Finally, Gary was alone.

It was the first time since all the insanity had begun that he’d had a second to himself. He stood up, grateful for the temporary relief. He picked up Simon and sliced the blade into a patch of grass, leaving the shovel standing upright.

He stretched, breathed. At last, he had some time to assess things.

His body had healed from all the wounds he’d received, and he knew that he had toughened up in the meantime, his hit points almost double that what they had been at level one. There were, he noted, and not for the first time, some enormous benefits to being a zombie. Even if he hadn’t been given the choices that Jonathan had when levelling up, Gary had to admit that he felt tougher, stronger and more resistant to damage than before.

He’d also discovered the night-vision, and that he didn’t need to sleep any longer. On top of that, the tiredness he’d felt earlier seemed to drain out of him. And even when he had felt his muscles were exhausted, he’d noticed that they still worked just fine. It seemed that he did feel physical strain, or at least was conscious of it. The same way he felt the pain of being stabbed. He guessed both were because, unlike the other undead, he had a consciousness.

But there was a way of overcoming the pain and carrying on, regardless. It was just a question of willpower.

That’s right, Gary, a voice hissed inside his head, You’re better off as a zombie, aren’t you? And now you’ve got all those juicy, juicy living people sleeping right next to you. Don’t you fancy a quick bite? You must be getting hungry by now…

It was true. The cravings that Gary felt for human flesh came and went, but they were there pretty much constantly. Currently, they weren’t anywhere close to overpowering. Gary suspected that was because he wasn’t injured. When he’d been hurt in the church, the cravings had been stronger, and caused him to bite the teenaged Mikey. So it looked like he could control them as long as he hadn’t taken any damage.

But would he be able to if he was injured again?

Why should you? The voice in his head whispered. Give into the cravings! Feast on the living! Think of how yummy they taste, think of how good you feel. And think about the experience points you’ll get as well, Gary! There are eleven people here, all so scrummy…

“Shut UP!” Gary replied to the voice in his head, “I’m not doing any of that.”

But why, Gary? Why not? They already tried to kill you once. You know they’ll try again…

Gary had a sinking feeling that the flesh-craving voice in his head was correct. He’d noticed earlier that the reward for killing him, a level 2 zombie heavy with a special weapon, had now doubled up to 250 experience points. Presumably that would increase the more he levelled up.

“Just SHUT UP!” Gary said again, “I need to think! Fuck, you’re the worst. You’re like fucking anti-me. Anti-Gary. That’s what you are. The exact opposite of me. I should call you... Yrag.”

Gary, Gary, Gary. You really must stop giving things names, you know? Nothing good comes of it. But if you are going to be so petty, then I’ll take... ‘Yarg.’ Rolls off the tongue better.

“Fine, ‘Yarg,’ whatever. Just shut the fuck up.”

The flesh-craving, wheedling voice fell silent.

Gary had almost, but not quite, gotten used to the constant sound of Vivaldi’s Spring playing along in the background. It was there, an earworm he couldn’t get away from, but he could just, with an effort, drown it out.

And he needed to think. So much had happened in the last sixteen hours that there’d been no time to catch up with it all. With the cravings pushed aside and the undead voice silenced for the moment, and Vivaldi’s spring sort of muted, he focussed his thoughts.

What next? He wondered.

So far, he’d been running on adrenaline and instinct, just trying to do the right thing in an impossible and insane set of circumstances. Nothing had worked out the way he had hoped it would at the church, but at least he’d got some survivors to relative safety. For now, at least. So that had to be something, right?

We have to build fortifications here, he thought. Dig some ditches, build some walls if we can find the right materials.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The first order of business was digging some kill-pits.

As Gary conceived things, they could create several of them in the surrounding area. If more undead approached, at least the lower levels were not very smart, people could lure them into the pits. Then the zombies could be picked off by the survivors, with Gary lending a hand. The tactic that Jonathan had suggested was a solid one; Gary weakening the zombies and then others picking up the experience points.

It wasn’t a great solution for Gary, of course, since he still gained no experience for killing the undead. But it would help the others.

But are they my problem anymore? He wondered. I don’t owe these people anything. I’ve done what I set out to do, got them somewhere safe. If they can’t work the rest out for themselves, there’s not much I can do.

At St Mary’s, Gary had reacted to a situation in which people were scared, defenceless and unable to fend for themselves. A situation in which, as he’d seen things, he was the only one that could help. But at some point, they would have to learn to fend for themselves.

I could just leave them to it, he thought, and maybe that would be the best thing for everyone, myself included. I could just go. Find somewhere nice and quiet. The dead won’t bother me if I don’t bother them. Wouldn’t that be a better option than staying here and risking going full zombie?

There was still the question of if his family was going to make it to the farmhouse, but Gary was realising the chances were slim to non-existent. The odds had been stacked against the world from the very start.

Because of the damn system, he thought. No-one stood a chance.

And there was another matter. Jonathan and everyone else might blame whoever was in charge of this war, but in Gary’s book, the system and the admin were also responsible. This had all begun with the slugs raining down and initiating the world into the system.

The same system that had him trapped in a linear levelling up system, giving him no choices. Unless he could get his classification reversed. But then there would be other problems to deal with. He’d be as vulnerable as everyone else. If not, he’d be stuck as a zombie, his only way of levelling up killing the living.

Not that it’s been as big an issue as you’d think, he thought grimly, recalling the events of St Marys.

Morgan had forced him to kill, despite not wanting to.

He shook his head, bewildered. Less than a day ago he’d just been a simple landscape gardener/odd-job man/grave digger…

He glanced across at his trusty shovel, standing tall in the patch of grass.

“I wonder what you’d have to say about all of this,” he muttered.

A drawling, suave voice interrupted his musings.

“If I’m honest, I miss the good old days, you know? Back when things were just hitting zombies and putting them back down where they’re supposed to be.”

“Yeah, there is that,” Gary replied absent mindedly.

He looked around for the source of the voice, but there was no-one nearby.

The only thing close was his shovel.

“I mean,” the drawl continued, “It’s just a bit rude, really, isn’t it? We go to all that trouble of creating a nice resting place for them and then what do they do? They get back up. It’s not on if you ask me. Sheer ingratitude, if nothing else.”

Gary stared at the shovel.

“And then there are those necromancers. Bloody hooligans, that lot, interfering with the natural order. For my money, smacking zombies and necromancers is the way to go. Keep things simple, you know? You and me, back to basics putting the world to rights.”

“Uh... right, uh... what?”

“Yeah, I talk now. Get over it. I levelled up when you did. I mean, I am a special weapon and you did give me a name. What did you think was going to happen?”

“Uh...”

“So, for what it’s worth, I say we we hit the road and get on with whacking zombies and taking down those hooligan necromancers and anything else that pops its head up. Somebody needs to stop them making a mess of a perfectly decent planet, after all.”

Gary chuckled, “I mean, I can see your point. So there are three options on the table. Stay here and help the survivors, build the defences and help them level up. Find somewhere safe away from all of this madness and just sit it out. Or there’s getting into it, taking out zombies and necromancers and whatever else this madness throws my way.”

“Well, you know what my vote is,” Simon said.

Gary grinned. There was something, in amongst all of this madness, that appealed to him about the idea of getting back to hitting zombies and forgetting everything else.

There’s a fourth option, Gary. Eat them all. You know you want to.

“Shut it, Yarg. I’m not doing that.”

Oh, I think you will, Gary. I think you will…

“Gary?”

James and Gemma were standing a few feet away. Gary hadn’t even noticed their arrival.

“Who are you talking to?”

The couple were both giving Gary a strange look. Half fearful, half concerned.

“What? I, uh, I was talking to Simon here...”

He picked the shovel out of the ground with a lop-sided smile.

James and Gemma’s odd looks deepened.

“Your shovel?”

“Yeah, couldn’t you hear it?”

“The only thing we heard was you talking to yourself…”

“What? No, that’s not...I...”

Gary looked at Simon.

Simon said nothing.

Had the shovel been talking after all?

Or had Gary just been voicing what he thought Simon might say? What he himself wanted to hear?

“Never mind,” Gary said. “Forget about it, okay. I was just talking to myself. Thinking about what we should do next. To keep everyone safe.”

James and Gemma looked doubtful and kept a wary distance. Both of them were carrying swords they didn’t know how to use.

Gary sighed. Okay, so now they thought he was crazy, too. Terrific.

Maybe he was crazy.

“Look, let me show you around, okay? We need to do another perimeter sweep.”

The couple glanced at each other, then gave reluctant nods.

“Use your torches,” Gary said.

“Okay. We’re only going to be up for a couple of hours. Then it’s Fran and… uh, ‘Goremaster’s’ turn.”

Gary sighed as he realised he was going to have to show everyone around.

It was going to be a long night.