by Brown, TW
I could see the teeth sink into the girl’s flesh despite the shadows. I saw blood well up around where the mouth had latched on. The details were a blur…but crystal clear at the same time.
I must be going into shock, was the thought that repeated itself over and over in my head. I felt confirmed in that supposition when I realized that a flashlight was being shone on the horrible scene.
A hand clasped my arm and I initially believed it was Don set on scolding me for not paying close enough attention to what was happening just feet away. I looked down to discover a hand that definitely did not belong to Don Evans.
The young man had gotten to his feet and I’d apparently been the closest target. As he pulled my hand closer to his mouth, Karasinda continued to shriek. By now, she’d fallen to the ground and her undead attacker had buried her face into a meaty thigh. At some point, she’d already ripped away a swath of denim to revel the flesh underneath.
I shoved the boy away, but he didn’t lose his grip on my arm and merely tried once more to lean in and take a bite. This time, I punched him in the side of the head. I felt a dull pain in my fist, and the blow had almost no impact on the zombie. Its head had moved, but that was it.
I swung my body around and tried to slingshot him away from me as I stopped suddenly and simultaneously yanked back. The zombie was far too uncoordinated to handle the sudden movement and sprawled onto the concrete floor of the dugout…right towards Karasinda.
“Way to go, man!” Don cheered.
I screamed inside my own head that it hadn’t been on purpose. It hadn’t. Had it?
Now both zombies were on top of Karasinda. She screamed again, kicking and flailing to no avail. One of the zombies caught an arm and pinned it to the ground at is dove in for a bite.
There was more screaming, and then her shirt was ripped away. I’m not sure which one slammed its face into her soft belly, but a moment later, her legs began kicking with a new ferocity and the scream began. A piece of something dark and jelly-like was ripped from her abdomen and bit into by the female.
She begged, she cried, and then, mercifully, she was quiet. The two zombies continued to feed on the still form as I stood there trying not to be sick.
“Better hurry and handle your business. If my memory serves…you got maybe a minute or two before they grow tired of what they are feeding on. You’re next up on the menu list. And you’ll have three of them things to handle pretty soon.”
I started for the zombies and realized I had nothing to take them down with. I glanced over my shoulder at Don with my eyebrow raised in question.
“The walls and floor are concrete. Should be plenty strong enough for you to smash their heads in and finish them off.” Don smiled big like he was offering me some sort of amazing bit of assistance. “And from the looks of things…they did the hard part in tearing that little bitch open. Now you just need to find the stomach and the key.” He paused and tapped his chin with one finger like he was contemplating something deep. “Unless it already moved on to the intestines. Then you’re job just got really shitty.”
His laughter burned my skin as I spun back to face the two undead ripping away chunks of poor Karasinda. I could feel my skin heat and prickle as I stepped up behind the female zombie.
I could smell the stink of the undead swirling with coppery blood and raw meat that was already turning bad. Either the girl’s bowels had already let go or one of the zombies had ripped open the intestines as the bitter foulness of feces made itself known in the olfactory death buffet.
Taking a deep breath while my mind chanted, this will get you closer to Don, over and over, I grabbed the female zombie by the hair and jerked her back. While the thing was certainly uncoordinated, it still did a good job of turning towards me and swiping with its blood-soaked hands. I jumped back as I let go of the hair and cursed.
Moving in as the thing tried to get to its knees, I grabbed it by the hair again and slammed it face first into the wall. I heard a hollow thud, but the zombie showed absolutely no effects of my attack. I yanked the head back and slammed it into the wall.
Again.
Again.
Again.
At last I heard a terrible crunch. I slammed it once more and felt the body go limp in my grasp. When I let go, the zombie landed on its side and there was just enough light for me to see how I’d obliterated the face and busted open the right side of its forehead.
By now, the boy was getting to his feet. He turned to me, his face a mask of crimson that looked almost black in the shadows. He shambled my direction and I grabbed him by the back of his neck and repeated my assault. It took longer. (At least that is how it felt.) At last I heard that satisfying and wet crunch as the skull gave way. Light a switch being thrown, the zombie dropped, tearing free from my grip and landing on the ground with a meaty thump.
I could feel my heart slamming in my chest. I knew part of it was due to the exertion, but it also had to do with the anger combined with the revulsion of what I was now willingly participating in. I wiped my hands off on my pants and gulped in a lungful of much needed oxygen.
There was still one task remaining.
I turned to the destroyed body of Karasinda. Her wounds were too numerous to catalog. The worst visually being her ripped open belly. There were things hanging out of her that caused my gorge to rise despite how often I’d seen these sorts of awful things. Maybe it was because we’d shared a few moments as co-prisoners. Whatever the reason, I forced it down and stepped over to her and knelt.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed, afraid that even whispering it might be heard and give me away to the personification of evil glaring laser holes into the back of my head.
After taking a breath through pursed lips as if that would help, I dug my hands into her splayed open belly. I had no idea what an actual stomach looked like beyond cartoon drawings and the game Operation (which was no help since it was called the ‘Bread Basket’).
I felt a puffy pouch of sorts and hoped that I’d found the stomach. I pulled it free and then squeezed it to see if something felt like a key. The organ made a hissing sound as foul air escaped it. I didn’t feel anything solid and decided that either I did not have the stomach, or that the key had…passed on to the next stage.
The only way I was going to accomplish my assigned task was to plunge my hands back in and just start feeling and squeezing until I came across something solid. I let my breath out and then drew another that I promptly started holding.
I began to rummage around in the still warm gut of this young woman I’d been speaking with just moments earlier. I was aware that Don had resumed some sort of droning narrative, but I wasn’t listening.
I continued tuning him out until the words, “Oh shit!” broke through. I shook my head and looked around. Nothing had changed as far as I could tell.
“You better hurry up, man,” Don crowed.
I turned back and found myself staring into the open and tracer riddled eyes of Karasinda. She was just staring at me through her milky, black streaked orbs. She didn’t blink, and she showed no signs of registering that I was rooting through her guts on a twisted scavenger hunt.
“Fuck,” I whispered and began to search more frantically.
At last I felt something hard and jagged between my fingers. I closed my fingers around it and pulled free a strand of ropy intestine. With being so slicked with blood, getting a solid grip was easier said than done, but I was able to basically squeeze it in my fist until the key punctured the membrane and I was able to grab it.
I got to my feet and regarded Karasinda. She was still simply staring up at me. I could easily stomp her down and end her.
“Ah, ah-ah,” Don sing-songed. “I have plans for that one.”
I approached the gate and brandished my key. “Whatever, then I guess I need to get out before I’m left with no choice.”
He stepped back as I reached the lock and shoved the key into its place. Twice I had to pull it out and wipe
it on my pants, but at last I was able to turn it and the hasp popped free.
As soon as I opened the gate, three people materialized with guns aimed at me. One of them was the straight-haired blond.
“Lisa,” Don barked. The blond turned her head slightly so she could regard me and him at the same time. “Take our guest to the octagon.”
“Wait!” I yelped, taking a step back. The sounds of shuffling feet told me Karasinda was now up. I didn’t want to go back into the dugout, but I sure as hell wanted nothing to do with that octagon ring. “You said—”
“Easy, man.” He turned to the woman, Lisa I guess was her name. “I want him in the VIP booth for this next part.”
I wasn’t convinced that was necessarily a good thing. However, I was staring down the barrel pf her M4 and her expression as one that made me feel certain she wouldn’t hesitate a second when it came to pulling the trigger.
I walked past her and felt the jab as she directed me to turn right. And now that I was out of the dugout, I could see the gathered crowd. A quick guess put them at easily over a hundred people. How was it possible that my group numbered maybe close to a couple dozen while Don Evans had collected so many?
I walked until I reached a set of wooden stairs that led up to a platform. This platform was sitting right on top of one of the eight sides of the ring and gave a frighteningly close view of the carnage.
Three zombies still wandered about. But on the back of two of them was a child. Each of them had also turned. On the floor of the ring, I spied what was left of the youngest. Her upper torso was about all that remained.
It was on its back staring up at nothing…until it registered my presence. The head turned in slow jerks until she was staring at me with the eyes of the undead.
“Jesus.”
I jumped at the whispered words of the woman beside me. I turned my head and saw her looking down at the scene below with a look of disgust. Was there an opening here I could exploit?
The sound of heavy booted feet climbing the stairs ended any speculation as her face went blank as if she felt nothing in regard to what we were standing over.
“Bring Trayvonn to the octagon!” Don shouted.
This caused the crowd to erupt in what I could only describe as bloodthirsty cheers and applause. A man was dragged forward. His kicks and struggles were of little use against the pair of behemoths that I was seeing for the first time.
Both of these men were easily over six-and-a-half feet tall and I had to guess them in the three-hundred-pound range. And it wasn’t fat. These men were monsters.
One of them was an albino with skin whiter than I’d ever seen before. He wore no shirt, and his chest was massive and sculpted with arms that were corded with bulging veins. He had his shockingly white hair braided and all the braids pulled back and bound by a bright red piece of cord. His legs were tree trunks. The lazy smile he wore was made sinister by the pink hue of his eyes.
The other man was ruddy and tanned. His wavy hair was flowing in the wind and he kept flipping strands from his eyes with a toss of his head. He was wearing jeans as well but had a blue tank top that looked a couple sizes too small.
“Demetri, Gregor, put him inside, but one of you give him your baton,” Don called out.
They seemed to confer through raised eyebrows and nods until the albino finally made a loud huff and pulled a baton from his hip and thrust it into the man’s hands. There was a moment where it was clear that Trayvon was considering whether to try and use that weapon to make an escape attempt.
His eyes turned to the crowd that included at least ten sentries positioned in various locations with rifles cradled in their arms. His chin fell to his chest and I saw his shoulders slump. He obviously realized the futility of any such attempt and stepped into the cage.
“Go get the bitch in the dugout,” Don instructed.
The big men gave nods and headed over to where I’d been captive just moments earlier. I heard the metal gate slam open and a low moan carry to where I now stood with no idea what horrors awaited.
The men had the Karasinda held by those long poles that dog catchers used. They brought her to the octagon and as she came up and into view, I heard a terrible cry from close by. It took me a moment to realize it was the young man, Trayvonn.
I mistakenly thought it was because of him seeing Karasinda. When I turned, the man was on his knees near the center of the ring. The mangled half-body of the child was pulling itself toward him with its bloody hands that looked to be missing a few fingers.
I watched as the gate was thrown open and the body of Karasinda shoved roughly inside. The albino slammed the gate shut and then both men returned to stand on either side of Don.
“So, Trayvonn,” Don turned to face his people. This was all part of his performance. He wasn’t talking to the man as much as he was to his followers. “You and your people thought it was a good idea to attack my citizens while they were out searching for food to put on the table.”
He pointed to the crowd and a woman stood. A child stood beside her, hands clasped under his chin and a look of fear etched on his face.
“You turned Amy and her little boy…” Don paused and stepped forward. Despite the distance between his arena and the bleachers, it was still obviously a calculated move to make him seem like he was now closer to the woman and the child. “Ricky is it?”
The boy nodded.
Don spun to the cage where the child was now almost to the man kneeling and Karasinda-zombie was getting to her feet. The man seemed to be paying no attention to Don, nor did he seem to be prepared to defend himself against the two zombies that were coming for him.
“Your people killed this woman’s husband…left that poor child an orphan.” Don walked to the gate and slapped it with his hand. Both zombies ceased their advance on Trayvonn and adjusted to the new stimulus. “And now your people are gonna pay. Starting with you.”
Something in the man seemed to snap and he jumped to his feet. He ran at the fence where Don stood and flung himself at it.
“Your people attacked us! They hung my mom from a streetlight! Made us watch! Then they came and stole our supplies. They killed women…children…in the worst way. Not even merciful deaths. They hung people and let the monsters attack and rip them apart while we were forced to watch.” Trayvonn dropped to his knees and sobbed. “They hung my nephew…he was four years old and they hung him…then let two of them…them things rip him apart in a tug-a-war.”
“That’s not the story I heard,” Don shouted, making himself heard by the crowd.
I didn’t doubt Trayvonn’s story for a moment. I’d seen what Don Evans and his people were doing out there. This sounded absolutely like something he and his followers would do. My question was why he would be pretending that it wasn’t the case. If these people were okay with the horror show they’d just witnessed, then why would they have a problem with any of the other things going on?
“We are simply defending what was ours and you people tried to take it from us. You attacked us for no reason and killed a good man in the process,” Don shot back. “Were we supposed to just allow that to happen and do nothing to protect ourselves?”
“That son of a bitch,” the woman, Lisa, muttered from beside me.
“And that has been exactly how you people have been manipulating our society for years. No matter how much our government gave, you always wanted more. And it just kept going on and on until…this!” Don threw his hands up and turned in a full circle. “The world finally broke. God decided to send down his judgement on the world and it is people like you that made this happen.”
I had no idea how he was tying all of this together, but I looked out to the crowd and they were eating it up. I was even hearing a scattering of “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!” from the crowd that was now on its feet.
“And now…” Don turned to the octagon with a nasty sneer curling his lips. “Judgment is being served.”
10
; The Worst of the Worst
By now, both Karasinda-zombie and the toddler were closing in on Trayvonn. I noticed that the toddler was hanging back behind its mother. Part of my mind wanted to convince me that it was simply moving slower since it had to drag itself forward with its mangled hands. But from where I stood, I could see that it was clearly studying the scene.
“Now…you are gonna have to make a decision pretty soon, Trayvonn,” Don practically cooed.
He grabbed a knife from his belt and tossed it over the top of the gate. It landed perfectly, sticking point down into the ground just a few feet from Trayvonn. The man looked at it like he didn’t know what it was.
“I suggest you grab that before they grab you.” Don pointed past the young man and toward the looming threat stumbling closer.
He turned and his anguished cry renewed. I don’t think he’d actually realized—or perhaps recognized—the young woman put in there with him.
“Baby,” the man wept, his hands reaching out then pulling back from the approaching zombie of what I was guessing was probably his wife…or at least his girlfriend.
“You better handle your business, boy,” Don snarled. “Or you’ll be just like ‘em in a bit.”
The man glanced at the knife, then back at the two undead that were drawing frighteningly close. He reached out with a tentativeness that I could understand. I recalled back to when I’d stared into the eyes of my believed Stephanie. I hadn’t been able to end her. It still haunted me that she would be out there…one of those things. No semblance of the happiness and beauty that I knew her to be in life.
“The man looked between the child and Karasinda. He picked up the knife and held it out in front of himself. He kept warning the pair to stay back. Every so often he would slash at the air half-heartedly.
Twice he shoved Karasinda back and warned her. He moved away so that the child could not reach him, but at no time had he tried to do anything physical to stop the baby from getting to him. He kept moving around the octagon to avoid it, but the problem was the other zombies with the children on their backs.
