Novels2Search

Chapter 13: Attractive

Bones crunching. Skin tearing. Ears ringing.

Clay refused to open his eyes. He refused to even move.

Was he going to become like this every time the world showed him a new horror? This was much more bizarre, but plenty of people from his world knew the terror of living life with death always looming close. Why couldn't he just get over it?

Clay knew. It was because he'd never known those types of hardships. He grew up with many of the cold facts of life not hidden from him, but kept at a safe distance. TV, movies, and books all spoke of those brutal things with lovingly crafted language that sometimes made one feel what it might have been like to experience a harsher existence.

It didn’t matter how well-made they were; they couldn’t bottle up reality like soda.

As a boy, he watched a minor street fight through the window of a school bus. As a teenager, he'd seen a few videos of people dying on fishy websites, and even that made him sick enough to not seek them out anymore. As an adult, he immersed himself in the culture of imageboards and video-sharing websites that sometimes spoke about suffering while laughing about the ridiculousness of things. That was the extent of his dealings with anything resembling what he's seen today.

There was always a layer of glass between him and the real world. What sort of face was he making now?

"I should have ### ### #### ### #### ### ## ###."

He thought being bitten by the Jumper would toughen him up or that the past few weeks spent killing Crowders would ready him. Maybe it had, but not to a degree that Clay could be satisfied with. His stomach still churned when he killed them. He couldn't always shake the thought that they'd been people like him once.

That sort of sentimental thinking would be fine in his original world, where he could look down his nose at issues far away and moralize from the safety of his bedroom. However, feeling sorry for monsters or curling up into a ball when things get serious wouldn't serve him well here.

He needed to get back to Alan's apartment complex. He was safe there.

That's right. At least now there was a place for him to return to.

Clay waited until there weren't any more ugly sounds. He waited a long time.

Maybe an hour passed before the coast was clear. All that remained of the Crowders that had gathered were stains from the smasher's messy eating. The smasher either gave up on finding him or the Crowders satiated its appetite. In any case, it was gone as well.

Even with every sign saying he could come out, Clay knew better than to rush things. He deployed Kissy to put his mind at ease.

Squeak squeak!

All clear.

He dragged himself out from underneath the car and stood up, but his knees shook and landed him back into a sitting position. It was only due in small part to lingering dread, with the blame mostly going to a long time spent in an awkward position.

Just get back. I just have to get back.

Even after Clay could stand back up again, he moved slowly to get out from the street. His pensive, robotic movements made him feel like just another zombie.

Kissy must have been getting annoyed with his pace because she poked her head out from his pocket to bite him when he idly pressed his thumb against it to make sure she was still there. The pain shot up his hand and rocked his senses back into his brain.

The haze lifted. He was still scared, but his focus beyond a vague notion of 'getting back' returned to him.

Kissy still had her mouth open, primed to bite him a second time. Clay brought his fist up to his chest and wrapped a protective hand around the wrist.

"I'm good, I'm good!" Clay said as aggressively as he could while maintaining a low volume. "Scumbag…"

The first thing he did was make his way back towards another building he and Alan had looted earlier in the week. He knew vaguely how to get back to the apartment from there.

While keeping his attention on his surroundings, Clay also thought about how he was meant to kill that Smasher (a good enough name for the thing since he couldn't kill it and find out what the Achievement called it). It was strong, durable, and capable of healing its lost body mass by devouring people. Not just people, but even other zombies. Even that exploding car felt like it only took 5 to 10% off of its metaphorical health bar.

Perhaps his best chance really had been to shoot it back at the gas station.

He supposed it wouldn't matter as long as he didn't try to force another encounter. It'd be better to just get stronger from killing Crowders and prepare himself for a very possible point in time where he was forced to fight something that dangerous again. Killing something that strong at his current level would be impossible.

Ah, speaking of, hadn't he gotten an Achievement a little while ago? He totally forgot about it.

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[THE FIRST STEP] (+5 Stat Points)

Kill 100 zombies!

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Clay read it a few times to make sure he had it right. 5 Stat Points? That was worth two and a half levels!

Should he use them now? Surely there'd be a big difference if he put them all in Strength. Wait, with this many he could open the bulk of his remaining mystery stats instead.

The dejected feeling he got after throwing away one of his points earlier in the day was still fresh enough that he didn't want to rush into anything. Perhaps waiting until he actually needed them, like with his Speed, was an option?

Yeesh, if Achievements could give him points like this, what was the point of leveling up? Clay guessed it could be a difference between income and gratuity. He couldn't count on the points from Achievements to come very often, but he knew for certain that points could be received if he leveled up.

He smiled uneasily to himself. It would be easy for him to get roped into doing dangerous stuff to get huge amounts of points after seeing the difference in amount.

Clay decided to keep to the course he was already on as rigidly as possible. It was sure to get him stronger eventually, and he could get extra bonuses incidentally like he usually did.

With Kissy at his side and a new ability to find his way around, Clay eventually returned to the apartments. Alan was waiting for him on the fire escape. It looked like he'd been waiting a while.

He was sitting with his back leaned against the wall, but sprang to his feet when he noticed Clay's approach. It made him feel a little embarrassed to have someone waiting for him like this, and the physical reaction Alan had made him feel even stranger.

At least Alan knew not to call out to him. Instead, he stood there wringing his hands in anticipation to speak with him while he waited for Clay to climb up the ladder.

As soon as he could, he dragged Clay inside by the arm.

"You're actually alive!" He whooped. "You gotta be one of the luckiest bastards I've ever met!"

"You don't know the half of it…"

Clay filled him in on the things he did and saw, leaving out most of the details of what he'd been thinking at the time.

"That's insane. I ain't even heard of a zombie like this before today. I was just as caught off guard as you." Alan looked off to the side in contemplation, then snapped his eyes back onto Clay. "Well, as happy as I am to see you ain't bit the dust yet, we gotta have a talk about what went down back at the gas station."

Clay fought the urge to grimace. "Things didn't go exactly the way it looked like they did…"

Alan openly scowled. "No? Because it looked like you took a potshot and pissed off a zombie that can tear through buildings like it ain't no thing."

"It already knew I was there before I shot it, man," he tried to respond assertively but ended up glancing towards the floor. "Its weird room-meat touched me and alerted it, so I was trying to get ahead by shooting before it got going. If I hadn't missed, maybe things would have gone differently."

"You were standing there for a little while before that, though. You tellin' me you just sorta…stood there and stared at it until things popped off? Sounds like you were begging to get caught!"

"I froze up!" Clay said defensively. "I'm not good with this stuff to begin with and even you said you've never heard of a zombie like this one! So, yeah, I froze up!"

Alan looked at him closely, working his jaw like he was physically chewing on his thoughts.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Finally, deadpan, he said, "That ain't attractive."

"Pfttt--!"

Clay cracked up, then started laughing. He couldn't help himself. There was just something about the way Alan said it after working himself up so much. He created a tense atmosphere like he was really going to let him have it, too.

"Hahahahahaha! You-You're--Hahahaha!"

Alan was taken aback by Clay's outburst. He looked embarrassed, but then his features subtly relaxed into a small grin. "You liked that one, huh?"

After a few seconds, Alan started laughing just because Clay was laughing.

"Hehehehe! C'mon, kid! It wasn't that funny!"

"I know! I know! Hahahaha! I'm just--" He let out a breath, followed by a few little chuckles.

It wound down after a few seconds of chuckling and the two of them over-explaining to each other why it'd been so funny. Alan got them back on track.

"Well, no matter how funny I am, I still say blowing shit up when you get into a bad spot ain't a good idea. If it weren't for the fact that this thing ate up those Crowders, your ass would've been stuck under that car forever." Alan adjusted his hat. "Still, gotta say that I'm getting badass movie star vibes even from you when I hear a story like that."

"I've done it before," Clay admitted. "Remember the dumbass you were talking about when we met, the one that caused an explosion that carried away the horde? I thought it'd just complicate things to talk about, but that was also me."

"Holy shit, so you're some sorta pyromaniac?"

"I wouldn't say that. Explosions are loud, and I'm not even really a big fan of fireworks. It just happened to be the most convenient option."

Even Clay thought he sounded like an asshole. Who didn't like fireworks?

Alan didn't comment on that.

"Who woulda' thought a mopey kid like you was getting up to some serious carnage? Haha! What'd you blow up back then, anyways?"

"A Bunker Beans," Clay responded casually.

"I oughta' kick your ass."

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The conclusion Alan made sure Clay walked away with after the discussion was that he needed to stop freezing up during decisive moments. If he'd carefully taken aim and shot the Smasher before it collected enough room-meat to bulk up, it's possible he could have killed it on the spot.

Like I didn't already know that?

Clay was aware that he locked up sometimes. What could he do about it? He already bemoaned his weakness and figured that it probably wouldn't go away. Not that he could be so flippant with Alan about it.

"I'll try my best."

After that, they decided they would go and retrieve their abandoned bags tomorrow and hit up a different gas station for diesel.

With the harrowing events they'd faced, Alan decided the rest of the day would just be to relax and unwind. Clay couldn't truly relax until he was clean, so the first thing he did was bathe (he could get it done in half a bottle now!).

He'd gotten to the point where he didn't care whether or not Kissy watched him now. No matter how intelligent, it always felt more like he was bathing in front of a pet. It probably helped that he kept his boxers on as well.

On her end, Kissy didn't really even seem interested in the display to begin with.

As he was finishing up, Clay caught sight of himself in a mirror he'd brought into his room a week prior to keep an eye on the parts of his body he couldn’t ordinarily see, like his face or his neck.

His face was clearing up, but his neck was definitely scarred. His fingers traced lines on his skin where a bleeding wound had once been, wondering when it would start to look a little more aesthetically pleasing. They were ugly to him, but at the same time not severe enough for Clay to feel proud of.

Maybe he could start wearing a scarf once it began snowing outside?

On the other end was the bite on his arm. The sutures were removed by Milly earlier in the week, with the information that this was pretty much what his arm was going to look like now. It was a hideous kind of wound that would maybe earn him some points with a rough and tough crowd, but Clay didn't like this one either. It was too severe.

What would he tell everyone back home once they saw this?

Would there even be a chance to go home?

They had to have noticed he was gone by now. Were they worried about him?

There was probably a small measure of relief mixed in if he had to guess.

Knock knock!

"You decent in there, genius?"

Clay, only wearing his underwear and a towel draped around his shoulders, called back, "Not at all!"

"It's fine, I'll just tell you from out here." Alan gave the door another affirmative knock. "Milly's whipping up some proper soup, so we're having something besides breakfast bars to eat!"

That's a shame. I'm not sick of them yet.

"You're gonna eat out here with us tonight! Proper food's gotta be eaten properly!"

Fuck that. I hate eating at the table. It's awkward enough when you have to do it with your family, but eating where strangers can stare and judge you the entire time is even worse.

"Uh…" Clay was trying to find a way to filter that thought into a polite refusal. Besides his usual thoughts, today’s events left him with a deep desire to be alone.

But Alan knocked his door again before he could say anything. He heard his voice drifting away.

"Should be ready in twenty minutes!"

Clay glared at the door. Kissy squeaked multiple times in quick succession, which meant she was either excited about something or she was laughing.

Perhaps he might be able to find a spray bottle on one of their outings?

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"So that's why you gotta keep your eyes all over the place if you ever go outside, Angie! Jumpers can be really tricky sometimes!" Alan told his daughter between spoonfuls of soup.

"That's really scary, Dad. Can we not talk about this stuff?" Angie said nervously, but she'd been so entranced in the conversation that she hadn't actually eaten much of her soup. Clay didn't like the way she was letting her bread just soak in it for so long.

What was the point of talking to an 8-year-old about the zombies? Was he trying to scare her?

"It's not talk for the dinner table, dear." Milly seemed a little more anxious after hearing what Alan had to say, slowly spinning her spoon in the broth without eating any. "It's like hearing about real-life bogeymen."

Alan defended himself with a few assertions about the importance of educating the young about these monsters they now shared a world with.

Clay ate his food throughout the discussion without adding anything. Silently though, he did have a thought or two.

What else could he talk about anymore? Zombies saturated his whole life; at least half of his entire day was focused entirely on avoiding or killing them. They should just be glad they didn't have to hear about encounters Alan had with other humans…

"Tell 'em, kid! This is important stuff, right?" Alan attempted to drag Clay down with him.

So annoying. Why do I have to take a side?

"Uh, I guess so…"

"See! And this is coming from the guy who went toe-to-toe with the tallest, buffest zombie I think I've ever seen!"

Then he started talking about what happened earlier that day. He kindly glossed over the parts where Clay inadvertently brought the Smasher's ire on them in the first place in favor of highlighting his valor.

"And then he lured the buff zombie away! This guy didn't even think twice!"

He felt Milly and Angie's eyes on him. Being talked up like this wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it did make him feel weird.

"I just thought I should pay you back after you pushed me out of the way when it charged at us. I was too scared to look back, so I'd have been caught for sure." As the current center of attention, Clay thought he should acknowledge Alan as well.

Honestly, he didn't want to talk about it anymore, but he also didn't want to ruin the positive mood Alan built up. Best to let him keep going and wear himself out.

"What did you do after you lured it away?" Angie asked while turning her body towards him. He wasn't getting off that easy.

"Well, uh…"

Clay recounted the story, leaving out many of the worrying or gruesome bits.

With those sheared away, it was a lot easier for him to get through. He also ditched any details about the Lomion System since Angie wasn't in on it.

"So, in a way, you saved my husband's life?" That was what Milly took away from it.

"Hey hey, I wouldn't go that far!" Alan stepped in, still smiling. "If it'd gone the other way, I would have been just fine!"

Angie spoke up with a question nobody expected.

"Why didn't you just run away?"

"Hm?" Clay glanced up from his soup at her.

"You said you got away from it for a little while, right? I'd just run away after that!"

Kids are so obnoxious.

Clay had a conceited thought. The counter was obvious.

But when he searched his mind for a simple answer, he came up empty.

"I couldn't just run off in a random direction because I didn't know where a whole bunch of Crowders might come from. I wanted to try taking out the big guy so I could navigate properly without having to worry about him and any incoming Crowders at the same time."

"Oh, okay!"

That was a good answer, but it hadn't actually been on Clay's mind at all when he rigged the car to explode. Why had he done that if escaping was the goal? Had he been hungry for XP? That wasn't it either.

In the moment, it just felt like the thing to do.

"I'm talkin’ it up, but I don't want to see you doing anything crazy-like when you get big, Angie! Y'hear me? Hey!" When Angie didn’t immediately answer, Alan leaned in to pluck the soggy piece of bread from her soup and bring it over to his bowl.

"Daad! I was about to eat that!"

"Jumpers eat the liars first, y'know!" Alan declared before taking a big bite out of Angie's bread. "Mmmmh! God damn that tastes good!"

"Mooom!" Angie whined and laughed at the same time.

"You're so dreamy when you're bullying our daughter! This must be what a real man looks like!" Milly said with exaggerated affection.

Clay thought it would be awkward if he was the only one not smiling and prepared to fake it to fit the vibe, but found that he was already grinning.

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They left the apartment the next day lighter than usual, only with the things they usually brought alongside their bags.

Clay's tool belt and gun. Alan's shotgun.

The mission was clear: get to the stuff they'd been forced to abandon while running away from the Smasher and, if possible, continue their quest for diesel.

It might be swarming with Crowders in that area by now, but they could case that out and come back later if need be. The only thing that was absolutely irreplaceable inside the bags was Alan's siphoning hose and Clay's mystery box, neither of which were in any danger of expiring or being destroyed. The chief concern was more that they'd end up stolen than ruined.

However, there wouldn't be any worry about that. After Alan hyped himself up and tried his best to do the same for Clay, they ended up finding both of their bags in the alley outside Alan's home.

They stared in disbelief for a little while. Alan stopped Clay with a hand on his chest when he attempted to take the first few steps towards them.

"Hold on there, buddy. This is an awful convenient situation, so convenient that I'm thinking it could be a trap…" Alan internally weighed their options, then took his hand off of Clay's chest and motioned to the bags with an overly cheerful smile. "Actually, go ahead, genius! I'm happy to see you taking initiative!"

"No way am I going to do it after you got me all paranoid…" Clay said worriedly.

In the end, Clay used the hook of his hammer to flop open one of their bags while keeping as far away as possible. There wasn't anything weird inside that he could see.

Then he kicked Alan's bag to see if there might have been some kind of mechanism that's activated when the bag itself is disturbed. Nothing happened.

"Watch where you're kicking, kid!" Alan scolded him from the complete opposite end of the alley.

After they were satisfied, they dug through their bags to make sure nothing was missing. Everything was accounted for, even Clay's mystery box.

>[Mystery Box - Type DG]

>Current Tier: Common

Looks like it would take longer than a day to get anything good.

When he took it from the bag, an envelope attached to the bottom followed it. Rather than the message being written on a piece of paper inside, it was written on the envelope itself.

---

Sadman,

I know you are a 'Player'.

I've returned your bags to you as a gesture of goodwill.

I want to meet you properly.

Come to the address written on the back.

Bring Alan with you if you want.

Radman

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Turning it over just gave him the shipping address marked on the envelope.