Lair by Carl Stubblefield (recommended reading TXT) 📕

to Honolulu for family vacations, so the size became much easier to visualize. It would take a while to explore the whole island, especially on foot. He came back to his watering spot near his camp. He harvested more bamboo, and began dragging them back to his camp. Dropping them off, he scrubbed himself with sand and beach water until he could bear to smell himself again. He took a quick break to eat some coconut and eggs, and had an idea for the coconut shells.

He began encircling his camp with sharpened bamboo spears. He made holes and buried the spears as much as he could, having them angle up and outward. It wouldn’t do any good against an intelligent foe, but he added more and more spears until he made a decent enclosure against a stray Shambler. He broke the coconut shells he had finished eating into small shards. They made a loud *crack* when stepped on, so he scattered these on rocks past the enclosure where he couldn’t bury bamboo spears.

Satisfied with his work, he grabbed two eggs and a coconut to eat, and squeezed through two spears to make it to his reflection spot. While he relaxed in the spot he had watched the sunset yesterday, he tried to plan what he would do next.

Next level up, he would need more strength, in case he met more Shamblers. Gus often had dreams where he would fight someone and his punches against his opponents were weak and did no damage—his fight today reminded him of that same feeling. He had always been lanky and skinny, even when trying to exercise and bulk up. So far, he hadn’t noticed any big changes in regards to his perception boost. He hoped strength would be different. He watched the sunset while he ate, then rekindled the fire and turned in to sleep.

Chapter Eleven

Somebody’s Watching Me

Day 2 11:44 PM

12:13:08 remaining

He felt like he had just closed his eyes but he awoke, his heart beating rapidly with sweat on his brow. It was dark, with the barest of glimmers from the remains of his fire. He strained to hear something, anything, to explain why he was so on edge. The moon was half full, and provided some light in the dark, but not nearly enough.

He checked the time: 11:44 PM. A tab stood out on his display and seeing it, he found he could activate a night-vision filter on his display.

The world sprang to life in greater clarity, everything close glowing in a green hue. Gus grabbed Razorback and slowly stood, trying to see if anything would become apparent, but he saw nothing. As he turned to the beach, he thought he saw a flash of yellow.

Don’t do it, Gus. Don’t be stupid, you’ve watched too many zombie movies to do something like that. Still, he knew he couldn’t sleep knowing something was that close to him, so he worked one of the bamboo poles loose and stepped out toward the beach. He stepped on a coconut shell and the loud crack triggered the unmanliest of yelps. He froze, scanning to see if his outburst alerted anything, but after a tense minute, he resumed walking. Cursing under his breath, he watched his step and walked down to the beach. Small yellow spots moved along the sand. Much more nimble than the Shambler. As he stared at one, Wreck-ognize activated and he saw its info on the display:

Metacarcinus gracilis (aka Cancer gracilis)

A small edible crab.

HP: 12/12

His body deflated like a balloon, expectation replacing the tension. Scrambling back to camp, Gus grabbed his visor bucket and headed back to the beach. He dumped out the cooking water still inside and began to chase the crabs down to collect them. They were fast, but it was hard for them to hide, being highlighted in the night by Gus’ perception. He quickly gathered a number of crabs, with some escaping back to the water. Is it crabs or crab? Both seem right. Gus shrugged the thought away. The curve of the visor kept the crabs from climbing out, but it was interesting to see the creatures inside. Gus was glad he had overcome his fear; the crab would be a welcome change to his diet.

He continued down the beach, hoping to find more of the creatures, but no such luck. He headed back and heard a crash in the distance. Freezing and listening, there was a clatter and then silence. His self-congratulation at overcoming his fear went under a serious re-evaluation. He slowly moved closer to the water, trying to keep a swath of open beach ahead of him so that he would have time to react if something rushed out at him. The slight *slosh* of his steps on the damp sand felt like cymbals announcing his movement to Gus’ hypersensitive ears, but they were probably barely perceptible. He could hear nothing else, no matter how much he strained. The trip took considerably longer, but Gus finally made it back.

When he looked at his camp, his whole body almost seized as he saw many of the bamboo poles pushed over and one broken in two. Standing like a deer in the headlights he slowly panned his head at the scene. His shelter was knocked down and one frond neatly sheared in two, as if from a machete. Gus whipped his head back and forth looking into the dark beyond, but saw nothing.

This camp was no longer safe.

He checked his watch again: 12:55 AM. Not much time had gone by, and Gus knew something intelligent was out there. It was fast and strong, and it was no Shambler.

What about an agility-based zombie?

Damn it, brain! Why did you have to go there? Do I need any more nightmare fuel?

Like in that zombie movie with Brad Pitt—

Will you quit!

“Gus, you do realize I can hear you arguing with yourself? I can function as a therapist if you need to talk things out,” Nick offered hesitantly.

Gus worried that