Zombies Attack!

by Mark Cheverton

  Watcher knew she was no match for the zombies. Without stopping to think, he drew his arrow back and fired. While it was still in flight, he fired again, then turned and shot at a zombie trying to attack Blaster from behind. He fired two more quick shots, then turned back to Planter’s opponent. His first two arrows hit the zombie in the gap where the chest plate connected to the leggings. The creature screamed in pain. He glared up at Watcher, then raised his sword as Planter drew near. Without thought, Watcher fired two more arrows at the monster. They hit the creature just as Planter attacked. The monster shrieked in pain, then disappeared when Needle fell upon the creature.

  Choosing other targets, Watcher shifted his aim, firing a trio of arrows at another zombie trying to sneak up on Cutter. The three shafts penetrated the monster’s leather armor, destroying its HP. The creature disappeared, a frightened moan on its lips. Now, only one of the monsters remained. It was surrounded, with Cutter in front and Blaster behind. Watcher ran off the roof and streaked toward the lone zombie.

  “Wait … don’t hurt that monster,” Watcher shouted as he approached. “We need information!”

  But he was too late. The monster feigned an attack to the left, then reached out with its razor-sharp claws, trying to tear into Cutter as it blocked the big NPC’s sword. Blaster moved forward, his knives a silvery blur. He shredded the last of the creature’s HP, causing the zombie to disappear with a look of despair on his scarred, decaying face.

  Watcher moved to Planter’s side.

  “Planter, are you okay?” Watcher asked.

  “Did you see him battle the zombies?” she said. “Cutter just went through them like they were made of paper. He was so fast, I didn’t even see him destroy them all. Those zombies didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Yeah … but did you see my arrows?” Watcher asked meekly.

  Planter didn’t seem to hear. She was moving toward some of the elderly and wounded, checking to see who she could help. Watcher liked that about her; she was always trying to help others.

  “Cutter, Blaster, come over here,” she shouted as she knelt next to an old man.

  Watcher followed the other two, and stood next to the elderly villager.

  Planter held a bottle of water up to the old man’s lips, giving him a drink. “Tell them what you told me.”

  “Well … I heard the zombie leader, I don’t remember his name …”

  “Tu-Kar, the zombie warlord,” Cutter said.

  “Yes, yes, that’s it, Tu-Kar.”

  He struggled to stand. Planter helped him up, then gave him an apple from her inventory.

  “Thank you, child.” The old man took a bite out of the apple, then continued. “Now where was I?”

  “Tu-Kar,” Blaster said with a scowl. “You were saying something about Tu-Kar.”

  “Yes, yes, I remember now,” the old man continued. “I heard the zombie warlord … what was his name … oh yes, Tu-Kar, that’s it. I heard Tu-Kar talking about gold. They took every bit of gold from the village, saying it would be used to make the zombie warlord the most feared monster in all of the Far Lands.”

  “Why would they want gold?” Cutter put away his sword and paced back and forth, lost in thought.

  “I heard the zombies saying something about gold when my village was destroyed,” Watcher added.

  “You look pretty much unharmed from that battle.” Cutter’s steel-gray eyes glared at Watcher. There was an accusatory tone to his voice.

  “Well … I …” he stammered.

  “It doesn’t matter right now,” the warrior said. “We need to find out where they’re taking all those villagers and figure out a way to rescue them.”

  “I agree,” Blaster added.

  “Maybe we need to think this through first,” Watcher suggested.

  “No,” Cutter snapped. “It’s time for action. We’re going after those villagers. This discussion is over.”

  Before Watcher could object, the warrior turned and headed out of the village, along the path taken by the zombie army. Blaster turned and followed the warrior without pause. Planter looked at Watcher, her stare feeling judgmental for some reason, then turned and also followed Cutter.

  “Well, I guess we’re going after the villagers now,” Watcher said in a low voice. “We don’t know where they’re going or why, but I guess following them is the right thing to do.”

  Watcher reached into his inventory and handed the old man what food he could spare. The villager smiled, then tossed apples and loaves of bread to the other NPCs, bowing in gratitude. Turning away from the old man, he followed his comrades, uncertainty filling every aspect of his being. They were chasing the massive zombie army with no idea what was really happening. A hundred unanswered questions bounced around in his head. Watcher remembered something his father, Cleric, told him a long time ago: “Action without thought is like using blocks of TNT to kill a monster in a crowded room. The TNT gets the job done, but can do more harm than the monster itself.”

  “I hope there’s no monster in the room when Cutter reaches his goal,” Watcher mumbled to himself, then gripped his bow tightly and sprinted after his friends.

  Watcher breathed heavily, the heat of the day feeling like a warm blanket lying across his body. The sun was now high in the sky, at its apex and shining bright as rectangular clouds moved smoothly across the blue tapestry overhead.

  “I feel bad for the villagers we left in that village,” Watcher said. “I left them some food, but I’m not sure how long that’s going to last.”

  “We can’t stay and help every charity case,” Cutter said.

  “They weren’t a charity case, they were villagers just like you and me!” Watcher snapped.

  “You’re wrong.” The big warrior glanced over his shoulder and sneered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those people back there decided to play the victim instead of standing up and doing something about their situation.” Cutter wiped sweat from his brown, then pulled out a bottle of water from his inventory and look a long drink.

  “They were elderly and wounded villagers,” Watcher said. “They didn’t choose that.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cutter said. “We need to keep chasing those zombies and free all their prisoners.”

  Watcher was exasperated. He’d tried to get Cutter to slow down and agree to a plan, but all the NPC wanted to do was chase the zombie army with no plan and nothing prepared.

  Watch out, there’s a monster in the room, a voice said in the back of Watcher’s mind … it sounded like something Cleric would say.

  “Cutter, tell us how you came to this village right when we needed you.” Planter stared at him, admiring his bright armor and shining sword.

  “A zombie army hit my village a few days ago,” Cutter said. “I’ve been hunting them for a while, and now I’ve finally found their trail.”

  “What happened?” Blaster moved up next to the warrior. “They take out your village like they did the last one?”

  Cutter cringed at the question.

  “Blaster, try to be a little sensitive,” Planter said.

  Blaster shrugged.

  “It’s okay, I can take it.” Cutter gave Blaster a nod. “Yeah, they took out my village alright. It was dusk and everyone was getting ready for the night. The first force hit us from the front. We actually smelled them before we saw them; you put a lot of zombies together and they really stink. Anyway, they attacked us and didn’t even try to hide their presence.”

  He took another drink from the water bottle, then put it away and continued walking along the grassy path.

  “Our warriors all stormed out when the alarm was sounded. But as soon as the zombies saw us, they turned and ran. The commander suggested we let them go, but …” He paused for a moment and looked off at the distant clouds, likely reliving the event. “But I insisted we give chase. I convinced everyone it was better to destroy an enemy rather than letting them get away and come back again.”
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  Cutter sighed.

  “So you went after them?” Planter asked.

  He nodded.

  “The same thing happened in our village,” Watcher said. “When they came—”

  “I get it … Your warriors made the same stupid mistake as ours did.” Cutter’s voice was monotone, almost emotionless, but they could all see the pained expression on his square face. “We followed those zombies into the forest until we caught them in a wide clearing.”

  “Did you destroy them all?” Blaster asked.

  Cutter shook his head. “They weren’t alone. Those zombies had friends waiting for us; it was a trap. As soon as we entered the clearing, monsters came at us from all sides. They outnumbered us by at least three to one. Our commander, Fisher, put us in a circle, and we tried to defend all sides, but there were just too many of them.”

  He looked at the diamond sword in his hand, and Watcher saw what looked like an expression of regret, or maybe it was guilt, flow across the warrior’s face.

  “I always wanted this sword, but not like this,” Cutter said, his voice almost a whisper. He looked up from the blade. “You see, I always wanted to be in command of our troops. The diamond sword was the symbol of that command. It’s been passed down from commander to commander for hundreds of years. No one even knew where it came from; it was just always there. Some say there’s something special about this blade, but it just seems like a sword to me.” He sighed. “When the village elders chose Fisher over me, I was furious. I yelled and screamed and called them all traitors. I was so foolish back then.”

  “Why did they give it to Fisher instead of you?” Planter asked.

  “They said I was too rash. They all knew I was the best fighter in the village; no one could beat me. But the elders said it took more than strength and skill with a blade to command. They said it took character and thoughtful caution, and maybe in time, I would earn the diamond sword. The elders said I wasn’t ready for the responsibility of command.”

  “That must have hurt so much.” Planter’s sympathetic voice eased Cutter’s tension a bit.

  “It did.” Cutter nodded. “But a good soldier keeps going, even when it’s difficult. So I accepted my orders, and bowed to my new commander, and followed his instructions every time. But when the zombies were at our doorstep, I told Fisher his plan to let the zombies escape was wrong, and insisted we give chase. The soldiers were hungry for a fight, and followed me into the woods instead of staying behind like their commander instructed.”

  He gritted his teeth as the memories of that moment hammered at his soul. Blaster put a reassuring hand on his shoulder; it was an unspoken acknowledgement of his pain.

  “When the zombies fell on us in that clearing, all the soldiers were with me, including Fisher. We fought hard, making the zombies pay. For every villager that fell, two or three zombies were destroyed, but it wasn’t enough. At the end, it was just me and Fisher surrounded by seven zombies. I charged at them rather than try to think up a plan with Fisher. I destroyed five of them when my friend and commander fell. The remaining two zombies fled. I’ll never forget the one that landed the last blow on Fisher. He was a big zombie, with a line of hair going down the center of his bald head. He wore elaborate iron armor and wielded an enchanted iron sword. The coward had screamed with a deep, guttural battle cry that was scratchy and ragged, then mortally wounded my friend. When I turned to face that monster, he growled something at me, then fled into the woods as Fisher fell to the ground.” He paused for a moment as the painful memory replayed itself within his mind. “But just before he died, Fisher said one last thing …”

  Cutter glanced to the ground and put a hand to his face. Watcher figured he was wiping away tears, but didn’t want anyone to know. The three of them looked away as they continued down the trail, giving the warrior a little privacy.

  “What did he say?” Blaster asked softly.

  “What?” Cutter raised his head.

  “Blaster!” Planter chided.

  After running his fingers through his tangled and disheveled hair, Blaster just shrugged and asked again. “What did Fisher say?”

  “Oh,” Cutter took a nervous breath. “Well … he said, ‘Have faith in yourself to know when to act and when to let another step forward and do what is needed. Trust in others and their strengths will be yours.’ And then all that was left of him was his armor and this diamond sword.”

  Cutter stopped speaking and lowered his gaze to the ground again. He didn’t seem to notice the small fern ahead of him on the trail. Without slowing or swerving, the big warrior crushed the delicate plant under his boots, unaware of its presence as if he were in some kind of trance. A tear trickled down his cheek but he quickly wiped it away. With gritted teeth, he looked up. It seemed as if Cutter was refusing to yield to the grief trying to overwhelm him. With a soft growl, he raised his head, all emotion driven from his square face.

  “This sword … it was what I wanted more than anything. And now I wish I could give it back to Fisher and beg his forgiveness. All those soldiers were destroyed because of me and my hasty decision to attack those zombies. There were no soldiers in our village when the rest of the zombies arrived. They were overrun. Countless NPCs, the elderly, the sick … they were all destroyed because of me. All my friends and neighbors were taken prisoner and are now with the zombie army or worse. I’m to blame for it all.”

  “Cutter, you can’t punish yourself for a single mistake,” Planter said. “We make the best decisions we can, and that’s what you did. But you can’t let your guilt devour you.”

  “You don’t get it, Planter.” The warrior’s voice grew in volume. “I’m not punishing myself … I’m gonna punish them.” He gripped the hilt of the diamond blade tightly in his hand. “Those monsters made a mistake by leaving me alive, and now it’s time for revenge. We’re gonna chase down the zombies, and find their warlord, then end his miserable life. Nothing will stop me from using this sword to avenge Fisher and all the villagers that have suffered under the tyranny of the zombies. This is a war and there is only one outcome … victory.”

  “Yeah!” Blaster exclaimed. “We’re gonna make those zombies pay.”

  “I’m with you, Cutter,” Planter said. “They’ve hurt my friends and family, too. Now it’s time to bring the hurt to the zombies.”

  They all glanced at Watcher, expecting him to support their violent plans. But instead of blurting out some kind of joyous statement about going to war, Watcher thought about everything he just heard. It seemed like they were rushing forward, following Cutter’s impulsive lead without giving it any thought. But he knew that if he suggested anything else, it would cause his friends to lose confidence in him, or even worse, abandon him. Watcher glanced at Planter’s excited face. She stared at Cutter as if he were some kind of mythical hero, the adoration clear in her bright green eyes.

  “Yeah … we’re gonna get ’em!” Watcher shouted, trying to seem excited and believable … but it just came out sounding ridiculous and sarcastic.

  Planter sighed, disappointed, and looked away.

  Watcher balled his hands into fists, frustrated.

  Everyone was silent for a while as they focused on their march. The group shifted from sprinting, to running, to walking, trying to close the distance on their prey. But it felt like they never drew any closer. Watcher inspected the grass and tried to estimate their distance from the zombie army ahead of them … the blades of grass took time to bend back upright after being trampled. It was clear the zombie army was marching fast and hard. That was unusual for zombies.

  “How are these zombies moving so quickly?” Watcher asked. “We all know zombies in the Far Lands don’t like working together, don’t like staying in a large group, and really hate running. All those things want to do is shuffle around with their arms outstretched, moaning day and night.”

  “Who cares,” Cutter replied, “as long as we catch them and destroy all of them. Why a zombie does anything isn�
�t important; destroying them is all that matters.”

  “But there’s something going on here that we don’t understand,” Watcher said. “Knowledge can be a powerful weapon.”

  “Did your knowledge help you back there with those zombies on the trail?” Cutter glared at the boy.

  “Well, I did shoot—”

  “Is your knowledge gonna help us catch up to the zombies?”

  “Well, I don’t know if—”

  “I thought so.” Cutter said it with a finality that suggested Watcher’s objections were done. “Let me give you some knowledge and then this discussion is done. We’re gonna chase the zombie army. When we catch them, we’re gonna set the prisoners free, then all of the villagers, led by me, are gonna destroy that zombie army once and for all. You got it?”

  Watcher lowered his gaze and stayed silent. He’d heard that tone from different bullies in his life before; what it meant was: If you speak another word, you’ll be sorry. And so Watcher stayed silent. But still, he felt something important was happening with the zombie army and their warlord.

  Why are the zombies working together? It goes against their very nature.

  Why are they looking for gold, and where are they getting the weapons and armor?

  Questions echoed within his mind, each pointing to something larger than just one zombie warlord with his own private army, going around terrorizing the countryside. There was something going on and he suspected there was a bigger threat lurking in the shadows. If they didn’t uncover that hidden threat before it was too late, then they all might be in trouble.

  He glanced at Planter and sighed. She was now walking right next to the big warrior, talking quietly with him. It made something bubble up within his soul. At first, he thought it was anger, but it felt different and focused inward on himself. And then he realized what it was he was feeling; it was jealously and distrust. Something about Cutter was dangerous, not just to the zombies, but to Watcher and his friends as well. But right now, there was nothing he could do about it except wait. He just hoped when it was time to act, he’d be brave enough … and it wouldn’t be too late.