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Chapter 19: The Gestating Undead Minion

Logan had become fond of Jack. He was a man overwhelmed with grief who was able to put it to the side to survive. He thought he’d understood why he’d acted so cold to the people around them. After all, if you walled off your emotions and didn’t let people close, you couldn’t be hurt if they died.

All of that was understandable. What he couldn’t understand was how Jack felt justified in abandoning him for the night. If Logan had been in his shoes, he wouldn’t have done the same. He’d have risked their food, even risked the boat if it meant saving Jack’s life.

So it was with an element of bitterness that he viewed the rapidly darkening woods around him. Logan needed to survive the night with no shelter, no food, and with creeping mutated monsters a constant threat.

With no working phone, he was worried what Lara would do if he didn’t respond to her calls or text messages. His first priority was shelter, his second was a phone charger, and his third—food.

Logan tucked his phone into his back pocket and then looked across the clearing. With his increased perception, he could still make out the trail that led to the resort. He hesitated. It would be smart to head that way while he could make out the path, but Martin’s Convenience was so close, he would be crazy not to check it first. They might have a phone charger. He hadn’t seen anything that looked like a charger in the aisles, but then, he hadn’t been looking.

Decision made, Logan was about to head over, but then paused. The cleaver had come in handy, and he was hesitant to leave it behind. He grabbed both the cleaver and his baseball bat and then backtracked to the store, darkness overtaking his surroundings. The riot of crickets soon drowned out even the faint sound of the lake cresting on the shore in the distance.

Unfortunately, he was in a clearing covered with dead mycelium and his footsteps might as well shout his presence. It was like walking over thousands of brittle matchsticks. He was vulnerable out in the open, and if another trap door spider rat were hiding in the ground, he wouldn’t have the advantage of a cliff to defend himself. Logan tightened his grip on his baseball bat, senses on high alert.

When he reached the store and saw the lights were on, his tension dissipated, but he kept a firm grip on his bat. It was long past closing time for something so remote. Why leave the lights on?

The bell jingled as he opened the door.

However, the girl was missing from the counter. “Hello?” Logan said, scanning the aisles. No answer. He peered over the counter, but there was no sign of anyone.

Odd.

The merchandise looked even more sparse; others must have come after they left and cleaned the place out. There were only a few packets of candy, beef jerky and instant noodles left. No batteries, no phone chargers. Logan placed the cleaver on the counter and then jumped on top of it, swinging over and dropping down the other side. The owner might have kept extra merchandise in the drawers, or maybe there were supply boxes…

There was a door behind the counter.

It had been hidden behind a corner, only visible once he moved to the far wall. When he opened the door, the hinges creaked, the hallway lit only by a faint flickering light fixture. There was a pungent odor that he could only equate with the smell of deep earth—musty and cold. Logan crept closer, trying to keep his steps silent, his baseball bat in a ready position. There were two doors at the end of the hallway, both closed. The first one was light blue and covered in dirt, the paint peeling. The round worn knob was stuck at first, but then the door swung open. He flicked on the lights.

It was a small square storeroom, end-to-end the size of two cars stacked side by side. There was nothing on the shelves but large empty cardboard boxes, in disarray as if someone had searched through them in a hurry. Logan pushed one to the side and then paused.

What the hell? That was either a discarded boot or someone’s foot.

Logan crept closer. Aww man. Definitely a person. Behind the last shelf, sitting against the wall was the remains of what had to be Martin, legs out as if he’d fallen asleep. But this wasn’t the Martin from Logan’s childhood. An overweight man had turned into a bloated corpse that had been… transformed. Thousands of purple-colored fungi had spread over every inch of his skin, crawling into him like stitched thread. The fungi travelled in one direction, concentrating on Martin’s gaping wide mouth. From within, his tongue had warped into a budding flower, huge purple petals open and in full bloom.

[Level 1 Gestating Undead Minion]

“I didn’t kill him,” said a voice. “He was like that when I found him.”

Alarmed, Logan turned, getting ready to swing.

[Tasha Frederick: Level 0]

It was the girl from the counter. She stood in the doorway with a troubled expression, shifting on her feet and avoiding his eyes. Her spiky, purple hair was messy as if she’d just woken up, pillow creases on the side of her face. Still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt, she looked worn out, bloodshot eyes aging her ten years.

“You did this,” Logan said in realization. He’d thought she’d seemed unfriendly, but he’d chalked it up to the world going mad. Instead, she’d killed Martin until his corpse had mutated into this… thing and then had taken over his store.

She pushed her sleeves up her forearms and gave him a mulish look. “I said I didn’t kill him. I came for supplies like you and then found him back here, all… moldy. I don’t know what killed him, but I kept away, obviously, in case it was contagious.”

Logan shot her a narrow look while keeping the corpse in view. Martin… or whatever he was now, had a level, which meant it wouldn’t gestate forever. “If you don’t work for Martin, what were you doing at the front desk?”

“What do you think? The world’s fucked. I needed whatever advantage I could get.”

Logan didn’t trust her and kept an eye on her hands. You had to be pretty brazen to impersonate a store owner and inflate prices, taking advantage of desperate people just for profit. “So you pocketed the cash? Why not just take what supplies you needed and run?”

She huffed. “And go where? I’m stuck here just like everyone else. One of the staff at the resort said he’d drive me out of here on the companies’ boat, but he wants $10,000. In cash. To the tourists, it might be pocket change, but not to me.”

Logan hesitated. Two days ago, he would have believed her. Since then, his naivete had taken a serious beating as he became jaded to the world around him. But what could he do even if she had killed Martin? Logan wasn’t a murderer.

He lowered his baseball bat and gestured to the corpse. “It isn’t dead. It’s not Martin anymore, but it’s very much alive.”

She gave the corpse a skeptical look. “Looks pretty dead to me.”

Logan considered it. It wasn’t moving, and although he didn’t love that the System had given it an undead label and what that implied, it still resembled Martin. He wouldn’t feel good about whacking the corpse of someone he knew. This was the same man who had greeted Logan and Lara each summer when they were children. The same man who had inquired about school and given out extra Mr. Freezes. What was he going to do, pummel Martin into pulp? Just the thought made him sick to his stomach.

At the same time, he’d learned his lesson with the squirrel. If he left Martin here, who knew what a ‘gestating’ being could turn into? If he didn’t act now, it might turn into the same Eleanor situation all over again. Still… could he do this? He grimaced. Turning to Tasha, Logan gave her a considering look. She was a potential murderer—either that, or a desperate kid who’d made a selfish decision, but she was still vulnerable. Without her first kill, she hadn’t even leveled yet. There could be a way to turn an unpleasant task into something that would help someone else.

Stolen novel; please report.

Tasha’s expression became wary, and she took a step back. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“Stay here.” Logan went back into the hallway and returned with the cleaver, holding it out.

Tasha took another step back. “There’s blood on that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. That’s what she was concerned about? “It’s monster blood.”

“M-monsters?”

“There’s a reason you want out of here. Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s going on out there. I also know you read the System message. We have less than 365 days to survive. To grow strong. To do that, you need to level, and you won’t do that hiding here.” Logan nodded at the cleaver. “Take it.”

With a hesitant hand, Tasha reached for the cleaver, grasping it by the blade carefully before turning it around, sharp end now facing Logan. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Logan grimaced at Martin’s corpse. “You need to kill Martin.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Kill Martin. Kill a dead body?” Her voice was high. “Are you nuts?”

“It’s not dead.”

“It’s a frigging corpse! It’s dead! It’s a dead body!”

“Come closer,” said Logan, his hand tightening around the handle of his bat as he stared down at Martin. Tasha followed, eyes bulging, the cleaver held towards Logan as if he was the threat instead of the corpse. “Look at it.”

Logan would rather avoid it altogether. It was painful looking at the remains of Martin and seeing the monster rather than the former kind man. But if you looked closely, you could see the purple fungi weave moving across its body, like trickling, spreading frost.

“Look,” said Logan. “He’s transforming in front of our eyes.”

Tasha kept a careful eye on Logan and inched closer and gave the corpse an examining glance. “I told you; it’s infected! That doesn’t mean—"

With a sound like wind whistling through the leaves of a bulrush, the corpse’s chest inflated in a breath, the flower tongue making a wiggling movement before stilling once again.

Tasha screamed and jumped back.

“Like I said,” said Logan. “It’s still alive. It’s a gestating undead minion, but it won’t be gestating forever. This is your chance. I don’t want to kill it. I knew Martin, bashing his corpse in with a baseball bat is anathema to me, but I will if I have to. Are you going to let this opportunity go to waste?”

Tasha pulled on her hair and gave the corpse a wild look. “This is crazy! Can’t we just lock the door, shove a chair underneath? I can’t…”

Logan sighed. He would like to do nothing better, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. “Are you planning to stay here until you save enough cash?”

Tasha bit her lip. “That was the plan, but there isn’t much left in the store.”

“Then you don’t want to leave something called an undead gestating minion alive. Come on, use the cleaver. One stab should do it. You’ll know when you’ve killed it. The System will tell you.”

Tasha still seemed hesitant, but as far as Logan was concerned, the decision had been made. Logan knew it had to be hard for her; although she hadn’t known Martin, he still resembled a person. But she would either take the opportunity presented to her, or she wouldn’t survive.

“This is so fucked up,” Tasha said as she held out the cleaver, angling the sharp edge. “So, so gross.”

Logan looked away as she closed her eyes and whacked. There was a slick, wet sound, followed by another shriek from Tasha. “Gross gross gross.” Logan heard another slick sound, followed by tearing fabric. “Did I get it? Is it dead now?”

Logan turned back and took in the scene.

Tasha had used the cleaver to whack a hole in Martin’s chest, and blood and guts and what looked like flower petals were trickling from the wound. The chest was no longer moving, and it looked as if the weave had stopped spreading.

“Did you receive a System confirmation?”

Tasha had an unfocused look; the same look Logan was sure he had when he was looking at his stat screen. “Shit, yeah. Weird freaking messages, too. Does that mean I ‘leveled’ up?”

Logan sighed and looked away from the gory corpse. At least that unpleasant task had been taken care of. “It’s done then.”

Tasha’s attention was back and she made a face as she looked at the corpse. “You know, I was fine leaving it here to rot before you involved me, but now I feel guilty. Should we bury him?”

Logan snorted. “If you want to dig a hole in the morning, be my guest.” He had already left enough bodies outside in the mushroom clearing; at this point, what was one more?

Tasha grimaced and then grabbed a bunch of empty carboard boxes, setting them down in front of Martin’s corpse as if she could cover it and pretend it wasn’t there. They left the storage room and Tasha shut the door, then locked it for good measure. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

They made their way back down the hallway to the store. The other door was open, and Logan could see the base of a set of stairs. That must lead up to the second storey.

“How much cash did you manage to save?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I’m trying to get out of here too, back to Hope’s End. We have a boat, but they won’t give us enough gas for the return trip.”

“Yeah, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know you. Why the hell would I help you?”

Logan’s voice was dry. “So I don’t tell the resort owners that you were out here stealing?”

“Be my guest.” Her eyes were flinty. “Or hey, why don’t you call the police?”

Logan had to admit she had guts for such a small thing. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me. You don’t know what’s out there.”

Tasha shifted the cleaver in her hand. “Is that a threat?”

Logan sighed. “I have a niece about your age, you know. No, it’s not a threat. I mean that you’ll need help to survive, and you shouldn’t antagonise the people that can give it. Me? I’m a pretty easy-going guy, I can take it. Others might not be so understanding.”

Her look was mulish. “Who says I haven’t come across one of those crazy things? I can look after myself.”

“Kid, I hope so. I really do.”

She gave him an assessing glance, her expression thoughtful, before she seemed to come to a decision. “I guess I could let you take what’s left in the store, if you want.”

Logan raised his eyebrow. Great, a packet of beef jerky and instant noodles. He’d have a feast. “Thanks,” he said with a smirk. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a phone charger around here, have you?”

“Dude was old-fashioned. He sold a bunch of artery clogging crap. Going by the state of the upstairs, if he has any electronic equipment, it’s from the 80s.”

Logan sighed. “I’ll grab a package of jerky and be on my way. I hope you manage to get a ride out of here, kid.”

Tasha gave him a look of alarm. “You’re going outside?”

“I’ll see if the resort has an extra room.”

She seemed nervous, shuffling her feet, and eyeing the windows. It was now pitch dark with only the moon supplying light and with an overcast sky, it wasn’t much. “Those things—monsters are out there. I… I heard them.”

Logan hesitated. “Close?”

“I think so.”

“Well, in that case, would you mind if I spent the night?”

****

Tasha had seemed relieved to have him stay. She’d disappeared upstairs before returning with a pillow and a throw for him to lie down on the floor. With a stern warning to not venture upstairs, she’d left him on his own while she went to the second floor. Presumably, Martin had a bed or a couch upstairs.

It turned out that the reason the front door had been unlocked was because she couldn’t find the keys. The lights had been kept on as a deterrent. No wonder she wanted someone to stay. Now, anything would have to get by him first before making its way upstairs.

Logan was monster fodder. He found he didn’t mind. She may be a criminal, but she was young. Kids did stupid things sometimes, especially without parents. If it meant he could save her from being yet another victim of the System, he’d take it.

Now that he finally had a chance to survey his injuries, Logan did what he could to keep them clean by using the run-down decaying bathroom downstairs. A bar of soap was hardly disinfectant, but he was counting on his constitution attribute to do most of the work.

The gash on the back of his thigh had already clotted, faint signs of healing around the edges. The puncture on his side was tender when he touched it, but not alarmingly so. He had the sense that with time, it wouldn’t cause him any problems.

As far as his missing fingertip, he changed the bandage by tearing off a strip from a towel and hoped for the best. Surprisingly, it was his torn fingernails that gave him the most grief. Fuck, they hurt, like a persistent shard of glass hidden underneath his skin that wouldn’t come out no matter what he tried; but instead, it was missing, shredded fingernails.

Logan snacked on beef jerky and dry Ramen noodles and then pulled up his stat sheet. He’d either been running or fighting after each upgrade. This was his first break, a chance to conduct a comprehensive review.

Karma: 30/246.

Huh. That was a head puzzler. It had been hours since he last used the [Life Cycle] skill, but his karma hadn’t replenished. It was still sitting at thirty, which came from the five bonus intelligence points he’d received from the quest. Logan had assumed it was a resource that replenished slowly, but unless it only reset every twenty-four hours, he was missing something.

Once again, he cursed the System. How was anyone supposed to ‘advance and grow’ if they had to figure out everything for themselves? It was like announcing you were an astronaut and then forcing you into a rocket ship without any training.

When he’d needed to increase his karma reservoirs, he’d had two choices, either intelligence or wisdom. He’d gone with intelligence due to math, but it had also been a hunch. Discovering the lodestone happened after Eleanor’s death. It wouldn’t have occurred without his regret and resolution to change. That wasn’t intelligence; it was wisdom. It made sense that the other attribute that received a huge bonus—intelligence—had to control his [Life Cycle] skill. But perhaps wisdom had been part of it all along? There had to be something, some clue.

“System, open the settings mainframe.”

[Entering the Settings Mainframe.]