AN: So, here's the last chapter till later in the week. A little zombie action where a regular guy deals with what most regular people would be stuck with during the apocalypse.

Chapter 3: Unlimited

The stage was set. The door was open. Scott had taken a deep breath then stepped out into the zombie apocalypse once more. This time he stepped out of his cell and onto the top of an abandoned eighteen wheeler.

There were dozens of cars abandoned on the street up ahead. In the distance, he could see a familiar sight. It looked a great deal like a smoldering gas station. Low moans began to rise up from various points around him.

He had wasted enough time in admiring the post-apocalyptic scenery. He needed a weapon, and a bit of luck.

Scott rushed forward along the trailer of the massive vehicle, and then down to the hood of the truck. He hopped from the hood to the back of a car abandoned in front of it then looked around for the source of the moans that he had heard before.

He saw a zombie pressing its rotting face against the back window of a nearby car, but no others were immediately apparent. Time passed more quickly than he would like given the fact that he only had a few minutes to try his luck at zombie slaying. Honestly, he'd already had enough of the place but it did not matter. He needed EXP.

The cab of the truck was his first stop. He searched it quickly, and discovered something nice right away. It was not nice enough, however. He pulled the black handgun out of the glove compartment then checked it out. There were no bullets in it, nor any in the truck anywhere that he could find. He had a gun, but no way to use it! That was worse than useless.

He stuck it in his coat pocket anyway. It would probably disappear when he returned to his cell, but one never knew.

What he did find of use was a tire iron in the back of the cab. It was a down grade from his oversized crowbar, but it was still a lot better than fighting empty-handed.

A low growl signaled the fact that something had found him. He barely had time to make it back to the front seat before a rotting hand reached around from the side and gripped the open door. Scott swatted at the hand with his tire iron but the zombie's grip did not loosen in the slightest. A destroyed caricature of a face came into view. It was the remnant of a man with a long shaggy beard, and far too much forehead.

The zombie, clad only in coveralls, a flannel shirt, and a name tag that revealed his former name, caused an immediate visceral reaction from its would-be dinner. Scott had very little leverage inside the cab to use his new weapon, so he kicked out hard at the face of the walking corpse. "Back off, Bubba!"

Bubba was knocked back slightly, but his grip never wavered. Scott's eyes went wide and he kicked at the undead bastard several times. Bubba could not have cared any less about those feeble strikes. His grip barely loosened.

Scott was forced back slightly and he started to pant a little. Who knew zombies were so damned strong! What the hell had Bubba been doing all his life to have such hand strength after he had started to rot? Low moans rose up all around as more and more of the rotting corpses came to call.

Desperate, he rolled back then launched both feet into the cannibal corpse. He snatched at the steering wheel and used it and the back of the seat to brace himself so that he could exert all of the strength that he had in him to break Bubba loose from his death grip on the door jam.

Zombie Bubba let out a surprisingly pained sounding moan just before his fingers snapped. He fell back and hit the ground hard. Scott wasted no time in slipping out of the truck and then upward. It was an instinct brought on by the sound of so many moans from nearby. Bubba was on his knees by the time Scott clambered back up onto the roof of the truck.

He looked around and saw dozens of the walking dead surrounding the vehicle. Rotten, festering, corpses reached up for him. They gazed at him with their dead eyes and blank expressions.

This time there was no lawn mower to save him. There was no escape. He was in it till the bloody end.

Whoever had said that zombies could not climb was an asshole. They climbed just fine as long as it was not purely vertical. The undead began to come for him by ones and by twos now. They came from the front. They used the car in front of the truck as means to get onto the hood of the big rig that Scott used as his last bastion of hope.

A wave of fear and of nausea passed through him. The stench of the things alone was enough to make him want to stagger back. He used to think that the undead had a fear effect that weakened people and made them stupid in the movies. No, it was nothing so sophisticated. The damn things simply stank so badly that it would drive even the most sober of judges mad.

He gritted his teeth then gripped his tire iron so tightly that his knuckles went white. "God damn it, all!" he snapped before moving forward to strike at the zombie that had made it onto the roof of the vehicle. There was a short gap between the roof and the trailer. He was forced to stop short to avoid falling into it but to his surprise the zombie did not.

He ended up swatting its hands to the side just before it fell forward. The rotting bastard's head slammed against the edge of the trailer as it fell, snapping its neck in the process.

An unwanted laugh bubbled up from inside of the man as he took in the sight of his good fortune. It was a process that repeated in various ways for several minutes. The dead, desperate to get at his sweet meats, practically crawled over each other to try and cross the gap to get to him. Most fell in and damaged their bodies severely in the process. More severely than a zombie was already damaged at any rate.

Whenever one of them made it across the gap there was a brief moment where it had to try and finish climbing up since they rarely made it all the way across when they fell. Most often the ones that made it across only managed to catch the edge of the trailer and were left dangling in the air.

Scott moved forward and bashed at the head of one such zombie. The tire iron did little damage. He beat her about the head with heavy strikes that would have easily killed a zombie in any movie. Unfortunately the rules of this game took into account the fact that the human skull is sturdy into to ward off blows, and a simple concussion was not enough to drop one of the undead. The brain had to be battered severely to do any real damage. There was no swelling to aid the process of brain death, only brute strength and a desire to kill that which was already dead were available to him.

He tried stabbing the poor dead woman with the wedge end of his tire tool, but it merely glanced off the bone. Either it was not sharp enough, or he was not strong enough. Either way, it would not be enough.

The zombie clung for dear unlife, and worse, she acted as a sort of anchor for a zombie bridge when another of the recently fallen used her to drag its broken body upward. Another zombie appeared on the roof right after that, and then promptly fell atop them. They struggled and squirmed. Soon they were loosely wedged in place. That was when things went from bad to worse for Scott.

"Shit..." he snapped. There was not much time left, but he was trapped. He had to stay alive long enough to get back to his cell.

Zombies staggered over the top of the squirming meat bridge. The first one that tried to cross lost his balance and fell to the ground. Surprisingly he hit head first and then went limp. Scott glanced down at the corpse just in time to see something that he had not seen before. A bright green number rose up from the body [+0.3].

He did not have time to ponder this bizarre event. Another zombie had started to stagger across the mass of undead humanity. Scott struck out at it, but he was not able to connect solidly. He swatted a grasping hand to the side but the beast kept moving forward.

The zombie, a fat woman who smelled like death itself, tackled him to the top of the trailer. She tore at him with her claw-like fingernails and bite at his face. Desperate to prevent those teeth from tearing into his money maker, Scott wrestled with her for a moment then blocked her with his forearm.

Broken teeth clamped down on his forearm with deadly intent. He screamed in pain as she worried his arm like a starving dog. By some feral instinct he slammed his shoulder forward and then rolled hard, hard enough to get on top of the massive undead hambeast. His tire iron in his off-hand, he screamed as he slammed the sharp end down on her skull. He had to do it three times before he broke through, before he could get at her putrid brain and end the suffering for both of them.

[+0.5]

Another green number popped up in his field of vision, but he did not have a chance to think even now. More of them were coming. This time two of them were across the gap. One had partially fallen and had begun the arduous climb upward. The other staggered forward, half-crouched, then fell to his knees after losing his balance.

Moans, screams of the damned all around him intensified. Scott's chest heaved as he gazed upon his doom. How much time was left? Would he survive this? Those questions were ignored, just as he was forced to ignore his tire tool after trying to pull it free. There was no time and it was stuck inside the skull of the great hambeast.

Absently he could feel something warm trail down his leg. Whether it was blood or his bladder giving in to the fear, he did not know. It did not matter. He screamed out desperately then lunged forward. He unleashed all of the strength that he had left in one swift and decisive kick. He took the beast under the chin. Its head snapped back hard and then it went limp. No number rose up from its corpse, however. The zombie's teeth chattered lightly and it moaned a little. It had not been killed, only inconvenienced.

He repeatedly kicked at the fallen zombie's head a few times then did the same for the one that was even now try to finish its climb onto the roof of the trailer.

Scott cried out in shock as the trailer started to rock not long after. The zombies were pressing back and forth on the sides of the vehicle suddenly. It was as though they had discovered a better way to get him down. He did not understand it, but it was happening. Something had changed.

He fell hard as the truck pitched to one side. Thankfully, he was not knocked off as the zombies on the other side pushed back at the last moment. Instead, it leaned heavily in the opposite direction.

The zombie bridge fell apart, but it did not matter. No more of the undead bastards were trying to climb up. Scott, gave up on his tire tool and made a concerted effort to get off the top of the truck before it went from bad to being in a zombie digestive tract.

Just as he hopped across the gap the truck tilted. He skidded sideways on the cab of the truck and was forced to grip the back in order to avoid sliding off onto the ground below. An agonized screamed erupted from his throat as he felt teeth tear into his pinky finger.

He snatched what was left of his hand back then clutched at the bloody stub of what once was. Tears welled up in his eyes and he began to pant. His only hope was that he could get it fixed back in the room. His only hope was to survive at least that long.

Scott slid down the front of the truck, his hand bleeding heavily, and then practically rolled off the hood and onto the boot of the car in front. His forehead smacked down hard against the back window glass. Stunned briefly, he shook his head in a desperate bid to regain his senses.

Moans and shuffling steps caught his attention. He scrambled forward over the top of the car, practically slithered over it, to get to the front. The closest zombie was only a few feet away now.

His world was spinning around him even as he reached the ground. He staggered forward drunkenly, his injured hand cradled against him. In many ways he looked much like the horde that followed him.

Only a powerful desire to live kept him going, or perhaps he merely wished to die on his own terms, and not become food for the howling dead that shambled after him. Whoever had said the zombie apocalypse would be fun was full of shit. Zombies sucked. They sucked hard.

Pain flared up in his left knee as he staggered forward. He had injured it in his fall earlier. He struggled with it as best he could. He remained a few steps in front of the undead howling for his meaty goodness. At last, after staggering away from the road and into the field nearby, he heard an overly cheerful voice tell him that he could go home. The door of light appeared ahead of him. Even as he staggered heavily toward it, the countdown began.

He forced himself forward at all possible speed. The door was farther away than he thought, and several precious seconds passed as he moved toward it. He reached out his good hand toward it, even as the zombies behind him reached out to add him to their horde.

Twenty-three seconds remained. He was almost there. Scott doubled his efforts, pushed himself beyond what he thought were his limits. Yet, just before he stepped through the door, he was tackled from behind.

Scott screamed in both pain and frustration as teeth tore at him. Claws, not just fingernails, tried through his coat. Teeth that felt like tiny daggers bit at the back of his head. He could feel himself slipping away. The door counted down the seconds. It was not at fourteen.

He reached feebly for where he needed to go. He crawled forward with what strength he had remaining. The rest of the horde began to catch up. He felt the rancid teeth of another zombie tear into the flesh of his calf muscle.

Screaming in desperate fear for his life, his fingers touched the semi-transparent doorway of light. The moment his fingers made contact, the zombies shrieked in torment. They were flung away with tremendous force. Scott paid no attention to them. He had only one thought left. He had to make it through that door. Nine second left.

The zombies howled, they screamed as the light from the door kept them at bay. In his nigh-delirious state he would later swear that he heard one of them cry out for brains despite the fact that none of the zombies that he had seen so far could speak.

His head made it through the door at the five second mark. At the two second mark he slumped his way forward and managed to get his knees through. By the one second mark, he had all but his feet inside.

Another scream born of agonizing pain erupted from his throat as the door disappeared and took his feet with it. Burning hot tears poured from his eyes as he beat his fist against the floor of his cell. He had made it. He had left parts of him behind, but dammit, he had made it.

Scott left a bloody trail behind him as he crawled toward his status screen. It seemed like it took forever, but despite the fever that had begun to rage throughout his body, and the heavy blood loss, he crossed the short distance.

"Res-Restoration." he cried while reached for his status menu. He did not have the strength to stand. His last hope remaining was that it would work anyway.

His relief knew no bounds for a moment as he saw the restoration window open. He then felt like screaming once more when he saw the cost. He curled his good hand into a fist and beat it against the floor. In order to restore his body, he would need to spend eighty-seven EXP. The system had not told him how much he had earned, but he doubted that it was that much.

Even so, he was desperate. He shakily raised his hand and touched the button to accept the healing power. He expected to hear a buzzer go off, followed by a snide laugh. It did not. Instead, the light of healing flared outward and engulfed him.

A gentle warmth washed through his body. He could literally feel the infection being cleansed from within. Soon, he felt renewed strength and vigor. He blinked twice then sat up and watched a miracle transpire. He witnessed the regrowth of his feet. A Jell-O-like substance wriggled outward from shorn segments of his legs at first. Then a rapidly regrowth of bone and tissue began in earnest. He felt an itch like before, and a slight burning sensation where his feet were being reformed. It was a pleasant feeling though. It made him feel as though everything would be alright.

After his various body parts grew back, he noticed that the light surrounded his clothes as well. The various tears and nicks were repaired. Soon they looked as good as new. The restoration even restored his items!

A beeping noise caught his attention a moment later. He looked over to see that he had a system message waiting. He clicked on it with a sigh.

Mission Score

You have successfully completed your side-mission! Congratulations!

You work too hard. Relax a little!

Grade: B

Base Reward: [1.7 EXP][X 2]=[3.4]

Grade Bonus: X2

Total: 6.8 EXP

Special Bonus:

Acquired Zombie Bloodline Information: Due to your diligent efforts as an undead snack treat, you contracted the dreaded [Zombie Virus]. You may now choose to become a zombie if you wish.

Go ahead. You know you want to do it. So, just do it. Do it. Do it!

Bloodline Acquisition Bonus: 100 EXP

Treasure Unlocked: Black Hawk Heavy Pistol [LV.1]

Total: 106.8 EXP

[—]

He stared at the screen for a moment as the reality of the situation took root inside his head. He checked his status and saw that he had 19.8 EXP remaining. The fact that he had unlocked the zombie bloodline was what had saved him. He had nearly lost his life for a little under seven EXP.

"Zombie bloodline?" he asked aloud. He did not really want an answer but the information popped up in front of him anyway.

Zombie Bloodline

You are a rotting corpse, a bearer of stench and disease. Due to your undead nature you will have the following advantages and disadvantages.

Advantages

- You will not age

- You are immune to poison

- You are immune to disease

- You cannot be compelled to feel fear from any non-divine source

- You can evolve over time through [zombie viral evolution].

- You will be able to increase strength and resilience at half the cost of a standard human being.

Disadvantages

- You are infertile and incapable of sexual desire

- Your concentration will be permanently reset to 0.10 and can only be increased through zombie viral evolution.

- Your dexterity will be permanently reset to 0.40 and can only be increased through zombie viral evolution.

- You must consume the flesh of the living or you will lose motor function.

- You are not able to speak

- You will infect any living thing that you attack successfully. They will either die or become a member of the undead horde.

- You will be under the permanent status afflictions [Mindless] and [Extreme Hunger]

- You cannot wield weapons.

- You will need to relearn simple motor skills such as climbing a ladder

- You cannot swim

- Your flesh will slowly rot

- You will be unable to heal from injuries

- You are weak against fire

Bloodline Acceptance Contract

Would you like to become a zombie?

[Yes | No]

[—]

Scott clicked no without hesitation. There was no way that he would want that. He would end up like one of those mindless shuffling assholes back there. Even if some of those advantages would be nice, the disadvantages were terrible. He would also just wander off and die in a day or two since he still needed to buy his continued existence with EXP. Acceptance of that bloodline would be suicide.

After dealing with that disturbing bit of news he turned his attention to the one other thing of interest about his successful mission. He had unlocked a treasure. Scott reached into his jacket and pulled out the black pistol that he found there. He had been allowed to keep it for some reason.

He stared at it for a moment. He wanted to see what was so special about it compared to the other stuff that he had brought back. A window appeared not long after that shed some light on the situation.

Combat Item

Black Hawk Combat Pistol

Level 1/4

EXP: 0/4

Damage: 47

Durability: 34/34

Type: Semi-Automatic Pistol

Accuracy: Moderate

Recoil: Average

Ammunition: 9 MM

Capacity: 12

[—]

"Wait, combat items can be upgraded..." Scott looked at the combat item section once more. Suddenly, the expensive prices made a great deal more sense. If he could spend a few additional EXP to make them stronger they would definitely be worth the purchase!

Scott checked his new weapon once more to see if he could learn more about it. From everything that he could discover, it seemed like upgrading his new pistol would only require him to pick the section to upgrade then pay the upgrade cost.

He checked damage and saw that it would cost him five EXP to increase it by ten percent. The ten percent rule was in effect for durability as well, but it would only cost three points. Accuracy was a flat four point cost to increase it from moderate to moderately-high. Recoil could be lowered from average to low for three points.

Ammunition provided him the first interesting change. He could change the weapon to use a different type of ammunition, even depleted uranium, or plasma rounds. The cost for those changes ranged from one point for .38 caliber to eighteen points for plasma rounds.

It was not until he checked the capacity section that his eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. For a mere four points he could go from an ammunition capacity of twelve rounds to [Unlimited Ammo Type I]

Unlimited Ammunition Type I

Never run out of ammunition again! This upgrade will allow you to undergo the process of reloading a weapon without the pesky detail of acquiring more ammunition. Merely switch the safety on once you run completely out of ammo and wait [3 seconds] for it to reload automatically. Switch the safety off and fire.

[—]

"Ok, so that is happening." Scott did not hesitate even a moment after he read that description. He spent four EXP to acquire unlimited ammo for his new item. A new upgrade, the type two version of the unlimited ammunition upgrade appeared in the list. That version did away with reloading altogether. It would require twenty EXP, however. It was something to consider for next time. Upgrading his status would help a little. Upgrading this weapon would help a whole lot more as long as he used it wisely.

"No wonder ammunition was so expensive. Who would bother buying it when they could have unlimited ammo?" he asked the empty room curiously. It was like the system administrators actually wanted people to use guns without worrying about a bullet count.

After he accepted the upgrade new information arrived when he started to press other options once more. The weapon had gained a level. That provided no further bonus. It merely meant that it had become closer to its maximum upgrade potential from EXP upgrades. The weapon could be upgraded until it reached level four. EXP doubled for each level when upgrading an item. That meant that if he spent twenty-four more EXP on his new pistol it would be maxed out. He would have to think carefully about how to upgrade it in the future. It was his best hope for survival at the moment.