Something Clay read in a book once had always stuck with him. The exact wording couldn't be easily recalled, but the basic message burned itself into his mind: When running for your life, don't look behind you; there's nothing you can see that will make you run any faster.

Reading that on a computer screen at two in the morning, only one thing came to mind.

That's a good call.

Clay practically leapt from the door and out into the parking lot at the same time that a loud sound resonated at his and Alan's back. Killing his curiosity before it could kill him, he just kept running without even throwing a glance over his shoulder. The sound brought the vision of a wrecking ball into his mind's eye.

The sounds of destruction and the dust of debris were in the air.

He and Alan were totally unprepared for something like this. It would be easy for them to have two different ideas in mind and, without having the time to talk it out, end up separating.

Clay quickly made the decision to put his trust in Alan. Just follow him and everything would be fine.

Fortunately, it seemed like Alan already intended to take charge. Without checking whether or not Clay was following him, he started booking it down the sidewalk and hopefully out of any clear view of the gas station.

Clunk-clunk-clunk!

Their desperate footsteps were punctuated by the sound of hard plastic clanging against hard plastic. They'd moved quietly to avoid this, but there was nothing they could do now to stop their gas canisters from jostling around when they moved this quickly.

"Ditch the bags, kid!" Alan directed, already allowing his bag's straps to slide loosely down his arms mid-step.

Clay hesitated. His bag didn't have much in the way of supplies in it, but there wouldn't be any time for him to get his mystery box out before--

"NOW!" Alan shouted openly as he tossed his bag to the side. All he had now was his shotgun and the machete at his waist.

Clay quickly did the same. He had his revolver and whatever was in his toolbelt.

Now that all this noise was being made, the attention of any nearby Crowders was as good as drawn. Clay figured Alan didn't see any reason to whisper his demands at this point.

Slam! Slam! Slamslamslamslam!

Heavy footsteps that started slow were speeding up. Whatever this thing was, it had broken through the gas station and was in hot pursuit.

Alan was fitter than Clay, but Clay was faster and had the advantage of surplus stamina. There wasn't any danger of Alan being left behind, but seeing his compatriot pulling slightly ahead must have gotten him worried enough to look over his shoulder.

Only a second later, Clay felt Alan shoving him to the side and onto the ground. He used that same pushing force to throw himself in the opposite direction.

Clay grunted as his body unexpectedly slammed into the pavement. He sat up, about to do some shouting of his own before a hulking shape barreled past his eyes and momentarily blocked his view of Alan.

Even after he had the chance to look at him again, his widening eyes were transfixed on the shape instead. It continued running for a few more yards until it could gradually bring itself to a stop.

Now that he could see it in the daylight, Clay realized that his assumption back in the gas station had been correct. All of the meat in the room where he found it was now surrounding this thing's body like armor made of flesh.

Not that it looked unnatural. Without having seen it in its 'regular' state, he'd have probably assumed that it just ordinarily looked like this.

The figure he'd seen in the office didn't have any arms, but as it was now, it had two impossibly burly arms that were topped off by a pair of hands with eight thick fingers between them. These eight fingers were not divided equally, with its right hand sporting six digits and its left two.

Instead of tapering muscle strands, it now walked on two facsimiles of feet. It didn't have any toes, but the basic silhouette of its feet was enough to call back to its human origins. If indeed it had ever been a human.

Once it managed to fight its own mass enough to finally come to a stop, Clay watched it turn around and lean its head forward with purpose. The only thing reminiscent of what he'd seen in the gas station was its sharp face, but even that had a layer of muscle around it that caused its sunken eyes to sink even deeper, to the point where he couldn't even see them anymore.

Despite all of that aggressive movement, the zombie itself didn't let out any of the primal yells or aggressive panting that he'd come to expect. Its face remained stuck in that open-mouthed, wide-eyed expression that now looked to Clay like a silent scream with the context of skin.

This wouldn't do. There was no way to outrun it once it got up to top speed. Perhaps they could keep ducking to the side every time, but that would kill any chance of them being able to create meaningful distance, something that would be even more important once the Crowders showed up.

Clay didn't have a lot of time to think, and so there was only one idea he could think of.

"Let's split up!"

From an outside perspective, away from the danger, even Clay would look at an idea like this and say, "Doomed."

But there was simple, understandable logic at play in his head.

After seeing it run past them like that, he quickly came to the conclusion that there was no way it could chase them both down if they went off in different directions. The one it didn't chase would have ample opportunity to create distance and hide themselves away.

However, Clay wasn't planning on there being a 50/50 chance on which of them it chases.

"What!?" Alan called out in disbelief at his suggestion.

There wasn't any time to argue. Clay took aim at the muscle-bound beast and fired a silent shot.

It was too big of a target to miss. The zombie still didn't make any sounds once the bullet wound appeared on its chest, so protected by its thick skin that Clay swore he could see a bit of light glinting off the bullet shallowly sitting inside its body. What it lacked in animalistic railing against pain, it made up for in body language.

It turned subtly, but solidly, in Clay's direction. Clay himself was already sprinting across the street to get away from Alan.

"I'll meet you back at your place!"

"What the fuck, kid! Don't--!" It seemed like Alan was about to either insult him or say something important, but Clay couldn't hear him anymore. He was already fleeing the scene, his head filled with nothing but the sound of that monster's thunderous footsteps. He didn't look back.

You were going to say 'don't be stupid', right?

Clay ran at an angle to try and reach a narrow path between the buildings that seemed too thin for the bulky zombie to follow him into; however, this also meant he was partly moving in its direction. It was a perfect opportunity for him to be intercepted.

This wasn't because he had a secondary plan to ensure his safety. In fact, beyond splitting up and reaching the alley, Clay had no clue what he was going to do. It was just that he figured this was partly his fault, and he didn't want Alan to die because of his mistake.

If I die saving you, you can't be mad! Even I know that’s such a stupid thought! I’m the dumbest person on the planet!

His saving grace was that the larger zombie had a slow start before it reached the speed that allowed it to gain on them so easily. Clay was already at his top acceleration. However, even with those advantages, he picked up on the fact that it would be a close call no matter what.

"Haha!" He let out a delirious laugh. Clay allowed himself to become drunk on a specific thought once he realized he was likely going to die. His brain pumped with chemicals he didn't know the name of. Everything slowed down.

If I die saving someone, then it's definitely okay! Even a worthless life like mine would be admirable if it was capped off with a heroic sacrifice!

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I'm going to die! Please let it end quickly, at least! It'll probably be an ugly display, so don't make me suffer too much!

"I'm the hero of the hour!" Clay heard himself shout. He was embarrassed on behalf of that voice, as if it was someone else who'd said something so strange.

There was another part of him at work, though. Without thinking about it, he used up his last Stat Point on the only thing that made sense.

Slamslamlslamslamslam!

>Speed: 1

Use 'em or lose 'em!

It wasn't clear how much difference a single Stat Point would make when two of them had barely done anything to his Strength. However, that 'barely anything' was what the part of him that was desperate to live latched onto. He was faster now, even if it was only a little bit.

Usually, the difference between 0 and 1 feels like nothing. Sometimes all it can mean is one extra footstep.

Clay was able to enter the alley with the zombie only lagging behind by a step. It cast a shadow on the alley's path.

Too slow! I'm too slow! Always too slow!

But a crushing force didn't come. He could have sworn he felt it reaching in after him, but he must have gotten too far away. Maybe he'd only escaped its grasp by a hair.

When he didn't immediately die, when nothing stopped his forward movement, his mind sobered up. His drunk grin twisted back into the frightened expression he had when he first found the unique zombie chasing him down.

I made it?

He fled deeper into the alley.

I made it! I didn't die! Thinking about it, getting caught by that thing would probably be a painful way to go!

Clay reached a t-junction in the alley and stopped to see if he'd actually lost it.

He didn't. It hadn't been able to enter the alley with him, but it was strong enough that it wouldn't have to fuss with a tight squeeze. Clay watched as it reeled its arms back and slammed its fists against both of the buildings at once, easily sticking its hands through solid brick and continuing its pursuit.

Its arms and shoulders sank into the buildings as well, expanding the holes along the sides of the buildings like two worms burrowing through dirt. Doing so slowed it down, but Clay was no longer as safe as he'd thought. At this rate, if the zombie didn't kill him, the collapsing buildings would.

He made off down the path to his right, which would at least put him out of its sight for a little while.

It opened up onto a street littered with abandoned cars, but also a fair number of Crowders that were moving in his direction towards the sounds of two buildings being torn apart like paper.

As soon as he realized there were other zombies present now, Clay immediately took his gun out of his tool belt and shot the closest one in the head. [Sound of Silence] soaked up the sound, but now both of his slots were full.

>+10 XP!

He'd fired three times so far. Only three live rounds left.

There were four Crowders left, and now they'd seen him.

Clay unsheathed his machete, then briefly cast his eyes to the side and released the two gunshot sounds as far away as he could. He heard the echoes better than he heard the shots themselves. Any Crowders closer to that area might think to check those sounds before coming here and making his life even harder.

In the same moment, two of them got close enough to lunge at him. The first one that entered his confidence radius, the 10-foot radius around him where he felt confident he could land a shot, received a bullet in the face for its trouble. No climactic gunshot sound accompanied its second death.

>+10 XP!

The second one had a part of its hand hacked away by his machete as Clay took a step back, putting a third zombie in his confidence radius in time to be quietly shot as well.

>+10 XP!

This is the first time Clay has ever fought with multiple zombies at once in a situation where he and Alan weren't using methods to turn the fight against a crowd into a series of one-on-one encounters. He didn't even have time to think about how well he was doing, focused entirely on batting these things out of the way so he could prepare for the real danger.

One bullet left.

The zombie that had half its fingers taken from it continued pressing forward, so Clay weaved to the side and relieved it of the rest of that arm. The final Crowder was behind it, and the step to the side gave it an opportunity to lash out as well when he was momentarily distracted with unloading one of the noises in his sound slots.

It scratched Clay's arm, ripping open the sleeve of his jacket and exposing some of the shirts tucked inside for extra protection. Clay shoved his gun into its forehead, ripping open its head and exposing the brain tucked inside its skull with the pull of a trigger. A fair enough trade.

>+10 XP!

He wasted no time turning his attention back on the one-armed zombie. With no bullets left, Clay had no choice but to make it into a no-armed zombie, then a half-headed zombie.

>+10 XP!

>ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! [THE FIRST STEP]

There was no time to celebrate. More Crowders were likely to arrive and Clay had barely come up with a plan that might bring down the buff zombie.

It likely couldn't build any momentum while fighting against the walls of two brick buildings, but sounds reminiscent of a construction site were getting closer and closer. It was only a matter of time before it emerged from the same opening Clay had.

He cut away at the dismembered zombie's shirt until he could rip it from its body, then ran further down the street towards one of the many cars lining it. With his head on a swivel, Clay popped open the gas tank and only hesitated for a moment to make sure the shirt's fabric was mostly dry before stuffing it into the opening.

As he used the cheapy gas station lighter to light the part of the shirt still hanging outside like a wick, his first thought was about the fact that he was pulling this trick again.

I really don't get any kicks out of blowing stuff up…Honest!

The second it was clear the fire would travel without his help, Clay took off even further down the sidewalk, then crossed the street and stuffed himself underneath another car that was far enough that he felt he'd be safe from the coming explosion. He made sure it was also close enough to keep the doomed car in sight.

He was careful not to crush the rat squirming in his jacket's pocket as he went to the ground.

Clay had to peek past a rear tire, but he could definitely see it. More importantly, he could see the entrance into the alley that he'd come from and from which the oversized zombie would soon emerge.

Less than a minute later, it did just that. Buildings crumbled to make way for it, creating piles of bricks and concrete that kicked up huge clouds of dust. If Clay were much closer, he'd be worried about getting buried in the debris, which would have definitely happened if these had been apartment or larger business buildings.

There was a worry that it had a means of finding him, like a tracking ability similar to the Spooker's. The image of a blob of room-meat touching him and starting the chain reaction that woke it up made Clay think it was possible that the contact had marked him somehow, but the way that the brute, unfazed by the ruins created in its path of destruction, dumbly looked around for him cleared away any of those thoughts.

I want you there…

BANG!

One of his two saved-up gunshots was deployed near the car that he'd sabotaged, drawing the monster's attention in that direction. It moved slowly, but even those tepid steps sent vibrations through the ground that he could feel despite the distance.

It searched with as much coordination as something of its size could muster. That is to say, it smashed one of its fists on the roof of the car a few times. The windows shattered easily under the crushing pressure of the first blow, with both windshields following suit within the following four.

It's taking too long to explode!

It took long enough that the car's roof was completely crushed inwards into the cab. If someone had actually been in there, they'd have been unceremoniously crushed to death. Satisfied enough with its work, the zombie turned away from it to start doing something else. Clay didn't wait to see what that something might be, unloading the second gunshot sound at the same place underneath the car.

BANG!

The zombie instantly twisted its body back around and started smashing the car again. Its tires popped loud enough that it briefly overpowered the sounds of it hammering away at the abused car. If someone had been hiding underneath the car, they'd have been dutifully crushed as well.

Crowders were starting to appear from every which way now, but he was focused on the task at hand.

Go! Blow up already! Blow--!

And then it did, in sync enough with one of the zombie's blows that Clay wondered if crushing the car had been the secret ingredient he'd needed.

Clay had been watching so intently that he was a second behind curling up and covering his ears, the inside of his head ringing like a bell even after he cupped his palms to the sides of his head and made himself as small as possible. He turned his body to the side as well, away from the explosion, to protect the rat inside his jacket in the unlikely scenario some flying debris slipped into his hiding spot.

His eardrums ached, but he thought he heard the sound of various metal objects clanking and smacking across the ground. Maybe there was glass breaking in there, too?

But what he didn't hear were the sounds of any Achievements, not even some XP gain.

He slowly opened his eyes and peeked at the aftermath.

No fucking way…

The car had definitely exploded, sending parts of itself flying into places Clay wasn't in a position to see. What was left of it was charred, with small plumes of flame likely subsisting off of gasoline and the remnants of the car's interior seating.

The problem was that the zombie was still standing. Parts of its skin were torn and burned away, exposing the painfully thin body underneath from some angles. It hadn't come away clean, but it was still moving just fine.

Clay stared wide-eyed. The 'blowing something up' trick had a 100% success rate until now, but it only caused this thing a moderate amount of damage. Maybe there'd be a chance if he could hit it with a few more, but there was no way he could pull that off from this position. The only things he had going for him now were the fact that he hadn't been noticed and that at least he'd landed a substantial, if ultimately nonlethal, blow against the overpowered zombie.

The Crowders were drawing in closer now, idly interested in the commotion caused by the smasher's escapades.

Once one of them shambled up next to the side of the car the smasher was on, an arm was immediately seized in one of its fists. It lifted the walking corpse off the ground and started taking it apart as if it were a toy. It started with the opposite arm, sending droplets of darkened blood dripping onto the sidewalk as it tilted its head back and brought the arm to its widening mouth.

Clay's eyes refused to close as he watched alongside the arm's owner as its limb dropped hand-first past the smasher's maw. The moment it fell into its stomach, veins that he hadn't even noticed before darkened pitch black. Its skin started to move again, gradually sealing up the gaps in its body that Clay's explosion had caused.

There hadn't been any thoughts in Clay's head at the sight of it healing like this. No words, at least. Terror became like white noise that fogged his mind.

As it continued taking the uncaring zombie apart and eating its parts one by one, he eventually regained enough sense to despair at one particular prospect.

Just one step slower and it would have been him being torn and mutilated, and he certainly wouldn't have been as graceful about it as the despondent Crowder. He imagined himself struggling fruitlessly in its grip, begging for help as it peeled one of his arms off. Soon after that, he'd probably just be begging to die quicker.

He almost threw up.

It moved on and started doing much the same to another Crowder, but Clay turned away again. He didn't want to see it.

It could have been him.