Zombies Attack!

by Mark Cheverton

  Watcher gasped when he saw the armor; it looked like a relic from the ancient times in the Far Lands; Cutter had to be careful.

  “Yes … Ro-Zar remembers that pathetic villager begging for mercy after being abandoned.” The zombie general stepped forward and drew his enchanted iron sword. The glowing blade splashed iridescent light on the walls of the abandoned church.

  “I didn’t abandon him!”

  “That villager had to fight alone, I remember.” He took another step forward. “Explain, villager, how was it that Ro-Zar could so easily deliver the fatal blow to your comrade? Was it because the doomed villager was alone, with no one to watch his back?”

  “No!” Cutter shouted.

  The zombie laughed. “First this warrior abandons his friend in the forest, and now he leads these villagers with him to their doom. Who is the bigger fool: the one that leads his friends to their destruction, or the idiotic NPCs that follow him?” He glanced at the shadows to his left and right. “Skeletons!”

  The clattering of bones filled the room as a group of skeletons emerged from the darkness. Watcher and his companions gasped. At least six of the creatures moved into the light, their bony faces all staring at Cutter.

  “Oh no,” Watcher said.

  Cutter glanced over his shoulder and glared at Watcher, but the young archer ignored the warrior. Instead, he glanced at the skeletons, taking careful note of their positions, before turning to sprint for the shadows near the wall.

  “It figures,” Cutter growled. “I always knew you were a coward, Watcher.”

  “Ha ha ha,” Ro-Zar laughed. “Now, it is time for your destruction. Skeletons … ready.” The skeletons raised their bows. “Aim …” They drew back their arrows and pointed them at Cutter.

  Suddenly, Watcher’s pointed shafts streaked out of the darkness. He stood on a small tower he built, and was firing as fast as he could draw his string back. The skeletons were shocked by the sudden barrage and returned fire into the darkness, even though they were not sure where their target was standing.

  Cutter and Blaster took advantage of the confusion and charged at the bony monsters. Blaster disappeared into the shadows, slashing at the skeletons while Planter advanced, arrows bouncing off her glowing green and white shield. A few arrows clanged harmlessly off Cutter’s iron chest plate, and the NPC ignored him. His eyes were glued to Ro-Zar as he advanced.

  Their swords clashed together, making a deafening sound that shook the entire church. The monster tried to kick at Cutter with a booted foot, but the big warrior stepped out of the way. His diamond sword flashed through the air, striking the monster’s ornate, iron armor.

  “You have no place to run this time, zombie,” Cutter growled.

  Ro-Zar moaned, lowering his guard for just an instant. When Cutter advanced, the zombie stepped to the side and brought his sword down onto Cutter’s shoulder. The NPC screamed out in pain, then blocked another attack as he moved away.

  While the two behemoths battled, Blaster tore into the skeleton’s HP while Watcher fired down upon them. Planter, with Needle held out before her, ran toward the skeletons.

  “Planter … no!” Watcher screamed.

  But she didn’t heed his warning. Instead, she charged at the monsters. Some of the skeletons turned their bows from Watcher to her, but her shield was nearly impenetrable. She crashed into the monsters, using her shield as a battering ram, knocking monsters to the ground. With a flick of her wrist, she moved her narrow blade at incredible blades, knocking the arrows from the air. Slashing with all her strength, the young girl fell upon the closest skeleton, tearing into the monster’s HP. The skeleton tried to fire back in defense, but her sword was too quick, swatting away the projectiles like harmless flies. With one last swing of Needle, Planter took the last of the monster’s HP. Screaming out in pain and despair, he disappeared with a pop, confusion and sadness in his dark eyes.

  Watcher fired at the next skeleton, his arrow destroying that monster’s HP. Without hesitation, he turned his bow to the other skeletons while Blaster worked on them from behind. In a minute, all the skeletons in the room were destroyed, leaving only the general and Cutter, locked in a dance of death.

  Notching an arrow to his bowstring, Watcher drew it back and aimed at the commander, but the combatants were moving around too quickly; he was unable to get a clear shot off.

  Jumping down from his perch, he approached with an arrow ready to fire. Cutter saw him out of the corner of his eye and shook his head.

  “None of you interfere,” the big warrior commanded. “This monster is mine. I’m the one that will punish him for hurting all those villagers.”

  The zombie growled, then lunged at Cutter’s chest. The villager spun to the side, deflecting the sword with his diamond blade, then slashed at the beast. Ro-Zar retreated, bringing his sword up in defense, but Cutter’s blade was already there. Watcher looked on in amazement as Cutter advanced with a flurry of attacks that were so fast they were difficult to even see.

  The general kept retreating, but he had no place to go. Cutter kept up the attack, slowly destroying the monster’s ancient armor. The iron chest plate fell to the ground, a large section cracking into pieces. Pushing his attack, the NPC continued to strike the zombie, tearing into his iron leggings, then attacking the monster’s chest and side. Screams of pain filled the chamber as the two warriors battled, the zombie landing the occasional hit on Cutter, but the villager connecting four times for every one he received.

  Finally, with the zombie on his last legs, Cutter knocked the monster’s enchanted sword from his hands. It skidded across the ground. “You move and it’s over,” Cutter said in a loud voice.

  The zombie general froze in place and waited for the final blow to arrive.

  “We have questions, zombie,” Blaster said. “And if you answer them, you will survive to see another day. But if you lie to us, it will go poorly for you.”

  Cutter stepped forward and kicked the monster’s fallen chest plate across the room. It skidded across the wooden floor, then clunked into the wall. Putting his diamond sword back into his inventory, the big NPC moved closer to the zombie general, a look of anger glowing in his steel-gray eyes.

  “Are the prisoners still here?” Cutter asked.

  “Go look and see what you find.” Ro-Zar’s raspy voice was weak.

  Blaster pressed one of his knives against the zombie’s side, reminding the monster of its sharp tip.

  Blaster whispered into the monster’s ear. “Answer him.”

  The zombie general mumbled something, but it was too soft to hear. Ro-Zar looked up at Cutter, then mouthed something so quietly that it was barely a trickle of sound out of the zombie’s mouth.

  “What did you say?” Cutter asked.

  The zombie mumbled again, his deep, guttural voice impossible to understand.

  Cutter moved closer as the monster general continued to mumble. He turned his head to bring his ear close, straining to hear. Suddenly, Ro-Zar shoved Blaster backward, hard, sending him flying. He then reached into his inventory and drew another iron sword with lightning speed. He raised the weapon, its keen edge heading for Cutter before the big warrior could draw his diamond sword.

  Suddenly, an arrow zipped in front of Cutter and hit the zombie. It was followed by two more shafts, piercing the last of the general’s HP. He disappeared with a pop, a confused look being the last thing that was on his scarred face, his sword clattering to the floor.

  Cutter turned and glared at Watcher. “I was supposed to be the one to destroy him.”

  “He would have hit you with his sword. I just fired out on instinct.”

  The warrior glared at Watcher, anger filling his eyes. “Well, next time, have a little better control of your instincts.”

  The big NPC stood and stomped away.

  Blaster moved to the zombie’s iron sword and put it into his inventory, then kicked the enchanted blade to Watcher.

  “What am I supposed to do
with that?”

  Blaster shrugged. “There might come a time when you need a sword. It’s better to have one and not need it, than the other way around.”

  “I guess.” Watcher bent over and picked up the blade, then stuck it into his inventory.

  “There’s a set of stairs over here,” Cutter said from the far side of the church. “I’m going down to check it out. Maybe that’s where all the prisoners are being kept.”

  “Wait for us,” Watcher said, even though he knew Cutter wouldn’t listen.

  The three companions ran to the far side of the church. In the corner, they found a tunnel carved in the floor, plunging into the darkness. There were no torches in the passage, and only the sound of Cutter’s descending boots floated up from the opening.

  “I guess we need to go down and see if any of our friends or families are still there,” Watcher said.

  He glanced at Planter. The expression on her face mirrored his own … What if they were … dead? The thought pounded away at his courage, but he knew they had to find out. Gripping his bow tight in his hand, he took a first step, but before he’d gone further, Cutter emerged from the shadows, an expression of frustration and anger on his square face.

  “It’s empty,” the warrior said. “They’re all gone.”

  “What?” Watcher’s hopes sank. “My dad and sister?”

  “I told you, there’s nothing down there.” Cutter stepped out of the stairway, Watcher on his heels. “No villagers and no items. The zombies already took the prisoners to their next destination.”

  “The zombie fortress,” Blaster said.

  “Probably.” Cutter glared at Watcher. “And our zombie prisoner is gonna take us there. Now let’s get going. We still have a warlord to catch.”

  Tu-Kar watched as a zombie guard swung his sword at the villager, hitting the exhausted captive with the flat side of the blade and making him stumble to the ground. An NPC with long brown hair, a young girl, reached down and helped the man to his feet. She then slung an arm over her shoulders and helped him to walk.

  The collection of prisoners had grown since the last two raids. Other zombie groups had brought their prisoners to the church, as instructed, adding to the total number. Now, the prisoners neared a hundred in size, almost as many as the zombies.

  If they try to rise up and fight, it will be difficult stopping them, Tu-Kar thought. The zombie warlord glared at the rabble as they passed, each NPC averting their eyes.

  He chuckled at their cowardice.

  “These prisoners move too slow.” Tu-Kar turned to one of his zombie generals. “They must be made to move faster.”

  “It is the weak and injured that slow progress.” The commander stood tall in his iron armor, a razor-sharp blade in his hand. “If the army goes too fast, some will die.”

  “Tu-Kar does not care! The army will reach the zombie fortress soon, but many of these villagers will be too weak to be of any use to Kaza. It will be dangerous if the zombies bring that hateful king NPCs that cannot dig and tunnel.”

  “Why must the prisoners be brought to Kaza?” the general asked.

  “Tu-Kar thought the arrangement was clear,” the zombie warlord replied.

  The zombie just shrugged, his tiny brain apparently unable to remember the plan.

  “The more gold that is given to Kaza, the more iron weapons and armor are given to the zombies,” Tu-Kar said. “When the zombie army has enough iron for all warriors, then Tu-Kar will lead the horde across the Far Lands, and take over everything. With this enchanted chain mail that was a gift from Kaza, all zombies will work together and flock to my side. Soon, we will have the greatest zombie army ever seen in the Far Lands.

  “From the ancient histories, it is known that the villagers have risen up against the monsters countless times. Tu-Kar will not let the NPCs sneak up on our zombie-towns and attack our wives and children. This time, the zombie nation will be ready. Keeping our families safe from the aggression of the villagers means everything, and Tu-Kar is going to make it happen. But to defeat the villagers and the other monsters, weapons and armor are needed. Kaza is the key to getting what we need.”

  “This zombie understands,” the general said, though Tu-Kar could see the idiotic monster was still confused.

  It’s too bad this magical chain mail couldn’t make the zombies smarter as well as obedient, the zombie warlord thought.

  “We must move quicker. Tu-Kar has a command for all zombies.” The warlord’s enchanted chain mail grew bright as he spoke the order. “If there are any villagers too weak to walk or to work, they are to be left behind. Let them starve.”

  His armor pulsed once, sending the command to all his zombies. Instantly, the monsters began pulling the elderly and the grievously wounded villagers out of formation, then pushed them to the edge of the road.

  Tu-Kar turned and scanned his collection of prisoners. He spotted an old man that was nearly bald, a paltry ring of gray hair around the edge of his scalp. A tall villager in a cleric’s smock, white with a gray stripe, and a young girl dressed in forest green with a brown stripe, were helping the old man to walk, but it was slow progress. “There, that one,” Tu-Kar said, pointing with a sharp black claw. “Leave that one behind.”

  A group of zombies approached and yanked the old man from the formation and shoved him to the ground.

  “Please, leave us some food,” one of the wounded villagers said.

  “Food … ha.” Tu-Kar pointed his iron sword at the exhausted NPCs. “No stew for you!” The zombie glanced at the guards. “Give none of the decrepit villagers any stew nor bread; it will not be wasted on those that cannot work.” He glared at the discarded prisoners. “Blame your ancestors for attacking the monsters over and over. It’s time for payback.”

  The warlord motioned to one of the zombies. The creature approached the villager, then kicked him hard with his iron boot. The NPC fell back, flashing red one last time, then disappeared.

  “Archer … NO!” An NPC woman started to run to the fallen villager, but her friends held her back.

  Tu-Kar glared at the woman, pointing at her with a dark claw. He then spoke in a low, raspy voice, but none had trouble hearing his words. “Get back in line and keep walking.”

  The other villagers quickly pulled the woman to them, then turned and continued walking down the road, the zombie guards around them growling and moaning.

  “Make them speed up,” the warlord shouted. “These prisoners are due at our fortress, and nothing will be allowed to delay us, not even the life of a villager.”

  The zombies growled excitedly, then poked the prisoners with the tips of their claws, urging them toward their doom.

  Blaster, in his green leather armor, ran silently ahead of the company, looking for threats along the grassy trail. After leaving the church, they quickly found evidence of the zombie horde. Now they followed the monster trail, moving fast to catch up to their prey.

  Footprints from the zombies were clearly evident on the ground, their clawed feet tearing tufts of grass from the soil, leaving them scattered about. He was about to run farther ahead when a moaning sound floated out of the forest. He glanced back at Cutter, then drew his knives and crossed them over his head.

  Instantly, the other three ran forward with weapons drawn. Cutter charged down the center of the road while Planter took the right side, leaving Watcher to the left. The archer pulled on the rope tied to Er-Lan, forcing the zombie to keep up.

  “What is it?” Cutter whispered as he neared.

  “I heard moaning in the forest, over there.” Blaster pointed with one of his knives.

  Then the moan came to them again.

  “That is not a zombie moan,” Er-Lan whispered to Watcher.

  The boy pulled the zombie to Planter, then handed her the rope.

  “Er-Lan says it’s not a zombie.” Watcher drew an arrow and notched it to his bow. “It must be a villager who needs help.”

  “Don’t believe anything tha
t zombie tells you.” Cutter glared at the creature. “All those creatures can do is lie.”

  But Watcher didn’t wait. He moved into the woods, his sharp eyes searching the shadows for movement. A green shape streaked through the forest to the left; Watcher figured it was Blaster. Stepping carefully around shrubs and fallen branches, he continued his quiet approach. Light from the afternoon sun streamed through the overhead foliage, at times looking like shafts of gold as they pierced the canopy. All the animals in the forest seemed eerily quiet as the rustling leaves stilled; it was as if the forest itself was holding its breath. But then, the sound of banging iron broke the silence as Cutter blundered ahead, his armor like a loud bell.

  A weak voice spoke out. “Over here.”

  Watcher turned toward the sound and approached, arrow ready to fire.

  “It might be a trap,” a voice said next to him.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he found Blaster grinning at him, his green armor merging almost completely with the leafy background.

  They approached the voice, weapons held at the ready. The sounds of clanking iron moved away; likely Cutter hadn’t heard the voice with all the noise he was making.

  “I’m here.”

  Blaster turned and sprinted off to the right, circling around the voice while Watcher kept going straight. A trickling of water could be heard over the rustling of the leaves; a stream flowed nearby. Watcher moved behind a large oak, then peered around the trunk. There was movement on the banks of the stream ahead. He ran to the next tree, carefully stepping around leaves and twigs. The sound of the stream was getting louder.

  “Help me. If someone’s there, please … I need help.”

  Watcher stepped around the tree and moved into the clearing that lined the banks of the stream. He pulled his bowstring back, ready to fire. Then he stepped out from behind the tree and took aim.

  Lying near the edge of the stream was an old man dressed in a tan smock, a red stripe running down the center. He was almost completely bald, with a thin ring of gray hair running around the sides and back of his head. By the clothing, Watcher knew this was a mapper.