Gary picked himself off the ground and gazed in the direction of the church. The screams and shouts were escalating. Panic, fear and anger were clear in the voices. Someone was barking confused instructions in a high-pitched voice before he started screaming as well. His screams stopped abruptly.

Gary winced at the pain in his stomach where Zafier had stabbed him, but it was already fading. His hit points had revived to just over half of his full 25. He hesitated for a second, unsure of what to do. Was it better to just get out of here and leave the people in trouble to their fate?

That wasn’t something Gary felt he could do. People were in trouble. He had to help if he could. Grabbing Simon, he ran towards the screaming.

He’d only taken a few steps across the grass when he realised he wasn’t running so much as shambling. He pushed harder, confused why his leg muscles weren’t working as they should. No matter how hard he tried, his pace was painfully slow, little more than walking speed.

I’m a zombie, he thought. My speed must be reduced. Damn!

He pressed on and overcame the new limitations, at least to a degree. Rather than shuffling towards the screams, he quick-walked in an ungainly hobbling movement. It wasn’t any faster than a power walk, no matter how hard he tried. It was also a lot less co-ordinated, involving him throwing one leg forward and then dragging the other behind in an odd hopping/shuffling combination.

He was still faster than the other undead, and he passed a couple of stragglers on his way to the edge of the cemetery, one zombie with most of its flesh and clothes disintegrated, and the other a skeleton, nothing but dry bone and clacking noises. The skeletons seemed to be faster than the flesh-bound zombies. Both types, though, ignored Gary as he shuffled past them.

This is crazy, Gary thought, no-one walks into a zombie horde!

But he knew he had an advantage that he presumed the screaming survivors didn’t have. The undead registered him as one of them. They were ignoring him. Which meant if anyone could help in this scenario, Gary could.

There were more screams and shouts from the other side of the undead mob.

Gary reached the edge of the cemetery where, as he had surmised, the metal bars rising out of the low stone wall had fallen, overwhelmed by the crushing weight of all the dead bodies. The undead mob was streaming across the low wall and into the church grounds itself.

St Mary’s church stood on a patch of land that was surrounded by walls on three sides, with the west facing main entrance leading to the cemetery. A road on the right led out of the church grounds and onto the main road. There was a large patch of asphalt surrounding the church, with four parking spaces marked out. These backed up against the south side of the church, towards which Gary was heading.

Standing taller than the average human at just over six feet tall, Gary could make out what was happening ahead of him.

There was a group of maybe eight people scattered across the area outside the church. They were trying to find a way out, but the horde had encircled them and was moving in. Two or three survivors had already fallen. Gary could hear their screams being cut off as they went down, and then the sickly sound of chewing. They must all have come from the church, intent on escaping, only to find there was no way out.

Two of the survivors had pushed their way to the side door twenty feet from the parking spots. They were banging on the door, begging to be let back inside.

The church door didn’t open. Within a few seconds, the horde set upon them. They fell, devoured by the undead.

The closer Gary got to the herd, the worse the stench of death and decay became until it threatened to overwhelm him. The bodies of the dead packed closer and closer together, forcing Gary to elbow his way through. He ignored the nausea he felt and pushed through the herd, barging his way forward with his elbows and judicious use of Simon to clear a path. Twice, he grabbed the collar of one of the undead in front of him and yanked it backwards. The dead offered no resistance and paid him no attention.

He saw half a dozen of them crouched down on the asphalt as they tucked into a recent catch. Several of the surrounding zombies and skeletons tried to get in on the feast.

Easily distracted, Gary noted, they’d rather attempt to get a bite out of a nearby fresh kill rather than go for a more distant living person.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

This was useful information, and Gary filed it away for later use. Assuming there was any such thing as a ‘later’.

Gary estimated that there were three hundred of the risen in the church grounds, with a few hundred more to his back. He’d seen many of the undead shuffling off in different directions, some heading towards the village. The cemetery had a 5,000 plus capacity, but only around a tenth of the graves had opened. Gary assumed that the rest were too decayed by now to break free.

Right now, at least half the nearby horde were busy chewing on the six or seven fallen bodies. Another two survivors went down before Gary made it through to the front of the main clump of bodies.

“Billy! No!” a voice shrieked.

Three of the survivors had climbed up onto a hearse parked in one of the spots against the church wall. Two other cars were parked either side of the hearse. This meant most of the undead couldn’t reach over to the helpless trio. Two zombies had shuffled between the cars and were scratching and clawing up at them. The three on top of the hearse, a man and a woman in their mid-forties and a woman in her twenties, were desperately kicking at the outstretched hands. All three were dressed in black. Mourners at the funeral, Gary supposed.

It was the younger woman who had screamed the name Billy. Gary saw her staring in helpless horror as another clump of undead descended onto a screaming figure who was on the ground.

It looked like ‘Billy’ had tried to be a hero. Or maybe he’d just thought he could make it on his own and didn’t care about the others.

Either way, the result was the same. Billy was a lifeless feast for the undead.

There was no time to ponder the details, however. Having pushed to the head of the undead horde, Gary knew it would take less than a minute for them to reach the last remaining trio. All the other survivors had already fallen to the ground.

“Kick them!” the older man shouted.

A zombie shoved into him from behind. Gary whirled round and, holding Simon with both hands, shoved back. Three of the undead stumbled backwards a couple of steps.

Okay, Gary thought, this could work. I can clear a path for them to the right of the cars, where there are a lot less of the undead.

Since most of the undead were coming from the south and east of his position, they were more scattered towards the road. At least ten of them were also busy feasting on Billy’s corpse, with another dozen crowding in, distracted.

Gary shuffled forward as fast as he could. There were two zombies crammed between the hearse and a BMW on the right, with a two-foot gap between the two vehicles. As the trio on top kicked away at the zombies clawing up at them, Gary reached the nearest zombie between the two cars. He lifted his shovel and brought it down as hard as he could on the zombie’s head, bringing the slicing edge into the skull.

Critical Hit. 12 points of damage.

The shovel sliced down on the zombie, denting its skull. Judging by the health bar above it, the trio on top of the hearse had done some damage with their kicks. Gary swung again and the zombie’s skull cleaved in two, leaving just one more between the two cars.

Gary was rewarded by the older woman kicking him in the face.

“Get away!” she shouted.

You are kicked in the face for 3 points of damage!

Gary yelped in pain and held up a hand.

“Wait!” he shouted. “I’m not dead! I’m not a zombie! I’m here to help!”

The woman kicked again, but this time missed. Gary grimaced and focussed on the remaining zombie between the hearse and the BMW, whacking it with the shovel for a good five points of damage and a stun.

“See?” he called up again. “I’m on your side! Not dead! My name is Gary!”

“You bloody well look dead!” the woman shouted at him. “You’re covered in blood and dirt and stuff!”

“Yes, I know, but I’m not!” Gary shouted again, hitting the zombie in front of him for another five points, whilst dodging another vicious kick.

So far, none of the undead had tried to fight back or attack him. Gary wasn’t sure if that would prove to be a hard and fast rule of his new situation, and he didn’t want to waste any time finding out. The rest of the horde was almost upon them. The few that had been distracted by the corpses scattered around were coming to the end of their meal.

“Look!” Gary shouted, waving in the road’s direction. “There’re gaps over there! I can get you out of this.”

The woman was wide-eyed with terror, but not about to be conned.

“Brian! There’s a man this side says he wants to help. He says his name is Gary.”

Brian, the husband, was kicking and swearing at the zombies on the other side from Gary, as was his daughter.

“What?” Brian shouted out, as he landed another solid kick at a skeleton’s skull. The skull went flying off the body and smashed against the church wall. “What’s that, love?”

“He says he wants to help!”

Brian glanced round at Gary. Like his wife, he was wild-eyed with fear, his face red with the exertion of holding a horde at bay with little more than half-remembered football skills.

“This way!” Gary shouted “Quick!”

“You’re a bloody zombie!” Brian shouted. “Fuck off!”

With his thick neck, bulldog build and bald head, Brian didn’t look like a man who was easily reasoned with on a good day.

Today was not a good day.

“I’m not a zombie!” Gary howled in frustration.

One of the actual zombies shambled over to Gary. He slung the shovel four times at the creature as it tried to reach up to the group on the roof.

“See? Not a zombie! Quick, onto the next car and then we can get out of here!”

One by one, the family jump-stepped onto the roof of the BMW and then down the other side. As they were doing so, Gary shuffled round, pushing back the undead with his shovel as he did so.

“You bloody look like a zombie,” Brian grumbled.

Gary grimaced. Now that the three of them were nearer to him, he felt a strange ache in his stomach. It took him a second to work out what it was.

It was the urge to eat living human flesh.