Lair by Carl Stubblefield (recommended reading TXT) 📕

“Nick, are these higher or lower levels than that first Shambler?”

“These appear to be higher, but it is unclear by how much.”

Gus grit his teeth and nodded as he ran even harder.

While he thought he was innovative in re-purposing Razorback into a spear, in practical use, there were some challenges. First, the thickness in diameter of the bamboo made it difficult to get a good grip on it. The smooth, polished surface also made it less secure than he would have liked. The length was great for the purpose, but Gus had absolutely no experience with spears or any melee weapons before coming to the island. Razorback Prime was also heavier than what a normal spear would be, so controlling the placement of the sharp tip could prove more difficult than expected. If he had to start fighting any foes besides these dumb, slow zombies, he would be in big trouble.

Gus wished he had some time to dig a trench or two, or place some logs in strategic spots that could trip some of the approaching Shamblers. They appeared to be spread out enough to handle, but if he got sloppy, they could bunch up and that would complicate things greatly. Better to meet them as soon as he could at the edge of the field, and then have room to retreat if needed.

Gus saw the first of the creatures emerging from the jungle. His upgraded display now showed life bars above the zombies, with a fraction indicating remaining health over total health. Some were more decomposed than others, but in contrast to the one he met in the forest, these appeared to have a more directed motion. Gus approached the lead zombie, braced himself, and speared it in the face.

It dropped, shaking, and its dot became hollow on the minimap. That would be super helpful, especially to avoid stray bites on the ankle from an incapacitated but not dead zombie. The draining of the green bar as its health ebbed away was oddly satisfying. Feeling more confident, Gus lined up his next targets, but made sure not to get too close to those who had fallen. Like Tempest always lectured, ‘trust, but verify.’ He could double check whether he could trust the interface after the threat was gone.

He missed the next one, slicing across the bridge of its nose, getting a little off balance, but able to back-step, re-position and hit the eye on the next attack. A chime sounded, and Gus let the messages fill in their queue unread. He did like how they defaulted to a pulsing icon at the bottom of the screen, not making a pop-up that blocked his whole vision and had to be toggled off.

The pack seemed to contain thirteen remaining slow moving Shamblers, and Gus was determined to get them all. Knowing he would rarely find easy opponents like this, he took the opportunity to practice fighting and hopefully gain a couple skills. Hopefully, he could get a spear ability by using it frequently.

He tripped a zombie with the back end of the spear, then stabbed it in the eye. He cut another Shambler in the middle of its back. It lost control of its lower limbs and fell down, but kept on reaching for him until he dealt a death blow through its ear. It was harder to line this strike up, but at least it stopped them from moving for the most part.

He struck a few more, but this time on the neck, trying to buy time and thin out the herd. These ones didn’t flail with their arms, so he switched to targeting only their necks. He was taking more time than he expected, and the zombie march was relentless. Gus experimented with hitting different areas, but besides the spine, legs, head and neck, nothing had a huge effect. Hitting their legs did very little damage, but it stopped their march onward, and made them easier to attack.

One time he got scared as a zombie pushed farther than expected onto Razorback Prime, past the cutting edge and onto the bamboo. Gus panicked a bit, but got the idea to start to spin in a circle. The idea was to fling the Shambler off the end of the spear, but the mob simply tripped and the spear was easily extricated, and the zombie was history.

He jogged to another zombie. Suddenly, Gus’ foot dropped into a hollow in the ground and he fell forward, scoring a hit to the left side of the target’s chest. The force of the fall sank Razorback Prime deep into the creature’s chest, past the cutting edge. I’m making this a flipping habit! His knuckles cracked as his grip tightened on his weapon, and he clambered back to his feet.

This zombie must’ve been some kind of guard in its former life, because it had an athlete’s build. Gus couldn’t trip or even move the hefty Shambler by trying to shake the spear side to side, so he pushed forward hard to stagger the zombie and rolled out of the way. The bodybuilder didn’t even flinch from the push. With Gus out of the way, the Shambler rotated to face the manor and forged onward.

What would they want with the manor? That first Shambler didn’t have any interest in it, so what’s going on?

Gus gripped the now-slimy cords holding Razorback in place that were protruding out the zombie’s back. Yanking the spear as hard as he could, he was rewarded with three feet of movement. The black slime coated the spear as it reluctantly slid out with each tug.

The nauseating smell became exponentially more concentrated as decomposed offal began spilling out around the edges of the spear. Stopping when the spear was half-in and half-out, Gus caught his breath and tried to get control of his gagging fit. He wasn’t eating a ton, and wanted to avoid malnutrition by wasting the little food he had scavenged. When the feeling subsided,