“So Ranger, tell me about yourself.” Jared says, swinging his hammer onto the head of a zombie. The body falls back out of its trap, a reinforced wall with spikes at neck height, to catch any wanderers. The tunnel leading back is filled with noise, but ahead, past the wall, is pure darkness, and a slight groan of zombies. Another decontamination room is set up between the wall and the town.

The shittier part of town. Kim ran off to the better parts, doing the people jobs, whereas Jared found a head popping job and instantly took it. He looks to Ranger, to see him standing still, silently staring at him. He grunts in response. “Ah, the strong silent type. You must be someone who's worked here for a long time then.” Another grunt.

“Tell me, do you get bitches?” A short silence, before an affirmative grunt. “My man.” Jared grins, winding back with his hammer, and popping another head off the wall. It's set up, so that people can walk above and kick the heads off. Unfortunately it doesn’t help with the smell, even with gas masks on. “So, how do yall deal with burning these fuckers?”

Ranger thinks for a moment, before replying. “We don’t. The gas removes the undead’s interest. Makes you smell like a zombie, only get zombies here if they wander on their own.” His voice is deep, and he stands taller than Jared, which in itself, adds to his stereotypical character.

Jared thinks back to the slave's mom, wondering why she and the other zombie attacked the group at the house. Then he realizes, if what he says is true, Rider telling the settlements to burn corpse piles is bullshit. Maybe her half zombie brain is getting to her. “Too bad sitting in it too long causes you to go batshit.”

Jared stops. “Ah, that makes more sense.” He swings again, the head popping off and flying like a golf ball. “Damn, that went far. Gimme a rating man.”

Ranger frowns, judging the distance. “5.” Jared frowns. Then sighs in acceptance. He knows he can do way better. He puts himself in a golfer's stance, lining up his hammer against the head of a writhing zombie. Pulling the hammer back like a golf club, over his shoulder, he displays his strength by swinging it with extreme speed. The head goes flying, hitting the side of the wall, and then rolling even further with some bounces.

Jared looks back. “8.” Score.

“As much as I'm having fun, I'm getting bored of doing the same thing. How many are left?”

Ranger looks towards the decontamination room. “Got two more walls left, then payday.” Jared sighs, and goes back to swinging.

-

Eliza shudders in disgust, staring at the Rat-like person staring at her with their monocle. “Hmm… I can give you... 3 bottles for 1000 Credits, good deal, yes?” She sighs in disappointment, leaving with her money still in her sack. Every single deal was absolutely shit. Always trying to take advantage of her. At least back in the Kingdom they had set prices for food and water. Shit was needed for everyone so they could operate as a whole.

Looking at her guard, a frail kid called “Flynn”. He tried hitting on her, once. That rejection must’ve hit him hard, because now he just follows her around, head held down. Almost like a lost puppy.

Eliza stares at him for a while, before shaking her head and heading onwards to find a trader that won't scam her. She takes in the sight of the market again. Shoddy wooden walls, sewer walls covered in moss, and the guard posts were spread around almost strategically, even if they were made out of wood and those large broken pipes. The large central room was blocked off at most exits by large gates, only allowing openings for the various pipes leading across the roof.

Thinking back to the decontamination room that sucked the miasma off of them, she wonders what these pipes transport now that there wasn’t a need for a sewer. Looking at the barbed wire in the gaps of the walls, maintained by a couple builders, she imagines they must’ve had a hard couple of first days dealing with the zombies. The rubble has clearly been removed from what happened, but the damage that’s still there, shows the story. It all reminded her of something Rider mentioned.

“Hey... Flynn, you’ve lived here a while right?” At a nod from her guard, she continues. “You know a lot about this place… and I was wondering how you keep the zombies from overtaking the city?”

Flynn looks up, a slight glimmer of hope that quickly dies down as he registers the words fully. “We had trouble with them for the longest time. Though it was rare, they’d stumble into our traps. We dunno where they come from, but we think there's a nest closeby… I think one of your friends is taking care of it.” Flynn stops for a moment, looking at the wall. “They stopped attacking though. The doctor moved in, he says he uses Alchemy to keep them away. Herbs or something they’re allergic to.”

“What about UV Lamps?”

“We used to, at first. But the generators to keep them running echo really loudly in here.” he points to the crack in the wall. “See that? We had a generator there and a bloater showed up and popped itself right next to it. Caused a lot of hell, noise that attracted more, we were overrun until our old captain cut through them, like a knight in shining armor.”

“Bloater?”

“Yeah, fat blobby zombies filled with liquids. Usually water, but I’ve seen a few that have more blood than water. It's usually in their stomachs and it stinks a lot when they pop. Our current captain wants us to call the Bloaters, Hydrics. He spends a lot of time with the doctor, probably some scientific name.”

“Huh… I think I remember Rider mentioning something like them before… but, did you say your old captain had shining armor?”

“Nah. Maybe you could call it that, but it was just metal strapped to a bunch of our usual gear. I think it made him look like a Knight, but the others just said it made him look like a tank. On account of him being kinda fat.” He shrugs. “Shame he died a while back, he was turning out to be a really good Captain after that first raid.”

“Oh, I'm sorry for your loss.” Flynn shrugs once again in response.

“It was a while ago. We’ve had to get over it. Survival of the fittest as Captain Jackson says.”

Eliza almost laughs, as something Jared would say immediately comes to mind. “He’s Jackson? When does he jack off?.” Holding in her laughter, she nods, putting her hand over her mouth to look contemplative. His sense of humor was rubbing off too much on her. She preferred it when he didn’t talk to her at all back in the Kingdom.

Noticing she’s getting a little off track, she clears her throat and breathes out her nose to calm herself. “Thank you for the information.” She says, awkwardly. He nods in response, looking back down to the floor. Heading to the next store, she almost breathes out a sigh of relief as she finally finds someone who has set prices on their wares. And it seems more reasonable.

-

In a little white room, in a big tunnel, she lay. She tossed, she turned, but she didn’t wake. Dreams came to her easily, but they left just as quick. Blurred faces, flashes of an old life. It was alien yet comforting.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Then they weren’t dreams. Memories flew by, of a grumpy boy, a meek girl, of a lovely woman she would fight for. Then everything stopped. Standing in front of her, was a redheaded man. Skinny and grinning wildly.

“Ya best be waking up now girlie. There’s a rat in the sewers, and he’s awfully hungry.”

“Wha? Wait-who’re-you?” She tries to ask, reaching out for him.

“You know who I am. Ya killed me an’ ate my brains, ya cunt. Don’t blame you, I taste pretty damn good. But you’re gonna have to do the same to another fucker. Before he does the same to you.”

“Who?”

“Think I’ll let ya figure that out on yer own. A little fuck you of me own. But you should still hurry and-”

His face distorts into the woman from before, the lovely one. Tears down her eyes, as she holds her in her arms.

“Wake up!”

Rider sits up, hyperventilating as a tear falls down her eye. The lovely face is gone. That itch in her brain is there, she desperately claws at herself but she's gone. “F… fr-” her hands graze it. Her rabbit is there with her. She hugs it tight, while she’s slowly coming to.

Minutes pass, and she looks up from her rabbit, to see a white room, it's surprisingly clean, it reminds her of those government RVs, mobile medical checkpoints. But all thoughts immediately leave her staring into space as any ounce of brain activity drains out her ears and onto the bed. She follows it trickle down.

“Visual hallucinations.” A finger is suddenly in front of her face, covered in bandages, a leather glove above that on the hand, and leading up towards a plague mask, on top of a large dark cloak. Everything is hidden beneath that cloak, save for the hand that is now withdrawing inside it. “Uncommon. But you were outside without a mask for a while.”

She looks back at the brain goop, finding her hand only resting on cloth, nothing else. “I- what? Where am I?”

“Your friends brought you here from above. I’ve heard some of your kind call it the Deadzone.”

“My kind?”

She can almost hear the sneer in his voice. “Outsiders.” He shakes his head, almost gliding towards a table with a rat in a glass cage. “They’ve had me look after you, because you were stupid enough to not have a gas mask on your face. Usually I wouldn’t even be doing that, on account of them all turning into zombies first.”

“But you. You’re different. I’ve been trying to replicate whatever it is you have with this rat, but nothing I do works. And as much as I would love to cut you up and take samples, I respect the captain enough to follow his rules.”

“Cu… cult…”

He gets close to her, slowly leaning over her as his mask blocks her vision of the room.

“Yes, I'm aware of their own transformations. Yours however… was stagnant. Neither transformed nor unaffected. Almost as if you’ve been exposed before.” He pulls back. “But, theorizing is useless without proper subjects, therefore, I’ll just have to ask you exactly what is wrong with you.”

Rider stares at him, confusion in her eyes, before she frowns and looks down at her hands. “I don’t know.” She whispers, just loud enough for him to hear.

“I see. Should have figured someone dumb enough to go naked into the miasma wouldn’t be able to answer simple questions. Very well.”

She quickly goes to cover herself up. He looks at her again, tilting his head. “A metaphor, you simple-minded fool. Now, if you don’t have any actual health problems that I CAN solve, get out of my clinic.”

She looks down at her arms, noticing she’s not naked, and still has her clothes on. “Oh. Okay.” Slowly getting up, she moves towards the exit, looking straight ahead, yet not looking anywhere. Her body, on autopilot, leads her around the town, passing by several shops and guards, and eventually ending up in front of a sign.

The Baskin’s Bitchin Brothel

Whatever that sign said, it looked very pretty. Too bad she couldn’t read it. So she went past the door, and into a large room filled with tables, a bar, and a stairway upwards. The whole place was filled with people. Sitting on each other, even more than 2 people on the same person. It was smart of them, to save space. But why are they all cramming themselves into this room?

It must be something good Rider thought to herself. One of the few remaining that didn’t slip her mind instantly. Someone bumped into her, causing her to stumble into a seat, in front of a table. It feels like only seconds before a drink is in her hands. A nice man, sitting next to her, keeping her knee warm with his hand. He’s saying such nice things about her.

“Your hair is so beautiful, and your skin so pale.” He brushed her hair, he warmed up her cheeks. He was such a nice friend. It was nice to make new ones. She smiled.

“Thank you!” She looked at him scanning his face. She couldn’t focus too well. His hair looked nice. “Your hair is very fluffy.” She giggles, poking it. It bounced, and she looked at his clothes. “Very colorful!” She says, taking a sip of the drink.

She liked it a lot. So she chugged it all down.

“Why don’t we get to know each other better, in private?” He asks her. She frowns. She didn’t want to move, it was so comfy here. His hand trailed up her leg, which struck her odd, the other stroking her cheek. And then the door slammed open. He quickly jumped, looking at the door. She lazily turned her head towards the noise.

Jared was there. At least she thought it was Jared. He looked slightly pissed. “DOG! There you are!” He pushed past multiple people who ignored him after realizing he wasn’t there for them. Rider waved to him.

“You’re still out of it. Fucking, typical.”

-

“Who in the blazes are you?” Jared stared at the posh looking asshole, who looked like he just sucked a lemon off, and had its dick rammed up his ass. He looked down at the drink in the man's hand, and grabbed it.

Quickly chugging it, he puts it back down, frowning. “This is some cheap ass shit, Dog. The fuck are you doing hanging around in a shitty bar brothel for?” The man squawks like a fucking goose, realising he was ingored.

“Do you know who I am, you barbaric-” The man gets cut off by a knife pointed at his face. A knife Rider recognises and tries to take back from Jared, even if weakly.

“Heeey! Give it! Gimme back my knife!”

“Clearly I fucking don’t nor do i care. Doesn’t matter though. You’re a little too close to my-” He looks down at her, a softness in his eyes that quickly flees. “-friend here. And since she’s high off her gourd, I can’t trust no pasty ass mutt-faced FUCK- to look after her.”

A lot of the people near the table that overhear them seem surprised, even if some of them seem horrified, almost fearful about the verbal lashing the boy is having. He clearly doesn’t care for it, and storms off, warily eying the knife still in Jared’s hand.

“The fuck are all of you starin’ at? Shit aint none of your business, go back to fucking the whores.” He growls out, shoving the knife into the table with a slam. They all look away, as he sits down.

“Why am I the fucking baby sitter? Where’s the slave when you need her?”

“It's ‘cause you're meanie and this is what you get!” Rider slurs to him before snapping back to her senses even if it was brief. “How long’s it been?” she groans out, pushing her fingers into her eyes, it's the only thing that slowly stops the ache.

“What, since you became a brain dead retard? About a couple days. Let me get us a couple more drinks, and I’ll tell you what happened between now and then.”