900 Miles: A Zombie Novel

by S. Johnathan Davis

  There were also a few women up there with the Elites as well. Matching their male counterparts, they were dressed in white cloth, but it stopped at their waist, leaving their breasts fully exposed. They were going from throne to throne, pouring wine and lighting cigars.

  It was clear now; this is how many of the women escaped working outside with the commoners. Perhaps this was what the female gladiator in our little imprisoned group was talking about when she said she refused to be a slave.

  In his highest and mightiest tone, Gordon continued to drone on. He announced each of us, along with our crimes. Mr. Muscle was escorted into the arena as he was introduced. Our host reminded the crowd about the killing of an Elite in an earlier Arena battle.

  “We also have our first female gladiator,” Gordon shouted as she was hefted into the arena. “She neglected her womanly duties here at Avalon, and viciously cut the genitals from her husband as he slept!”

  “That’s not true! Liar!” she screamed. Her voice was completely muted by the crowd as they all booed in unison.

  “Next we have our little Asian friend, who fancies himself as a martial arts force to be reckoned with. He tried to live here for free, deciding that he’d rather sleep all day than work alongside all of you dear, diligent men and women, who are building a better society for us to live in.”

  Who knows what the truth was concerning the Asian. He didn’t flinch at the accusation, and appeared to be meditating even as he was shoved into the middle of the arena. For all we knew, he just simply wasn’t the right color to be at Avalon. Looking around the room, I didn’t see anyone but white males sitting in the Elite section.

  Chauffer stood up next to Gordon, looking as if he turned part shark, greedily glaring at Kyle and me.

  “And finally, I’d like to take a moment to introduce two newcomers to Avalon. These two idiots thought they could get away with beating my good friend, Mr. Chauffer, here to near death, just to try to steal his tickets to Avalon. They actually showed up, thinking we wouldn’t notice that they each have full heads of hair,” he said with a giant smile. The crowd burst into a hysterical laughter at the joke. Chauffer shot Gordon a look that said he was less than amused.

  All five of us were in the Arena now. The Elites and commoners alike were amped up, and ready to go. I was jumping up and down in place, getting my blood going. I was preparing mentally for battle. I was preparing for war.

  I could never have prepared what was about to go down.

  Chapter 25

  I say, we put their little society to the test.

  “Let the games begin!” Gordon’s voice rang though the microphone speakers.

  The troopers surrounding us in the arena dispersed and retreated to the safety behind the gate to our rear. Another gate opened at the far side of the arena, and ten Zs stumbled out towards us.

  The three chained Death Armor Zs were still locked up securely, but going absolutely berserk. The Troopers holding the chains were being pulled forward, and it was taking multiple men to hold them back. They weren’t going to release them right away.

  All five of us advanced towards the two closest columns. Kyle stood with his back against one of them, while I hoisted the woman up onto his shoulders. She stood tall enough to grab a spear and a large wooden mallet from above her. Unable to hold the heavy wood, she pried it loose, letting it drop to the ground in front of me.

  Reaching down, I placed both hands around the oversized handle. All I could think of was that this was a larger version of my hammer. It was meant for me. A feeling of comfort ran through my body, giving me a much needed sense of confidence.

  The woman grabbed the spear, and dropped to the floor. Kyle pulled an eye level wooden club from the column.

  At the same time, the Asian and Mr. Muscle were working on another pillar across from us. I watched in amazement as the Asian took a running start and ran towards Mr. Muscle, who was crouched over with his hands clasped in the shape of a stirrup. As he reached Mr. Muscle, the Asian strategically placed his foot in the clasped hands and took a leap, propelling upward. He grabbed a sword and a mace, before flipping back down to the ground with the grace of an acrobat.

  I should have noticed it right away. They worked really well together. Too well for guys who just met. With a series of nods, and pointed expressions, they managed to pull down two of the most fierce weapons in the place and retreat towards us in record time. No time to think about it. I was just glad to have them in the fight.

  The five of us, armed and regrouped, stood as a solid line facing the oncoming swarm. The crowd screamed for our blood. Amongst the madness, Kyle remained focused with the poise of a seasoned athlete competing in yet another game. It was as if time stood still. He looked out at the crowd and the approaching Zs, then back at each one of us.

  “I’m not afraid to die today,” Kyle stated boldly. “If it’s my time, then it’s my time. I can tell you one thing, though. I’m not going to die without a fight.” He raised his voice now. Not in anger, not in distress. It was the voice of a man putting it all on the line, like a warrior rallying his fellow countrymen for the battle ahead.

  “Let them throw everything they have at us. Let them throw us into this hellhole. I say, we put their little society to the test. I say, we bring this whole fucking thing down!” He ended in a bellow. As we acknowledged with our own wild cheers, the Asian broke from his trance, and made direct eye contact with Kyle, giving him one single nod. It was the most I ever saw him communicate with anybody. It spoke louder than any words I’d ever heard. Mr. Muscle was twisting his hands around the grip of his mace, the clinking of the chain barely heard. We were ready.

  Kyle shouted for us to break into two parallel lines. The Zs were twenty feet away.

  No matter what the odds, no matter how bad the cards are stacked against you; a well-played strategy can give you the edge.

  I was in the front line along with the woman and Kyle. As the Zs approached, Kyle instructed us to knock the first ones back by hitting them in the chest. As they fell off balance, the Asian and Mr. Muscle brought their weapons down across their skulls. It was not unlike the tactic we had used back at the gas station; we pushed a Z back, and they brought it down.

  After just minutes, there were ten lifeless bodies lying in front of us, the arena cleared of free-range zombies. This was easy…too easy. I was certain; this was just a preamble to the main event.

  Gordon stood up, raising a glass of wine into the air along with his microphone. Bringing them both back to his waist, he motioned to the crowd to simmer down.

  “Well done. Well done, indeed!” he mused as he looked down at the five of us.

  “Not a single payment to Lady Justice...so far. That was an impressive display. We have some true gladiators in our arena tonight.” He looked across the crowd. They were hanging on his every word.

  For the first time however, I noticed that not all was as it seemed. While the commoners who were cheering certainly made their fair share of noise, there were some who were not making a peep.

  I watched Mr. Muscle looking out at a group of people on the southern part of the fence. He ever so slightly nodded to them. His gaze then moved over to the Asian. Kyle and I both saw it. He was planning something. But what, I couldn’t tell.

  “Well, Lady Justice has yet another test for our gladiators. This one will surely call upon the greatest of skill, and be a true show of the direction towards guilt or freedom. I call upon you great Avalonians. Are you ready?” The crowd once again came to life.

  Gordon looked down at the Troopers holding the Death Suit Zs. He nodded, and they responded by unhooking one of them. It wasn’t Michael, but I could feel my innards quake anyway. At the same time, another wave of Zs was released from the far gate.

  The Death Suit Z charged us, making it to our line much quicker than the rest of the creatures. It plowed through our group with the ease of a bullet passing through butter, knocking each of us back. It was the Asian that it hone
d in on, advancing towards him with a speed and ferocity that was unmatched by any of the dead that I had ever seen.

  With his sword drawn, the Asian held his ground barely glancing at the gash on his arm. When the creature tore through us, his faceplate of razors had ripped through the Asian’s flesh. It was unclear if he had been bitten.

  As the creature charged him, the Asian pulled back, using his own weight to push the creature off to his right. He then brought his sword down along the Zs back. The creature, without hesitation or indication that it was injured, whipped around. Some coagulated blood fell to the ground like bits of rust.

  The Asian pulled his sword shoulder level once again, ready for the next pass. The zombie spun around in a rage, and charged towards him as the man brought the sword down across its head. There was an audible metal on metal shriek, and a spark flew out as the sword bounced off the creature’s helmet throwing it off balance. It spun around wildly, falling back with a thud. Jumping up with the craze of a rabid dog, the beast swung its head from side to side, spitting a stream of dark mucus freely through the razor blades in the helmet.

  The other Zs were closing in on our line. Kyle yelled for us to move as a group towards the Asian’s battle just feet away. With each step we took, the fight took three steps back. A roar from the armored Z screeched through the arena as it took a sharp stab to its metal chest plate on the next pass.

  With the dead at arm’s length, we turned to the oncoming swarm. Kyle swung his club across the face of the first one to reach us, knocking it toward the floor. The woman brought her spear down through its skull before it had a chance to land. I twisted my mallet sideways, squeezed the handle, and arched my back as I brought it across the chest of the next creature to reach us. Throwing it against one of the pillars, its head split in two as it smashed against the corner; dropping it to the ground for good.

  The woman was holding her own. She was tough, and I could tell she had a spirit that wouldn’t be broken, which was probably why she was in this hell with us.

  She had one of the Zs coming at her, when she gracefully sidestepped it, and swung her spear across its back. The creature fell off balance, plummeting to the floor. Maintaining her composure, she confidently stepped above it, and with all the power she could muster, let out a primal scream as she shoved the spear into the back of its head, pinning it to the ground.

  Kyle looked at her, and then back to me as if to say, “Holy Shit!”

  Glancing towards the Asian, he was still locked in battle with the Death Suit Zombie. He was bleeding down his arm, spatters of red and black drops spinning into the air as he swung his sword around his head in a defensive position. The Z was horribly mutilated, with sword strikes and stabs through most parts of his body. The creature was missing an arm, and had been hit in its shoulder. One leg was even shredded to the bone. However, the Asian had not managed to land a blow through its helmet or its neck.

  Finishing off the last of the swarm, Kyle rushed to lend aid just as the creature was setting up to charge the Asian once more. Badly bleeding and clearly worn, he was holding his ground with the sword pointed directly at the oncoming beast.

  I don’t know if it was because he couldn’t or wouldn’t, but he simply didn’t move out of the way. He was making his final stand. The Asian waited until he could see into the helmet, peering into those red eyes buried deep behind the metal shards. Then, with the grace of a surgeon, he shifted his body forward, driving his blade straight up through the razor teeth and into the skull of the crazed beast. The sword clanged as it pushed through the eye and out the back of its skull, striking the inside of the helmet.

  He let it hang there on the tip of his sword for a moment, before kicking it off with his foot. A few of the razors broke off and fell to the linoleum floor as the creature joined the ranks of the lifeless dead.

  Kyle rushed to the Asian, and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back on his feet. They stumbled back to our group. We were once again whole.

  Taking in long pulls of oxygen, I glanced up at the Elites. I could see that they were drunk on the wine, and high on the violence. Chauffer had one of the slave women bent over his throne. He was holding a cigar in one hand and a mug of wine in another as he rocked rhythmically behind her. Another Elite walked up, gave him a high five, and then reached down and smacked her in the ass. The bastards were screaming and laughing at the death, sex, and horror that they had created.

  My eyes were drawn to a man standing in the commoner area. He had noticed the anarchy up in the Elite section, too. I realized that it was Jarvis; his expression gave way to noticeable disgust.

  Gordon looked back and forth between the gate and the Death Suit Zs. He held his hand out, his thumb straight up, pausing to get the crowd worked up. As his gaze landed on our small group of five, he slowly pointed his thumb directly at the floor. The entire room erupted in a thunderous explosion of excitement.

  Time slowed for a moment. I watched as the chains were unlocked and fell with a thud to the ground. The remaining two Death Suit Zombie’s were unleashed at the same time. At first, they didn’t move, unaware of their newfound freedom. The Zs suddenly charged us in a frenzy of clinking armor and throaty snarls.

  Time sped up...and very damn fast. The truest test of all had just begun.

  Our weapons were up and pointed at the oncoming fury. I could see the madness in Michael’s eyes. All traces of humanity were gone. There was no one home.

  The other Death Suit Z got to us first. I braced for impact, but watched as Mr. Muscle landed a direct shot to the thing’s skull with his chain-linked mace. The creature was knocked to its ass and it rolled past us across the linoleum floor.

  Mr. Muscle, the woman and the Asian surrounded the creature, striking it while it lay briefly on the ground. The mace to the head just seemed to piss the thing off as it bucked up and plunged across Mr. Muscle’s legs, knocking him backward against the arena perimeter. The whole fence jarred back, and the crowd paused in fear as a title wave of metal echoed outward and around, reverberating through the links.

  Mr. Muscle surged to his feet, bringing his elbow down on the beasts shoulder. One of the spikes on the chest armor stabbed through his biceps throwing blood across the woman’s red dress. The crowd howled at the sight of blood. Keeping the pain to himself, he tore his arm free, and pushed the Z across the floor towards the other end of the arena. The Asian and the woman were fast to get back in on the attack.

  A split second later, my attention was jerked back to Zombie Michael as he slammed into Kyle and me. One of the spikes on his helmet jammed into my shoulder. I felt the sharp stabbing pain radiate through my body as blood welled up. I wasn’t sure how deep it was. I didn’t have time to check.

  Kyle was wrestling with Michael on the floor, deflecting savage snaps of his teeth and the razor tooth helmet. I raised my mallet into the air, almost on instinct. There was a numbness shooting throughout my arm, causing my fingers to tingle. I had a savage anger coursing through my veins. Pushed to my limit, I felt the uncontrollable need to kill. All this shit, all the madness, all the horror. I was going to take it out on him. Michael was dead, and this thing wasn’t going to take us with him.

  I brought the mallet down sideways, hitting Michael across the torso, knocking him five feet to the right. I grabbed Kyle's arm helping him back on his feet. A thick trickle of blood oozed down my sleeve from the strain.

  We watched as Michael leaned over on his hands and knees, and began to vomit violently. A stream of black blood and bile bounced off the floor. He looked up at us, with chunks of it hanging in the blades.

  I glanced over at the Asian and Mr. Muscle. They had worked across the floor just under where Chauffer and Gordon were standing. The Elites were on the edge of their platform, looking over to get a better view of the fight.

  Zombie Michael stood back up and charged at Kyle again. It was as if he was ignoring me, with some recognition that Kyle was the one always challenging him, never believ
ing him.

  Kyle was ready for Michael this time, and used his own momentum to heft the creature up over his head and thrown into the nearby column.

  The crowd screamed with approval.

  I watched as Zombie Michael's back hit solidly on one of the edges. It would have paralyzed anything else, but this creature jumped right back up. Even with a broken spine, it still managed to viciously race at Kyle again. He drove its head into the fence with a clang as the faceplate smashed into the chain links. The commoners crowded closer watching intently as broken razors and teeth shot through the wire. They began cheering for Kyle. He was working the Z over with his bare hands, and they loved it.

  “Kyle! Kyle! Kyle!” It was all anyone could hear as they rhythmically chanted. Kyle looked at me as he pushed Michael to the ground, causing him to slide through a bloody mess and into one of the dead creatures laying just feet away. The chant had him thrown off, and he was taken aback by it. I could see, if only for an instant, he realized that he was fighting Michael, our friend Michael...and the world loved it.

  He nodded toward the column where a wooden spiked staff was sticking out of it. I knew what he was thinking before he even turned back around to face Michael, who let out a primordial scream and made his final charge.

  I twisted the point of the shaft up at a forty-five degree angle a split second before Kyle lifted Michael into it. There was a crunch of bone and sickening tearing sound as the spike ran directly through his unarmored lower torso. Blood spurted from the cavity, hitting the floor with a heavy pish! The wooden dowel managed to hold the weight of our one-time friend. Its legs kicked violently a full foot above the ground.

  Kyle called for my mallet. I fumbled for a moment before tossing it to him. He turned towards the crowd. His name continued to ring out through the halls of Avalon. They wanted to see blood.

  He raised the mallet high above his head but didn’t readily strike. He did something that I knew was taught in the military: he hesitated. His eyes flitted from Michael’s to my own, holding my gaze for what seemed eternity. I knew what needed to be done, for our sake, and for our friend’s. I gave a single nod of approval. He drove the mallet straight through the faceplate of the helmet, squeezing what was left of the skull and brains out of the bottom of the helmet like a popped zit. The body fell lifeless on the staff. Michael had been put out of his misery.