~-~-~-~-~-~

Cowboys and Wizards

S01E11 - Dreamworld IV

~-~-~-~-~-~

I watched Archer and Lana bashing each other enthusiastically through the window.

The sparring couple stopped and bowed when Woodhouse and I stepped into the inner courtyard.

“Your majesty”

“My liege”

“Enough,” I said. “If you have enough energy to smash each other, you have enough energy to smash zombies. Tell me what I need to know so I can start gathering fuks.”

Archer shrugged and spoke first. “You just kill the zombies. They drop fuks.”

“Anything special about the zombies?” I asked. “Are they fast? Do people get turned into zombies when bitten?”

“Nope,” Lana said, resting her wooden sword on her shoulder. “Most of them are slow shamblers and just need a good wack to the head to kill them.”

“Some are special,” Archer interjected. “Occasionally you’ll have some fast ones, or those that need holy water to kill. They’re just bad memories, figments of your personality that need to be subdued. Some are worse than others.”

“The zombies are bad memories?” I asked, cringing at the thought of all the bad memories that I have.

“Memories, thoughts, metaphysical mumbo-jumbo,” Woodhouse supplied. “They are endless, but constant vigilance can keep them under control.”

“You can get sick if they bite you,” Lana said. “But it’s no worse than the flu. Worst case they swarm you and eat you, which causes you wake up and get kicked out of the Dreamland for a random amount of time.

“And those zombies grow stronger,” Archer added.

Lana nodded.

“Am I going to have to come here every night and kill zombies? I asked, dreading the thought of a 24 hour existence.

“No sir,” Woodhouse said. “Once you’ve collected enough fuks you can hire more guards and peasants, upgrade the town and defences, and pop in every few weeks to check progress. Your dreamland will pretty much run itself if you set it up properly.”

“Good,” I nodded. “I have no desire to spend any more time inside my head than I absolutely have to. Let’s go get some fuks.”

*****

The zombies were just as described: slow, stupid and very, very bitey. I smashed my wooden sword into one rotten head and had already turned to smash another before the first dropped to the ground and dissolved into a silver fuk.

Archer, Lana, and Ray were bashing away with their wooden swords, piling up a respectable amount of coinage between them. In the real world, I would have been exhausted in the first ten minutes but here, I had been bashing for what seemed like an hour without losing any stamina.

“I should have asked Kreiger how much it would cost to hire more soldiers,” I said, poking a shambler in the gut and kicking another to make room so I could swing. Two home runs later a couple of fuks dropped on the ground.

“100 silver fuks per soldier per day,” Archer said, clobbering a zombie and pushing one towards Cyril. “They pay for themselves once you hire them. A squad can take out 500 per hour easily, so they can generate over 40,000 fuks on a good day.”

“How long does it take before the soldiers to show up?”

“The appear as soon as you buy them,” Archer said. “But you need to buy a full squad for 1000 fuks.”

“Lana,” I snapped, guesstimating the ground was covered with several thousand coins at this point. “Gather up these fuks and get them to Kreiger. Tell him I want to hire as many soldiers as possible. Bring them back here.”

“Cover me, boys!” she yelled, dodging rotten fingers to scoop up the coins and shove them into a pouch.

“Phrasing,” I muttered, smashing my wooden sword into a rotten face.

After filling the pouch, Lana ran back to the wicket, banged on it, and was let into the city. Fifteen minutes later the gate opened and 30 soldiers emerged, lightly armoured and wielding wooden swords like cricket bats. They quickly cleared away the zombies, allowing us to stand down and take a breather. It wasn’t physically hard work, smashing the zombies, it felt more like mashing the X button repeatedly - boring and mentally draining. A pointless grind.

I watched my new soldiers maintain a solid formation and obliterate anything that approached with efficient wacks. “I suppose we should gather up the coins,” I said.

“Soldiers automatically collect the coins and turn them in at the end of their shift,” Cyril said, heading back towards the gate. “I’m heading to the pub.”

“It’s really nice to have some soldiers around again,” Lana smiled, not bothering to hide the fact she was drooling over their backsides.

I tried not to think too much about the fact that a figment of my mind was drooling over taut soldier arse.

“Well, let’s gather the rest of the coins…”

“Already done!” Cyril shouted over his shoulder. “Soldiers automatically collect any dropped coins. PUB!”

*****

We had rushed through the town in my haste to smash zombies for fuks, so I took my time going back to the castle. This inner realm, my mind, was a quaint medieval village filled with dilapidated houses, run down shops, and shit-filled streets. I wandered the streets with Lana and Archer, looking at the population dressed in rags, begging for fuks.

If this was a literal representation of my mental state, it was depressing as fuck.

I felt nimble fingers working my backside and whirled to discover a dirt-covered urchin trying to pick-pocket me.

“Sorry kid, no fuks.” I shrugged.

He kicked me in the shin and vanished into a nearby alley.

Archer doubled over laughing. “Ha! You should see your face!”

“Some ideas are more aggressive than others,” Lana said grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the pub. “They’ll steal your fuks and waste your time. Some are pretty good though, you just need to give them a chance.”

“Ideas?”

“Everything in this metaphysical world is part of your conscious and subconscious,” Archer said, scowling at another urchin that was getting too close. “These grimy brats are ideas …and most of them should crawl into an alley and die!”

He yelled the last part, scattering a small cluster of waifs that were eying us hungrily.

“How long have I been here?” I muttered, suddenly concerned about the passage of time.

“No time at all,” Archer said, opening the door to a disreputable pub. “Things in here don’t really line up with the real world. Now let’s celebrate the fact that you’re back and taking an interest in things again!”

Is it possible to get drunk in your own mind?

Why yes, Other Vincent. Yes it is.

I have a vague recollection of inviting Lana back to my room for some ‘mental masturbation’ before I woke to the sound of Horse chuffing outside my makeshift tent.

Poking my head from under the tarp, the world was quiet, with the last of the aurora fading overhead as the sun painted the east in a million shades of red and gold. I crawled out and stretched, then headed to the spring to wash up.

I had a fire started and a pot of cowboy coffee brewing before I noticed that Delilah was gone.

-= NOTES =-

[CAST]

Vincent J. Carter

[PLACES]

Inner sanctum

Dreamworld

Subconscious

Master bedroom

Throne room

Cyril’s office

Kreiger’s office

Inner Courtyard

[PEOPLE]

Delilah Silverwood

[OTHERS]

Woodhouse

Archer

Lana

Carol

Pam

Ray

Cyril

Kreiger

Zombies. Lots and lots of zombies.

Nameless soldiers

[PERSONAL]

Next chappie Wed 03feb21