about as flexible as a wooden post. Should I try to take the wrap off?”
“We can try it,” Kitty nodded, unsure. “But I doubt that’ll help. Alright, so neither of us can rely on our legs to work. I can’t lean on mine at all. What do we do if the monster smashes through the wall right now?”
Rocky touched the wall, which was made of thick beams. He hoped to heaven that Kitty would answer his next question in the negative. “It can bust through this?”
“Not in one blow, of course, but yeah. A biter’s claws can even get through solid brick if it spends some time on the task. An elite could smash right through. I guess we’re at least lucky it’s not that.”
“Well, Kitty?”
“What?”
“Exactly. Are we just going to hang around here whispering all day? What if it bursts in right now?”
“It won’t. Don’t worry about being surprised. I’m keeping an eye on it.”
Rocky looked around. “How?”
“I’ve got it marked.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s an ability I have. If I see a creature, I can mark it. Then I see the direction and approximate distance to its location, even if I lose line of sight. I’m no sensor, of course. It only works over short distances, but it doesn’t get in the way and works even if there are a bunch of obstacles in the way.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”
“I did. You didn’t notice.”
“OK, where is it now?”
“There.” Kitty pointed to the windowless wall. Rocky felt a good deal better at the news. “About a hundred feet away. It’s moved away from the house for some reason.”
“Maybe it just randomly walked by? And doesn’t even know we’re here?”
“Randomly? Rocky, nothing here is random. I managed to see him. That wasn’t random, either.”
“What do you mean?”
Kitty hesitated, tapping the fore of the rifle with a fingernail, then explained reluctantly. “Many incomprehensible things happen here, and not everyone believes in all of them. But I do. Not all of them, but in some things that have helped me out. You’ll end up believing, too. Immunes who live here for a while feel their intuition improving. Sometimes, it improves dramatically. It becomes more than intuition—almost foresight. Prophecy. You know where to look and when. Or you intend to go somewhere but can sense you need to hide instead, and then boom, a pack of monsters crests the hill and rushes by, and it’s only by a miracle that you weren’t torn to bits. All kinds of things. Do you understand?”
“So everyone that stays here learns to predict the future? Or just some of you?”
“Well, not exactly predict. I doubt anyone can do that, and the System doesn’t like to make any one person too powerful. But sometimes you can sense something a few seconds before it happens. The hardest part, though, is learning to listen to that sense. It’s strongest when you’re traveling alone. Which is how I usually travel.”
“So your intuition detected that thing?”
“I woke up, and I realized it was for a reason. Then I had this inexplicable urge to look out the window. Not just any window, but a particular window. I know how to listen to that inner voice. Some are better listeners than I am, but I can hear it well enough.”
“So what is your intuition telling you right now? Will we make it out of this alive?”
Kitty shook her head, slowly.
“I don’t know the answer to that, Rocky. We’re trapped. These creatures are best taken out from far away. Close
up, they can send us both to respawn with a single blow. But we can’t shoot at it from far away. The house only has one floor, and it’s surrounded by fences, bushes, and sheds. No way to see beyond them. What’s in the basement?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were down there, Rocky. What’s it like? Can we wait down there with guns aimed at the entrance?”
“Yes. But it’s dark down there. I had to light my way with matches. And the floor above looks weak. Something that big could just smash its way down and land on top of us.”
“Dammit!”
“Come on. Swearing doesn’t get us anywhere, and you sound like a schoolgirl who just learned her first curse words. Spend your words telling me about our new friend’s weaknesses.”
“Weaknesses? How do you know it has any?”
“Maybe I’m not the brightest light on the tree, Kitty, but I’m not that stupid. You told me about its knees. That’s one weakness. Are there any others?”
“Yes and no.”
“Meaning?”
“A wound in the brain or the upper spine can usually kill it right away. And in the middle of its chest there are a couple of vulnerable spots where if you hit it, it will die quickly. Even if it gets a hold of you, it probably won’t have time to finish you off. But its head is like the turret on a tank. You could try shooting between its armor plates, into its eyes, but I don’t know if that’s a sure bet. Its torso is well-protected, from the front and the back. Its sides are less armored, but shooting them won’t really get you anywhere.”
“So shooting its eyes will take it down?” Rocky asked absentmindedly, thinking about something else entirely.
“Its eyes are very narrow, and the lower bone of its eye sockets is strong, but it’s no elite, so a bullet can smash through without too much trouble.”
“How does its eye work? Like a human’s? You know, mucous membranes and all that.”
“It doesn’t have real eyelids. In their place it has a sort of sphincter made of keratinized plates. They can keep a pistol bullet out if the beast closes them up.”
“Then I just have one more question. Will this thing have spores?”
“Are you kidding? Of course. And not just spores. It’ll have a treasure trove in its sac.”
“More than spores?” Rocky tensed up, remembering his triple-ball suicide.
He had to ask Kitty later what kinds of things those sacs could hold.
“Yeah, assorted things. What about it?”
“Then we’re in massive luck.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, you know. We need spores, and here they are knocking at our door. This is luck smiling at us. My Luck, probably.”
“Smirking at us, maybe.” Kitty did not share his optimism.
“Let’s find out whose lucky day it is, shall we? I’ll try to lure him to a good spot.”
“With what?”
“Not with what. With whom.”
“You’re going to use yourself as bait?”
“Well, I’m not about to use you.”
“Why not?”
“You’re such a remarkable girl. I might be even starting to like you, so I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you yet.”
“Look, how about I just break those legs now?”
“Some other time. I can’t exactly lure a monster with my legs broken, now can I?”
* * *
Rocky felt two sensations at once. On the one hand, he was very proud of himself. For the first time, Kitty had listened to his wise instructions, not the other way around.
He would love to watch her try getting away with calling him a moron after this. But there was also a dark side of the coin. When a girl as confident and dangerous as she was threw up her hands in resignation, the situation must be a bad one. There was an undeniable likelihood that he would wake up in that dorm room soon.
That didn’t scare Rocky too much. Worst case scenario, the monster would kill them both. They would each lose a life and start it all over again. And if they were together, they would respawn in a fresh cluster together. He could continue extracting priceless information from her. But a victory without any friendly casualties was, of course, the preferred outcome. Rocky had realized it was a bad idea to just throw lives away. Not to mention exceptionally unpleasant.
He wondered if there was a way to raise his remaining lives. Another question to ask Kitty later. Now wasn’t the time for chatter. Rocky was busy arranging what Kitty had called “sure-fire suicide.” He disagreed, but those words still ate away at him. She had much more experience in this world. She knew what sort of thing was hunting them.
Rocky had no idea. At least Kitty had left him the rifle. She would have left the shotgun, too, but that was a bad idea. His plan required one shotgun blast at least, but it was surer with two or three shots. She put a pistol in her belt, then pulled out her trusty sword, visibly more confident holding that than a machine gun.
Maybe she was right. Maybe that sword, despite looking like a toy, was a much better answer to monsters than a firearm. But he doubted it. How would she swing it when she was leaning on that pitchfork, anyway?
Oh right. She’s a warrior.
Despite his damned knee, Rocky was much more mobile than his companion. He limped and almost fell every few steps, but he could still walk, and even hold his rifle at the ready as he did so. That was saying something. The weapon was heavy and awkwardly large. If he took a shot, of course, he’d have to deal with the powerful recoil. Today’s Rocky was not yesterday’s, when he pulled the epic helicopter takedown. His knee was in shambles now, and he had little confidence in his ability to stay standing.
But today’s Rocky still kept getting into trouble. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Perhaps that was when he was at his best.
The monster decided not to rush the house, but it wasn’t about to sit around outside, either. The rain kept on falling. It was more of a strong shower now. Tolerable, but still powerful. The wind had vanished, deadening the saturated air.
Perhaps the creature had decided to wait for the weather to turn and so took shelter inside the shed near which Kitty had first seen it hiding. It was a flimsy-looking structure. Hardly comfortable, but it was a roof, so the beast could escape the rain. Infecteds were anything but pretentious. Spartan residential conditions were more than satisfactory. If Kitty was right, they didn’t like to stay in buildings, preferring to hop in to catch anything living and then get the hell out. This weather had overruled that preference for a few hours.
Seeing that the ghoul hated rain, Rocky and Kitty needed to find a way to take care of it before the weather relented. Sounds wouldn’t carry very far during the storm, and any smoke would only be seen from a short distance away.
Rocky moved cautiously through the manure and rotting bones to the beast-rent hole in the barn door. He planned to crouch and walk through, but his knee protested at such positions. So he knelt down and crawled through. There was no way he would dare to open the gate. A massive bar secured it from the inside. Even if he lifted with all his force, he doubted it would budge easily. Once it did, it would cause such a ruckus that the tenant in the shed would charge out, knowing a delicious breakfast was served.
Rocky’s plan preferred that the lord of this town be unaware of his movements.
Now he was out in the open. Here, he risked becoming a meal with every step. The trap he had set inside was a long shot, but it was a shot. There in the cramped darkness, the besieged humans would have their chance to deal a mortal wound to the beast.
Or to die themselves. It was a lousy trap, in all honesty, but it was better than nothing.
The rain still poured down, strong and cold. The antique wide-brimmed hat he had donned to protect himself filled with icy water. The sound of the drops beating on his headwear echoed through his head. Its source was close to his ears, but it was possible that the noise was truly loud.
As they had planned, Kitty had repeate
dly warned him that the infecteds’ hearing was pristine. Even the most muffled background noise could tip them off. So he had to move quickly, before the enemy sitting in that shed decided to take the initiative into its own claws.
Rocky abandoned all attempts at moving stealthily after he made several mud-smacking sounds with missteps in piles of wet manure. He reached the corner and leaned around it, the shed now in his sights. Lowering his rifle, he thrust his hand into the pocket of the slicker he was wearing, looking for the bottle of vodka. No, he wasn’t thirsty. In fact, he was pretty sure that he was as much of an alcoholic as Kitty was. This vodka bottle’s label didn’t even correspond to its contents. Rocky had poured the strongest moonshine he could find in the cellar inside. The owner of this house had kept a good supply of the stuff, even labeling some of the bottles with their alcohol by volume. He had checked the flammability of the stuff in the kitchen, with tiny samples. They had lit in violent blue flame, dying out in an instant. It wasn’t napalm, not even gasoline, but it would work.
Kitty was against the whole plan. She didn’t like handling fire, and she believed it was unnecessary to start one, besides being difficult to do in the rain. She said that shouting or knocking on the wall would be enough to seize the beast’s interest.
But Rocky was discovering a pyromania within. Somehow, she had relented at his insistence. It was partly a matter of principle for him. He was compensating for hitherto submitting to her unconditionally by being stubborn, even when he wasn’t certain his way would succeed. He wanted Kitty to listen to him.
He clicked his lighter, set fire to the rag stuffed into the neck of the bottle, and gave it a few seconds to grow. Then he took aim and hurled the bottle at his target. The shed was in miserable shape, but it was large enough that he couldn’t possibly miss. He hit it right where he intended to, just under the shelter of the roof, at a relatively dry spot in the wooden wall.