Zombie Rebirth

I slumped back in my seat. I wasn’t sure if I had even actually entered the game. I could still feel the phantom pain from my broken ribs, the scratches and burns, but I patted myself down and found nothing.

“Well that’s just not fair,” Basil said.”

“Oh, what, did you bet against the wolf again?”

“Of course!”

“You would have to put down a hundred chips to win twenty! That’s hardly a return on investment.”

He crossed his arms. “It’s a safe bet.”

“How safe was it?”

I smiled as I turned back to my game responding.

Winner!

My smile grew wider as I saw it grow to 600 chips, with fanfare and confetti on screen. I pressed the ‘Cash Out’ button and couldn’t help but laugh as it spit out two plastic tokens. Interestingly, it changed to a 500 chip and a 100 chip. I took them and slid them back into my inventory.

“That’s it? You don’t want to play again?”

“What are you at?”

His eyes glazed for a moment. “Right where I started, I guess. Five-hundred and two. Looks like it rounds down if you don’t have a whole chip when you cash out.”

“Well I’m sitting pretty at nine-hundred-ninety. I just about doubled my money on that fight.”

“Exactly, so why not go for it again?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t feel lucky.” I glanced at the screen. “Besides, the odds have reset. It’s two-to-one in the dragon’s favor now. I would have to lose a few fights, losing my chips, to get to where it would be worth fighting again.”

“That’s providing the machines work the way you think they do.”

I shrugged. “It’s whatever. Let’s try another one.”

Basil stood, wandering off toward the depths of the casino. I followed, keeping an eye out for interesting looking machines. I passed several more rows before finding another machine that stood out. The slot machine was massive, so big it sat on its own. I still had yet to see another patron, but I had little interest in the oddity. Instead, I wanted to know what was up with this new machine. It was even bigger than the dragon-fighting-wolf one. It had side panels, like a fancy super-racing-setup. The immersion would be incredible.

“Damn, now I want to play a racing game on something like this.”

It stretched overhead, showing a pristine blue sky over a placid lake, a small copse of trees, the wind blew across the short green-brown grass; it was perfect, right down to the animal noises. It wasn’t the scenery that had drawn me in, though. A pack of dingoes circled a pack of goats. It wasn’t the wildest matchup I could think of, but watching was another story entirely.

I watched as the feral dogs zipped in, biting at ankles and calves, trying to separate a kid from the grown goats. The goats, however, were having none of it. They fought back with savage kicks, strong bites, and the deadliest of them used its horns to devastating effect. The action was so quick, I couldn’t tell gender for any of the combatants. It didn’t help that the goats all had beards and horns. One massive example stepped out from the flock, standing literally head and shoulders above the rest. It had muscles on muscles.

“This is ridiculous,” I said as I sat down. The goat bleated, and it obviously was a skill, because I saw shockwaves. “Oh man, I wish I had popcorn.”

I checked how much it would cost. It looked to be a similar format to the previous machine, with simple combat driven by the slots deciding the victor. The dingoes were in the lead, with a striking 1-6. The goats were in trouble, and I wanted to help. A flashing ‘50’ in the bottom left showed it was far more expensive to start this one. It also had two other buttons, mimicking the last machine, each labeled ‘100’ and ‘150’, each with little symbols as well.

I checked my total chips. It was a lot, but with a return like that, I would be swimming in money. I hesitated, then put 150 into the machine. The buttons lit up and I smacked the third one. I expected the world to go dark. I expected to suddenly be in the game.

I did not go into the game. Instead, the goats stepped forward in a line. The dingoes matched them with their own line. There were five on each side, and the noises grew to a crescendo, then cut. The side panels went dark, then faded in as the camera zoomed in. The goats went to the right while the dingoes took the left panel. Six slot bars crashed down from heaven, slamming into the earth in the distance. They started to roll. I felt my blood surge. This was going to be exciting. Then two more plummeted into the ground on each side. Five on five.

“Yeah!” I pumped my fist. This was the most exhilarating time I’d ever had at a casino.

The first attack launched. The slots stopped. I held my breath. The dingoes had their numbers display first.

1.

2.

“YES!”

6.

“NO!”

1.

“YES!”

The final bar, bigger than the others, finally stopped. It clearly represented the dingo alpha, the dog that nearly matched the big goat in size. It was a seven. That confused me for a moment, because all the other numbers had stopped at six.

I didn’t have long to think about it. The goat’s numbers finalized.

3, 5, 5, and 6. Then the big goat let out a bleat, and his bar stopped on 15.

“YEAH, BERTRAND!”

I looked around, suddenly aware I was still in the casino. There was nobody nearby. I returned to the game, cheering on the goat.

Combat began. The goats were incredible. They jumped, stomped, slashed, and kicked the dogs like the dogs had stolen all the grass in the world. The big goat, the one I was calling Bertrand, lowered his head and viciously headbutted the alpha dog. It whimpered. Blood sprayed from all the dogs, painting the screen in digital gore. Then the animals reset, the bars started rolling, and I readied for the next round.

This time, the bars stopped on both sides from the outside in. 2 and 2, with the corresponding dingo and goat flying in, centered on the main screen. They exchanged a series of blows like something straight out of an anime. Paws slashed, legs kicked, and the goat threw in a headbutt that was matched in intensity by the dingo. They were clearly tied this round.

They broke apart, falling back to their lines, and the next pair barreled in. The bars settled on 4 and 1. The dingo bit the goat’s ear as it flew past, tearing it off in a spray of blood. I winced in empathy as the goat bleated. They split with the short exchange over.

I looked at the numbers in the background. Next set was… 1 and 6. I smiled in anticipation. The game did not disappoint. Like the previous dingo, it leaped into the fray. The goat, however, did not leap. Instead, it watched the dingo and lowered its head to expose the pointed ends of the horns. The dingo yelped in fear, but it was too late. The dog impaled itself on the horns of the goat, then faded away. The goat reared back, kicking its front hooves in celebration as it slid back to the line.

The fourth set settled, almost overshadowed by the third bar on the left fading to dust as the dog had done. They showed 5 and 6. A close call. The goat watched for the leap, zigging and zagging as it closed the distance. The dog reached out with paws, just missing as the goat spun in place, transferring all its momentum into a massive kick that sent the dingo flying. It snorted and trotted back to the line, not even bothering to look at its matched opponent.

Then came the final fight. The numbers settled and they were… disappointing. A 2 and a 4. The alphas rushed in, with the dog tripping and sending the goat to the ground. Neither looked particularly hurt, except perhaps their pride.

With the round concluded, I checked the health bars at the top. On the left were the dingoes, each wounded. The first had a third of its health bar left, the second was two-thirds full, the third was conspicuously absent, and the fourth was also at a third left. The alpha dingo was at 80 percent, though. On the goat side, I was encouraged. After two turns, the only two of the goats were wounded: the first and second, each with two-thirds life remaining.

“Yeah, goats!” I cheered again. I didn’t care if someone thought I was weird, this was fun.

The lines were ready, and the third round began. The same format as the previous turn was followed, with the dingoes going head-to-head with the goats on the center screen while the others waited impatiently on the side screens. The bars stopped, the action was quick this time. The first two were both critical failures: 1 and 1. They sprinted in, getting turned around by a glint of sunlight off the lake nearby. I couldn’t help it, I laughed watching them stumble around until they retreated to their lines, clearly embarrassed.

The next set readied and went in for their turn. 2 and 4, the goat delivered a flying headbutt to the dingo, sending it running back to its own line whimpering; tail tucked between legs. The goat seemed quite pleased with itself as it sauntered back to the line.

The last lesser dingo stepped up, and I was surprised when two goats stepped forward. It looked like there was no such thing as a fair fight. Even so, I was disappointed when the two goats ran in and crashed into each other, then bleated in panic and pain as the dingo kicked hard at their exposed backs. Blood flew, then the combatants separated, back to their own lines.

The alphas had their turn, and it made up for what happened immediately before. The dingo’s bar stopped on a glaring, evil 1, but the goat did a back flip as it stopped on 18. A small bar appeared next to the alpha goat’s big bar and rolled quickly, stopping on 8.

“Damn, no crit confirm,” I said to myself. This was starting to look suspiciously like D&D.

Even without the crit confirm, I was proud of Bertrand. The dingo took one step and slipped on a pile of… soil. Who am I kidding? It was shit. The dog slipped in a big pile of shit and went down, which the goat took advantage of. It kicked down hard, slamming the dog’s head back into the filthy pile. I cheered again.

“Way to go Bertrand!”

The animals separated, and I checked the health bars again.

The three remaining lesser dogs were at a third health and the alpha was at 20%. Comparatively, the goats were in better shape, with two at two-thirds, two at one-third, and the alpha goat still untouched. It snorted, steam glinting in the sunlight as the bars started again.

As if the game could sense my tension, all nine bars stopped at the same time. It was a team battle! The dogs had 3, 2, 3, and 7. The goats were clearly feeling confident, as they showed up with 15, 5, 5, 1, and 1. I felt a small bit of sadness, but there was nothing I could do. The game was running on its own.

The clash, however, was epic. All nine jumped in, and like a cartoon, a whirlwind of dust kicked up, obscuring the action. The noise was incredible, with lions roaring, elephants trumpeting, goats bleating, dogs howling, and even, for whatever reason, a police siren in the background. Legs shot out of the cloud, often met with other legs, then disappeared in. First a goat flew out, splaying on the ground to the right. A long tongue lolled out, signifying the goat’s death. It faded away as a second goat flew out of the melee.

“Come on!”

I clenched my fists, biting a knuckle in anticipation. I had the numbers, but I needed to see the goats win.

Next, a dog flew out. It tumbled and rolled bonelessly, then faded away. Another dog flew out, fading before it even hit the ground. Then the cloud abruptly disappeared, showing the alpha goat standing triumphant. It had the dingo in its mouth, and with a savage jerk, broke the dog’s neck. Three goats turned their attention on the final lesser dingo, then lunged in and kicked it repeatedly.

“YES!”

I pumped my fists in the air. They had done it, they had won!

“Lucky, aren’t you?”

Basil put his hand on my shoulder, startling me.

“Gah! Damn, Basil. You snuck up on me.”

“Enjoying your game?”

I nodded, beaming. “Yeah, I just won a mess of chips.”

Basil looked irritable. “Yeah, well, good for you.”

I looked from the game over to him, and he looked grim. “What’s up, man?”

“Nothing. Go back to your game.”

The screen faded to black, with big red letters flashing.

You win!

I pressed the cash out button, anxiously waiting for the chips to finish falling so I could collect them and chase after Basil. Something was wrong.

“Come on!”

Finally, I grabbed the chips. There were two 500 chips and five tens. It had only been a few seconds. I looked around, trying to spot where Basil had gone.

“How does he move so fast?”

I left the machine in search of my friend.