“What?” he asks. “Everybody gets a weapon. You had to have gotten something.”
“Nope,” Laurence says.
“Give me your bag.”
Laurence hands it over. They duck into an old coffee shop, making sure no zombies are following them. In a back room, Haroon empties the pack across a table. He spreads out the items and examines each one. Every item he has is exactly the same as the items Haroon has in his pack, minus a weapon.
“You’re right, there’s nothing,” Haroon says. “Why the hell did they screw you like this?”
“Well, I’m not exactly unarmed. My whole body is one giant weapon.” Laurence punches his fist through the plaster wall next to him to prove his point. “I think they just wanted to make it fair to the other contestants.”
Then Laurence smiles.
“Still, they should have given you something. Brass knuckles, nunchucks, something.”
Laurence shakes his head. “I don’t need any of that. I can kill zombies with my bare hands just fine.”
Then Haroon notices something unusual about one of the items on the table: the map. It doesn’t look quite right. It’s much bulkier than the map he received in his own pack. Haroon picks it up and unfolds it. Inside, there are several sheets of paper.
“What’s that?” Laurence asks.
Haroon holds them up for inspection. “Blueprints.”
Laurence leans over the Indian man’s shoulder. “What kind of blueprints?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Haroon says. “I think they are instructions on how to build a weapon.”
“Build a weapon? They expect me to build my own weapon when everyone else gets their weapons fully constructed? Who do they think I am, MacGyver?”
Haroon has no idea who MacGyver is.
“By the looks of this, I bet it’s an incredibly powerful weapon,” Haroon says. “Perhaps too powerful to give to any contestant right at the start.”
“Hmmm… Maybe you’re right. And they gave it to me because they knew I’d be the contestant most likely to survive unarmed long enough to build the thing. Only one problem…”
“What’s that?”
“Finding these parts to make it. I have no idea what most of them even are.”
Haroon scans the list.
“Then you’re lucky you ran into me,” Haroon says. “This kind of thing is my specialty.”
Haroon was a top researcher who worked on classified projects for the government of Neo New York. He was registered as a citizen of the Platinum Quadrant, but he had never once stepped foot in Platinum. He lived in an underground research facility with over fifty other scientists. Each scientist was a specialist in their field, educated from childhood to fill a unique position. Haroon was trained to become a weapons engineer.
Bullets are effective against living beings, but against the undead they are not as much so. Haroon worked on developing weapons that would be more effective against the undead. There was a division that focused on freezing weapons and another that focused on particle beam weapons, but Haroon’s division focused on self-recharging weapons. The kind that could have an unlimited power source, without the risk of running out of ammunition.
The most significant item produced by Haroon was the solar-powered shotgun. It was still years away from being perfected, but the basics were there. The big problem was that its range was only ten feet and it took an entire hour to recharge. It also didn’t do as much damage as an ordinary shotgun. One ten-foot shot per hour was not nearly as effective as a standard shotgun. But he promised his superiors that with time he could develop a weapon as powerful as a shotgun, one that would never run out of shells or need to be reloaded. All a soldier would have to do is put it in the sunlight for one hour every couple of days and the ammunition would be unlimited.
Of course, Haroon failed to deliver on his promise. Lucky for him, he could never be fired from his job for failing to deliver. The worst that could happen to him was reassignment. His best friend in his division, Terry, was responsible for blowing their boss’s right index finger off, and all he got was reassigned to the genetics division. He might have been mopping floors and washing toilets, but he still had a job. Since they put so much work into training their researchers, they don’t just get rid of them unless they absolutely have to. A person would have to commit murder or high treason in order to lose their position. But if that were to occur the person wouldn’t be fired, they would be executed, imprisoned, or worse: put on
This is how Haroon was chosen for Zombie Survival. He committed an act of high treason. He never heard of the show in the underground facility—researchers didn’t have the luxury of television—so Haroon had no idea this could have possibly been his punishment. For six months, he waited in his cell for execution, but it never came. They were holding him there until the next season of the show.
Haroon is thankful they gave him a fighting chance. As long as he’s alive, there is still hope. It is also nice to be outside in the sunlight after so many years underground. Even if he is going to die, at least he’s able to see the sun again. He did have a sunroof in his lab for testing weapons, but it was only one square foot of light which just wasn’t the same as being out in the open.
And if
Laurence and Haroon go from building to building, searching for the components listed in the blueprint. Some of them aren’t easy to get, but most of them are obtainable at any grocery store. If only they can find one.
“You sure we’ll be able to build that thing?” Laurence asks.
“Positive.”
They move in the direction of the helicopter marked on their maps, picking up items as they go. Because they aren’t firing guns, the zombies aren’t as attracted to them as the other contestants.
“Back at the hotel,” Laurence begins, “you said that you wanted us all to go for a boat instead of the helicopter. That way we all could make it out alive.”
“Yeah,” Haroon says. “I still believe it’s possible. The Asian girl was right, most of the boats would not be useable, but I’m sure we could find at least one boat that would work. Hell, we could probably even make our own.”
“I like the way you think,” Laurence says. “There’s always another way. That’s what I’ve always said. Just because the Man says there’s only one way to survive, that doesn’t mean it’s the only way. Once we get this gun together, I say we collect Junko and whoever else we can, then head for the river.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Haroon says.
“It’s a plan and a half.”
All Haroon has to do is build this weapon and find
Junko, Scavy, and Rainbow Cat race down a city street, trying to cover as much ground as possible. Unfortunately, there are too many zombies awake already for them to get very far. They go down one street and their path is blocked by a crowd of undead. They go around to another road and run into another crowd of zombies. They take so many detours that they seem to be getting farther away from their goal, rather than closer.
“We have to fight our way through them,” Scavy says. “This pussy running bullshit is getting us nowhere.”
The camera ball floating behind them makes beeping noises as if it agrees with Scavy, annoyed that they aren’t giving it any interesting footage. The camera’s operator, sitting safely behind a computer hundreds of miles away, must be bored out of his mind.
“Trust me,” Junko says. “We want to avoid a fight with them at all costs. Shooting them will only attract more. Melee fighting is only useful when you’re up against one of them at a time, not a crowd. We just need to keep moving, even if it’s in the wrong direction.”
“Bullshit!” Scavy says. “Those badass merc punks fought their way through crowds no problem.”
“You’re not a merc punk.”
Scavy shuts up at that comment. He really wishes he was a merc punk. They seem tough as fuck. He wishes he would have joined up with them rather than Junko and the hippy.
Once they run into yet another zombie mob blocking their path, Scavy says, “Fuck it,” and charges forward.
