Game for a LARP
by Rachel Green
Harold crouched in the cover afforded by a fallen tree and a dip in the pine strewn earth and smeared mud over his garish paint ball gun. Satisfied that he could blend into the shadows more easily than he could five minutes ago, he took out his binoculars.
A scan of the immediate area concluded, he unwrapped his egg sandwiches and poured lukewarm tea from his thermos. A shimmering at his side revealed the arrival of his friend Jasfoup.
“Why are you lying in muck?” The demon glanced at his soiled suit in disgust.
“Shh!” said Harold, his finger over his lips. “It’s a live role-playing game. Survivors versus zombies.”
“Ugh, zombies.” Jasfoup grimaced. “Which are you?”
“Do I look like a zombie?” Harold paused for a reply and then scowled at the demon’s expression. “I’m a survivor.”
“Ah.” Jasfoup looked over the log. “Is that a zombie?”
Harold followed his gaze to see Simon Peterson walking towards his foxhole, arms outstretched. “Yes,” he said, aiming his gun and firing. Peterson’s head exploded.
Harold went white. “What did you do?” he said. “You’ve killed Peterson.”
“No, you killed him,” the demon said, helping himself to Harold’s tea. “I just changed your gun to a real one. I can’t bear zombies.”
“He wasn’t a real zombie,” said Harold. “It was role-play.”
“He was an accountant,” said the demon through a mouthful of sandwich. “It’s a close call.”
“Good point.” Harold shouldered his new AK47. “So are the rest of his team."