Logan held his index finger against the top of the tempered glass patio table and examined it closely. The skin was no longer the same tanned skin as on the rest of his body. Instead, golden weave covered everything below the first knuckle as if he’d dipped his finger into a pot of gold. Past the first knuckle, where the gold weave met tanned skin, tiny fungi worms advanced like parasitic worms.
He was past the point of cutting off the tip of his finger and calling it done. He didn’t want to have to go through this twice.
This was going to suck balls.
Logan considered the best way to do this. If his aim was off—in any way, he could end up taking more than he wanted. The stress of doing this in the first place may cause him to aim incorrectly. The only way to ensure a clean cut was to place his hand against the table ledge, curling his other fingers underneath and holding out his index finger on the tabletop.
Logan positioned himself and then tensed. There was no time for hesitation. Time was literally inches of his body on the line here. Letting out a scream, Logan chopped off his whole finger like chopping the tip of a carrot.
“What the fuck is he doing?!” Brad exclaimed behind him.
At first, he felt nothing, just numbness, followed by shock. That’s when the pain began.
[Idiot’s Paradox is Level 6!]
[Idiot’s Paradox is Level 7!]
[Idiot’s Paradox is Level 8!]
Logan was expecting the pain to be like the pain in his toe, or slightly less. After all, he now had a skill, [Idiot’s Paradox], that was supposed to lessen the ability to feel pain. Boy, was he wrong. It began as a feeling of coldness, as if his finger had gone to sleep, and then it transformed into what he could only describe as ice picks, pulling on his flesh. It was as if something was digging and flaying his digit and then dropping it into a pot of boiling oil at the same time.
And the blood kept coming. He needed to do something, staunch it, start the clotting, or he’d be in serious trouble.
Using the umbrella fabric, he wrapped his hand, over and over, tying the ends off with his teeth. He’d stopped the bleeding, but he hadn’t stopped the pain.
[Idiot’s Paradox is Level 9!]
Ah, fuck. The things he did to avoid becoming a zombie. Logan grasped the edge of the table with his other hand, staring down at the tempered glass, and then promptly swayed, lightheaded. The sight of blood had never bothered him but seeing his chopped off finger like a prop in a movie set… that was a whole different level of gross.
“Am I the only one wondering why this freak just chopped off his own finger?” said Brad, hefting the umbrella pole. He was covered in a layer of blood and fungi skin goo like Tasha, but he had a hard look in his eyes and Logan didn’t like the way he was pointing his weapon.
Tasha threw him a sharp glance. “Because those parasites had gotten into his wound, obviously. He had a cut on his finger.”
Tasha inched closer, staring at the finger on the table in morbid curiosity. “Props. You’re one crazy man,” she said, her eyes wide. “Guess it’s good you’re on our side.”
Logan grimaced. “How did you make out?”
Tasha bounced. “I’m level two! I did what you said—upped my constitution. It got a little hairy there for a bit, but we made it out without having to go into zombie-quarantine!”
Brad huffed and side-eyed Logan. “I upped my strength. Seemed to work out for me, despite what you said.”
Logan suspected Brad was holding a grudge or resented that he’d backed down so quickly when Logan challenged him. They needed to part ways before the conflict got any worse. Logan had enough on his hands with the monsters as it is. “Glad that worked for you,” he said, averting his gaze and handing Tasha the cleaver. She made a face at the blood.
Tasha crouched down, rubbing the blade against sand and grass before peering back at the hotel. “I wonder where the rest of the tourists are. They must have heard that shit going on; we weren’t exactly quiet.”
Brad rested his pole against the ground and leaned against it. “We couldn’t hear anything up in our rooms. I think we’re looking at the people from the lobby.”
Tasha gave Brad a look of curiosity, but Logan wasn’t paying attention anymore. Something was moving underneath his feet. Without his perception increase, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. The earth wasn’t moving—nothing like an earthquake—but there were faint vibrations in the sand. If he squinted at the grains next to his shoes, they were shifting, as if in a faint breeze.
“—what about your family,” Tasha was saying, “are they—”
“Quiet,” snapped Logan.
Tasha shut her mouth, her stance suddenly wary.
Crouching down, Logan inched forward, trying not to make any depressions in the sand as he reached for his fallen baseball bat.
“What’s going on?” Tasha whispered.
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Brad straightened from his slouch, darting his gaze around.
Making a snap decision, Logan threw all five of his extra attribute points into perception. It was his lowest stat and until he figured out a way to increase it with the cheat method, it would continue to fall behind. He needed enhanced senses now more than ever.
[Perception: 13]
[Perception: +]
[Perception: 17]
That gave him seventeen in perception which still lagged behind some of his other attributes, but he could immediately tell the difference. Logan gasped, resting his hand against the sand as everything around him brightened. The sun wasn’t fully out, and the skies were gloomy, but it didn’t matter. Logan felt as if he could see for miles.
His eyesight had increased, allowing him to see the fine grains vibrating against the ground. Vibrating. Why vibrating? Logan closed his eyes, focusing his senses on the ground underneath him. There was a sound, a rushing, similar to the sound he'd heard underneath the floor of Martin’s Convenience. If the ground was vibrating, if dirt was moving underneath them…
Logan’s eyes opened wide. “They’re coming out of the ground!”
With a rushing sound like water exploding out of a bottle, the ground next to them opened up, sand flying everywhere. The same thing happened all around them, tunnels breaching, four at least. And out of the tunnels crawled something out of a nightmare.
Fungi fingernails latched onto the edges of the holes, the minions prying themselves up. Blue fungi weaves had replaced their skin, eyes white flowers and tongues squirming snake-like tentacles. They were still wearing pajamas—torn nightgowns, plaid sleepwear—but despite the clothes, they were no longer people.
“Shit!” said Brad. “I knew that lady. She was in the room next to mine.”
“That’s one mystery I’d rather remain unsolved,” said Tasha with a gulp. “Guess we know what happened to the tourists.”
In the tunnel closest to them, a large, overweight minion crawled onto the sand. There was no mistaking those features. Logan had thought it strange he hadn’t seen Martin, but the minion had been here all along.
“We can’t win against this many,” said Logan. There were fifty at least. “Run! To the water!” They had a chance if they got to the docks and grabbed a boat. That was if they could outrun them, if if if. An urgency unlike anything else filled Logan, and he grabbed Tasha by the wrist, urging her to move as fast as possible.
Logan felt the wiggling fungi worms trying to latch onto his back, and he turned and slashed them clean in half with his baseball bat like whacking a noodle. He fell back, slashing at the minions in pursuit and trying to give Tasha and Brad enough room to get away. They were converging on them like a swarm of locusts, intent on infecting everything in their path. Logan bashed one in the head, whacking another in the chest, before finishing it off with a final whack to the head as he passed.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level One Undead Minion!]
[You have defeated a Level One Undead Minion!]
The handle of his bat grew slippery as the blood from his missing finger soaked through the bandage.
“Watch out!” shouted Tasha from his right and she slashed through reaching fungi tentacles, followed by a mighty whack to the thing’s arm, cutting it clean off. “Go go go!”
As they grew closer to the docks, they came upon other tourists who watched the approaching minions in disbelief.
“Run!” said Tasha. “Don’t just stare!”
Those that turned on their heels survived, but others froze in disbelief and quickly fell victim to the minions as they passed.
They were almost there. They were going to make it!
Turning the last hill that led to the lake, Logan smacked into Brad’s back. “Why are you…”
In front of them stood five minions, lurching towards them while the other minions closed in on them from behind. The ones on the far sides were all level one and still resembled people—if you ignored the flower eyes and wiggling fungi tentacles. The one in the middle was level two and the fungi weave had started to spread from its skin to its clothes, wiggling worms spreading across its jeans and tank top. They were surrounded.
They needed to move. If they froze like those tourists, they’d have no chance. “Tasha, take the one on the left. Brad, the one on the right. I’ll take the three in the middle.”
“What about the ones behind us!” said Tasha.
Logan filled his voice with conviction. “Worry about what’s in front of you. We can do this. We can make it. Believe in yourself. Fuck these things.”
Tasha gulped but then gave a distracted nod. “Fuck these things,” she mumbled.
Logan led the charge, swinging his bat, feeling the minions behind them already trying to latch onto his legs with their fingernail fungi tentacles. He hit the first minion in front of him and then went onto the next, going so fast it was like whacking moles at a carnival.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level One Undead Minion!]
[You have defeated a Level One Undead Minion!]
The level two minion gave him a bit more trouble, but it was no match for his strength and agility. The thing didn’t even have a chance to try to infect him before he tore off half its fungi head.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level Two Undead Minion!]
Tasha screamed next to him, a fungi tentacle latching onto the back of her leg. It still hadn’t touched her skin, wrapped around her sock, but her constitution attribute couldn’t be high. She had seconds before she turned into another gestating minion.
Logan sliced through the tentacle, slamming his bat into the minion for good measure.
Ding!
[You have defeated a Level One Undead Minion!]
He’d lost count of how many he’d killed. Logan hadn’t leveled yet, but he figured there wasn’t much experience for defeating a level one or two monster. One-on-one, these things were child’s play, but in overwhelming numbers, they might as well be level twenty.
Both Brad and Tasha had cut down their own minions and the way was clear.
“GO!” said Logan.
They approached the wooden slats of the dock, clattering over it, reaching other frantic tourists and people escaping in all directions. They were jumping into speedboats, but no one had the keys so instead they were using life jackets to frantically paddle the boats away from the dock. The boats were hardly moving, lurching in the water, still well in reach of the dock. They’d be fucked if these minions could swim.
“Logan, look out!” said Tasha, pulling him to the side of a reaching tentacle. The minions had made it to the dock and soon they’d be in the same situation as the other tourists.
“Get to a boat, any boat!” Logan turned to face the coming stampede. But before he could swing his baseball bat, a boom ricocheted from behind him, causing his ears to ring. Logan turned, facing the new threat.
Jack.
He wore a red life jacket over his polo shirt, the tags dangling in front of his chest. His short brown hair had gained additional strands of grey, and the lines on his face were especially pronounced, his expression hard and intent as he braced the shotgun for another shot.
“You came back,” said Logan in disbelief.
“Like I said in my text message, your sister never would have forgiven me if I left you here to die. The boat’s ready to go. Even got extra gas. Let’s get out of here.”