Headshot: Two in the Head (Book 2 of a Zombie litRPG Trilogy) Read online

  Nobody had, to the best of her knowledge, ever tried to get the electrical grid back up and running. She supposed it would be an interesting engineering challenge, but that didn’t come close to making it worth the effort that such a mammoth undertaking would require.

  What would be the point? The Survivors only had to hold out against the Zombies for a week. Sure, the darkness sucked, but there were still generators and floodlights, which worked fine in a pinch. Most people had worked out fairly early on that a few cases of bottled water and a bag full of non-perishable food would be enough to last until Saturday, which made hitting a supermarket or food warehouse a popular first outing once the Survivors logged in on Sunday morning.

  Of course, the influx of players to such obvious places also made them dangerous. Headshot wasn’t without its griefers, and more than one guild took sadistic pleasure in setting up within sight of a frequented grocery and taking out players as they scavenged. The loot from the bodies wouldn’t even be worth the bullets they were using on them, but that didn’t stop the slaughter.

  Some guilds at least had the decency to take the building over and sell you the food, but this early in the day it would be bedlam.

  I listened in on her thoughts, glad that I sort of had someone to play the game with, at least. It was lonely as a Zombie, and with Sasha’s internal voice running through my head it made it easier to set aside my own worries and fears. Besides, as much as I had let my jealousy color my opinion of the Survivor faction, this was a once in a lifetime chance to learn what made my enemy tick.

  The map in the upper right-hand corner of the HUD was a top-down view of our location. I could zoom in and out, and that reminded me of how I’d been able to see what other Zombies had been doing, back when I’d been a Schemer on the other side.

  I laughed, unconcerned that I’d be overheard. I guess I still was a Schemer. I may have both my hands and living flesh instead of a dead, unfeeling layer of skin that kept me from the world outside but I was still plotting.

  Everything I learned I vowed to use against them, come Monday morning…

  So, I paid attention to everything. I wasn’t going to miss a detail, especially since I had no idea what would be critical to my survival later.

  The street we were on was colored green, which told me we were indeed in the Green Zone the game had promised. The next street over was green as well, but that was the extent of our safety. Beyond that was a sea of orange, and as I pulled out on the map view and saw further and further away, ten or twelve blocks out the red began.

  At least where we were right now player’s would have to both agree to PvP, and once one of the combatants surrendered or was vanquished and sent to his or her respawn point, the combat would be over. The duel wouldn’t mean anything other than bragging rights. No loot would change hands, and no experience points will be lost. The Green Zones were as safe as Survivors got on Sundays, and I was glad that the Eternals had chosen a headquarters that prevented them from being ambushed by other guilds the moment they set foot out their front door.

  If they’d been any other guild, I’d have thought that may well be the reason they’d picked the museum in the first place, but I already knew Sasha too well. She didn’t like to think of herself as emotional, but this was a special place. It was her home away from home, and she’d never let anyone else have it, not even in a virtual realm like this.

  My attention was yanked back to my map, which meant that she was staring at hers. I could tell that she was focused on a building just inside of the Red zone about a dozen blocks away. She was getting antsy, after a moment I knew why.

  “Are you guys here yet?” she whispered, but not to me.

  The guild. They had some internal guild chat, and she was using it to see who was online. Even though we were still mostly hidden in the shadows, and when she ignored our surroundings and accessed a Player Status panel I divided my attention between what she was looking at and the actual world around us.

  I’d played too much Headshot to believe in safety, Green zone or not. I was probably an idiot. No, I was definitely being an idiot. Even if I did spot someone sneaking up on her, or us, or whatever, what was I going to do about it? I couldn’t make Sasha hear me, and she certainly didn’t see me. I took it as gospel that same would hold true for other Survivors.

  But I wondered if I could affect them. There was only one way to find out…

  Sasha was standing with her back almost to the wall of the museum. She was looking at the status of her guildmates, biting her lip in annoyance at the fact that none of them had logged in yet. I took the opportunity to reach out and shove her, hoping against hope that I’d knock her over. It would serve her right for lying to me about the brick vanishing in a server wipe, at least.

  No good. I went right through her as if she wasn’t even there. The wall behind her was solid enough, and even though it didn’t hurt when I struck it I still managed to bounce off it hard enough to somehow fall flat on my face.

  Sasha was lucky that she couldn’t hear the string of cuss words I let loose. By the time I was back on my feet again, she was on the move. I hadn’t been paying attention to the result of her search for her guildmates, but judging by her body language alone I could tell that whatever news she’d gotten had pissed her off.

  At least I couldn’t see anybody around us. Hm. “Us.” How quickly I’d adapted to this odd amalgamation, I was stuck in. Sasha was already headed toward a zone that was decidedly Orange, and I could tell by her inventory that the only functional weapons she had were the tools hanging from her belt.

  I was still far too used to the crowded mass of undead flesh that embodied the early stages of Headshot on the Zombie side of the game. Over here with the Survivors, I was increasingly aware of just how few of them there were.

  I couldn’t imagine the sad schmuck who happened to be the only rich guy playing Headshot in Detroit or Garland, Texas. Here in Silicon Valley there would at least be a fairly dense pocket of people wealthy enough to all be playing the game on the Survivor time at the same time.

  If Headshot took off, would it change the way people bought houses? In the future, would the wealthy custom-build enclaves that would let their guildmates join them behind fortifications that would aid them in the game?

  A year ago, I would have said no. Now, though? Absolutely. Crazier things had happened, and critics of Absolute Reality were already jumping up and down about how many people were abandoning the “real” world for the new one.

  I thought I heard a noise ahead of us and froze. I missed my Low Light Vision already, and I had to stare hard to spot the cat as it peeled away from the shadows on the corner and darted across the street. Other than that, there was still no one in sight.

  Come on, I thought. I know you guys have more money than sense? Where the hell is everybody?

  Then again, it was only 12:20. There was no way that time was accurate, but there it was, right there in the User Interface as plain as day. With the fuckery Deep Dive was pulling, lying to ninety-nine percent of the game’s player base about what actually happened on Sundays, I wouldn’t put it past them to be using some sort of time dilation right now, as well.

  The more I thought about it, the clearer it became. Time in the game was moving slower than it was passing in the real world. That way, the Survivors could do two or maybe even three times as much as they’d normally be able to, allowing them to make the most of their little deception.

  It made sense. I didn’t have to like it to see the simple elegance of it.

  That was when it hit me. If I was right about the time dilation thing, and a quick jog through the thoughts of Sasha that I was still allowed to access assured me that I was, then everyone who had logged in right after midnight had been in-game for an hour.

  Deep Dive’s message to Sasha apologizing for her having trouble logging in to the game seemed like a much, much bigger deal now. She’d been trying to log in for a little while before she’d finally g
otten access. Her delay meant that everyone else had a ten-minute head start on her; surely plenty of time for the majority of the players in the area to have created their characters, grabbed what little gear they needed and rushed off into the post-apocalyptic wasteland.

  Right now, while we were still on our way to the riches that awaited us, I could picture our opposition knee deep in scavenge, salvage and loot that would be widening the gap between them and us even further.

  Had my presence been the reason it had taken her so long to log in? Probably. I couldn’t imagine the game had been written to handle the accidental inclusion of a zombie parasite long way to get to the good stuff first. Sure, Sasha had certainly done a lot of things to the game that she shouldn't have done, from crashing the servers a couple of times to setting Deep Dive’s reputation on fire, but she obviously had the hacking skills to keep herself hidden from their prying eyes.

  If anyone could find a way to hide in plain sight from the AI, it would be herm, considering her Dad had coded most of the game.

  We were just about on the cusp of the Orange zone, and a block before we crossed over Sasha’s stride changed. She was instantly wary, and where a moment ago she’d been storming down the middle of the sidewalk now she was keeping to the darkest of the shadows.

  Stealth skill increased to 11%

  Of all of the stuff that had happened to me in the last hour or so, that was the one thing that put me at ease. Hacking, conspiracies, Sasha’s possible betrayal of me and her certain anger toward Deep Dive aside, we were still in a game.

  It was exactly the reminder that I needed; I was good at games. I had that sort of mind. From as far back as I could remember I’d been a gamer, and if Headshot was going to allow skill advancement based on action on the Survivor side, I was immediately interested. As a Zombie the only way I could increase my stats or get a new skill was to achieve a whole new level.

  Come to think of it; I hadn’t even been allowed to allocate my initial points. Things on the other side of the game were bare bones, but it made sense that the players who paid the subscriptions got all of the perks.

  Stealth skill increased to 12%

  We were about to cross over into the Orange zone. I decided on the spur of the moment that, even though I wasn’t still trapped in Sasha’s head, if all I did was walk around after her until I find a way to log out then I’d still be just as much of a passenger as I had been.

  So, I hurried ahead of her. By now I was confident that none of the other players would be able to see me. I was a ghost, a specter that might just be able to use the bug or hack or whatever it was that had kept me around today to my advantage.

  And the more I could learn about the Survivor side, the better chance I’d have of bringing them all down when the Guild Vault popped open tomorrow, and I leaped out, claws and teeth at the ready. Of course, the farther Sasha got into the game, the more I’d get a chance to experience.

  Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be an effective bodyguard, particularly since I couldn’t block a bullet or let her know if I saw someone sneaking up on us.

  For her part, Sasha was the picture of careful vigilance. Her eyes were narrowed, and she studied the shadows across the street at the beginning of the orange zone until she was certain there weren’t any nasty surprises waiting for her over there.

  I had to keep reminding myself that, according to the game, it was still only a few minutes past midnight. They’d slowed the day and night cycle down to let the time dilation not result in a sun that was constantly whirling across the sky, but the result was that it was dark.

  The moon and the stars were doing their best to light up the night, but I was missing my Zombie abilities. My previous Low Light vision had made everything stand out in stark contrast, but now I was just a human again.

  Or rather, now I was just a whatever I was, tagging along with a human.

  Maybe I only get the abilities that Sasha does? I am tied to her, after all… It made sense, but I didn’t have any way of testing it right now, and I didn’t feel like it made much of a difference. Not at the moment, at least.

  Now and then Sasha would put her hand out and run it along the back of the wall that she was using as cover.

  Even though she was cautious, I could tell by her body language that she was frustrated by how long it'd taken her to login. She knew that she was behind the eight ball when it came to loot collection, which wasn’t setting her mind at ease, but there was something else, too.

  Her guild. The thought filled my mind again, and I knew it came unbidden and accidental from Sasha. She couldn’t understand why the rest of the Eternals weren’t in the game, and even as I watched, she paused in the shadows and checked their player status on her menu screen.

  Nothing. I could tell that she’d come up empty by the sag of her shoulders, but she was smart and resilient. Even though she would have preferred to have some backup, she wasn’t going to go running back to her guild headquarters with her tail between her legs. There was valuable stuff out there, and she was going to grab as much of it as she could.

  I found myself relying on her instincts. I’d never played this side of the game before, and she had logged more hours than just about anyone alive. It was fascinating to watch her silently second guess me. I’d have crossed the street by now, but she was still scanning the rooftops. She didn’t have a plan, at least not one that I was able to pick up on, but she was careful and cautious, and I was surprised that I trusted her.

  I skimmed her thoughts, which let me know that if she died on Sunday, she’d respawn back at the Computer Science Museum. The fact that she wasn't at least a little more reckless told me that there were other penalties for losing your life that I wasn’t aware of. Not a game mechanic, though.

  Maybe something related to the hack she was running, or the gear that she’d modified to help hide her from Deep Dive…

  Whatever it was, the truth of it was locked in the deeper parts of her mind, safe from my access.

  I realized that we’d been crouched in the shadows, about to cross the street for way longer than I would have thought was wise. If someone out there had found or craft a pair of night vision goggles, we’d be sitting ducks. What were we doing? There was an abandoned gas station over there, and from the looks of it, the building was completely deserted.

  I sighed and stared in the same direction that had captured her attention for so long. “Come on,” I growled under my breath. “Let’s do this.”

  She stiffened, and for an instant, I thought that there was a chance that Sasha had heard me.

  Stealth skill increased to 13%

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the message. What a waste of time this was turning into. Was that really what she’d been waiting for, a measly 1% additional bonus? As if that was going to make any difference at all, in the long run. If I could have strangled her, I probably would have right then.

  Maybe my estimation of her abilities had been a little hasty. It would be just my luck to be stuck with the slowest, most risk-averse survivor in the whole damn history of the game, and I swear to God that if she didn’t get up and move her ass right now, I’d-

  And then I heard it. The scuff of a booted foot across the street.

  I whipped my head around at the sound, trying desperately to triangulate where it had come from. I knew I was useless in combat, but I’d be damned if we were going to get whacked without me at least seeing who was doing the whacking.

  That was an old gamer instinct as well. See who gets you, so that when you respawn, you can track them down and make things right.

  A moment later two shadows that I’d assumed had been part of an inside display crossed in front of the broken window of the gas station. There was the crunch of broken glass under their feet, and then the quiet conversation of two guys who had been lying in wait for an unsuspecting victim. They sounded annoyed that they couldn’t convince anyone to take the bait and now they were giving up to go set up an ambush somewhere e
lse.

  Your Spot Hidden ability has increased. Your adversaries:

  Outnumbered you (+3% skill increase)

  Possessed a higher counter skill [Stealth] than you (+2% skill increase)

  Had the advantage regarding position and placement (+2% skill increase)

  Your spot hidden ability is now 32%.

  Wow! That was pretty good, actually. I was impressed that the AI worked out all the factors that had played against her and rewarded her accordingly. Despite my impatience and temporary misgivings, I couldn’t help but admit that Sasha definitely knew what she was doing. I liked to think of myself as a patient gamer, but even I would’ve crossed the street by now.

  If the situations had been reversed and I had been the one playing the game and calling the shots, I’d have gotten taken out just now. It was a sobering realization, and it went a long way to showing me how little I knew about the Survivor side of the game.

  I was man enough to admit when I was wrong but was still a little embarrassing to face up to the fact that only a couple of seconds ago I was lamenting being stuck with Sasha. I’d given up on her being able to teach me anything, but I sure felt different about that now.

  She and I watched the two would-be attackers go up the street and deeper into the orange zone. Now that they weren’t bothering to hide, I could see that one of them was holding a pistol in his hand. The other had a baseball bat. Not exactly the most high-tech or powerful weapons in the game, of course, but Sasha had nothing but a hammer.

  They’d have made quick work of her, grinning all the while.

  I knew guys like that. Every game had them. The moment place started they rushed off to find a chokepoint where weaker players, more inexperienced players could be waylaid at their leisure. It didn’t matter that the people they were attacking had nothing they wanted, they killed them anyway. And worse, they didn’t feel bad about it. They were the worst sort of griefers, ones who existed purely to ruin your game.