If he'd been thinking clearly, maybe he would have taken advantage of the first missed lunge to load his gun and shoot it while it was in an enclosed area. If he had been faster at loading the gun. If he hadn't been too scared to look down and make sure he didn't drop any bullets. If this. If that.

Clay's thoughts were those of a man that had already died.

What could he do now? This thing was going to rip him apart, and all he had was an empty gun to protect himself with. He held up and pointed at the zombie in desperation. It had been possible that he could at least keep it at bay with his arm long enough for him to get his hammer ready and--

But it didn't jump towards him. Its eyes centered on the gun once again and instantly jumped to the other side of the store to stick to the ceiling and start moving away from him. The way its arms and legs moved so quickly eerily reminded him of a spider.

Why had it done that? Clay realized it right away. It was something he already started to pick up on after seeing it use ambush tactics and try to intercept his path a moment ago.

This thing is intelligent!

Maybe intelligent was the wrong word to use, but it was definitely smarter than the average zombie. It had the mental capacity to recognize the gun as dangerous and to be avoided, even if it didn't have the sense to realize it wasn't loaded.

Clay thought to rectify that last part when he started using his other hand to palm near where he saw a bullet go while using his other hand to keep the revolver pointed at the ceiling-hugging monster as best he could. It happily stayed on the run to avoid giving him a clear shot.

An awesome bluff, but not sustainable. The fact that the zombie hadn't fled was a sign that it still thought it could deal with him, despite the revolver. It was looking for a path, jumping about and probing him for a weak spot. Clay wouldn't have long.

His fingers met the bullet, prompting him to snatch it up and rise to his feet. A live round; Clay just had to load it.

He'd be vulnerable while loading the chamber, something that the leaper would no doubt take advantage of. Once he did, was he confident enough in his aim to shoot such a wily thing? He didn't even have any experience shooting stationary targets, much less something this fast.

The best thing Clay could think to do was back up and throw himself over the countertop of the cashier's desk. While doing this, he'd at least have enough time to load the bullet and close the chamber before the leaper could jump on him. As he found momentary relief by hiding behind the counter, Clay thought about his next move and pulled the hammer back on his revolver.

Click-click!

His initial idea had been to shoot the leaper the moment he saw it try to hop over the counter after him, but he couldn't help but doubt if something like that would work. It already showed him how sharp and afraid of guns it had been, so would it charge so foolishly?

Clay needed to be absolutely certain he would kill it in one shot, because one shot was all he had.

He turned from his back onto his knees and elbows, keeping his position low while crawling closer to the back of the store. Clay wouldn't be able to reach his target while staying hidden, so his only chance had been to make a break for it.

A creeping fear told him that risking himself like that could end in him getting caught and killed. It was much safer to just stay behind the counter where it couldn't yet see him, at the very least.

But a deeper feeling told him differently. Clay had to take a risk.

It won't work if I don't run for it! I'll definitely miss if things stay like this! I'll miss, 100%!

Clay got up.

The leaper had crawled on the ceiling to the center of the store. From a vantage point like that, it had been ready to jump towards the first sign of movement that came out from behind the cashier's counter. It did just that, first falling to the ground and rebounding in the direction of said movement when it went in the direction of one of the destroyed display windows.

Just like Clay thought it would. It tensed up its muscles to try and preempt him and only succeeded in chasing foolishly after a bundle of clothes he'd thrown towards the window. It acted based on animal instinct, which was still predicated on logic. Prey tended to flee, and it wouldn't have been strange for Clay to make a break for it through that window to get outside.

Instead, he took the opportunity to go in the complete opposite direction towards the changing room hallway. Clay had thrown the clothes and sprinted to his goal without even checking to see if his gambit worked, but the time it bought for him was confirmation enough. He bolted across that threshold once again and closed the curtains behind him.

No way would it leap in after him when it couldn't verify his position, not a cautious ambush animal like this. He ducked into one of the changing rooms during that time when it couldn’t see him.

Crouched down and staring out into the hallway, Clay listened to the curtains leading into the hallway rip open all at once while he brandished his hammer in his other hand. It hadn't jumped in, but it was no longer trying to be subtle either.

Klink-klink!

The sound of a bullet falling against wood came from a changing room that instantly earned the leaper's attention. It bounded over from above and peeked in to see Clay in his lowered position like last time, displaying a hammer instead of a gun. It had to have known he still had the gun, but it went in for the kill before he had the chance to point it properly.

It smashed hard into the mirror of the changing room.

It had only been Clay's intention to distract it with one of the noises he had stored in [Sound of Silence] and then pop out to shoot it while it was taking a peek, but the leaper moved in so quickly after seeing his reflection in the mirror that he didn't have the chance to take a shot, nor did it have the chance to realize he had actually been in the opposite changing room.

Clay became the one going in for the kill. It was disoriented and trapped in the confines of that changing room, giving him an even better opportunity than the original version of his plan could have hoped for.

He closed the distance to keep the zombie from regaining its bearings. The thought of actually getting closer to the creature made Clay's limbs feel heavy, but it was the only way someone with as little experience as him could guarantee the shot landing. Point-blank range. He pressed the gun into its head.

As soon as it felt the cold metal shoved hard against the skin, its head started flopping side to side like before. With that unnerving movement, it could move its head out of the way of his gun without even having to move any other part of its body. If Clay timed it right, he could have probably shot it anyway, but seeing his gun pointed at thin air for only a moment caused critical hesitation.

He only had one shot. He had to kill it in one shot. If he lost this one shot, he'd die. He couldn't shoot unless it was a sure thing. It had to be 100%.

It wouldn't let him off for that. It turned around and surged forward. In the midst of that movement that had slowed down to a crawl from his perspective, Clay realized that it actually did have a mouth. A line formed from nothing where a normal person's lips would usually be and started creeping up along both sides of its cheeks. It opened up like a jagged chasm to reveal two rows of filthy, bloody teeth.

"Don't--" Clay quietly started, but even he knew nothing was going to come of it. The arm that held his hammer moved up in front of the thing's face. It had made things better, marginally.

Though it hadn't made much of a difference to Clay when it wrapped its mouth around his arm in a hard, blisteringly painful bite.

There was no helping it, Clay cried out. He'd thought having his skin scratched at by the regular zombie earlier had been bad, but there couldn't be any comparison. It only took a short second for the pain of this bite to brand his memory, as if it had bitten directly into his brain.

Worse still, the movement of its head continued even after it clamped down, tugging his arm back and forth and forcing him to drop his hammer.

"Let go! L-Let me go!" Clay struggled but was too scared of the damage that would be done to his arm if he tried to wrench himself free. Its hands latched onto his shoulders now, trying to keep him in place while it continued yanking on his arm with its head. Clay had a thought that it was like those videos he'd seen of K-9 units attacking people in padded suits during their training, how they went for the arms to bring them down. There was a key difference here, though.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

This monster was stronger than a dog, strong enough that enough tugging would probably let it rip his arm off.

Clay reacted the only way he could think of. He pushed his arm harder against its mouth.

"Fuck you! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you first!"

He forced the zombie back until he had its head shoved against the shattered mirror, though that only slowed down the side-to-side jerking a little bit. That worked fine for Clay, though. He didn't need it to stop, he only needed to minimize the chances of it reeling back.

Clay pressed his gun against its temple and pulled the trigger. [Sound of Silence] ensured that the zombie's brains made no noise as they were blown from its head until they splattered with grotesque squelching against the wall.

>+50 XP!

>ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! [JUMPS-A-LOT]

---------------------------------------------------------

[JUMPS-A-LOT] (+1 Skill Slot)

Kill a Jumper!

---------------------------------------------------------

>You have been infected with (Plague)!

>You are protected from the effects of (Plague) by a Skill!

The Achievement had called it a Jumper, but Clay felt like Leaper would have been a lot cooler.

Whatever it could be called, it still had its teeth stuck in his arm. It might have even bit down a little harder after finally dying.

Still worried about the damage, Clay decided to lower its body and lay it on the ground without moving its head around too much. Once he was lying on top of it, he picked his hammer up off the ground and used its hook to pry the Jumper's mouth open.

It took a little more effort than he thought it would, and every careless jostle sent jolts of pain shooting up his arm that made tears prickle at his eyes. By the time his arm was free, he was crying freely. Clay removed it from his jacket for inspection.

The good news was that the extra shirts he tied around his arm for protection did their job. The bad news was that they hadn't done it very well.

The fact he could still make a fist was a good sign, but the amount of blood discouraged him. Clay slowly pulled away at the layers and made an ugly noise when he took in what'd been done to him.

It was like a dog bite, but more brutal. The rapid movement it did with its head after biting down widened the wound as well; this maximized the amount of blood it got to drink, most likely. He'd need stitches, for sure. He'd never gotten stitches before.

Clay slipped his gun and his hammer back into his toolbelt before stepping back into the main store, cradling one arm with the other. However, there came a familiar noise that prompted him to turn around.

Squeak squeak!

The rat ran up and stopped in front of him.

"Oh…you're still here. I thought you ran off when that thing showed up," Clay said breathlessly.

The rat didn't 'say' anything.

"I'm not mad or anything. I know there's not much you could have--"

"Don't move." Came another voice from behind him in the store. A gruff, firm voice that made Clay's body obediently cease any movement.

Another person? Did they have a gun on him? Was he going to be shot after all that? Would that be preferable to bleeding out?

"Turn around, slowly."

Clay did as he was told and met the eyes of the only other actual, living person he'd seen since he was dropped into this world. A man with brown eyes that focused on him with such intensity that Clay thought it was possible that he'd already resolved to shoot him with that scary shotgun he was holding.

His clothes were very utilitarian, Clay thought. Perfectly fitting jeans and a black shirt that fit snug against his developed biceps, with a tactical vest to hide the roundness of his belly as best it could. The only part of his ensemble that clashed with the professional vibe he had going on was a fisherman's hat he wore.

He was standing just outside on the sidewalk, sticking Clay up through one of the display windows.

Once the stranger saw the state Clay was in, his eyes softened slightly, even if he was also making a slow approach that he didn't stop until he was only a few feet away.

Clay averted his gaze.

"Shit, man…Looks like you got got good…"

What? Wanna try that again? Clay thought to say, but bit his tongue.

The stranger continued, keeping his gun trained on him despite asking after his status, "That's a bite, ain't it? A bite bite?"

Clay considered lying, but thought better of it. If he got caught in a lie by someone with a shotgun and unclear intentions, it might end even worse for him. Instead, he nodded slowly.

"That sucks, man." The other man took a second of his own to think, then went on, "You want me to…keep you from turning?"

Clay realized what he meant in an instant and shook his head, responding plainly, "I'm immune."

"Immune? Ain't no such thing as immune, kid! One bite and you're done-zo!" The man stated incredulously. For some reason, he trained the gun on Clay even more after he said that.

The 'kid' at gunpoint surmised that this man was expecting a melancholy moment with a survivor who was being forced to give up. Clay was certain he had that pathetic sort of look after crying so much.

Making the claim of immunity gave the impression that he was still a threat because he hadn't resigned to die. A survivor who wanted to live could be up to anything.

Clay was getting anxious. There was a gun pointed at him and he had no way of knowing how much longer he'd last without medical attention. If he wasn't so drained, he'd probably be bawling already. When he spoke, every sentence seemed to trail off.

"I won't turn, but I'm really roughed up bad…"

"Yeah, I got eyes."

"My name is Clay, by the way…"

"I didn't ask for your name, kid."

Clay clammed up, creating an awkward silence. Talking was impossible when this guy shut him down at every turn like that.

Why don't you just shoot me, then?

Getting his head blasted open with a shotgun might not be the cleanest way to go, but it'd be quick. However…

"You're not gonna shoot me," Clay proclaimed weakly.

That had the man even more on edge.

"How do you figure that?"

"A gun that loud is sure to attract a horde. It wouldn't be smart of you to--"

Clay was cut off when the man slammed him in the nose with the butt of his gun, sending him to the ground in a mix of pain from all over. His nose was certainly bleeding, but falling to the ground also agitated his injured arm. It already hurt to breath through his nose now, and the transition to mouth-breathing was started by a pained gasp.

"Got a genius over here! Wish I'd of thoughta' that!" The man sounded more angry than taunting. "Hey, genius, you even got ears? Some idiot caused an explosion last night that drew away most of the Crowders from this area! I wouldn't even be here if I was too worried to use my gun!"

He curled up on the ground, shaking like a leaf as he tried to rub the pain away from his nose.

What the man said didn't make much sense to Clay. The explosion drew the zombies there? That had been true right after he did it, but leaving the area the next day had been way too easy for them that many zombies to have still been there, even if he did so with the rat's help.

"Gnnhh…! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Clay cried, trying to say whatever it was he thought the man wanted to hear. At the same time, one of his hands stealthily went for the gun tucked into his toolbelt.

"What the hell are you sorry for? I just bopped you one because you were--Hey!"

A boot came down hard on Clay's wrist the moment the gun was revealed, forcing him to loosen his grip on it before he even had a chance to point it at his assailant.

"Aghh! Stop!" The blow to his nose made his voice sound congested.

"Well, now you oughta' be sorry! I don't take kindly to threats on my life!" The stranger ground his foot harder into Clay's wrist, until his fingers completely opened and he was able to kick the gun out from his hand.

"I-I was just going to scare you! I'm sorry! I just wanted you to stop hitting me!" Clay tried, using his hand to cover his head once it was freed from the man's foot. "It's not even loaded! You-You can check! It's not loaded!"

The man stepped away from Clay's shaking form, keeping his gun trained on him the entire time he moved to retrieve the revolver and have a look inside.

Maybe some good luck finally struck when the conflict caused it to end up empty. Now this guy could calm down after verifying his life was never in any danger.

"Why do you have Kyle's gun, motherfucker…?" The man asked, his voice edged with something more dangerous than what it'd become when he thought Clay was going to try and shoot him.

When the hell am I going to catch a goddamn break!?

"I don't--Uh! I-I don't know anyone named Kyle! I got it off a corpse in the changing rooms over there! Please, I'm hurt really bad…"

At the mention of a corpse, the man's head swung in the direction of the changing rooms. His nose wrinkled at a potent smell. Without worry about whether or not Clay might take advantage of the opportunity, he turned his eyes and gun from him to walk over and verify the death.

In the few minutes that he was gone, Clay started crawling towards the door to the shop.

He knew that he'd resolved to suffer a little longer, but this was just insane. Clay had killed a creature way above his level, but not only did he have to deal with an injury that turned his triumph into a pyrrhic victory, he had to deal with this asshole.

Clay's hand slipped on some of his own blood and sent him prone against the floor once more. His body felt so heavy now. Why? He was losing blood, but he thought he still had plenty of time before he lost enough for it to get this bad.

>STAMINA: 0/4

So he'd been back on his own reserves. Probably had been for a while now, given that he only had 2 at the beginning of the day.

Fuck it. Fuck everything. He'd just lay there then.

Clay was so lost in feeling sorry for himself that he didn't realize the man was back until he stood over him, looking down with confusion etched into his aging features.

"You kill that Jumper back there, genius?"

Clay nodded.

"Bullshit. That thing had its brains blown out, and I was definitely close enough that I'd have heard a gunshot. I bet Kyle got bit killing it and you're trying to take credit, whatever that's worth these days."

It did sound pretty unbelievable, even to Clay. However, he knew that the way out of this hinged on him getting help from this man. There was only one option left.

"I have…special powers."

The man scoffed, "Special powers? You telling me you're some kinda V-Man?"

Was everything in this world just an off-brand version of something from his if it wasn't some insanely original?

"Zombies that can crawl on walls is fine, but a normal human with powers is unbelievable?"

"Zombies is zombies, and peoples is peoples. Peoples don't do that shit."

Clay felt a bit of confidence returning now and smiled as he pointed a finger gun at him. "The same thing that makes me immune also lets me steal sounds to use for later…I didn't make any sound when I shot the Lea-the Jumper because I 'stole' the sound of the gunshot."

Without waiting for more disbelief, Clay made his finger gun buck upwards while depositing the sound of that earlier gunshot in the air between them.

BANG!

The man jumped back and pointed his gun at Clay.

"Are you fucking stupid!? Even if there's no horde around, shit like that is gonna at least attract stragglers!"

Clay pulled himself up into a sitting position against the front door, offering a strained grin and speaking with a hint of bravado, "Patch me up and I'll tell you more about it. If the answer's no, then please shoot me in the head now that those zombies are coming no matter what you do."

When the man didn't immediately shoot him or say no, Clay's smile tentatively widened.