Whiskey enters the field first, his spear clutched tightly in his right hand. The tall grass rustles softly around him, swallowing his body whole. One by one, the rest of us follow, the field engulfing us like a pool.
I clutch the crate tighter as I step in, the grass tall enough to reach my shoulders, and prickling me in all the wrong places.
Looking up, I can only see the heads of Whiskey, one of the men from whiskeys group who sat at the table, and the brown skinned man. Jenny, the golden haired man, and the other person sitting at the table, however, were not tall enough to be seen over the grass.
At first, it wasn't that big of a deal. The younger, and smaller man who had a clean shaven baby face, freckles and curly brown hair who had sat at the table in whiskeys office had to hold onto a piece of my tactical vest as I guided him with the rest of us through the dark and tall grass fields.
Jenny and the blonde haired man had to do the same, grabbing onto whiskey and the brown skinned man respectively. We walked in silence as the other man who sat at the table, a larger, tired looking man who couldn't have been more than 25 years of age with a tan and a goatee decided to take the lead, passing whiskey.
We walked and walked, moving further and further from the village, deeper into the darkness.
"I don't think there's anything out here," the kid tucking onto my vest comments, pushing aside some greenery as he continues to follow.
No one responds. Instead we keep walking, further and further away. I feel a sense of dread with every step I take. I don't know what it is, but something feels so off. It's quiet. All I can hear are footsteps and the sound of moving grass.
"Wait." Whiskey suddenly commands, stopping the group.
"What's up?" The large man in front asks, peering back at the rest of the group.
"Don't you hear that?"
The group goes silent. I try to hear something, but all I can hear is the small rustle of tall grass, shifting in the wind.
"Hear what?" Jenny eventually asks, breaking the silence.
"I could've sworn I was hearing movement." Whiskey says, looking back at the rest of the group.
I chuckle a little. "You can't be having us shitting our pants like that."
"No, but I swear I heard something-"
"KYAAAAAH"
Jenny screams.
The group whips towards her, only to find her jumping up and down, thrashing in the grass, swinging her clever erratically through the tall stalks with mushy whump sounds as it slices through both the grass and flesh.
Thud
The nearby grass is cut down, revealing a headless and handless infected corpse.
"They're in the fucking grass!" She screams.
In an instant, chaos erupts.
The tall grass all around us begins to move-not from the wind, but from dozens of low, slithering shapes weaving just beneath the surface. It's like the whole field is alive.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I scream, slamming my bow down on the nearest infected, panicking as behind me, baby face gets tackled to the ground.
I quickly twist, kicking the zombie off of him before it's able to bite..
"Get up!" I scream, turning back to the rest of the group.
The brown skinned man yells something, buts its drowned out by the sound of groans and action.
Behind me, the blonde man protects baby face, swinging his flail frantically at any infected getting to close.
Back in front, Whiskey, Jenny and the other 2 have already engaged. I myself on the other hand am forced to fend for myself.
I drop my crate, grabbing an arrow from my quiver. It was one of my already used arrows, covered in a black substance. The zombie's blood.
I nock it on my bow, pulling the string back with my wounded right arm. I try to aim, yet I can't see much through the tall grass.
I can barely hear my own breath. Baby face is screaming, fighting off a group with his short sword behind me along with golden hair, while in front, the fairly large man wields a fire axe, bringing it down on an infected in front of him, dicing its head in half like a coconut.
Suddenly, the sound of loud stomping assaults my ears. I turn towards it, my bow ready as the rest of my group continues to battle the horde.
I stand horrified as I spot the ginormous infected approaching above the grass.
The stalks snap and flatten in a wide path as it moves, the very ground beneath our feet trembling under each footstep. Birds scatter. The wind seems to die. Everything narrows to the sound of its approach.
Then it appears.
A monster.
Easily three meters tall, its head brushing the tops of the tallest grass as it emerges-an infected, but bloated, mutated, massive. Like a corpse carved from muscle and hate. Its greenish-bluish skin is stretched tight over grotesquely developed muscle, like a bodybuilder dipped in acid. Its skin bulges with black veins like ropes, and its arms hang low, knuckles dragging slightly, each hand large enough to wrap around a grown man's torso.
"What the FUCK!" I scream, aiming my bow at the creature.
"I think I found their leader!" I yell out, releasing the arrow.
I watch as it whizzes through the air, slamming into the infected's chest with a wet squelch.
The creature stops for a moment, looking down at its new wound. Yet, it doesn't hiss in pain like one might expect. Instead, it's head rises slowly, somehow exactly in my direction as if it could see me. I know I should've expected this considering our conversation of them evolving like 20 minutes ago, but this seems more serious than I thought.