Chapter 5

A Champion is born

1:03 A.M

The Richmond House

Chet Richmond

“ZOMBIES RUN! ARM YOURSELVES! MEET AT THE SCHOOL!”

“ZOMBIES RUN! ARM YOURSELVES! MEET AT THE SCHOOL!”

Chet screamed this over and over at the top of his lungs as he ran out of his house. His already thick legs looking even thicker, covered in thigh-high rubber waiters. The rubber somehow squeaking even on the gravel with each duck or twist, saving himself time after time as he slips past another of the slow-moving but plentiful monstrosities. He had no time to plan a route or look farther ahead. He just ran and shoved moving his padded shoulders and using his helmeted head as ram if a one got too close and continued to shout. His back protected by the large pack with several wooden bats and a large axe strapped to it. Chet didn’t slow or even look at any of these monsters. He couldn’t. He knew if he slowed to look at these monsters, these zombies, in the eyes he would see the faces of his neighbors. He didn’t let her become one. He could only help the living.

Earlier…

The ball comes hurtling towards him catching it just before it reached his face Chet throws it back up with a growl. “I’m sick of being mocked!”

Reaching up with his other hand he touched his bruised eye. No one asked if he was ok, not a single person even tried. Instead, all day everyone made jokes and laughed, everyone except her. “No! all she did was a gasp,” Chet growls to himself as he throws the ball again. Glancing at his clock he knew he needed to sleep soon, it was just before midnight, and he had to be up at four again for practice.

Catching the ball a few more times, he stops and looks at the ball, a spongy porous orange sphere made from the mushrooms that grow in the darkest parts of the city. It was his parent's life’s work, research for the company, they had discovered the use of these plants when they had first met at the Academy of Innovation. Then they revolutionized its use all around the city, the soft spongy texture allowed it to be used in so many ways they were still discovering new uses daily. With a scoff Chet throws the ball at the door watching as it bounces back just enough out of his reach, stretching till he almost fell off the bed he still couldn’t reach it.

Looking around his room his eyes linger on the painting of his family on vacation at the camps. It showed him in between a man that stood at least another head and shoulders over Chet, wide shoulders and a large muscular frame, his father’s dark green bald head gleamed in the sunlight. A feature that is shown clearly in the painting. The broad friendly smile plastered across his face, and his brown eyes squinted in mirth. On his other side was his mother. Only just a little taller than he was then, now, of course, he was the taller, but she still made sure he knew she could whip his butt regularly. Red long crimson hair lay in its typical braid over her emerald shoulder. Her small mouth turned up in that amused grin she had whenever his father had said something to annoy her, but he still usually makes her smile. Chet grinned at the memory; he couldn’t remember the joke his father had made that caused the large grins they shared but he knew it was a childish one.

Closing his eyes, he wondered if his parents would be home this week or stay in the Eye working again. Laying there for some time Chet was hoping he would drift off, but he knew he was far to wound up to be able to fall asleep peacefully anytime soon. His stomach grumbled; he hadn’t been too hungry after the events of the day. Even with his grandmother making his favorite stew for dinner. As his stomach grumbles again, Chet lets out a heavy sigh figuring he might as well get some of the leftover stew while he was awake. When he opened his eyes he was greeted by words he had never before seen in his life.

Welcome! Hello, and Welcome to the zombie apocalypse. The Company is pleased and grateful you have chosen to take this first step with us. Into the great unknown that is the zombie apocalypse. We will begin immediately due to the nature of the Zombie Apocalypse: Now! Who are you?!

Chet blinked as he read the words over. Had he fallen asleep? He knew he had some vivid dreams at times, but he couldn’t remember one where it felt this realistic. Zombies? Dream on, the undead is so lame, he always wanted to be the one slaying the dragon not the cowering idiot in the back. He was a good guy! Why couldn’t anyone see that? Not fake freaking Chris Desmond! “I’m the Champion! Not him!” He growls the last few sentences aloud forgetting the words in front of him in his anger. He remembers them only as they begin to change.

Welcome Champion!

Champion class:

A never-failing hero of the people. He is the constant victor, even in loss, he grows to come back a stronger and more versatile opponent. The need to be the best will Drive you. You will need to be stronger, faster, and be vigilant in your constant pursuit to keep those you choose and accept you as champion safe and secure. Show your determination.! Show your desire! Now go forth and WIN Champion! *See status screen for more.

“Yeah exactly! I’m the frigging Champion!” Chet laughs to himself finding himself a little calmer and clearer after reading these words. Closing his eyes, he was still not tired but the peace he now felt left him feeling as if he could sleep finally. He let his mind drift as he slowly lost his hold on consciousness. The last thought he had was that he forgot to get his stew.

*Crash*

Chet’s eyes snap open the words are gone. He must be awake now. But what was that noise?

“AAHHH”

A high-pitched scream rips through the house, Chet snaps to his feet and starts running the second his socks hit the carpet. Tearing out of his room, into the dark hallway. His socks slip on the carpet as he tries to take the turn onto the stairs too fast, a quick hand catching the rail and saving him from taking the fast way downstairs. More banging could be heard coming from downstairs, only one thought kept flying through his head over and over as he made his way down the moonlit stairway. Grandma. The eyes of the paintings along the stairwell followed as he took the last four stairs in one great leap. As he was about to continue his mad dash to his grandma’s room at the back of the house. He noticed the big bay window was smashed in, shards of glass lay scattered amongst the pillows and quilt his mother had made. Dark spots gleamed wetly in the moonlight, as it stained the wood bench, that he and his father had crafted the summer before.

More sounds brought Chet’s attention back to his grandma, the noise could be heard echoing down the hallway that led to the kitchen where the door to his grandma’s room lay. Not wasting any more time, Chet took off down the hallway, following the dark trail of blood along the floor and lighter smears along the wall. Until he came to the kitchen. Other than a few drops of blood that led to his destination at the end of the spacious room, the kitchen was immaculate. His grandma had claimed it as her own since the day they had moved in, converting the large pantry into a cozy room even able to fit a chair where she can work on her yarn.

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An odd sound caught Chet’s ear causing his head to snap up, the noise for some reason giving him an irrational rage, even though his intense fear and worry for his grandma. He charged forward his anger pushing him onward. Seeing the door open he pushes into the room fists raised ready to fight off whatever monster was attacking his grandma, letting out a mighty yell. “Grandma!”

The sight inside freezing him in his tracks. The moment seemed to stretch on for Chet as he took in the

room. Seeing his grandma’s dresser along one wall with her small little bed pushed up against the far wall, under the window his father had put in for his dear mother. The fur rug with a fearsome head attached that grandma had said had great powers. Until his eyes finally settled on the sight that had froze him in his tracks, and the realization of why the noise had angered him so much.

There in her darkroom only lit by the small square of light from the window sitting in her rocking chair was his grandma. At first, it seemed like it was as she had seen her thousands of times before. A family member or friend leaning down to hug her, elders did not need to stand if they did not want to in his family. Quickly Chet realized this was unlike any other time he had seen. No, it wasn’t the fact that there were two people, one leaning over in one in front of his grandma’s head to her chest. The other on her shoulder, head leaned down pressed against her back. He had seen that, and more people gathered around his grandma, she was the Under Matron after all. It was the sheer look of anguish and terror that constricted her normally happy and pleasant round face. Her icy blue eyes stared at the wall, blinking slowly. All the while the sound that kept causing a fire to ignite in his brain was still going. As the figure on his grandma’s chest pulled away from her with a strange ripping sound, her mouth opened, and she let out another cry as the figure turned its head to rip free what Chet could now see was his grandma’s flesh. The noise that had angered him was clear. The figure was chewing on his grandma!

Ever since he was a little, Chet could not stand the sound of chewing, a fact his cousins took great delight in using against him whenever they came to visit. There before him, was his grandma being chewed on like she was some roast beast. All of this flashed through Chet’s mind as he ran forward grabbing the one on her chest and heaving the figure off of her throwing it to the ground. Running to the other figure, it was now pulling a long strand of his grandma’s flesh shoulder. As Chet latched on to it, he briefly noticed the white of bone showing from the large hole in her neck.

“GET OF OFF HER!” He screamed into the figure's face as he pulled it close. Only to immediately shove it away as it tried to bite his face, missing the tip of his nose by inches. Seeing the creature's face in the moonlight for the first time, as he lifted it up and away from his gored grandma, the figure being far lighter and smaller than he had first realized, it must have been standing on the chair to get to his grandma’s shoulder. The face was one he recognized; it was Linzie from across the street the small high elf girl who sold them cookies for her adventure troop every year. He had just seen her waving at him as he got home from school. Her sudden lunge towards his face pulled him from his thoughts as he found her small mouth, covered in his grandma’s blood, chunks of flesh dangling from her mouth inches from ripping into his cheek. A heave of strength and releasing her was the only thing saving him from her gnashing teeth.

“What’s going on Linzie? What happened to you?” Chet asks the little girl who is slowly climbing up from where she had fallen next to the bed. Chet could see that her gold pajamas are covered in dark red spots, her bare feet bloody with several shards of glass sticking out at odd angles. Her once platinum blonde hair is now mattered with blood and dirt. Her normally bright hazel eyes were now a sickly greenish-yellow. The strangest difference from when he had seen her that afternoon, was the large gaping hole in her neck that the blood had turned black against her pale skin and no longer looked wet. “Oh man, Linzie, who did this to you?” He asked the small girl as she just came towards him her gait slow and her steps like his father's after he had one too many cups of mead.

Before the small girl made it halfway across the room, Chet had the sudden feeling that someone was looming right above him. In a sudden discission, he heaved himself away from his grandma to his left and twisted around to face the room his back against the only blank wall, the one with the door back into the kitchen. He saw the first figure he had thrown off to the side and had its arms reached out in the space he had just been, teeth flashing it tried to rip into him. He realized he recognized this figure too, it was Hershiz, Linzie’s father the tall lean elf with platinum blonde hair to match his daughters. Although he was balding in the middle, he wore it with pride and often greeted his daughter home from school in all kinds of costumes. Chet’s favorite had always been the monks’ attire Hershiz would don often, greeting her with snacks for her in wicker baskets.

Before Chet his two neighbors, no, these two creatures were advancing on him both walking slowly arms raised towards him, teeth-gnashing searching for his flesh. Seeing Hershiz was a little ahead of his daughter Chet made a quick decision grabbing on to the lean man and spinning around and flinging him as hard as he can headfirst into the dresser, where he connected with a heavy crunch and crumpled unmoving at its base. Chet had little time to pay attention though as Linzie was right behind him the low moan she gave off, saving him from her clasping mouth on his thigh. Stepping back quickly he rapidly struck out with his foot planting it squarely in her chest, sending her stumbling back and tumbling into a heap on the floor. Her fall did not last long as she slowly uncurled herself and began to climb back to her feet.

Chet was not idle as the monster that used to be his kind little neighbor stood back up. He had raced over to his grandma’s dresser passing both unmoving bodies on the floor as he grabbed the heavy wooden candle holder his grandma always kept there to honor his grandfather. Racing back to Linzie he could only spare a glance at his grandma’s face as he raced by. Her eyes looked vacant in the poorly moonlit room, but he could see neither her blood ran, nor her chest moved with breath. He let out a vicious howl of anguish as he reached the little monster, who had just gotten fully to her feet. Smashing his improvised club into her head so hard she lost her feet once again falling limply to the floor. In his rage, Chet smashed down over and over until the little monster lay still and unmoving.

Going over to his grandma, he could see she was not moving, but remembering the words he had thought were a dream. If they were to be believed it was only a matter of time before his grandma came after him. As a heavy stream of tears fell down his face, Chet looked to where his grandma had so intently been focused on as she was devoured. It was the large painting she had at the head of her bed. It had every clan member that was able to make it that day included, and he knew his grandma would often look at it and tell Chet. “Family is the most important thing; it matters not if you fight each other only if you strive together”.

Chet looked down sadly at his still grandma, knowing there was nothing he could do for her other than one small kindness. All children of his family were taught the one thing you can do for any zombie. Chet lifted the candle holder that had honored his grandfather for many years, and he used it to prevent his grandmother from becoming one of these horrible things. Tears fell from his eyes as he let out his cry’s one after another.

Chet stayed kneeled over his slain grandmother for some time, both to mourn her and to figure out a plan that would help bring him and others safety in this so-called zombie apocalypse. After he had let out all the pent-up emotion, he didn’t know what to do. So, he began to think, he remembered the words that had appeared just before all this started. He needed to be the Champion for others. He could do that; he could finally show them all that he was the good guy.

But how? Chet needed to figure out two things.

He first needed to be able to fight off the zombies and keep himself from getting bitten. His father’s battle axe! It should be a perfect weapon. If he put on his blitz pads his upper body and head would be protected. It would have to do. Chet set off at a cautious pace bringing the gore covered candle holder with him. As he made his way back upstairs, he began to think of places to bring people, and that they could defend. His home was out, as he came to the shattered bay window, that became clear as he was able to look out onto the street. Which had turned into mayhem. Several figures were sprinting down the street, one was directly on the heels of another before it flung itself forward bringing both figures crashing to the ground immediately followed by an ear-piercing scream.

Quickly crouching down before anyone or worse anything saw him before he had his necessary gear. He crab walked his way over to the stairs and slowly made his way up them watching the window until it disappeared from view. He quickly made his way back down the hall quickly changing from his shorts and t shirt, pulling a long-sleeved shirt and a sweater over the t- shirt and grabbing his thickest pair or work pants he had lastly putting on his running shoes knowing speed would be his best bet. He then gathered up his pads and helmet and set them next to his door, spotting several pieces he could use as improvised weapons including four wooden bats at the bottom of his closet. Stuffing his bag with the extra gear as well as a few extras from his bedroom he might need for later. Setting all this next to the door and taking the last bat in hand Chet quickly made his way to his parent’s room on the other side of the stairs.

Going directly to the closet where the axe was stored Chet threw open the closet and pulled down the long case that sat at the top of the closet. Setting the case on the floor he opened it to reveal the four-foot-long battle axe that lay inside. Three feet of aged oak for the haft banded in metal, the double head of the axe being twin foot long blades each coming forming a perfect halfmoon. Grabbing this precious relic, for it was passed down from father to son before the twelve tribes had joined together. Another scream from outside pulled him out of his revelry, as he started to rise his eyes landed on a surprise. His father’s fishing waders were at the bottom of the closet the thick rubber coming up to midthigh. Chet smiled as he grabbed them, experience telling him he could fit them on over his running shoes. Making his way back to his room the squeak of the rubber only mildly annoying, he knew it was time.

Quickly donning the rest of his makeshift armor Chet decided the axe would be too heavy to run with if he needed to move quickly, strapping it to the pack, he slung it over his shoulder and took the wooden bat in hand. heading downstairs and pausing at the door breathing heavily. Now to commit the second thing he had needed to figure out. He had to figure out a place that would be big enough and be strong enough to build up and defend, his eyes had landed on it as he was getting dressed. The school. It was perfect, it had a large space, the gym and cafeteria should be stocked, and they could scavenge the houses nearby. Now he just needed to lure those things away so people could make it to the school. Chet let out a sigh and a growl as he threw the door open and took off, yelling at the top of his lungs.