Stu had no time to draw his gun, nor to remove his knife from its sheath -- the zombie was too close. So he backed away from it instead, trying to find some distance, while Lucky slung his railgun around and clicked its safety off. The kid immediately started shooting at the zombies who were gathered around Sike -- which Stu thought was rather inadvisable, seeing as how Sike was in the midst of them, on the roof of that car. But the kid was a pretty good shot -- one of the zombies, a Level 2 according to Stu's ICON system, was hit in the head and killed instantly, blood and brains splattering all over the windshield of the car.

  Meanwhile the tall, pale zombie -- the Level 3 -- was closing in on Stu, backing him up against a wall. Spotting a trash can nearby, he grabbed the lid and used it to defend himself when the zombie lunged forward, trying to bite him; he managed to slam the lid into its face and drive it back. Perhaps due to his enhanced strength, the blow was much more effective than he had anticipated -- the zombie was thrown back several feet, and staggered. This gave Stu the seconds he needed to get to his gun. He tossed the trash can lid aside, pulled out the Midnighter, and opened fire. His first shot missed, but the second exploded the zombie's head.

  An ICON message popped up:

  Level 3 Zombie defeated!

  Critical Bonus!

  But there was no indication that he had gone up a level or acquired any more skill points. A single zombie, apparently, no longer offered enough experience points for him to level up. That was disappointing. How many zombies was he going to have to kill to get that tantalizing Regeneration skill?

  He dismissed the message and swept the gun around, taking aim at the remaining zombies. He managed to shoot one in the chest, but Lucky, who was also shooting at it, must have been the one to kill it, because he got another "Assistance Penalty" message from the ICON system.

  There was only a single zombie left now. Stu took aim once again, but the old man, Sike, had finally managed to draw his own pistol by now, and he blasted it into oblivion -- he fired five time at the thing's head, from close range -- before Stu could pull the trigger. It dropped instantly, its silver-stained blood showering the scene.

  Stu lowered his gun. It was just as well that Sike had killed that one, he decided; he didn't want to waste ammunition.

  It took him a moment to catch his breath and calm down, however. He had battled several zombies now, and seen all kinds of gory things, but these frantic, bloody encounters were hard to get used to.

  Sike hopped off the roof of the car. "Thanks for the help," he said. "But let's get off the street. Those shots will attract attention."

  He led them into a nearby building, which was several stories high. It looked like it might have been an office building at one time -- it had a big, open lobby with a reception area -- but it was filthy and garbage-strewn now, and barricades had been set up in the stairwells. Sike didn't lead them up the stairs, however; instead, he pried open a set of elevator doors and started climbing up a set of rungs that had been installed within the empty shaft. Stu and Lucky followed him up, and a minute later they found themselves in Sike's living quarters -- an office space on the building's fourth floor, which was packed full of foodstuffs, jugs of water, various arms and armaments, and assorted survival gear. There was also a giant floor-to-ceiling window in the office, which offered an excellent view of the streets below.

  "You both okay?" Sike asked gruffly. He picked up a jug of water and started guzzling it down. "No bites?"

  "No bites," Lucky affirmed. "What were you doing out there, Sike? What happened?"

  The old man shrugged. "Supply run up to Grader's Market. Got jumped on my way back." He shook his head. "Something's got the deaders all riled up. The usual routes aren't safe anymore."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "The Wild Pack?" Lucky asked.

  "Probably. Grader told me they attacked Harbor the other day. I'd been thinking about checking it out, but..." He trailed off, his eyes falling on Stu, as though he was only just now noticing him. "Who are you?"

  "My name's Stu. I'm a friend of Lucky's."

  The old man's eyes were suspicious. "You're not from the Harbor."

  "No, I'm not. I'm from...from outside Meku City."

  "So what are you doing here?"

  "He's trying to get to Lon Halos," Lucky said. "But right now he's helping me find Luna. Have you seen her?"

  Sike's eyes were still on Stu. "I saw her glider yesterday," he said.

  "That's great! Which way was she headed?"

  "South, down Highway 8. Headed out of town. Only she wasn't driving. She was sitting in the passenger seat."

  Lucky's smile immediately faded. "Luna would never let anyone drive her glider."

  "I thought it was suspicious."

  "So who was driving?" Stu asked.

  "Well, I only saw 'em for a second, so I couldn't be sure, but he looked like one of Madhouse's boys to me."

  Lucky's face fell. "The Wild Pack?"

  "Probably. I thought it was suspicious, like I said. That's one of the reasons I was planning on visiting Harbor, to ask about it. But there was a jumbo wandering around the boardwalk, and I saw a couple bombers there the other day, too, Figured I'd wait until things settled down. What happened up there, anyway?"

  Lucky told him the whole story -- how he had gone off in search of the Brute, gotten himself lost in the subway, encountered Stu, and returned to Harbor, only to find that the entire population -- excepting a few Harbor Guards, who had bravely stayed behind -- had fled to the Big Green. He also explained about Luna.

  When he had finished, Sike said, "That's much worse than I thought. You're telling me they got into Harbor, overran the whole town? And that Madhouse had a Centurion rifle?"

  "Yeah."

  "Shit. I thought it was just a raid." He started pacing back and forth. "Marshal Tempo isn't going to like this."

  "Who's Marshal Tempo?" Stu asked.

  "He's the leader of Meku City's Pale Riders," Lucky explained. "Sike used to be a Pale Rider himself, you know. He's friends with all the big guys."

  "If Tempo isn't careful, he's going to find himself dragged into a war with half the city's gangs," Sike muttered. "Shit, shit. No wonder the deaders are riled up."

  "We have to find Luna," Lucky reminded him. "Are you sure you saw her? It was definitely her glider?"

  Sike scoffed. "How many working gliders do you think there are in Meku City?"

  "But if she wasn't the one driving it..." He chewed on that for a moment, his eyes full of worry. "What does this mean?"

  "It sounds to me like this Wild Pack guy may have stolen her ride," Stu said reluctantly, "and taken her prisoner."

  Sike nodded. "And if they're headed south, down Highway 8..."

  "Wild Pack territory," Lucky said glumly.

  "Madhouse would love to get his hands on a working glider," Sike noted. "And a good mechanic who could fix it, in case one of the grav boosters failed. You know how finicky they are."

  "Damn it," Lucky growled, slamming a fist. "We have to find her. We have to get her back."

  "With the Wild Pack on the rampage?" Sike said skeptically. "With the deaders going crazy out there? That's a suicide mission."

  "I don't care," Lucky said stubbornly. "She's my sister. She came to rescue me, when she thought I was in trouble. I have to rescue her."

  Stu found the kid's devotion to his sister admirable. Like Sike, however, he wondered whether they were really going to be able to pull this off. Lucky was pretty good with that railgun, but he was only a kid, and while Stu had a few unique skills, courtesy of the ICON system, he knew next to nothing about this world and its dangers. He saw his life flash before his eyes every time he ran into a zombie. He simply wasn't cut out for this kind of post-apocalyptic adventuring.

  But Lucky was the only friend he had in this new world, and he did want to help him.

  On the other hand...well, killing zombies was one thing. What if he found himself in a situation where had to kill a person -- one of these Wild Pack gangsters, perhaps? He wasn't sure he could do it.

  Would the ICON system reward him for killing a person? Or did it only care about zombies? He didn't really care to find out.

  "They probably took her to Southside Elementary," Lucky was saying. "That's the Wild Pack headquarters."

  "An elementary school?" Stu asked.

  "A big one," Lucky supplied. "They turned it into a fortress." He looked up at Sike. "Will you come with us?"

  The old man shook his head. "I'm too old for this sort of thing, kid. And you're too young for it. You should go back to Harbor."

  "I'm going after my sister," he said firmly. He adjusted his backpack and returned to the elevator shaft. "You comin'?" he asked Stu.

  He sighed. "Right behind you."