PROLOGUE

-CHAPTER ELEVEN –

-CHAPTER ELEVEN –

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By the end of the night, they were standing at the foot of the mountain range. He was surprised at how quickly they’d come to the end of the savanna. Though he was sad to leave the beautiful biome, he was glad to be making progress.

No other monsters had challenged them after the phantoms, surprisingly. Though the phantoms were dangerous, they weren’t the worst of creatures. At least he didn’t encounter any zombies; he was terrified of them now. The raid made them seem much more powerful than they probably were, but they still sent chills up his spine. He could imagine their claws reaching out at him mercilessly, only centimeters away from tearing into his flesh. He shivered.

He was also tired. He wanted to lay down and sleep, but he knew he had to keep moving.

I’ll find a shelter and rest tonight.

Sighing, he began climbing the mountain, finding small ledges in the rocks to hold him. Then, after climbing only a few feet, he realized Mist couldn’t follow.

“How are you gonna get to the top?” He asked, turning around.

Mist barked at him, then ran away. Luke assumed he was finding a way up.

After maybe an hour of climbing, he finally reached the top. He was exhausted, and so he collapsed on the rocky peak. As he was catching his breath, to his surprise, he saw Mist standing over him.

“How’d you get up here?”

Mist trotted over to the edge of the mountain and looked down. Luke forced himself to stand up and walk over to see what his dog was looking at.

To his surprise, he saw a grassy pathway twisting and turning until it ended at the peak. He kicked himself for not checking around the mountain before climbing it.

As he still gasped for breath, he admired the gorgeous view. He could see for miles around, and he saw the massive ocean that he’d seen on the map below him. He stood in awe at the seemingly endless amount of water. This was his first time seeing an ocean. Then, he reminded himself that he had to cross it.

He obviously had to make a boat, but he didn’t know how. There was always the option of binding logs together to form a raft, but he doubted a small raft would last long in the sea.

As he pondered this, he shifted his gaze to an oak tree on the grassy beach below. There was his supply of wood; now he just needed to figure out how to use it.

He quickly found that scaling down the mountain was much easier than climbing up. He was relieved to relax his aching muscles a little as he found footholds and began climbing down.

Once at the bottom, he looked at the lone oak tree once more. Suddenly, he had an idea. It would require a lot of work, however. He would have to chop the wood down first, and for that, he needed an axe. But where was he going to get materials to craft one? And better yet, how do you even make one?

Obviously, an axe was out of the question. There had to be another way…

He’d figure it out later. Right now, he needed to make a shelter. The sun was slowly sinking on the horizon, and night was fast approaching.

Looking down at Mist, he saw his faithful friend asleep.

“I know you’re tired. Just wait a minute and I’ll have us a shelter. Then you and I both can get some rest.”

Then, he heard a noise.

Grrrrrrr.

It was a sound he knew all too well.

Zombies.

He frantically began digging into the dirt on the side of the mountain, panic driving him forward. In a few seconds, he had a small alcove dug into the mountain, just big enough to stand in.

Deeper… Deeper…

His fear and frustration caused him to act without thought, digging away the dirt as fast as his hands would move.

Left, Right, Left, Right…

A few more seconds and he had a hole dug big enough to fit himself and Mist, but barely.

GRRRRRR.

The zombie was getting closer.

He forced his hands to dig even faster, dirt flying so quickly some flew in his eyes. He didn’t stop though until he was satisfied that his hidey-hole was big enough.

“MIST! GET IN HERE! NOW!”

A groggy and reluctant Mist walked into the dirt hole, obviously confused.

Then, he saw his nightmare. The zombie was almost to the entrance, but Luke was frozen with fear. He remembered those sharp, deadly claws; they were almost the death of him. Then the rotten stench filled his nostrils. It was getting close. Too close.

Forcing his hands to move, he drew his golden sword. His plans of hiding had failed. Now, he was forced to fight.

He backed up against the wall as far as he could and held his sword at the ready. He began to sweat, despite the cold night air. The zombie had reached the entrance now and was heading right for him. He had every disadvantage. It was hopeless. He wasn’t a warrior; just a scared young child.

The zombie growled in anticipation, the sound reverberating off the dirt walls.

Just then, Mist darted from his side and leaped at the threat. The zombie was startled by this, and this allowed Mist to knock it to the ground before it started fighting back.

Luke just stood there, watching it all take place. Mist ferociously attacking the zombie. The zombie trying to fight back, but not doing so very well.

Soon, the zombie succumbed to its fate, too weak to struggle. Luke stood in astonishment, his mouth agape.

Mist had killed a zombie.

He stepped back, and he saw a pile of rotten flesh.

Luke dropped his sword and hugged Mist tightly. “Thank you! A thousand times thank you! You’re the best friend a boy could have.”

Mist licked him on the cheek. He chuckled, wiping the slobber from his face.

“C’mon. Let’s get some rest.”