Gary’s first move was to turn into the road as the revenants approached and then reverse down it, backing away from the undead Zafier, Forge, Morgan and Annabel.

His second move was to switch off the headlights as the mist obscured his pursuers. Then he accelerated forward as fast as he could.

He hit Zafier head on, knocking him to the ground, hitting him for eighty hit points of damage. Forge was the next to take eighty points, whilst Annabel and Morgan were both clipped for fifty points each. Half of the six zombies on the other side of the group were destroyed on impact as Gary ploughed through the group.

He considered just carrying on driving, but he knew he had to finish this here and now, or they’d keep coming for him.

He reversed as the four picked themselves up off the road, hitting Forge for another thirty hit points, Morgan and Annabel for another twenty each but failing to hit Zafier again, who was just quick enough to step out of the way before the Land Rover smashed into the group for a second time.

Gary got out of the Land Rover and flung one of the Nightblades at Morgan and the other at Annabel. The blades span through the air and landed in their chests.

You have killed your revenant Annabel level 4 Revenant, Cleric. Gain 1052 experience points!

“One down,” Gary nodded.

He ran towards Forge and brought Simon straight into his face, stunning him and giving Gary the chance to get another blow in before Forge could even lift his axe.

Forge fell, and another notification appeared, awarding Gary another 1104 experience points for having killed his revenant.

“Two down,” Gary grinned.

The combination of damage taken from the Land Rover and Simon’s special weapon status giving him a higher chance of critical hits and stuns was making this almost too easy. There was something else working in his favour, of course:

Gary wasn’t a zombie.

For all their strength and abilities, the undead were still not that bright, allowing Gary to prioritise and target in a far more efficient manner than they could. Gary suspected that in Forge, Morgan and Annabel’s case this was something to do with the reanimation process, making them relatively dumb until they levelled up. In Zafier’s case, well, he’d been an idiot when Gary had met, so no change there, then.

“Gaaaaarrryyy…” Zafier hissed, his hands crackling with energy as he tried to grab the grave digger to drain him.

“I don’t think so, Zafier,” Gary said, ducking away from the crackling hands. Morgan tried to rush Gary side by side with Zafier. Gary smacked them both with Simon in one blow, stunning the pair. He pulled the Nightblade out of Zafier’s chest and stabbed Morgan with it. Another 1078 experience points were awarded as the revenant-rogue fell.

“That’s number three.”

Zafier screamed with rage, and tried to lash out at the whirling, shovel and blade wielding dervish that Gary had become, but Gary slipped away once more and hit him again with Simon.

Two more blows and Zafier dropped.

The system awarded Gary another thousand plus experience points for killing his revenant.

Enough to get him to level up.

“Cool,” he muttered as a notification informed him he had reached Level 4.

He stood in the mist, Simon on his shoulder, amongst the bodies of four revenants and three zombies.

He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

The three remaining zombies that had taken no damage paused, then walked towards the farm, where the nearest living creatures were.

Gary considered taking them out. It wouldn’t be a problem for him. But there was a petty part of him that was still pissed off with the survivors.

“Screw it,” he said. “They need the experience points, anyway. If they can’t handle three little zombies, then what’s the point?”

He was right on the edge of the McPearson’s property now, and he noticed the carved stone, covered in moss, which named the place. As the three zombies headed up the hill, Gary rubbed the moss off the stone engraving to reveal the legend “Hope Farm.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Sounds about right, he thought.

He turned his attention to the new options that levelling up had created for him.

*

This time they system had awarded him two evolution points instead of one, and could also claim another title. There were no new titles to claim, so the only options there were Candidate for the Messiah of the Eternal Night or Denier of Your True Nature!

The latter of the two was not something Gary felt concerned about. All it would do was help him overcome the hunger for flesh. The fact was, the cravings that he’d felt had diminished, and he was not a danger to anyone at the moment, anyway. The Candidate title, however, offered the enticing possibility of an extra evolution point. Before, he had been unwilling to claim it, as he hadn’t known if he would get an automatic evolution point, but now he had no such hesitation.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rain. He was sure the prophecy was nonsense or, even if it wasn’t, didn’t apply to him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of what was being offered.

He chose the title and the system rewarded him with a third evolution point, and the promise of an additional one for every level he achieved.

That is going to come in handy, he thought.

The only class option change available to him was still ghoul, and he couldn’t see much of an advantage to it. He stuck with the zombie class and then looked at what was available to him in terms of paths. With three evolution points, it was tempting to apply all three of them to the tank path. He’d be a lot tougher, his combat skills would increase and his resistance to damage would improve.

He paused, however.

There was another option on the table.

He’d already invested one point in the necromancer path, allowing him to once a day raise the dead from their graves. If he applied a second point there, he would have the additional ability to raise the dead, regardless of whether they were buried or not.

By putting a point in the commander path, he could control a number of undead equal to his level provided they were of the same level or lower than him.

Interesting, he thought.

Having a small group of undead under his control to work on his behalf and act as unliving shields where needed couldn’t hurt.

He retrieved the Nightblades, then considered the mangled corpses of Zafier, Forge, Morgan and Annabel. Based on what he knew, if he brought them back again, they would be at lower levels than before. There were three more zombies that had been destroyed. He suspected they were too broken to return. But the other four might not be.

He considered digging graves for them all and then using his basic necromancer power to raise them, but time was a factor and he didn’t feel like spending half the night digging four graves. It was almost midnight, and he wanted to start Tuesday fresh, putting everything behind him and moving onto whatever was next.

“Okay, let’s try this,” he muttered to himself.

He applied one point to the necromancy class, one point to the commander path and the remaining point to the tank path. After he’d been awarded the additional hit points and combat skill, he stood over the four bodies of his former enemies and focussed his new ability.

“Rise.”

With jerking motions, his four enemies stood up.

“Command undead.”

You have control of four undead minions!

Zafier, level 3 undead necromancer.

Note special power: Zafier can raise the undead once per day.

Forge, level 4 undead warrior.

Note special power Forge has 2 evolution points in tank path and is highly resistant to damage whilst keeping some of his former combat skills.

Morgan level 3 undead rogue.

Note special power Morgan can cast a magic arrows spell twice per day.

Annabel level 3 undead cleric.

Note special power: Annabel has the ability to heal the dead twice per day, restoring them to their full hit point total.

“Well, all of that is useful,” Gary said, noting that his character sheet now had an additional entry: Minions (4/4).

Gary faced the four undead. The remaining zombies, as he’d guessed, couldn’t be reanimated.

He looked at the four unnaturally pale faces, their bloodstained bodies sporting a variety of wounds that hadn’t healed. In their eyes he could see glimmers of sapience. Zafier’s one good eye still burnt with enduring hatred for Gary. Morgan’s eyes kept some measure of the craftiness he’d had whilst alive. Annabel’s eyes had a strange, almost mad sheen to them, whilst Forge retained a semblance of his grim attitude.

Gary didn’t doubt that they would all betray him if given the chance. But according to his character sheet, they were now his minions and would obey his commands, no matter how much they might dislike it.

“Alright, you ugly lot, here’s how it is. I don’t like any of you, and I know you don’t like any of me. I don’t care. We’re going to go out there and you’re going to do as I tell you to for as long as I tell you to, and there are two basic rules. One, no attacking me and two, no attacking any living people.”

Gary paused and thought about the second rule, realising it might have some limitations

“Okay, amendment to rule number two; No attacking any living people unless I tell you otherwise. Other than that, you do nothing at all unless I tell you to. Now get in the back of the Land Rover,” Gary said, “And sit there until I tell you otherwise. You can also have a think about the various questionable choices you all made that have led you here. If you can still think, that is.”

The undead necromancer, warrior, rogue and cleric climbed into the back of the Land Rover. Forge dragged his huge axe awkwardly, as if it was too burdensome for his weakened form now.

Gary noticed Simon was feeling heavier than he had before.

“Oh, don’t you start,” he said, “I know you think I should have just killed them all for the experience points, but we’re going to need all the help we can get. Think of them as an insurance policy.”

“Me?” Simon said, “I didn’t say anything.”

Then the shovel added, “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Gary climbed into the driver's seat, placing Simon on the passenger seat.

“So do I. But let’s be realistic here. It’s not as if the fate of the world is resting on my shoulders, is it?”