"Hey, you don't look like someone who is lost, why are you here, instead of out there," he nodded towards where the pair left, "and helping others out? We can use anyone capable and you seem like the sort who won't shy away from danger."
Up close, he looked even younger, maybe eighteen, John guessed. "Yeah, sorry kiddo, but I am beat. I live close by up north and I just want to get home and go to bed. It has been a long day even before all this," he gestured around himself with his hands, "plus, I don't think I would be welcome there. Met this very pleasant lady at the wardrobe gate and we just didn't see eye to eye."
The young man visibly winced at the mention of that particular lady. "She… Uhm… I shouldn't say, but no one wanted to deal with her… we made this super important position for her right outside and… um… now I am not so sure it was such a great idea."
John tried to hold it in, but after a second of struggle burst out laughing. "You know… kid," he choked out, "from the moment I met her, this was exactly what I would have done with her myself."
"Hey Tommy, everything alright?" One from the group in front of them yelled back.
"All good, we'll catch up in a moment," Tom yelled back. "Oh, hey… My name is Tomas. Umm, if you don't mind me asking, why are you calling me kid? You don't look that much older yourself."
"Ahh sorry, didn't mean it in a bad way, is Tom good? I am thirty-one by the way, but thanks for the vote of confidence. And the name's John." He offered a hand to shake.
"Tom's cool. Come with us if you are heading north. Let's catch up, I see new people who need cards." He said, pointing at the young pair who came out from the building on the left.
John followed the group through the streets, mostly just talking with Tom and watching their routine. Many people refused to leave the perceived safety of their homes, but those that did were always helped and directed towards the square.
"You know, I respect the effort you guys put into helping everyone. It is not for me, but If you don't mind, I'll let others know about the place you built." John said, stopping in front of a three-floor brick house with chipped yellow paint. "My apartment is on the second floor and the doors are very sturdy here, so spending the night should be safe enough. Oh and if you could do me a solid and clear up any misunderstandings with the lady, I'd be grateful." He pulled out his keys and after a little fumbling with the lock, he was finally home.
"Ohh, Johnny, I am so glad you are okay." An old lady was looking at him through the gap between the door secured with a safety chain. She was living in the apartment on the first floor and John used to joke that she was the best alarm system ever created. Nothing got past her notice, and even now, she was making sure the whole house was safe.
"Ahh, Mrs. Dunnings, are you making sure everything is alright?" John replied with a genuine smile on his face.
"Well, of course, someone has to do it, and I don't sleep much nowadays, so it's best to be me. Is it as bad outside as it looks?" She said with a small crack in her voice.
"It's actually not. There are good people out there, making sure everyone they meet is safe and helping people out. They made a place at Vinton's square and you know what? Tomorrow I can take you there. I am sure such a careful and dutiful lady as yourself can help many people there. But now I really need to get some rest." John tried to calm her fears and honestly, he could see her doing a much better job than some other unnamed individual.
"Ohh I don't know. I like it here, but if they need my help… I'll think about it, ok? And good night, I'll make sure nothing gets past here without me knowing." She smiled and carefully closed her door.
After running up the stairs and quickly opening his door, he was finally home. His first idea was to just lie in his bed, but doing that in his filthy clothes just felt wrong, so he stripped and walked into the shower.
"Fuck!" He yelled out, angry because the shower wasn't working and he had to walk back into the kitchen, pick up a bottle of fresh mineral water and use that instead. Doing his best and using the whole thing, he made sure both his door and all the windows were firmly secured and finally went to bed.
What a day…
He woke up with the autumn sunshine on his face, and after stretching and a little grumbling about water not running, he dressed up and went out with his golden armament dutifully following above him. The street was clear of all zombies, but their place was now occupied by dozens of people arguing, weeping, or dumbly staring at the carnage from the day before.
Having more light than the meager moonlight of the full moon, he saw dead all around him. Some were victims of a car accident, but many others of far more brutal and violent deaths, painting the pavement in dark crimson hues.
The clock!
John was about to head out, but an idea stopped him in his tracks and made him return to his apartment. He remembered seeing sixteen past eight on his wall clock when he woke up and sure, it was still stuck there. Being drowsy, he didn't think much about the time back then, but now he was sure the problem with electricity was somehow far worse than he believed. Not only did sixteen past eight fit perfectly for the time of the blackout and the beginning of the apocalypse, but also the clock was powered up by the damned batteries, and yet, nothing. Pulling out a flashlight from the bottom drawer of his nightstand, he clicked the button, and nothing again.
"Well, so much for the electricity. No wonder all the cars got fucked up the moment it began." He grumbled as he ran downstairs to the first floor.
Stopping by the old lady Dunnings' door, he knocked twice and waited. She lived here for over fifty years, he heard, but ever since her late husband passed away four years ago, she was alone. Feeling bad for her, he used to visit her now and then, listen to her stories, and enjoy her baking. She made the meanest apple pie he ever had.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
"Ahh Johnny, everything alright?" She asked, looking at him through the thick glasses.
"Yes, I was going to ask if you are ready to come to Vinton's square," John replied, hoping to convince her to move somewhere safer.
"Oh no Johnny, I can't. I have lived here my whole life and I am not leaving my home. I'll just secure the door with this chain here," she pointed at the shining silver chain holding the door and preventing it from opening further, "and everything will be alright. But thank you for looking after me." Waving a hand in a gesture of goodbye, she began to close the door, "Stay safe… and good luck." And with a click, the door was shut.
I should be the one telling that to you. He shook his head and went out for the second time. Turning left, he followed the street towards the intersection, where he turned left again and followed the main street towards the river. Most people gave him a wide berth, intimidated by the golden dagger, and the rest he ignored, moving to the main bridge. Sure, some took offense at that, but no one was stupid enough to push the issue and block his path.
It took him five minutes to get there, but even from a distance, he could see another fat giant towering in the middle of the bridge, ready to crush anyone attempting to run through.
Damn, that bastard looks way worse during the day. And what is that? He thought, looking at the barricade of cars and random stuff a group of twelve were piling up around the bridgehead.
"What are you guys doing?" John asked a middle-aged man carrying a wooden shelf.
"That should be obvious." The man answered in a mocking tone, turning and wedging the shelf into the makeshift wall.
"But what if I…" John tried to ask but was interrupted by another man dressed in a police uniform.
"John, a problem?" He asked in an annoyed tone.
"Yeah, another fool thinking he can go through." The middle-aged man replied, leaving John there.
"Listen here…" the policeman spoke, coming up to him, but slowed down and frowned as he noticed the flying dagger above. "What is that?" He pointed at it with his left hand.
"My ability? Why do you ask?" John said, a little confused about this whole interaction.
"So one of those…" the policeman mumbled to himself. "I'll have to ask you to surrender that weapon. It is disturbing the people around and is not safe in the hands of a civilian." Speaking with the clear voice of someone expecting respect and obedience, he stretched his left arm with his palm up.
"Excuse me?" John stared at him, dumbfounded, taking a step back.
"I will not be asking again!" He shouted, pulling out his baton with his right and reaching for the can of pepper spray with his left. "On the ground! Now!"
Making the split decision, John willed his dagger to punch the policeman in his forehead with its handle and quickly took a couple more steps back, creating a safer distance. It moved so fast, he had no time to react and got knocked to the ground with a loud smack.
"Y… yo… you… how dare you attack the man of uniform!" The knocked officer stuttered.
"Shut up and let me explain something," John interrupted his indignant speech. "First, everyone who kills any zombie gets a random ability," he pointed towards the dagger currently poised above the policeman's chest, "which can be neither given nor taken away, and secondly, look around you," gesturing with his hands around, "if you think you are in a position to command me, you are out of your mind." Giving him a couple of seconds to take that in, he slowly backed away, making sure no one did anything stupid.
"I… but… what am I supposed to do then?" The policeman pulled himself together, his shocked face turning to stubborn defiance. "I am supposed to protect people, and yes, I've seen the dead around us. I am trying to keep that massive thing away, but people like you keep coming here, again and again, demanding to be let through, and guess what happens next?" He took a pause, nodding to the side where lay the bodies of at least ten people. "This is what happened two hours ago because someone refused to listen and tried to run through. It blocked his path and followed after him, killing everything in its way until it got to him. So I ask you again, What. Am. I. Supposed. To. Do?"
"Fuck… well… This is just… ok." John nodded his head, coming to a decision. "If I pull the dagger back, will you go after me?"
The policeman closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "No, I shouldn't have been so aggressive." He watched the dagger zip back above the guy's head, before adding, "I was serious about the bridge though, it is closed, so help us out or leave. The thing those idiots learned the hard way, it wont chase you forever, but you can’t run away either. I have no idea how, but if you try to run past or attack it, you are stuck in the fight and getting too far away makes you collapse and die."
"About that," John replied, scratching his head. "I might have an idea for what we should do. But before I say anything, let me do something else first. Apocalypse deck."
First, he read the description of his latest card called Increase melee penetration. It stated a slight increase of penetrative power for any linked ability with a melee tag. Having no idea how big of an impact it would have, but seeing no reason not to use it, he willed it to link with his main card. Next, he used the single-use attribute boosting card and was offered a choice between each of the six attributes excluding Fate.
Vitality!
And suddenly felt a burning heat rush through his whole body, and he gritted his teeth already knowing his Vitality had changed to E.
"Uh, are you alright?" The policeman asked cautiously.
John nodded, feeling the heat passing and now being ready to do something absolutely stupid. "As I was saying, there is something I can do to help. I am going to put that ugly bastard down."
"Are you crazy?" The policeman cried out. "If this was supposed to be a joke, I am not amused."
"Unfortunately for both of us, I am serious. It needs to die and I think my ability is very well suited for it. I'm not gonna lie, this will be a fucking pain, but yes, It will fall." John then took a step closer and with a much quieter voice whispered, "and between you and me, killing this will likely save far more people than you realize."
"You are the first who wants to fight that, I'll give you that." The policeman sighed. "You know what, ok. It's not as if I could stop you anyway, but if you bring that thing out here, I'll make you pay even if it kills me. Are we clear?"
And with a nod and a grunt, John climbed up the barricade and jumped down on the bridgehead. This bridge was not only much wider, having to accommodate a highway, walkway for pedestrians, and the tram tracks in the middle, but also significantly longer. By his estimates, if the south bridge was fifty meters, this one would be at least eighty, maybe even close to a hundred, and filled with over a dozen abandoned cars.
Knowing how the fat bastard moved, he formed a plan and took a position to the left of the bridge right next to a white van, and before he began, he yelled out "Hey, make sure no one is close to the barricade, the thing may ram into it during the fight and I'm not sure if it'll hold out."
"What do you mean ram into it, didn't you promise…" John tuned the rest of the policeman's reply out and willed the dagger to engage.
Here it comes.