“Here, zombie, zombie, zombie, zombie, zombie.”

I strolled along the side of the street, whistling a little tune to myself and casually taking a few practice swings with my hammer as I went. It had been about ten minutes since I’d left the house and started my hunt, but I hadn’t encountered anything of interest so far. The anxiousness that had accompanied me on this outing had somewhat faded, and I was surprised to find that it was a touch of disappointment that took its place.

Maybe there was a part of me that was actually looking forward to a fight, to the primal thrill of the hunt. A disposition of pure savagery buried deep in my ancestry, forced to lie dormant in the civil decorum of human society, but now finding the opportune moment to rise to the surface and unleash malevolent havoc upon all who dare impede my path.

Yeah, probably not. I felt kind of embarrassed for just thinking about it. But hey, as long as I kept my mind busy on those ridiculous thoughts, I wouldn’t have the time to get cold feet and start losing my nerve.

Of course, that didn’t mean I was letting my guard down. I kept my distance from any corners or objects I couldn’t see around, and my head was constantly on a swivel, checking every direction for anything that might suddenly leap out at me. I also hadn't let myself wander too far away from where I'd started. The neighborhood was a cul-de-sac on one side with a larger street intersecting it on the other. The house I’d woken up in was near the closed-off side, and given how little I knew of this place and the situation in progress, I decided to play it safe and stay within the block.

But that plan was looking like it might need some reconsideration, now that I was having trouble finding any of the undead. I knew I could be a bit more patient—I wasn’t exactly low on time—but every empty minute that passed was starting to bite at my nerves.

But maybe there was a better alternative to simply wandering further. I eyed a few of the houses as I strode past them. There were about a dozen on either side. The one I’d woken up in had been fortunately free of undead infestation, but that didn’t necessarily mean the rest had to be. At the very least, raiding one would give me the opportunity to search for some more equipment before heading out further.

Picking one a bit further up the street, I approached the house with some caution. My eyes flicked up to one of the upstairs windows when I thought I saw a flash of something, but realized it was probably just a flicker of the curtain. If not... well, that was exactly what I was looking for, wasn’t it? I approached the door and carefully tested the knob. Locked. Damn. Unsurprising, but I’d hoped I could avoid breaking in.

I briefly considered trying a different house, but decided that would most likely be locked as well. I still felt a bit self-conscious about breaking into the house from the front, though, so I went around to the backyard, which was enclosed in a large wooden fence. After a quick jump to make sure I wasn’t about to get ambushed by a gang of zombies waiting inside, I threw my hammer over the fence and climbed over to the other side.

The backyard was mostly empty, with only a trampoline and a swing set near the back. I picked out the largest window on the ground floor and approached it, looking into the living room. A bit of my reflection came back at me from the window, and I had to take a second to admire how ridiculous I looked before I got to work. Switching the hammer over to my gloved hand, I smacked it down on the center of the window. It cracked, but didn’t break. I wasn’t exactly used to breaking glass, and my civilized instincts made me hesitate, preventing me from hitting with full strength. I took a deep breath, flipped the hammer to its claw side and swung again, harder, targeting one of the top corners. That did the trick, and I cringed as the glass shattered with a crack that sounded like it could have been heard through the entire neighborhood.

I stopped for a moment, half-expecting someone to pop out and ask me what the fuck I was doing and tell me they were going to call the police. I couldn’t decide whether that would make me feel terrified or greatly relieved. No such individual emerged, however, and so I continued with the second panel, hammering off enough of the window that I could safely climb inside.

The moment I did, I felt like I’d been punched in the nose. Even through the helmet, the stench of decaying flesh was pungent and unmistakable. Immediately, I backed myself into a corner and raised the hammer into a combat stance, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. My heart was pounding with trepidation and, dare I say, a tinge excitement. I licked my lips, flicking my eyes around the room, carefully scanning every inch for any signs of movement, focusing particularly on any furnishings an undead creature could potentially be hiding behind. After a minute of nothing, I slightly relaxed my guard and began to tread through the room.

Like in the first house, the living room here was generic and unexceptional, furnished with a TV, a coffee table, and a couple of couches. Despite that, again like the first house, the place didn’t look like it had been lived in at all. The couches didn’t have a single crease, the floor was completely spotless. I searched carefully around each piece of furniture, fully prepared to swing at anything that might jump out at me, but nothing came.

The zombie wasn’t here. Either it had left the house—doubtful considering the door was locked and there were no signs of breakage other than my own—or it was simply in a different room. I frowned, unsure how to proceed. This really wasn’t what I'd planned. I was fairly confident against a zombie head-on out in the open like the one earlier, but it was another story if I couldn’t see it coming.

I had a decision to make. Either I could back off and go look for another zombie out in the street, or continue searching for the one inside this house. At first thought, the former option sounded like the safer bet, but was that really the case? Since I hadn’t found any zombies nearby, that would mean going up the street, and there could be far greater dangers waiting for me out there. Besides, what was the point of going to the trouble of breaking into this house if I was just going to back off when I found exactly what I’d been looking for?

Keeping my back against the wall, I headed out of the living room. The kitchen was next, but it was equally unoccupied. I spared a bit of attention to open the pantry, which was full of various non-perishable foods. I then checked one of the cabinets and couldn’t hold back a smirk when I saw it was filled with bottles of liquor. Like with the food, I didn’t recognize any of the brands, but hey, alcohol is alcohol. I didn’t bother checking anywhere else; I didn’t want to linger too long and it was safe to assume the cupboards, drawers, and fridge would be filled with similar items. I did, however, make a mental note to come back here if I ever wanted a drink.

I found nothing else worthy of note as I went through the rest of the ground floor and garage. Finally, I arrived at the base of the stairs leading to the second floor. My nose twitched. The stench was stronger here than anywhere else. Maybe I hadn’t just imagined what I’d seen through the window.

I rose up the steps slowly, making as little noise as possible. The stench got stronger the higher I got, and I tightened my grip on the hammer, feeling my hands starting to clam up. There was definitely something up here, though it could just be a corpse...

No. My heart jumped as I heard it. A soft scuffling sound just as I arrived at the second floor. There were three doors up here, two down the hall and one right next to me by the stairs. The scuffles were coming from the door closest to me, and they rose in volume, turning into heavy footsteps. I turned to it, and the steps inside became louder, accompanied by a low growl.

Oh, that’s a zombie alright. And it must have detected me somehow, a strong sense of smell?

I flinched back as a loud bang hammered against the door. My eyes went to the doorknob. It rattled, but didn’t turn. The creature inside slammed the door again, then again, and again. Each impact grew louder as it continued its attempt to escape from its prison, craving for the prey waiting outside. It still didn’t try the knob, though. Didn’t seem to have that level of intelligence. Briefly, I wondered how it had even gotten stuck in there in the first place, but didn't give it much thought.

Steeling my nerves, I approached the door. At this point, the pounding had risen to such a deafening level that I could barely hear myself think, but I tried to put together a plan of action. I’d keep things simple; throw open the door, hopefully pushing the zombie back a bit, then wait for it to come charging out. If I was lucky and got the timing right, my hammer would swing into its head just as it came into range, smashing its skull and ending the fight in an instant.

That set, I slowly reached out for the rattling knob. My hand was trembling with trepidation, but I took a deep breath, grabbed it tight, twisted, and—

—never got the chance to push.

A heavy force barreled into my back, blasting me into the room. I gasped for lost breath as my feet stumbled forward. They failed to find purchase and I fell, my head crashing into a bedpost so hard I might have lost consciousness if it hadn't been for the helmet.

In a panic, I tried to reorient myself. Before I had the chance, a heavy weight crashed on top of me, squirming and howling. I twisted to my back and was met with a wide-open jaw, going straight for the slip of exposed flesh on my throat. I bashed it away with my helmet before it had the chance to bite down, then shoved it aside as I picked myself back up to my feet.

Only to see a second zombie storming toward me. With a little surprise.

My empty hand clasped uselessly at the air. The object that had been in it just a moment earlier was now raised high, ready to come crashing down on my head.

Since when the fuck could zombies use weapons?

I slipped to the side, barely avoiding the hammer as it whizzed past me and imbedded itself into the wall. I tried to use the opening to land a counter strike, but something heavy clung to my leg. I glanced down to see the first zombie. Instead of standing back up, it had decided to hold me in place while the second pulled the hammer out of the wall.

Shit. I shook my leg in desperation, but failed to shake off its grip. The hammer-wielding zombie raised its weapon again, readying another blow. I kicked at it with my free leg, hitting it in the knee and causing it to buckle.

Unfortunately, it fell forward, its arm still in the middle of a swing. I shifted my head to the side the avoid the blow, but the head of the hammer still managed to land on my shoulder. There was a smack, a crack, and a shot of hot pain like I’d never felt before.

I screamed, falling to the ground with the zombie on top of me. But unlike me, the undead creature wasn’t the least bit fazed by pain and wasted no time going for my flesh. I barely had the presence of mind to thrust my hand to its throat, my grip holding it back. My shoulder throbbed as I twisted my body violently, using my superior strength to sweep and reverse our positions.

The zombie had lost its grip on the hammer, so it instead tried to claw at me from the bottom, its hands futilely slapping against my helmet. I gripped its neck tight, putting the full weight of my body on it, but I knew I couldn’t expect to kill it with just a choke. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the hammer, but it was too far away to reach, especially with my free shoulder compromised.

So instead, I slammed my head down on its face. The satisfying crunch of its nose breaking and teeth shattering was music to my ears. I lifted my head high and smashed it down again, my grip on its neck keeping the zombie’s squirming head in place. The other zombie was crawling over, unsuccessfully attempting to bite into my thigh through my jeans. I ignored it, bringing my head down a third time as bits of gore obstructed my vision. My head was going dizzy, but I didn’t let that stop me. I slammed my head down a fourth, fifth, sixth, I lost count how many times until the zombie’s face turned into a splattered, unrecognizable mess.

Finally, the howling and struggling underneath me came to a stop. I quickly switched my attention to the zombie chewing at my leg. Its teeth still hadn’t managed to pierce through the denim, but I could feel my muscles underneath being crushed by the force of its bite.

I hammered my fist down on its head. It refused to let go, viciously ripping its head from side to side like a crocodile. I twisted away in a roll, feeling my muscles tear as I pulled free of its bite. Several teeth went flying out of its mouth, a few still lodged into the fabric of my pants. I snagged the nearby hammer and surged to my feet, wincing as I put weight on my injured leg.

The zombie growled as it followed suit, but it was too slow. The moment it reached its feet, I swung my hammer. The blow missed its forehead, but slammed into its open mouth. Its jaw cracked and split, hanging loose as it pathetically mimicked a bite. I brought the hammer down again before it had the chance to come forward, this time caving in its skull. It froze, its tongue still dangling out of its mouth, then fell dead to the side.

I gasped for breath as I stared at the two brutalized corpses lying on the floor. There was a pregnant moment where I half-expected both of them to begin rising once more, but they instead began to disintegrate simultaneously, just like the zombie I’d killed on the street.

I sighed so heavily it came out my mouth as a groan. I fell back against the wall. My breath came in heaves, and I started becoming conscious of the pain again. Everything fucking hurt; my leg, my arm, my head, and especially my fucking shoulder.

But maybe I didn’t have much room to complain. This was my fault. I’d gotten overconfident. I’d underestimated these assholes and now I had to consider myself lucky just to be alive.

I managed to shuffle over to the bed before my body collapsed. At this point, I felt so exhausted I wasn’t sure I’d even react if another zombie trudged into the room to finish me off. My brain was still recovering from those headbutts and my stomach was nauseous. There was also ringing in my ears I really hoped wouldn’t be permanent. I definitely had a concussion. Possibly multiple. The expected result of using your head to administer blunt force trauma, I suppose. I lifted my arm slightly, but hissed in pain and immediately let it plop back down. Pretty sure my shoulder was broken. At the very least, it sure hurt like a bitch.

And now I still had two more of those damned things to kill.

Fuck.

With the final remnants of my energy, I pulled out my phone to check if any new messages would be waiting for me this time. There were two.

Zombie (Schemer) slain: +22 XP Daily Quest I progress: +20% (2/5) Zombie (Creeper) slain: +2 XP Daily Quest I progress: +20% (3/5)

I squinted at the extra 2 in the first message. No, I wasn’t seeing double; that first zombie I’d killed—the one who’d taken my hammer—had given me eleven times the XP of the other one. Schemer, it said... so it was a different kind of zombie? I tapped on it for more information.

Creature: Zombie (Schemer) Type: Humanoid, Undead (Tier 0 Elite) Description: Superior zombie variant. Has no distinct physical characteristics to differentiate it from the routine Creeper variant, but does possess a significantly improved mental capacity compared to other Tier 0 and Tier I Zombie variants. Capable of issuing commands to Tier 0 and Tier I Zombie variants.

An improved mental capacity... so now I was dealing with intelligent zombies? Well, isn’t that just fucking peachy? At least that explained why it was capable of wielding a weapon, and... was it just a fluke, or had the thing set up a trap for me? An ambush using the other zombie as distraction to attack me from behind and steal my weapon. That was a chilling thought, but if the “schemer” really was intelligent and capable of commanding other zombies, it certainly made sense. It wasn’t a particularly complex maneuver, but zombies being capable of even that level of strategizing was a terrifying idea.

And there was a second, possibly even more ominous consideration. The description of the schemer implied the existence of other superior zombie variants. If the schemers covered the mental aspect, then the natural assumption had to be that these other variants would have physical enhancements. That in itself sounded dire enough, but if they could be commanded by these intelligent variants, well... that certainly didn’t bode well for me.

In a sense, then, I could probably even say I’d gotten lucky in encountering this particular schemer with only one other regular zombie nearby for it to command. Of course, if I had any real luck, I never would have encountered the thing in the first place, or even be in this fucked up situation to begin with.

Well, bitching about it now wasn’t going to accomplish anything. I exited out of the screen to the main menu to check my status.

Ryan Slater Species Subspecies Classification Primary Path Primary Title Secondary Title Human None Tier 0 Chosen None None None Attributes Innate Equipment Titles Perks Boons Afflictions Total Constitution +5 -- -- -- -- -10% 5 Strength +6 -- -- -- -- -25% 5 Agility +4 -- -- -- -- -20% 3 Dexterity +5 -- -- -- -- -40% 3 Willpower +1 -- -- -- -- -15% 1 Intelligence +1 -- -- -- -- -- 1 Foundational Paths (0/1) Ancillary Paths (0) Skills (0/3) Abilities (0/3) Perks (0/2) Talents (0) Boons (0) Afflictions (3) Minor Concussion (Trauma) Moderate Clavicle Fracture (Trauma) Level II Zombification (Infection) Powers Innate Equipment Titles Perks Boons Afflictions Total Health 85/100/100(%) -- -- -- -- -- 85/100/100(%) Regeneration +.015%/hr -- -- -- -- -- +.015%/hr Resistances Innate Equipment Titles Perks Boons Afflictions Total Equipment Slot Equipped item Main-Hand -- Off-Hand -- Head -- Torso -- Neck -- Hands -- Finger -- Legs -- Feet --

I snorted. I felt like absolute shit, but apparently all these injuries only accounted for 15% of my Health. I guess that made sense—it wasn’t like I was actually in danger of dying from these wounds, at least not directly. I suppose the affliction minuses to my attributes were meant to reflect my injuries? Let’s see, a concussion and a clavicle fracture... at least they were only considered “minor” and “moderate,” whatever the criteria for judging that was.

It was then that I finally noticed that my infection status had also changed. Level II zombification. Well that didn’t sound good. With some trepidation, I tapped on it.

Affliction: Level II Zombification Affliction Type: Infection (Tier I) Effect: Advances to Complete Zombification 1 hours after infection time (time remaining: 56:14). May elevate to higher levels of Zombification upon experiencing further infection incidences. Treatment Method(s): Can be remedied using a Zombification Cure. Persistence Rating: 3

Ah, shit. Now how the fuck did that happen? My eyes drifted to the wound on my thigh. The whole area was throbbing in pain, but I hadn’t thought too much of it since it felt more like a bruise than a cut. Propping my knee up, I saw that the jeans had been slightly torn. Not enough to let a full bite through, but through the tears, I could see small abrasions on my skin, barely enough to even cause a bleed. Apparently, that was all it took.

Well fuck me, I guess. I blew out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. My body was still begging me to stay put and enjoy the meager comfort of the bed, but I forced myself up to a sitting position. Injured or not, if I wanted to stay alive, I had no choice but to keep moving.