A violent roar erupted from the cell across from me, pulling me from my thoughts. Jerking up my head, I looked from Mr. Muscle to Kyle. We all knew we’d be fighting this thing tonight.
Chapter 23
Our darkest hours were in those first weeks, and we were about to be in the spotlight.
Call it weird, call it insane, call it whatever you want, but it’s true. This group of Elitists went from prominent businessmen, trust fund babies, and top leaders, to a savage group of narcissists in just a matter of days. The world fell apart; rules went to the wayside and from the ashes, rose the worst in mankind, that morbid, primal need for blood. Our darkest hours were in those first weeks, and we were about to be in the spotlight.
Sitting there in the cell, listening to Zombie Michael bounce off the walls across from me, my mind drifted to Jenn. I was absently twirling my wedding ring around my finger. It had been half a week since I heard her voice on the phone. Jenn was my rock, my center, and without her, the world felt undeniably out of control.
I thought to the communication room that we had passed a few times. I had to find a way to make it to that room. If any land lines were still operating, surely I’d be able to get in touch with her at the number she gave me.
We had to survive the Arena. There was nothing I wouldn’t do. Nothing.
There was a guard posted outside of the cellblock, lazily sitting on a plastic fold up chair, which stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the furniture in the place. From time to time, someone would walk by, and he’d perk up, like he was busy guarding the dangerous criminals.
At one point, we listened as a friend of his, whom we could not see, walked up and started a conversation.
“How’s this batch?” the friend asked.
With a slight British accent, the guard replied, “We have a couple of bulldogs in here. Remember that giant Mexican who got taken down the other night? Well, his mate is in here. You know the one that knocked through the fence?”
“Ohhh sweet!” Friend said. “That’s going to be a good one!”
“The other two look pretty hard, too. They’re not quite as big as the Mexican, but they’ve been through some shit. That isn’t the best part though. Gordon has something special in store. I can’t let you see it, but rest assured that tonight’s battle is going to be one that is for the books.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. I already heard about the Death Armor. Gordon had three of those suits made.”
“Really?” The guard sounded impressed.
“Yeah, there’s going to be three of those fast suckers with razor teeth in the arena tonight. It’s going to be wicked awesome!”
“Okay, since you know so much, how many gladiators do we have?” He sounded a little dispirited, as if his friend stole his thunder.
“Well, by my count, we have an even ten. I think they are going to break it up into two battles. Word around the campfire is that they are going to do a regular fight, with the old zombies first, and then follow it up with the main event. I’m hearing that your cell block is set for the second bout. Evidently Gordon and Chauffer have a special interest in these guys.”
Lowering his voice, thinking we couldn’t hear him, the guard replied, “Yeah, you should have seen them in here chatting it up with these lads. Let’s just say that I’m glad I’m not in their shoes. Don’t think he’s going to be advancing them to the next round...if you know what I’m saying.”
“I hear you, brother. I hear you.” Friend chuckled. From the cell, it looked like the guard stood up, and gave his friend a fist bump.
“See you tonight, bro. Don’t lose those prisoners! We all want to see that battle!”
“They’ll be there!” our guard reassured him.
He sat back down, poked his head inside the door to peer at Kyle.
“What are you looking at, princess?” the guard asked sharply.
Kyle took his time, looking at the Guard from head to toe then replied coolly,
“Nobody.” As if to imply that the Guard was certainly nothing special.
He stood up like he was going to enter, but then stopped. “You’re not worth it, princess. You’ll get yours tonight.”
Kyle didn’t break eye contact, and didn’t say another word. The guard didn’t advance. Instead, he went back to resting his ass on the plastic chair in the hallway.
I went over to the bars separating my cell from Kyle’s, and motioned for him and Mr. Muscle to move as close to me as possible. It was a little more difficult for the circus performer being that he was on the far side of Kyle’s cell. In a whisper, I stated that we needed a plan of attack.
“Any ideas?” I asked.
Kyle shot a quick look at Mr. Muscle, and then back at me.
“Well, I was thinking back to the gas station. We were outnumbered, but managed to keep the things back with good offensive and defensive tactics.” He turned his head toward Mr. Muscle, “Are there any weapons in the arena, or are they expecting us to use our fists?”
“It’s been a little different each battle, man. They always have some sort of weapons. It looks to me like they raided a museum or something. The arena has had maces, spears, clubs and some other crazy stuff that I can’t even identify.”
“What’s been different?” I asked curiously.
“That’s the thing,” he shrugged. “Sometimes the shit is easy to grab, like sitting on the ground. Other times, it’s been propped up high on the walls so it’s hard to get to...you know, like needing two guys to work together to get at it.”
“Okay. So first thing’s first, we need to get to the weapons, no matter where they are. Let’s make that our priority.” Kyle went on to explain a few tactics that he thought would work. No matter what, we had to make sure we stuck together. The three of us would be stronger if we formed an alliance, and had each other’s backs. Our best chance was to keep our heads on our shoulders and work as a single unit.
We agreed on the how’s and what’s, but you know what they say about the best -laid plans. Sometimes, they simply go to shit.
****
We could hear people passing through the hallway. Every once in a while, someone would stop by, lower their voice, and ask how the guard thought we’d do in the battle tonight. We realized that people were trying to get the inside scoop, feeling out the guard to see how long he thought the battle would last.
We heard one person ask who he should put his money on, and another ask which of us would last the longest. The guard kept talking about the giant Mexican. Everybody graciously thanked him for his help, as if he was giving them some sort of coveted information.
It was clear that there was some sort of betting ring set up. People were waging cash on who would be the first and last to die. Evidently, it was big money, too. We heard numbers like one hundred and two hundred grand being thrown around. They were betting on how quickly we’d die.
This place just got better and better by the second.
I looked over at Zombie Michael. He was still in a frenzy. There were blood soaked scratch marks on the wall, and his eyes had that full red with white haze over them. He would stand against the cell bars, both arms through them continuously reaching towards me like tree branches in a drought reaching out for water. “Not much going on upstairs anymore,” Kyle murmured when he saw me look away from Michael.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied despondently. “Hope we can put him out of his misery quickly.” All we could do was wait, just wait and try to tune out the noise that the new zombie across the aisle from us made. It was no mistake that it was left here with us. Gordon and Chauffer wanted us to watch him, know what we were up against.
The people in the hall outside our cellblock cleared, and the guard seemed to be able to sit back down in his chair.
It started as background noise at first, more of a dull hum, really. We were not immediately sure what it was, glancing at each other then at the door in confusion. It soon became obvious that it was cheerin
g from the arena. The crowd was getting worked up.
We couldn’t make out what was being said, but someone was speaking through a loud microphone. He went on for a few seconds then paused. The dull background noise was now a roaring cheer.
The guard stuck his head in, spying Kyle with a grin.
“There are sixty-forty odds that you’ll be the last man standing tonight, princess. Sixty for the Mexican, forty percent for you.”
“What about me?” I asked.
“Fifty-fifty odds on you. Same with a woman from one of the other cellblocks. Bets are that you’ll be the first to drop.”
“Shit,” I mumbled.
“We’ll take them all out,” Kyle stated boldly as he rose, jerking his chin in the air.
“Sure you will,” the guard soothed with a crooked smile. “Sure you will, princess.”
Chapter 24
The creeping moments felt like hours. The longer we had to wait, the more tied up my guts felt. My stomach plunged when someone neared the door and stopped. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; he seemed to be the only sane one around here. He gave the guard a glare to get him on his feet and at attention. Jarvis then entered the room with that same glowing smile he’d given us upon our arrival.
With a demeanor that gave me the impression that he was on our side, Jarvis said,
“You boys sure have gotten yourselves into a bit of trouble.” His gaze fell on Michael, his shoulders slumping just noticeably.
“Not much we can do for this poor soul, but the three of you have a shot.”
“That’s not what we hear,” I replied darkly.
“Don’t be fooled. There are only so many of the zombies we can let into the arena and facility at one time. If you outlast them, you’ll outlast the battle.”
“How many are there?” I had to ask, but didn’t really want to know.
“Hard to tell, gentlemen, but keep your heads on straight. Stay alive long enough and you’ll walk away from this thing.”
We all looked at each other. Mr. Muscle had sat up and shifted his legs toward the door. He made eye contact with Jarvis, then spun back around and lay down on his bed.
It was just a quick glance, but there was something between them; that much was clear. They tried to play it off as if they didn’t know one another. Not so much as a hello. However, there was an unspoken recognition in each of their eyes, and they sure as hell didn’t want the guard to see it.
“Boys, I’m not sure you belong in this fight. Unfortunately, I’m not the one to make that choice. What I can tell you is that if you survive, there will be opportunity for you.”
Nobody said anything. His words were sincere, and caught me off guard. For a moment, I found myself pondering why he would be giving us the insight, and wondered what actual meaning lay beneath what he was saying.
“Well, I’m here to take you to the arena,” he spoke apologetically. “The first battle is in progress, and you’re up next.” He sighed heavily, and then looked over his shoulder towards the door.
“Chop, chop, men.” Seven guards entered the room. Despite a slight struggle, we were forced into handcuffs, and taken from our respective cells.
As we left the room itself, our cellblock guard winked at Kyle while he passed. Kyle gave him a large smile. Then, without hesitation, he snapped his head forward connecting with the guard’s nose. The guard dropped to the ground screaming through his tears.
“You broke my bloody nose!”
Another guard punched Kyle in the back. Without flinching, he looked down at the bleeding guard and said, “Sorry about that, princess.” In any other situation, I would have laughed my ass off. I could always count on Kyle to settle a score.
We were led past the communication center on our way to the arena. With each step forward, I could feel my heart beat increasing. Unfortunately, my knees were getting weaker. The crowd was really hyped up again, seriously into whatever they were watching.
I have been to games before: football, baseball, basketball and just about every other professional sport out there. Never have I heard a crowd hitting the pitch that this one had. They were living it up...whatever it was.
Eight PM blinked on every red LED clock we passed in the manila hallways.
We were taken to a holding cell that already housed two other people. The first was not an unattractive woman, wearing a half ripped red skirt and a skintight white top that showed more cleavage than I would have expected. She made eye contact with Kyle as we walked in. According to the odds, she was my competition for the first to die in battle.
The second person was a smaller man of Asian heritage. He was wearing loose black cargo pants and a black tank top. He was sitting in a corner with his legs crossed, deep in meditation. He didn’t open his eyes or even acknowledge our presence.
The five of us couldn’t see anything through the bars. The arena was to our backs, but we could hear the crowd’s roaring coming in like waves, assumingly, every time someone died in the arena.
“We have to stick together. It’s the only way we’ll survive,” Kyle said hastily, looking over the contestants. Nothing from the Asian, but the woman nodded in agreement.
“I shouldn’t even be in this place,” she growled. “All I did was tell that son of a bitch that I wasn’t going to be his slave.”
We all have our reasons for being in this cell, I thought. None of them was getting us out. I listened intently to every scream. I was soaked with sweat, and my hands were shaking ever so slightly. Squeezing my fists together, I brought them down to my sides, trying to push the shakes out of my system.
We heard a terrified high pitch screech ring through the halls of Avalon. A final deafening cheer roared out from the crowd, and then silence.
The silence was worse than the screams.
Just as I started to go down on my knees, the guards opened the cell door, and escorted us out towards the entrance of the Arena. The microphone made noise, and then a voice boomed out.
“Fellow Avalonians, now that was a show!” It was Gordon. “These criminals fought valiantly. They had their chance at redemption, but sadly, Lady Justice leaned away from freedom this evening.”
We turned a final corner and came up to a set of steel bars that overlooked the entire arena. We watched as three black troopers were wrangling two Zs with poles that wrapped around their necks, and escorting them back out of the stadium. It was a vulgar version of Animal Control. There was a mess of blood and body parts strewn across the linoleum flooring that some women were busy mopping up.
“I have exciting news, however,” Gordon continued enthusiastically, “tonight’s festivities are far from over. We have a special treat in store for all of you.” He paused to gain momentum.
“A double feature!” The crowd went wild again. Standing there facing my doom, I cursed them all under my breath.
“Five fighters, each who have broken one of Avalon’s three sacred rules, are here to see if Lady Justice is on their side. Facing these criminals, are our newest additions to the Arena. I’d like to introduce the new…” He opened his arms wide to address the crowd, who leaned forward in anticipation. Gordon took in a deep breath and bellowed into the microphone.
“Death Armor!”
The crowd went insane as Zombie Michael and two other Zs dressed in full death armor charged into the area. They were held by chains attached to their leatherneck braces and in turn, attached to a pulley system on a far wall. The troopers holding the opposite ends were in control.
Each of the Zs in death armor paced wildly back and forth, trying to run to the walls. As soon as they would get close, the troopers would yank on the chains, stopping the Zs in their tracks, and in some cases, pulling them off their feet all together. It became a game that the crowd laughed over.
Looking around the arena, it was smaller than I imagined. Hiding places would be non-existent. We were in a giant indoor room, which did in fact, appear to be the trade show floor of the hotel, just as Mr
. Muscle described. The arena walls were circular in nature and spanned maybe three hundred feet in diameter. In the middle, were three white square columns that supported the room, so it wasn’t completely open space.
Kyle got my attention, and nodded towards them.
“See that?”
I looked closer and amongst the smears of black-red blood, I noticed weapons sticking into the columns. Lower to the ground were simple tools like wooden poles and small clubs. The higher up however, we started to notice a deadlier arsenal including metal spears, swords and spiked maces. It would take two people, one propping the other up to get to them.
The crowd seemed to fade into the background as I spied Gordon, straight across from us. Perched up on his throne at the tip of the stage, he was holding the microphone and dressed in a white, Roman toga with a green crown. In fact, all of the Elites sitting above were dressed in white togas.
“This is fucking sick,” Kyle spat as he noticed.
The crowds around the fence, the commoners, were dressed in torn jeans, ripped tee shirts, skirts, or whatever they were probably wearing the day the world ended. Dirty and broken down, these people were seemingly just as sick as the Elites were. All of them cheering for the death of their fellow man. It was hard to imagine so many of them would just go along with it.
Following the herd would be the death of us.
After all, TV was gone; what the hell else was there to do? Nothing was mundane anymore. Every action, every decision had life or death written on it. It hit me right then and there. This is how Gordon controlled the masses, making sure they were entertained, giving them something to root for, bet on, to be happy about. I felt vomit hit the back of my throat, but managed to keep it at bay, the burn going all the way back down.
900 Miles: A Zombie Novel Page 16
