Chapter Fifty-Three - Z-Word

“The survivors of the first mass Incursion, most of them Americans living in Ohio, were lauded as heroes. Their accounts were big news, their stories shared by millions.

The survivors of the next incursion didn’t get the same attention.

Those who made it through the third barely got any notice.

By the fourth, most insurance companies had lobbied to add ‘alien invasions’ from the ‘acts of god’ category. They came away from it traumatized, destitute, and with no one there to help them.

Things haven’t gotten better.”

--Excerpt from John Delancy’s “Three Times Unto the Breach.” A Noted survivor of three of the earliest incursions. 2026

***

I’d never been keen on horror games.

Oh, sure, I’d tried a few. The orphanage had a VR room for a few weeks at one point until someone broke in and stole the gear we’d been donated. It was old even when we got it, but it worked. Some of the more tech-savvy kids had pirated all sorts of shitty little games. They also got into a heap of shit for breaking DRMs, but that was besides the point.

Point was, I’d played a few games, usually with Lucy nearby and clinging onto me whenever something popped out from around a corner screaming like a banshee.

We’d even tried some full-dive stuff at our school, but the machine to connect to MeshSpace was an old decrepit thing, and the few horror movies we’d watched all felt terribly gimmicky when seen in glorious 30 frames per second.

Crawling through a rat’s nest of maintenance corridors, following a set of red lights that were guiding us deeper and deeper in towards a shelter that we couldn’t see was way higher on the creepy scale.

Monroe and his boys turned this way and that, lighting up sections of the corrior in flashes that passed as soon as they turned. “You guys seem nervous,” I said.

“I think, ma’am, that it’s because we are,” Monroe returned with a whisper.

I swung my crossbow around towards some movement, only to realize it was a moth being stupid next to one of the lights. “I think I’m going to file a complaint to whomever took out half the damned lights,” I said.

“I’ll help you with that,” Monroe agreed.

My drone skittered ahead to the edge of the next corridor, then tipped forwards just enough to see around the corner. A moment later a tiny box in the corner of my vision showed me yet another drab grey corridor. Only this one, at last, had a door.

“Shelter’s ahead,” I murmured.

“Got it,” Monroe said. “We’ll fan out by the entrance. Can you negotiate?”

“I might not have to,” I said as I frowned. The vault door was open.

It was one of those real vaults, with a door that was a foot thick chunk of steel with enough hydraulic doodads to let it move in and out of its place. Probably not enough to stop one of the bigger xenos, but more than enough for any of those I’d encountered so far.

It wouldn’t stop anything if left open though.

Light was pouring out of the shelter and onto the pipe-covered wall opposite. I paused by the corner and listened as hard as I could. No voices, but the swishing of clothes rubbing together and the occasional cough and mutter.

Were they just being quiet? Maybe the door failed? But if that was the case, why leave the lights on?

“Dumbass,” I muttered. “Go check.”

The drone bobbed up and down in what I assumed was a ‘yes ma’am’ before darting ahead. Halfway to the door the drone went invisible.

Worth every point, that one.

With a twitch of my eye the drone’s vision grew larger across one of my eyes and I took in a perfect, ground-level view of the approaching shelter. It reached the door and skittered to the front of it, its little body turning to face the entrance.

I swallowed.

The people we were there to save were all present. Sixty or so bodies, all sitting on the ground, or laying down and sometimes swaying. They were clumped together as one big group, their eyes staring vacantly, some with drool leaking out of their mouths.

There was blood across the ground, and the crushed bodies of some smaller aliens that I didn’t recognize right away. They were smaller than the Model Ones, more worms with little legs than anything I could match to a normal animal.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

The drone panned to the side, revealing a trio of security guards who were still armed. All three had their heads blown off, and judging by the way they were positioned, they’d done the deed themselves.

“Myalis?” I hissed.

Model Sevens. One of the stranger kinds of Antithesis. Also, arguably, the least threatening to a Samurai. They can burrow into a human’s body and sprout roots that take over their nervous system. It can take hours for a perfect connection to be established. Mostly they’ll walk these bodies back to the nearest hive for consumption, but they have been used as ambush troops before. The psychological aspects are probably not understood by the Antithesis, but they are nonetheless effective.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Jesus fuck,” I said. I’d heard of them, of course. There was a nostalgic return of zombie flicks when I was small. They’d been really unpopular with people who knew what a Model Seven was. I didn’t know the grisly details though.

The humans are most likely dead already. Soon the Model Sevens within them will begin to modify their base biology, some will be turned into breeders for more Model Sevens and others will be modified to fulfil various tasks.

“What do you mean by most likely dead?” I asked. “You mean they might still be alive?” No one had ever covered that part for me before.

“Ma’am?” Monroe asked.

“Model Sevens,” I said.

The soldiers all tensed for just a moment before spinning around. They looked up and down, searching every nook and cranny around us as if it would start spewing worm-shaped body horror nightmares.

“Ma’am, do you have Seven pills?”

I blinked at the question.

Model Seven Proofing pills are a nanite pill that prevents Model Sevens from being able to suborn a human’s nervous system. They cost one point for a pack of ten. You might not need one, though it wouldn’t hurt to take one anyway. Your companions aren’t offered the same protection.

“Hurry it up then,” I said.

New Purchase: Model Seven Proofing Pill

Points Reduced to... 936!

The pills came in a little wrapper thing, just like bubble gum only with off-green tablets instead of something chewable. I felt like every teen in a classroom who had gum as I popped a tab for each of the soldiers, then took one myself.

Those are good for twelve to fourteen hours. Taking more than one tablet in that period is unadvised.

“The people in there?” I asked.

Myalis actually took a moment to reply.

They would need to be verified. If the Model Seven’s roots have reached their brains, then it’s too late. Some people take longer to be taken over than others. There is a medical utility you could use to perform the scans yourself, but I would advise you instead modify your drone to be able to do the scans itself. This function would cost you fifty points.

“Do it,” I said. Being stuck in a body that was no longer under your control... that was Lucy’s nightmare, and it was one that I could sympathize with.

New Purchase: Short Range Drone-Operated Medical Scanner

Points Reduced to... 886

The box that appeared was no bigger than a pack of cigarettes. I had hardly picked it up before my drone reappeared by my side, turned around, and opened up its back to expose a bunch of empty slots.

The scanner was a plastic cartridge that was surprisingly heavy for its size. It fit into one of the slots as if it was meant to go there. Dumbass froze for a moment, then shivered.

“I’ll take that as a sign it’s ready,” I said. “Okay. let’s go play nurse with some zombies.”

“I hope we won’t be entering CQC with them, ma’am,” Monroe said.

I shook my head. “Nah. Dumbass here can now tell us which zombie is... a zombie and which is still a person. We’re saving those we can. It’s why we came.”

“Uh. Yes ma’am.”

We entered the room to be greeted by a few heads soundlessly jerking our way. It eclipsed the poorly lit corridors on the creepy scale.

“Dumbass, start with the nearest,” I said. Some of the zombies started to climb to their feet. “And you guys stay down,” I warned.

If they are that mobile, it’s too late for them.

One of them made it to their feet and lurched in our direction, movements jerky at first but smoothing out a few steps later. Their jaw opened wide, too wide, revealing a mouth full of white worms, pushing up from the gums between too-human teeth, swaying like grass in a breeze.

I closed my eyes.

Sometimes I hated how callous I was. Other times it was the only thing keeping me sane.

Whisper came up. A faint sound, like someone exhaling, burst out from the crossbow-rifle. One of the zombies collapsed to the ground. Then it exploded, sending bits of human and white vine-like tendrils all over the room. The worst part, after I ducked under a bit of office worker, was the silence from the explosion.

Then the air filled with eau de dead guy and I reconsidered what the worst part was.

“Oh fuck, I’m going to be sick,” I muttered. And then I was.