Following our fashion show and ridiculous overpowered underwear, a feeling of hope returned again to my mind. I spent the rest of the night hunting through the first half of the warehouse, hoarding anything that could be considered a weapon, grabbing every book I could find and occasionally scoffing packets of chips along the way. Rachel worked through the other half, and after several hours we once again rendezvoused in the lunchroom, each toting a heavily laden trolley of goodies.

  “We could just stay here!” I said to Rachel. “There’s enough stuff to last a lifetime!”

  Rachel looked over at me and smiled with pity; I was clearly still a noob in this gaming afterlife.

  “There may be enough to last a lifetime, yes, but what about an eternity?” she replied.

  “I guess you’re right,” I said.

  “Plus, did you really envision heaven as spending all your time stuck in a warehouse while waves of zombies continuously batter us?” Rachel asked.

  “I didn’t envision heaven being in a zombie game at all, so the answer is no. I wanted to be in Stardew Valley, tending my grandpa’s little house and farm, surrounded by animals and potentially courting the love of my life while exploring caves,” I responded.

  “Well I don’t know about courting the love of your life, but we can definitely work on the rest!” Rachel said, blushing a little as she spoke.

  I nodded to Rachel, smiling, thankful for her kindness.

  “You see, we already have a little pack coming together – all we need to do is find a nice little farmhouse, get some seeds, rescue more animals and then die happily ever after,” Rachel said.

  As I stood there, deep into our conversation, I couldn’t help but notice Rachel’s wonderful optimism. For someone who had just died in real life in her early twenties, likely of a horrible disease, and was now living her afterlife in a zombie apocalypse game, she was remarkably chipper. As she enthused about parts of the game of which I had no idea, her curly brown hair bounced with every excited detail. Of all the people I could be stuck in here with, I’m pleased it’s Rachel.

  Rachel was continuing her explanation of gameplay, workshopping ideas of how to find a farm, when I remembered that I had previously found a street directory, which was now stashed in my duffle bag in the van.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a street directory in my old bag – I think that might help in finding something,” I mentioned.

  “You’ve got a street directory? How come you keep finding the rare loot!” Rachel responded.

  “I don’t even know what’s rare!” I said. “I just collect things I like and think will be useful. Probably useless things, but who cares.”

  “What else have you been collecting?” Rachel enquired.

  “Let’s see…” I said as I unzipped my bumbag and closed out of the interface. “I’ve got a book on craft, a couple of letters I found, a photo of Rat and his dad, and some cool cowboy bits I just found ‘aesthetic’,” I answered, raising my eyebrows at the mention.

  “No way. You can’t have found what I think you have. You’ve got to show me the cowboy stuff!” she exclaimed.

  I reached into the tiny bag and pulled out my hat, boots and bolo tie.

  “That’s what I’ve got,” I said, offering up the accessories for closer inspection.

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  “That’s incredible. Are you sure luck isn’t one of your traits?” she quipped.

  I shook my head. “Nope, but conspicuous is a handicap, so I guess that would fit the bill!”

  Rachel looked at me incredulously. “So these parts, coupled with a flannelette shirt and any jeans, form the cowboy costume. When you wear them together, not only do you look like a badass, you also get an instant skill boost in rope, animal training, trapping and charm. They all go up by five levels!” Rachel explained.

  “Well then, I guess my Biggles Croft look is out and Kelly the Kid is in!” I said. “I’ve just got to grab some jeans.”

  I wandered the warehouse, finding jeans not too far away. The dogs had stayed behind in the lunchroom, so the space was eerily quiet.

  “Tap-tap-tap-tap!” Again I heard a soft rapping on the ceiling.

  I returned to the lunchroom and kitted myself out as the most anachronistic cowboy you could imagine, especially for 1990s Australia. Checking the menu, I could see that, as promised, my skills had risen immediately. I now had six boxes filled in rope, six-and-a-half in animal training, five in trapping and five in charm. Looking right at the base of the list, I noticed also that I had obtained a couple of levels in lore. Apparently this went up the more I learned about the game.

  “You look so ridiculous, but so stupidly cool,” Rachel said to me. I peered into a nearby mirror by the door and was quite pleased with the outfit. With the game’s tendency to perfectly form clothing to you, the jeans, shirt and accessories fit like a dream, even conforming to my narrow waist and broad chest. I unzipped my bag, once again entering the menu, and saw that my armour score now sat at 800, having lost a few points since changing outfits. Oh well. I thought as I closed out of the menu. Rat looked up at me, his tail wagging sweetly.

  “Just like your daddy!” I said to him as I bent down to give him a big hug.

  “So you think Rat was a cowdog?” Rachel asked. I pulled out the photograph of Rat and his dad and showed her.

  “I wonder if we dressed Rat in cowboy things if he will get a boost too?” Rachel pondered aloud.

  “Well, I found another couple of pairs of cowboy boots in one of the aisles upon my travels, but I didn’t grab them as I already had some,” I said.

  “Well, let’s go get them and try it out!” she replied. “And I think we need to find a better bag for him than the damn Bananas in Pyjamas backpack!”

  “Oh that’s cuuuuute!” I said. “We’ll have to see about that!”

  Our little team walked together through the warehouse until we found the cowboy boots I’d mentioned. I pulled out the two pairs of black boots and placed them in front of Rat. “May I have your paw, sir?” I asked him, holding out my hand. Rat plopped up his booted paw and I unlaced it, swapping over the military boots for cowboy boots, one paw at a time.

  “I’ve got it!” Rachel exclaimed out of nowhere, as she turned and disappeared with Artemis into the second half of the warehouse.

  “What’s she talking about, boys?” I asked the dogs, snuggling them both as we awaited her return.

  After about five minutes, they returned. Rachel held her hands behind her back and then pulled them forward.

  “Ta-daaaa!” she yelled happily as she pulled out a black leather bandolier with a small black pouch attached. “Much more fitting than a kiddy backpack!”

  “I guess you’re right,” I said, reaching down and taking off Rat’s backpack, then replacing it with the bandolier. Opening the zip again and plunging into the menu, I checked the armour stats and found that, with Rat’s new additions, we had managed a score of 900. Not only that, the cowboy skills I had just increased had all gone up a further level! I closed out of the interface, returning to Rachel and the team.

  “It worked!” I said. “Rat’s outfit boosted our skills too!”

  “Incredible!” Rachel said. Her eyes twinkled as she conveyed genuine happiness for me.

  “So you said this was the cowboy costume. Are there any other costumes?” I asked.

  “There sure are, but they’re hard to come by,” Rachel answered. “There’s the chief, which ups archery, foraging and gardening, the construction worker, which boosts short blunt, carpentry, woodchopping and metalworking, the police officer, which boosts firearms, hand-to-hand and hunting…”

  “Let me guess, there’s also a sailor and a leather-clad bloke?” I joked.

  “Yes! How did you know that?” Rachel responded.

  “Dude, you’re describing Village People!” I said.

  “What’s Village People?” Rachel asked.

  I giggled and just shook my head. “Ah you young people… I’ll keep an eye out for any costumes as we, you know, go west.” I couldn’t help but grin, laughing at my own hilarious joke that had gone over Rachel’s head.

  “So who’s your favourite?” I asked Rachel. “Let me guess, you want to be the gimp?”

  “No! The best costume is the police officer if you ask me. With that, I’d have firearms maxed out!” Rachel answered.

  “Well that leaves you to be the leather man, Jagger!” I joked. Jagger tilted his head, completely confused at my statement.

  We walked back to the lunchroom once more, ready to plan for our new adventure. “You know, Darren may have trapped us both in here, but he can’t stop us from having a fun afterlife,” I said. “He can’t stop the music – nobody can stop the music.”