SAVE POINT 72

Loading a Zombie Cluster F***...200%

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Rosabella

To be honest, FUCK in all caps doesn't BEGIN to describe it.

Not the zombie woman screeching in my face.

Not the fear seizing—searing at—my heart and the breath clogging there—

Somewhere along the line, I've gained superhuman strength because I throw Joy to the side and bolt.

Feet scrabbling in the loose dirt and dead leaves—

Fingers scraping against bark and rocks—

As one thought pulses in my mind like the only flare my brain can send up.

Get away.

Live.

LIVE!

"Rosabella, no!" Joy screams from somewhere next to me.

But my body's already said 'yes' one hundred thousand times—matching every shuttering heartbeat in my chest.

...Although, the pink-haired girl has a point—she does. Because, as I stand up to my full height, I realize we're surrounded by a swarm of them.

A swarm of Darken.

Growling, yelping, stumbling zombies fill the grove, outnumbering even the rows of trees.

...And they've clearly all seen us thanks to my scream.

HOLY fuck.

"I could kill you," Joy snarls, her eyes coal black. That girl clearly doesn't mince words.

"Shouldn't you kill those things instead?" I whimper, feeling like a useless child campaigning to a parent to kill a spider they're petrified of, "Use your like twenty million swords?"

"And ask for immediate death?" Joy hisses, "You've obviously never faced a swarm alone. They latch onto sound and movement, and they're quick. You'd be as good as a potato defending my back. I don't know about you, but I don't particularly want to die today."

My jaw clenches. At least we have the same motivations. "So we run?" I ask, trying to gauge the girl's snapping eyes and tense face as my boots shuffle in the dirt and leaves underfoot.

"We hide," she corrects swiftly. Her eyes scour the landscape with stark quickness, "Can you climb?"

"Hypo—thetically," I squeak, "What are we climbing?" I can't keep the nerves from jumping in my weak voice, pitching it at steep angles that, overall, make me sound like a sissy.

"I really should just murder you," Joy growls, "Put you out of your misery now—"

"I think I like the climbing option better," I concede hurriedly.

"Pick a tree," the pink-haired girl's voice is rushed and garbled, "Make sure the base is strong in case they rush it—"

"Rush it?" I squeal. My head is nearly dizzy at the thought.

"Just do what I said!" Joy throws her hands down in aggravation.

And it's really the last option I have—the last thing to do: exactly as she's said. The forest blurs as I scan it for something to climb. Most of the trees are split only a few feet off the ground—their trunks splintered and burnt to a crisp from what looks like an engulfing forest fire.

Are any of them big and sturdy enough to climb?

My throat is dry.

My mind is frenzied.

There.

My eyes lock on the charred, leaning form of a tree in the distance, outlined darkly against the gray sky. The splayed tendrils of it's branches reach upward like a cry to the Heavens which has been frozen since whatever came through here and burned the place. I dive for it.

Hearing the cries of the Darken at my heels.

Hearing their ravenous teeth click—

"Rgh!" One lunges for me.

I evade it, nearly stumbling to the ground while not evading almost peeing myself—Goddamn!

"Hurry!" Joy yells. I glance up to find her already riding the top of a nearby tree like it's a black stallion—her boots hooked on either side of a massive branch like she's tight in the saddle.

Hurry.

Right.

Unfortunately, I can only run as fast as my legs will take me...

I trip forward—floundering, it seems, to keep my boots under me. I reach the trunk of the tree—

"Arrrrughhhh!"

I whip around to find a Darken grabbing for me. Stringy, green-tinged hair falls from her scalp and into her bulging eyes. Her yellow teeth open to sink into my flesh—

"Ahh!" I leap upward. I grasp the black bark of the tree with all my strength and heave myself upward—

My health bar pops into view, lowered significantly, but I'm there! The rough bark snags on my palms. I breathe heavily against the solid wood, feeling it's round curve under me.

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But the zombie clutches at the tree trunk, her gnarled fingernails scraping at the groves in it.

Ew!

I try to scrabble higher, but my boot misses, sliding off a cracking branch—

Splinter—

Slam!

Imprinted rubber meets zombie face with as much force as I hoped would propel me upward—

Nailing the howling thing in the nose.

Opps...kind of...

I bite my bottom lip as the thing slumps backwards. It's skull is crushed in and bleeding from the angst in my kick.

Damn. Fear slams in my heart as I stare at the crumpled, white body laying twisted and grotesque at the roots of the tree—below me. Am I high enough to dissuade the rest of them? Do I really want to find out?

I try to reach for a slightly higher branch, but hear it groan beneath my fingers. If the branch snaps, it'll surely attract the attention of every Darken within a five-mile radius. I ease off my grip.

From the tree several paces away, Joy places an anxious finger over her lips, attempting to shush me.

Great, I'm reduced to taking instruction from a bully and fearing for my life from a bunch of flesh-hungry savages...

Grand.

And it would be fine. I can be quiet. In fact, I can be silent. I used to be the almost-invisible kid in the back row of every classroom; blending into the wallpaper is a talent that I've honed. But not with this darkness inside me. Not with it welling up—scratching at my throat...making me want to—

I won't cough.

I can't.

Not now.

Not here. The Darken will hear and come running. They'll kill me.

I try to swallow the cough.

I try to shove the dryness in my throat down as I swing the weight of my backpack to my stomach, my fingers fumbling for the zipper.

No noise.

No—

> Are you sure you want to live?

I freeze. That voice is back. The one that sounds like mine. The one—

It can't be coming from anyone. There's no one here but me. I swivel my head to verify. Yep. Just me, the burnt fingers of this tree, wasteland forest and a zombie herd heading straight for the two of us...shit.

> Are you sure you want to live?

The voice persists, even as I try to shake it away.

> It looks an awful lot like you want to die. Even subconsciously. Your body wants to cough. You WANT to make noise. To have the Darken swarm and ingest your innards, blood coating their mouths. Every fiber of you wants this fight over. You're so tired.

I am so tired; I feel it in every cell of my body. It's right. Maybe the voice is—

No. I clamp my teeth closed, grinding them together. I can do this. I just need my root powder. My fingers jiggle the zipper—

One notch, two notch—

It only makes a slight scraping noise which still has me wincing. I can see the reflective glass of the jar now—

Three notches, four—

The tickle in my throat is nearly unbearable, but I clench my forehead—

Five—

"Augh—haha—" The cough sputters, uninvited and ragged from the tip of my tongue—no!

I panic.

As the Darken turn.

Their bulbus eyes lock on me.

Shrieking, they all stumble forward, rushing towards my tree, reaching arms, gaping mouths—NOOO!!!

Masses of them, materializing between the trees—in the haze.

Oh my God, how do I fix this?

How do I—

Grand Dragon! I beg in my head to a beast I'm not even sure is listening. Grans Dragon, what do I do???!

It's a plea—a last-ditch hope.

That there'll be an answer. That something inside or around me does want me saved...living ...okay...

As a million, gnarled fingers reach for me. They're swarming now, colligating around the base of my tree. One gutsy one pushes against it, testing the sway. It snarls. More of them lean into it. Is this what Joy meant by 'rushing it'? My heart spasms in my throat—

> Distraction.

The word comes to me.

Filters into my mind.

The Grand Dragon's answer? My own desperate solution? Either way, I'll take it.

Of course, a distraction! I have the creator magic. I may not be able to kill them all, but if I can, somehow, lead them away...

I shut my eyes, diving into myself. Attempting to drown out the mangled cries of the creatures below...the stench of them...but I can't block out my own heartbeat: rattling in my ears...my breath, rattling in my chest.

Regardless, I find it.

My magic.

And I twist and pull at the reserve of it, shaping exactly what I want—

An explosion would be too loud...draw too many zombies from far away. I need something different... something...

I let my eyes flutter open to the purple creator magic bar which is, now, significantly lowered and...

And my creation.

Blinking back at me from just a few feet away.

A giant, majestic elk.

The thick, brown fur covering it's neck and chest ruffles in a wind I can barely feel, and it's black eyes are sharp and focused beneath an enormous weave of antlers. The animal's ears twist, honing in on the growls of the Darken and it's head lowers as though sending me a bow—

Whizz.

Something hurls though the air—

Thud.

My jaw goes slack as pain ripples through the elk's face. My eyes dart to the handle of one of Joy's daggers which now protrudes from the animal's stomach. A single rivulet of scarlet blood traces down from the glinting blade embedded there, dripping onto the dirt at it's hooves. My fists clench at my sides as I turn, annoyed, to face the girl in the tree a few places away.

She didn't have to do that. I had it handled. She didn't have to injure—

But, watching the Darken at the base of my tree turn with vigor towards the blood, I realize suddenly that maybe she did. Driven by bloodlust, the creatures dive towards the injured elk, moaning and grabbing for it—

Moving away from my tree.

The elk and I share one last glance before it blinks again and kicks up its heels, running for its life.

And the Darken follow.

Rasping.

Gaping.

Until our glade is as bare and silent as it used to be.

My hands are shaking. I don't realize it until I try to dismount the tree. My fingers wobble as my palms scrape against the rough tree bark. I kick my feet over the side of the limb and slide back to the ground that doesn't seem as stable as it used to be.

Is that how it's going to go now? The world proving to me that it's shakier footing than I've wanted all along? What will I do if it wins? If it gets the better of me? I won this time, but the possibility of 'next time' hangs in the air like an undeniable threat.

"Beginners luck," Joy snorts, confirming every dread layering in my stomach as she claps me roughly on the shoulder. Strands of her long, pink hair flutter across her face, "And you're one hell of a beginner—"

"You didn't have to kill it," I protest, sourly—talking about the elk. I don't know why I'm feeling so defensive in the moment. Oh, never mind, it's probably 'cause she used the deer I made into knife-throwing, target practice—

"Wounded is different than dead," Joy clarifies sharply, "There's a difference."

And her words make me pause for a minute, pondering. Because she's right. I've been wounded more times than I can count.

Some wounds, physical.

Some invisible.

And I'm still here.

I'm still fucking here.