“Once separated from their host, Dark Nth inactivate within seconds, Gus,” Nick supplied helpfully.
Gus heaved a mental sigh of relief and tried rolling the spear, using the patchy grass and dirt to remove at least some of the greasy smear. It didn’t do much, but it did add some sandy grit to the slime, which improved his grip on the smooth bamboo. Snorting like a bull, Gus came up behind the bodybuilder and severed the neck with three violent slashes. Another stab ended the troublesome creature when it fell face up.
“That one was a biiiitch,” Gus drawled tiredly. I can’t let them get to the manor. Why are they going there now? Gus had taken too long with his fumbling about, and the zombies funneled together as they zeroed in on the manor. The remaining mobs were pressing closer to form a zombie wall. A few tripped on their fallen brethren, so Gus waited for these to pass, then he dispatched prone zombies. Gus attempted to lead the Shamblers in a train to spread them out, but they quickly abandoned their ambling ‘chase’ as soon as he was out of eyesight, reorienting toward the manor. Gus’ shoulders and back were starting to burn with the effort of wielding the spear.
He wanted to keep fighting but his stamina was at 5% so he rested for a minute, then picked his next target. Hurry up! He fidgeted while his stamina bar slowly filled. His panting lessened as his stamina rose, and Gus pushed himself to continue.
He staggered after another zombie and lined up his shot. He stabbed, and the zombie turned its decayed head at the last second. Instead of glancing off, he felt a vibration that felt like it emanated from his bones when the spear made impact, and he knew instinctively that his Wreck-tums! skill had triggered. The full health bar above the zombie sank to 1 HP. Gus jabbed again and the zombie’s yellow dot turned hollow on the minimap.
“Noice!” he thought.
Turning around, Gus saw a zombie that was much closer than he had expected. He had ignored the minimap by over-focusing on his last foe. Rookie mistake! He reflexively stabbed the fat zombie. The spear slipped in his grasp and again sunk in too far. Gus tried to spin the Shambler, but it was much too fat and heavy. The large zombie pressed forward relentlessly, so that the spear sunk deeper into the zombie’s chest, which sucked the spear in like a spaghetti noodle.
Dirty ragged fingernails were waving closer and closer to Gus, so he gave one final push and jumped away. Unlike his other failed attempt, the spear appeared to have lodged in the spine, as it did not protrude out the back of this obese creature.
The zombie turned back to its destination, spear bobbing with its steps like a wagging finger, chastising Gus for his poor fighting skills. Gus had an idea and ran toward the flopping spear. Jumping onto the handle end of the spear, he tried to lodge it into the ground, and rolled away as quick as he could. His plan was to bury the end and lock the zombie in place.
What actually happened was that the strained cords holding Razorback to the bamboo finally gave way and only the bamboo came out, one end cracked and splintered.
Gus was dumbstruck. He barely had the presence of mind to roll out of the way. Now what the hell would he do? He had lost Razorback inside a mob and there were still four zombies left. Grabbing the remaining pole, Gus went into panic mode. Ignoring the fat one, he came close to a leaner zombie and hit him with all his force in the legs. The zombie predictably went down, and Gus commenced hitting the head. Loud *thock* noises accompanied his blows and Gus was unsure if they were more from the hollow bamboo or the zombie’s head.
The soft ground didn’t help, since some of the force of his blows was absorbed as the zombie’s face pressed into the dirt instead of being held in place by something more solid. Meager ‘-1 HP’ and ‘-2 HP’ notices popped up, and Gus realized the others would get away if he took too long with this one.
Gus decided to trip the remaining zombies, as they were almost to the incline that led to the lawn entrance to the manor. Of the three that were left, fatty was the hardest to down. After accomplishing that, he decided to take out the others and leave fatty for the end.
An hour later the job was done. Gus slumped to the ground. “Woof to the woof…” he said in utter exhaustion. His stamina regeneration was maddeningly slow. He had to hit them on the head, and occasionally he would connect with a sweet spot on the back of the neck and get a slightly better damage notice. But mostly it was thwock-rest-rinse-repeat. He lay back staring at the sky, watching the clouds float carelessly overhead as sweat beaded then ran down, tickling the side of his face.
His breathing finally slowed and he got back to his feet, loath to do what was necessary to retrieve Razorback Prime. He cleared his throat, spat, and braced himself for what was ahead.
Walking over to the fat zombie, he tried to pull on its clothes to flip him but they just ripped apart. The skin started to tear away where the clothing bunched.
“Nothing’s ever easy…” Gus grumbled as he stood there, hands on his hips. Getting an idea, he dragged another zombie parallel to fatty,
