“Oh, enough!” Gary stood up, his voice raised, “I’m not taking the blame for all of this! That’s ridiculous! This is not my fault, okay? I didn’t wake up this morning and think ‘Hm, let’s just change all the rules of reality and then throw a zombie apocalypse into the mix!’”

“No, maybe not,” one of the survivors shot back, “But you brought them in here, didn’t you? If you hadn’t shown up, who knows who might be alive, hey, Gary?”

“I don’t believe this,” Gary shouted back, “An hour ago you were all about to be eaten alive by a zombie horde outside the church doors, or maybe just starve to death in here.”

“Oh, says you,” the older man replied, “We were fine until you came along. For all we know, you’re one of them, anyway. It says you’re a zombie, doesn’t it?”

Gary stared at the man, frustrated and helpless.

“I’ve already explained that. And I didn’t know these people were going to turn out to be complete psychopaths, did I?”

“Well, maybe you should have done,” an older gentleman huffed. “I mean, its zombie apocalypse survival rule number one, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The living are just as bad, if not worse, than the dead. You can’t trust anyone, and that goes double for when the undead are on the prowl.”

There were murmurs of agreement at this apparently self-evident fact.

“Alright, stop it, everyone,” Jonathan said. “Gary did the best he could under impossible circumstances. As he points out, we’d still be stuck here if it wasn’t for him.”

Jonathan’s school-teacher voice came to the rescue again. The group quietened down.

“Mr Mitchell is right,” a voice spoke up. Unexpectedly, it was Chantelle. “You lot should give Gary a medal, not attack him.”

“Oh, you can talk!” the older gentleman shot back, “You were the one who started the fight in the first place!”

More squabbling broke out amongst the group. Jonathan did his best to calm them down as recriminations were thrown around. It was driven by fear and anger, but it wasn’t helpful.

This is hopeless, Gary thought.

Jonathan noticed Gary’s downcast expression.

“Let me talk to them, okay? I’ll calm them down.”

“We need to get somewhere safe,” Gary said, “I know a place we can go.”

Jonathan nodded, “I agree. We can’t stay here and splitting up would be stupid. Give me a minute with them.”

Gary nodded and stepped aside. Rain approached him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Rain said. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for their deaths. You didn’t kill them.”

“I suppose you’d know something about it, would you?” Gary said. His voice was tinged with bitterness.

“I know everything about it,” Rain nodded. “I’ve killed thousands of people. But that also wasn’t my fault.”

Gary stared at the woman in disbelief. Surely she was exaggerating? Her tone was matter-of-fact again.

“You mean zombies, right? You’ve killed thousands of zombies.”

“No, living people.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Gary said, shocked.

Rain shrugged, “I was misinformed.” There wasn’t a hint of irony in her voice, “So I don’t let myself feel guilty about it.”

“You’re a mass murderer because you were misinformed?”

Rain scowled, “It’s complicated. I already explained how I was raised.”

“But you killed people in the church, you killed…”

“Who?”

Gary thought about it.

“Actually… no-one. You injured a couple of people, but you didn’t kill anyone.”

“Because killing people is wrong,” Rain said, “So I don’t do that anymore. Unless my old beliefs are correct and you are the messiah.”

“Right…”

“We should leave now,” Rain added. “We need to find a portal and get to the temple.”

“The temple?”

“It’s where you have to face the trials, to see if you really are the Night Bringer.”

“Trials to find out if I’m supposed to be this world-destroying prophesied one?” Gary said, “Look, I can tell you right now that I’m not. Even if I am, I’m not interested in finding out about it, okay? All of this is just some kind of stupid mistake. An admin error, nothing else. You don’t really believe I could be this Bringer of the Eternal Night or whatever, do you?”

Rain frowned. “I don’t know what to believe. And that is the problem I face.”

Gary thought quickly.

So, to recap: She’s a reformed assassin/murderer and former death-cult member. She’s also in the middle of a spiritual crisis that might, what, turn her back to the dark side?

Terrific.

But: she’s also the only person left alive that knows anything about how things work. She’s also the most competent fighter left. Apart from Jonathan, everyone here is just a level 1 survivor.

So Gary needed Rain on his side. It was safer to play along. For now.

“Alright, look,” he said, “I’ll make you a deal. We get these people to a safe place, and then I’ll come with you. How does that sound?”

“It sounds stupid,” Rain said. “There are no safe places. Things will get worse and worse on your world until there’s no-one left alive. And then it will be off to the war for everyone. Perhaps the final part of the war.”

“Okay,” Gary said, “I understand. But I still want your help to get these people to safety, okay?”

“Why do you care what happens to them?”

Gary frowned. “Because… because it’s the right thing to do, okay? They’re scared, they’re weak, they’re practically defenceless in the face of all of this. Just getting them to a location where they stand half a chance is something that I can do, so its something I’m going to do.”

Rain pursed her lips in a downward grimace, indicating that she accepted his proposal, with begrudging reservations.

“And you won’t, you know, uh, kill them or anything?”

“I won’t.”

“Can you swear on that?”

Rain rolled her eyes and held up three fingers. Gary was surprised. Apparently, some gestures were constant across the multiverse.

“I swear I won’t kill any of the people here. I told you, I’m not that person anymore. I think.”

Gary nodded. It wasn’t going to get any better than that. He walked back over to Jonathan’s group. In the meantime, the teacher had managed to placate the group.

“Look,” Gary said, “There’s a converted farmhouse half an hour away from here. It’s owned by my uncle. It’s isolated, out of the way. That’s where I’m heading for now, to get some space between us and the undead. I can’t guarantee that it’s safe, but I can’t think of anywhere else nearby that has a better chance of being so. I think we should stick together, and I think that’s the best place to head to for now.

“None of you can stay here. There are undead roaming around the village, and some of them could head back this way at any moment.

“This woman, Rain, has far more experience than all of us combined in fighting these things, and is the only person who has any idea of what’s going on. So I suggest that we stick with her until we can get to the farmhouse.”

The survivors met Gary’s statements with a predictable mixture of distrust and derision. The dissent wasn’t as loud as Gary had expected, however. A couple of people left outright, but in the end, eight of the group remained. Two teenagers, Chantelle and the emo kid, and six adults.

“Gary is right,” Jonathan said. “If he knows a place that isn’t too far from here that can shelter us, I say we take it. Then we can work out our next moves. Any towns and cities will be too dangerous right now. All we can do at the moment is hope that the authorities are making a plan, right? But we need to get somewhere safe.”

The older gentleman scoffed, “First thing to fall apart in a zombie apocalypse is the government. That’s zombie apocalypse rule number two.”

“Well, have you got a better idea?” Jonathan snapped.

Like Gary, his temper was frayed. Having a know-it-all naysayer at the back of the class was something he didn’t need right now.

The group looked at each other, then shook their heads.

“Good, right. What’s next?”

He turned to Gary, who turned to Rain.

Rain’s rolled her eyes in exasperation. “This is the last thing I need,” she muttered.

“You said you’d help,” Gary reminded her. “So what do we need to do to survive this?”

She thought for a second, then spoke up, “You’ll all need weapons, and supplies. Remind me, how many stash points do level one’s get?”

“Stash points?”

“It’s where you stash things. Supplies, weapons, that kind of thing,” Gary explained, “You should be able to see it on your character sheets.

“Five,” Chantelle said as the others tried to find the correct reading on their character sheets. “We all get five.”

“I’ve got seven,” Jonathan said, “Since I levelled up. And there’s a notification telling me I can add some stat points to my total as soon as I’ve chosen a novice class.”

“Okay,” Rain said, “So you’re level 2. That might help. Has anyone else levelled up?”

The others all shook their heads.

Rain was back to picking over the corpses of Forge, Annabel and Morgan. She pulled several knives from thin air, a mace, and a couple of swords, as well as Morgan’s bow and quiver of arrows.

“Does anyone know archery?”

There was a collective shaking of heads.

“What the hell do they teach you in the convents here?” Rain muttered. “Fine, everyone take a weapon. You,” she pointed to one of the emo-looking teenager, “the mace. Its got extra damage. You, Jonathan, keep that sword. It’s powerful, you’ll need it.”

“Cool,” the teenager said, and took the mace with a grin. He gave it a couple of experimental swings, and cast a shifty glance at Gary.

Everyone else did as they were told, divvying up the secondary weapons and knives. It wasn’t much, but Gary could see people relaxing slightly. Rain’s no-nonsense manner was helping. As was the fact that she was arming them all.

“What about that big axe?” the older gentleman asked.

“Sure, take it.”

The older man approached the corpse of Forge gingerly and tried to lift the huge axe. He gasped as it refused to budge.

“Christ on a bike, you’d need a forklift truck to lift that thing, never mind swing it!”

Rain ignored him. No-one could lift the axe, so it was left where it was.

Rain then pulled out large covered tins from the corpses’ stashes, the size of tupperware boxes designed to hold enough food for one meal.

“Take as many of these as you can. Supplies. Food.”

“What’s in them?”

“Stew. Good for when you’re on the road,” Rain answered. Her voice was clipped with impatience. She wasn’t used to being in the role of providing for people, and she didn’t enjoy it. Especially not people who, in her opinion, would be dead within a week.

“How do we stash them?”

“Gods, its worse than dealing with children. You need to look at your character sheet and think about the empty slot in your stash, whilst holding something. Its easy.”

The group were stunned as they discovered they had the power to cause objects to vanish into their stashes and then reappear.

“It’s magic!” someone said.

Rain facepalmed, “It’s not magic. It’s normal. It’s just the way the world works. Everyone has their own mini-dimension to stash things in. How else do you carry all the stuff you need?”

“In our hands? And, you know, backpacks and stuff. Suitcase can be useful, too. Then there're these things we call pockets. Always good in a pinch.”

Rain scowled at Gary’s attempt to lighten the mood.

Okay, she really doesn’t do jokes. Never mind.

“Right,” Gary said, “I’ve got a van which can take one other person in the front and four in the back. There are eleven of us, so five will have to take a car. Or two, I guess.”

The older gentleman who had been snarking earlier held his hand up. “I’ve got a car. I’m Peter, by the way.”

As things worked out, there were only two people with vehicles there. Everyone else had been driven to the funeral by someone who was dead or had fled. Vague mentions were made about looting some car keys from the corpses, but no-one had the stomach for it.

“Okay, let’s get to the vehicles. I’ll drive in front and you can follow. Is your car is in the car park with everyone else’s?”

Peter nodded.

“Right,” Gary said. “That means we just need to get back across the graveyard. Or we can try to go round it.”

“Through is better,” Rain offered, “The dead will have all left by now.”

Of course, Gary thought, a graveyard would be the safest route in a zombie apocalypse.