As we drove out of the safety of the warehouse, I felt a mixture of fear, sadness and excitement; yes, I was afraid to be killed by zombies, I was sad to leave the protection and familiarity of the warehouse, and I was eager to try out my new-found skills – but, most of all, I was keen as mustard to find a base to call home and make my countryside dreams come true.

  We approached the gates of the complex and found that the group of zombies that had amassed at the rear had found their way around to the front.

  “Rachel, do you think Level 7 archery is enough to shoot through the chain-link fence?” I asked.

  “I’ve never had Level 7 archery, so I don’t know. But what’s the worst that could happen?” Rachel replied.

  “Stay in the van, guys!” I told the crew as Rachel and I alighted. She pulled out a shotgun and fired into the crowd of monsters through the fence, knocking down a few with one shell.

  “Nice!” she said. “I wonder…” she continued, trailing off as she threw her hand into her pouch and retrieved her second shotgun.

  “Seriously?” I said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yep!” she replied.

  Rachel loaded the shotguns and locked her elbows into her waist, firing her guns akimbo. Once again the crowd was thinned, pellets spraying through the wire of the gate.

  “Alright, my turn!” I called, tricked into confidence by the closed gate like a chihuahua barking at a rottweiler through a glass door. I pulled out the bow and full quiver from my open bag, nocking an arrow into place.

  “PIOUUU!” The arrow flew from my bow, straight into the head of a zombie woman, finishing her instantly. Bolstered by this success, I drew another arrow, then another, firing them into the crowd and adding to the growing corpse pile. After a few arrows, Rachel once again began firing off her two shotguns. With both of us giving the group our all, the sound was absolutely horrendous: a mixture of loud booms, high-pitched whistling and juicy squelches as body parts flew left and right. We continued for nigh on five minutes, demolishing the group of undead. When only one was left, feeding on the success we’d had and full of hubris, I called to Rachel: “Watch this!” I nocked one final arrow into my bow, got myself into position and then closed my eyes, aiming at the zombie from memory.

  “PLUNK!” A sharp metallic sound came instead of the normal viscid squelching. I opened my eyes to see that not only had I missed the zombie, but I had managed to shoot right into a small metre box to the left of the gate, causing sparks to jolt out.

  “Uh-oh!” I said. “I’m so sorry!”

  Rachel calmly lifted one of her shotguns and dispatched the remaining zombie. “It’s all good – let’s motor!” she replied. I ran towards the gate and pulled it open before we both ran back to the van and peeled out of the driveway.

  We drove left, heading north-west like Cooper had suggested, passing several zombies headed in the opposite direction. I glanced back in the side mirror and saw the metre box now ablaze with a trail of zombies headed towards it.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  “Oh my god!” I exclaimed, watching nervously as the first one managed to catch on fire. “I’m so sorry – you must think I’m such an idiot!”

  “You missed one shot, who cares! Besides, it’s not like we have to pay for damages. You know, zombies are attracted to flame – they go to stomp it out, like rhinos! You probably saved us from a few friends further down the road,” Rachel said, her ever-present optimism shining though.

  “I didn’t know that. But still, I shouldn’t have been playing around. You must really think I’m dumb,” I replied.

  “I don’t think you’re dumb Kelly – you’ve never played this game before, mistakes are bound to happen. Anyways, why do you care what I think? This is your afterlife – you may as well enjoy it!” said Rachel.

  I looked at her and smiled half-heartedly, grateful to have a patient and forgiving companion, but upset at my own obtuseness. We sat quietly as we passed down the road, and I think Rachel picked up on my overanalysis.

  “Hey, no-one ordered the stew!” she said through a grin.

  I couldn’t help but laugh; the absurdity broke my silent spiral.

  “Now are you going to sit there and mope or are you going to get out that street directory and help guide me to our dream farm!” Rachel demanded.

  I pulled the directory out of the duffle bag on the floor of the front seat and opened it up. As we drove slowly down the road, I spied a yellow street sign: Pile Street, it read. I flicked to the back and found the street, then opened the corresponding page. I trailed my finger along the paper and found what looked to be a clearing with a house and possibly a couple of out buildings.

  “This must be the farm Cooper is guiding us to,” I said. “Turn left here!”

  As we pulled into a street by the name of Myoora, Rachel slammed on the brakes.

  “Jesus!” she said as she pointed towards the road; a huge goanna, almost two metres long, was slinking across.

  As the lizard made its way off the roadway, we continued on slowly, spotting more and more creatures scuttling into the gutters. We drove past a stormwater drain and saw a grizzled hand protruding out, waving as if it were drowning. Water dragons, skinks and even a frilled-neck lizard were traipsing around the vicinity, seemingly attracted to all the flies buzzing around the zombie’s rotting body.

  “Slow down a sec!” I said, pulling out my revolver and aiming it into the drain. I pulled the trigger and managed to hit the zombie, his hand falling still on the concrete.

  “Poor guy,” I remarked. “He was stuck in a drain.”

  “You’re pretty empathetic for someone who could have been eaten several times over!” Rachel chided.

  “It’s not his fault I’m in a zombie game – he’s just following his instincts. You know, like a rhino,” I giggled.

  We drove on, leaving the lizards to their buffet and heading towards the farmland as the sun quickly set.

  We turned a sharp corner and, to our surprise, Cooper started flapping about and cooing, tapping on the left window.

  “I guess we’re here!” I said.

  Jagger, flustered by the flaps, started howling, which in turn set off the whole car.

  “Guys, guys, shhhhh! It’s all okay!” I said reaching back to pat every animal.

  Rachel turned the van onto a small poorly finished road and flicked on the high beams. Ahead of us were mainly trees, opening up to show a large traditional-style farmhouse.

  “Best switch these off!” Rachel said, turning off the van’s lights completely. Now all we could see ahead was the dirt road. As it sloped down gradually, Rachel switched off the ignition, hoping we could garner even less attention. Before reaching the house, she pulled the van to a stop.

  “I think perhaps we should make camp in the van tonight – who knows how many are in that place!” she said.

  “Okay, fair enough,” I replied. I unbuckled my seatbelt and attempted to climb into the row of seats behind us.

  “Where are you off to? Going to claim your bed already?” Rachel asked.

  “Nah, I’m looking for a can opener,” I said.

  Rachel looked at me, puzzled. I pulled out a can of Irish mushroom and potato home-style stew, wiggling it in front of Rachel. “Turns out I ordered the stew!”