Blood Is As Thick As Blood
Lucas pulls the jeep around in a U-turn and parks it opposite where you saw the zombie girl. You exit with Lucas and Rosie, but the engineer stays in the vehicle, exhausted from the tower climb. The young girl meanders by the woodline and shuffles toward you as you walk toward her. She’s in much better condition than most, but clearly no longer among the living.
“Is that her?” Rosie asks.
Lucas Tesshu nods his head, his eyes thick with tears. “Imouto,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion.
The girl responds with a raspy moan, her arms stretched out for an embrace. Lucas actually stretches his arms out to greet her, not seeing her for the fiend she is. You stop him with a hand to his chest, and he stays put, but his arms continue to reach forward. “Please,” he cries.
“You have to kill her,” Rosie says. “You owe it to her.”
“No, she’s okay. She won’t hurt me. Please. Imouto…”
• “Rosie, help me get him back in the jeep. We can leave his sister be—what’s only one more zomb?”
• “Rosie’s right, Lucas. This is the only way to move on. Your sister’s suffering, living like this.”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
The Brave
No hesitation—you lunge forward and pull her out. The zombie stays latched onto her hair, but somehow she doesn’t scream. The weight on that ponytail must be immense; the ghoul was probably 180 pounds in his pre-corpse days, and now he’s loaded down with swamp water as well.
She gasps for breath and holds onto your forearms helplessly. The expression on her face is that of someone who thinks they’re about to die, but can’t admit it. Lucas was moving before you, though you were closer, so he arrives just after you pull her out. He slices at the hand, severing it at the wrist, and with the same move, dispatches the zombie.
Rosie hacks out wet coughs full of swamp water. She finds her rifle and her composure. “That wasn’t smart, coming after me like that,” she says to you. “You could’ve been bit.”
“Are you all right?” he asks.
She nods, coughing still. “I swallowed some swampwater, but other than that…”
“No bites?”
Rosie moves her rifle defensively between her and the man. “No bites,” she says, all business.
“Then I’d say we’re even,” Lucas replies. “There’s supposed to be a sanctuary just outside these marshes—”
“So you’ve heard of it too!” She’s wide-eyed and excited.
“We’re supposed to reach it in only an hour or two!” You reply, sharing the return of her youthful vigor.
“Then let’s walk!” She sets off, not waiting for an answer.
Lucas hangs back for a moment, then whispers to you, “Bravery is acting when you should be afraid. I have been practicing Bushido the whole of my life, so doing right comes easy for me. What I am trying to say is…Well done. You make me proud to be your companion.”
He smiles, shakes your hand, then heads off to fall in line behind Rosie.
• To the compound!
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Bravery’s Reward
You bash the zombie attacking Sims, splashing its brains all over his face. Sims fumbles to get his slingshot back out, but a man and a woman take his arms and do their best to pull him apart. You kill these two as well, but now the hall is nothing more than shoulder-to-shoulder undead.
Like a human ant colony, they swarm upon you and Sims in a coordinated effort of flesh-eating frenzy. Sims won’t go down alone, so at least you die with honor. And there won’t be enough left of you to rise again, as the hellions scramble to get a taste.
THE END
Bring Me My Brown Pants
You shove the unisex bathroom door open, only to be greeted by an undead girl lunging at you. Like a rabid dog on a leash, chained to the toilet’s handicapped rail, she slams backward under her own momentum. She falls just short of your face with her bite.
Well, at least you don’t have to go to the bathroom anymore.
• Close the door and explore the other hall.
• Kill her and keep going.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Brutal is the Survivor
You tug the rope, releasing the cluster of heavy furniture from the nets above. The slam upon the landing is so forceful you don’t hear the crunch of Tyberius and the zombies. At least you’re granted that small mercy.
Cooper rises to her feet, still nursing the bruised flesh of her neck. “Goddamn, Newbie. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
• “Let’s just go find the others.”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Buy (or Loot) Local
“Close, quick, easy in and out. I like the way you think,” Deleon says, a finger tapping his lip as he muses. “Low inventory might be a problem, but it should at least tide us over. Let’s do it.” He stabs his finger at you with approval before he starts walking. “There’s a really nice market a couple of blocks away. Well, the mini-mart is closer, but the other place stocks organic, so I usually—”
He stops at your look: Really? “Right, let’s just go to the gas station pharmacy.”
As you walk down the streets behind Deleon, you’re consumed with the eerie feeling you’re being watched. Shadows move about behind windows—survivors or undead? You don’t feel like waiting to find out. You’re overtaken with panicked thoughts. Where will you sleep tonight? What if everyone is already dead? What happens when all the canned food is gone? Is anyone still farming? Maybe a fishing boat…
“Get down!” Deleon whispers forcefully. You slide behind a wrecked and overturned car. Your backs are hot against the cool blue metal. “Another infected, next intersection.” Another infected? Is he referring to himself as one of them?
You peer under the inverted hood of the car. There is indeed a zombie not fifty feet away. He looks unharmed and well-dressed. A pot-gut, wears a cowboy hat, sequined shirt, and boots. Maybe a country music producer or an oil tycoon; he could be from the original strain, having dosed himself with the drug in search of immortality only to receive it in the most ironic form possible. There’s none of the I-just-got-off-a-horse swagger you know he exuded in life. In death, he shuffles.
“If you used the cure on him, would he…?” you ask.
Deleon shakes his head. “As of yet, I can’t reverse the trend. I’ve only found pause. Not even stop, much less rewind.”
The zombie ambles toward you. Has he made you out? Deleon peers over the underside of the car. “Look how he moves. A pure automaton, like Boris Karloff as Frankenstein’s Monster, but real—flesh and bone, living and yet not.”
The ghoul’s mouth drops and his arms raise like bars at a tollbooth letting cars go through. His moan permeates the air. Another undead rounds the corner toward the call, this one a mother with a baby zombie strapped to her chest in a Babybjörn. The two reach out and moan in unison, stumbling toward you. The little bundle is the spitting image of momma.
“Umm, Doc?” you ask, more than a little worried. You strangle the fire axe.
“Look—communication! Primitive as it may be, but… they seem to be alerting one another, perhaps as they find prey.”
“That’s us!” you say, shaking him out of his impartial observations. You stand, axe in hand, prepared to do battle. The mom and tot come around to your side, while Tex heads toward Deleon. Do you attack the baby or the mother?
• Baby zombie gives me the creeps. I’ve got the ultimate pacifier, time to use it.
• Mom. Why would I take out the one that’s only ten pounds two ounces of terror?
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Bystander Effect
You watch while she sinks beneath the mire, but Lucas does not. He flies over to aid her, practically skimming across the water’s surface.
He locks in on the commotion in the moor and sinks his blade into the water right where Rosie went down. With quick, clean movements he cuts at something beneath the surface.
“Here!” he shouts, tossing you his blade. You look at the sword, its fine edge coated in viscera and algae.
From beneath, the man pulls up Rosie; she coughs up water and holds onto her hero with panic. Her eyes are wide and black sludge pours out of her mouth.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
She nods, coughing still. “I swallowed some swampwater, but other than that…”
“No bites?”
Rosie moves her rifle defensively between her and the man. “No bites,” she says, all business.
“Then I’d say we’re even,” Lucas replies.
She nods. “Fair enough. There’s supposed to be a compound north of here. Civilian-owned, but paramilitary-run. They were broadcasting before the networks went down.”
Lucas smiles. “We’re headed there ourselves.”
“Then let’s get going!” she says, her youthful spunk completely back. She begins walking out of the marsh.
Lucas hangs back, claiming his sword from you. He whispers, “How could you just stand there? Her life was… I don’t think she knows, and I won’t say anything, but you need to reassess your priorities. We’re about to join a community and you’ll be expected to help.”
He shakes his head in disappointment and falls in line behind her.
• To the compound!
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Cabin Fever
Gas is running low, and the only service station you passed was on fire. This cabin had better be stocked. There’s a big sign on the road: “CABINS – Turn Here.” You’re wondering how many people already had this idea.
You turn down the dirt road, your car rising and falling with the grooves in the trail. It’s twilight, and your bobbing headlights probably look like a lighthouse beacon to anyone—or anything—nearby. Soon you make it to the first cabin. You park, turn off your engine, and claim your weapons: a knife and a hammer.
Moment of truth: time to find out who or what’s in there. With a deep breath, you step out into the open wilderness and walk over toward the cabin. It’s that perfect time of evening where you can’t see anything. Just enough light so your eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness, but not enough to see the details.
You go around to the passenger side of your car and claim a flashlight from the glove box. You don’t want any surprises. Being deliberately cautious, you step gingerly toward the cabin door. There’s a padlock on the outside; that’s a good sign. You should be safe, unless someone locked an infected family member inside. It takes a bit of leverage, but by using your hammer, the lock finally breaks loose.
You push the door open, scanning with your flashlight and weapon at the ready. It doesn’t take you long… no one is here. The cabin is small, with a kitchen connected to the main room and a bedroom/bathroom off to the side. Time to look for supplies.
The kitchen has a few nonperishables: kernels for popcorn, chicken bouillon cubes, and three packs of gravy mix. There’s also a sack of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and a chocolate bar. You slide all of this into a backpack.
There are several implements with which to light a fire sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. You take these too. Iron fire poker? Could come in handy. On the wall, there’s a mounted first aid kit. You’re in the middle of raiding it when you hear the door creak open behind you.
You turn around to see a man wearing a fishing vest. There’s dried blood around his mouth and more bodily fluid flecked across his chest. He’s happy to see you.
• Time to try this new fire poker out.
• That hammer worked so well on the lock, why mess with a good thing?
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Cafeteria á la Command Post
Deleon spreads out a blueprint of the school across one of the tables. He holds a walkie-talkie in his right hand and waits, studying the blueprint, soaking in the details. “The barricades should hold, but who knows for how long?” he announces. “We should push the tables up against the cafeteria entrance when they get back.”
Cooper unfurls a blanket filled with tools from shop class. “Newbie, help Guillermo and me out. Board up the windows.”
You nod and claim a hammer. There are a lot of windows. Why’d the planners have to give these kids so much goddamned sunlight? You hammer away, listening with one ear as Deleon communicates with the guys.
“Area One, clear,” Tyberius reports in.
“Copy that, come on back. Hefty, are you in position?”
“Area Two, clear,” Hefty calls.
“All right, Hefty. Bring it home. Sims, what’ve you got?”
“Area Three, clear.”
“Copy Area Three clear, hurry back.” Deleon sets down the radio and scours over the blueprints once more.
• Finish boarding up the cafeteria as the guys head back.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Call in the Cavalry
Back out on the platform, you take turns slaying whatever undead make it to the top. They start to arrive in thicker numbers, and your ammo supply dwindles quickly, making you question the merit of trapping yourself atop the tower of terror. There’s no fighting your way down now; that option has long expired.
Just as you think your demise might be nigh, the thick rumble of an engine purrs in the distance. You make out a single vehicle speeding down the road toward you. That’s it? That’s your rescue, one vehicle? As it gets closer, you make out that it’s a military Humvee and something on the back is… moving.
Then the tail erupts with life, a bright light bursting forth followed momentarily by a supersonic roar. That “something” on the back is a turret, and the machine gun blasts apart the undead in droves.
“That’s our cue!” Rosie says, jumping with excitement.
Lucas lets out a massive roar, and you’re unsure if it’s just a battle cry or an actual word in Japanese, but you’re shocked nonetheless to hear such a sound boom forth from the normally calm and collected swordsman. He runs forward and leaps at the nearest zombie, flying at it through the air and delivering a powerful kick squarely on the ghoul’s chest. The undead man lurches backward, knocked off his feet, and careens into the line behind him. They fall back and down the spiral staircase like dominoes.
Using the momentum, the three of you pound down the stairs. You take the lead, blasting the faces off of the stragglers. Rosie reaches the end of her ammunition supply just as you hit the ground. The Humvee does donuts on the airfield, Colonel Arthur Gray in the driver’s seat, the armory’s master-of-arms in the back hollering with joy as he blasts apart the undead with his massive .50-caliber weapon. Irving Grey snaps pictures from the front seat, catching the cranial explosions with crystal clarity.
Seeing you arrive, the colonel skids to a stop. “The doctor?”
You’re about to shake your head, when a window bursts out from the terminal. A woman leaps out and sprints hard toward you. She’s an attractive black woman in her late thirties, and she’s remarkably clean. The nearby zombies do their best to grapple her, but she’s athletic and runs around them. Despite the terrified look on her face, she moves with the determination of a survivor. “Wait!” she yells.
Colonel Gray takes an assault rifle from within the Humvee and cracks off shot after shot to keep the fiends at bay. The gunner in the back chews the crowd apart from the rear. Without wasting a moment, you go to your jeep, let the doctor in, and peel out to escape. The shambling forms have no chance of catching you as you speed away.
• Return to Salvation.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Camping is Intense
You did the best you could to hide your tent away from the road and used the landscape to shelter yourself. You’re not within eyeshot of your car—an obvious human container—and you’re hoping against hope no one will find you tonight. You set up around the crunchiest of leaves, a kitchen knife and hammer by your side.
Sleep isn’t coming easy; this is worse than going camping right after watching Blair Witch. Even the wind sets those
infernal leaves to dancing. You left the bottom portion of the zipper undone; just in case you need to make a quick escape. You also—something you’re proud to have thought of—rigged the top zipper with a bell to alert you when anyone tries to get in.
Now you’d better not have to pee in the middle of the night. Crunch. Was that just a—CRUNCH. Yep, something’s out there. Maybe it’s just an animal or a branch moving in the wind. Except the wind seems to be… groaning. Jingle, jingle.
Whatever it is hasn’t figured out that it needs to use your zipper. Which means it isn’t human. The groaning and pawing increases in intensity; you know what’s out there.
All your hopes of miraculously finding a government sanctuary unscathed peter out. Your heart pounds with ferocity. The time to act is now!
• Slice a hole in the other side and jackrabbit my way to the car before whatever’s out there knows I’ve even left.
• Grab my knife and prepare to go psycho on this z-bag.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Caution: Student Driver
Just a guess, but you haven’t spent too much time driving a military-grade Humvee through a farmer’s field while the dead try to eat you, right? So then the next bit probably shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise.
You plow forward, crushing corn husks like they’re grass and the undead like they’re merely… corn husks. Your gunner blasts away from behind, having the time of his life. You have to admit, this is pretty damn fun. Then he stops shooting.
He yells something, but you can’t hear him very well over the commotion of the vehicle. You turn back and shout, “What?” Suddenly the ride smoothes out significantly. That’s odd, there’s no longer the corn-crushing rumble that’s accompanied the drive thus far.
INFECTED (Click Your Poison) Page 3
