Slayer

By Scot Savage

In a post-apocalyptic future, the world is dominated by strange mutants.

The worst of these is the human flesh-eating zoms and their ruthless leader, the Super-Zom.

To combat this evil, a special army of "Slayers" with extraordinary super-powers were created.

Now, only one remains in his quest to hunt the Super-Zom and destroy the race of monsters for good.

After 50 years of hunting, the final battle is about to occur. By the Slayer's side is Zit, a mutant rat; Hailey, a black warrior giant; Zuu'lorb Trexman; a rock guitarist; and Bugsy Malone, a gangster rabbit armed with "big momma."

Will the Slayer end the zom menace for good and be able to live the peaceful life he craves or will he fall bravely in the line of duty?

A must read from fantasy role-playing gamers!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781312428805

Book preview

Slayer

Slayer

A Novella

Scot Savage

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Scot Savage Enterprises

Schaumburg, IL

www.havevampirewilltravel.com

[e-mail]

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Scot Savage Enterprises

Copyright © 2008 by Scot Savage

ISBN # 978-1-312-42880-5

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including, but not limited to, photocopying, recording or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews or where permitted by law.

Cover Art by Scot Savage

Scot Savage Enterprises Designs

Printed in the United States of America

¹⁰ ⁹ ⁸ ⁷ ⁶ ⁵ ⁴ ³ ²

Dedication

For all role-playing gamers!

CHAPTER 1

The Slayer boldly walked near the lake shore of the City.

The City—such a simple term. All that lived there knew it only as that—the City. Ever since Chaos Time took the world, proper names lost their importance.

The Slayer once remembered that the City once had a proper name.

What was it?

Chaos had seemed to rob him of those few precious pieces of memory. He did remember the name Lake Michigan and Lake Shore Drive. Despite the gaps in his memory, the Slayer seemed to remember more things about the history of the city than most others. No one even believed that the City existed before Chaos Time.

The Slayer tried to dig deep down to think of the name of the City, but only bits and pieces seemed to float up. He remembered The Windy City.

What a laugh!

The wind used to feel cool and crisp. Now all it brought was numbing cold and the stench of dead fish.

The Slayer remembered that this city used to be a very large—once, the airport and railroad center of the country. He remembered that one year they had an awesome football team that won the championship. It had a basketball team that took six rings.

And he remembered that horrible baseball team. The irony of it all.

Despite being a team of losers, the fans still adored them. They were the choke-monkeys that could snatch defeat out of the jaws of victory. What a surprise it was to everyone when they finally managed to win the World Series. How long had it taken since the last time? Over a century?

That ultimate victory happened some fifty years ago—just before Chaos Time. It was the last sporting event that the Slayer had seen. Not too many remember that World Series, but the Slayer had the best memory of all.

How could he forget? After all, he was there.

The Slayer’s commanding officer had surprised him by giving him a three-day leave and a pair of tickets to the seventh and final game. The general couldn’t go because he had an important meeting at the Pentagon.

The Slayer would later learn that the meeting would concern an all-out offensive to end the skirmish (or war) that took place overseas. This skirmish started over the control of petroleum—which would eventually lead to the start of Chaos Time.

Despite the gaps in memory, the Slayer did remember that last, joyous time in his life. He sat with his ten-year-old son in their special reserved seats by the team’s dugout. His son loved baseball and his favorite team was one game away from winning it all. The boy was so excited. It was magic.

It was also the last time the Slayer was with his son. He had to return to base early the next morning. It wasn’t long after that in which Chaos Time began.

The Slayer’s family was among the first wave of millions to die. Maybe, it was for the better. At least, they would be spared the disease, agony, famine, despair and suffering. He knew that his wife and son would never make it in this terrible new world. They weren’t fighters like the Slayer.

Sometimes, the Slayer wished that he wasn’t one either.

The Slayer remembered when the lake near the City was a pleasant place, free of pollution and contaminants. It was now nothing but a gigantic sewer basin. A long time ago, as a youngster, the Slayer used to fish for walleyes. Now, it was the fish that would eat the people.

The wind blew again and the Slayer got a good smell of the lake. It was worse than usual. Even the Slayer wasn’t quite used to it.

Was does it always smell like shit?

As the Slayer walked down the now-deserted street, he remembered a time when it was loaded with cars. Now, one only passed by once in a blue moon. Sometimes, these joy riders were lucky enough to score some petrol from the black market.

When the Slayer was seventeen, he re-built a ’57 Chevy and raced it down the Drive late at night. He remembered the beach where he took his girlfriend and got laid for the very first time.

The lakeshore was also the place where the snooty rich people lived. The Slayer hated them most of all. He wondered how these pampered pets would survive in this world.

It was that instant that the Slayer realized just how very alone he was on this street—and in his life.

Finally, the Slayer remembered a time when he was known by more than just Slayer. This was short for Mutant Slayer 471-AAA. Now, it was just Slayer because that’s all that anyone can remember.

Once, he was known as Sergeant-Major Zachary Zach Zorinski, Double Z, of the United States Army Rangers. It was his Ranger survival training that was responsible for keeping him alive in the Chaos Time. He was a fighter and, being so, he managed to overcome the effects of the radiation.

Being in the armed forces, he had first dibs on the new drugs that would make him immune to the radiation and the contamination in the food and drinking water. He was one of the lucky few. His drugs were permanent and he was not dependent on having to acquire a regular supply for constant use. The civilians weren’t so lucky. They only had the temporary kind. As a result, the criminal underworld had seized a sizeable quality of these drugs and sold them at high prices; therefore, they were able to control the human population. Mutations became even more numerous due to the limited distribution.

The Slayer was a special breed. He was not a mutant and his DNA contained no mutant strains. He was allowed to reproduce with other pure strains under the Federal Emergency Powers Act. When Martial Law was declared, Zorinski and others like him were recruited and trained to become what was known as the Mutant Slayers. in a last-ditch attempt to control the hostile renegade mutant population.

At one time, the Slayers were abundant. Zorinsky’s initial territory was a one square mile sector on the northwest side of the City. Now that the Slayers were fading away, Zorinski’s territory was now the entire city.

He hadn’t seen another Slayer in over ten years. Most had been wiped out by a joint cooperation of hostile mutants before those mutants, in turn, betrayed each other after the threat was over and wiped themselves out. The remaining Slayers, if any, deserted their posts when the remaining forces of law and order finally fell. The country that the Slayer served had no longer existed.

The Slayer was the last of his kind. He really didn’t care. Even if there was no federal government, he still had a job to finish. The Slayer was the last Slayer. He wasn’t going to die just yet. He was still a fighter.

Physically, the Slayer appeared to be a man in his late thirties. He lost track of his numerical age as he stopped counting after 35, yet he knew that if he was normal, he would be reaching the end of his natural lifespan. His longevity and resistance to aging were due to the drugs in his system that altered his body chemistry along with the effects of the fallout radiation in the atmosphere from the Chaos Time. The only drawback to the limited immortality was that it affected the memory and left small gaps. This was why the Slayer couldn’t remember the original name of the city or of that baseball team. It was just as well. There were a lot of things best forgotten.

The muscular man was slightly over six feet tall and weighed 195 pounds. His finely-tuned muscular body was also the result of the genetic altering drugs as well as his workouts and training exercise while he was in the military. The Caucasian man was clad in the remnants of his old uniform which he managed to keep in good condition over the years.

The Slayer blended in well with the night since he practically wore nothing but black—the symbolic color of death. This color (or the absence thereof) was a great mental and psychological edge against his opponents. Black seemed to be more intimidating and it still worked against his foes.

The Slayer stroked his long, jet black hair which he kept in place with a combination of a pony tail and a headband. At one time, the Slayer preferred to wear his hair in the traditional military buzz cut, but, yet another, side effect of the drugs and radiation caused his hair to grow long. The Slayer tried to shave it short, but found that it would grow back to long length in a few days. He also discovered that the more he cut it, the faster it would grow back. It would get fuller and longer with each cut. Seeing it a losing battle, the Slayer decided to live with the long hair. It seemed to stabilize at its current length.

With the exception of his four-day facial hair growth, he had a clear complexion to complement his rugged, but handsome face. The only thing that didn’t make his face appear normal was that his lips were a darker red than the