by David Lovato
In the middle was a large chair, like that of a lifeguard. A man sat atop this, leaning against one fist, looking bored. To either side of him was a gigantic torch.
“So… What?” the man said.
“It’s been a while since we brought anyone,” the first man from the alley replied. He was beginning to sweat, his leader apparently unimpressed with his “haul”.
The man in the chair shrugged. “They’ll all die off sometime.”
“That’s why we brought them. We won’t have many more opportunities, in the future.”
“I can find ways to entertain myself,” the man in the chair said. “But okay. One more time.”
The man on the ground smiled. The crowd cheered.
“Please,” Layne said. The crowd quieted. “My name is Layne. We were just passing through.” The man holding him raised a hand to strike him, but the man on the high chair stood, and everyone became silent, and no one moved.
“‘Just passing through’, he says.” The man opened his arms, looked to the people around him. “Well, you’re ‘just passing through’ our fucking city.”
“I’m sorry.” Layne could see all of his friends. They were cuffed and made to stand in a semi-circle. Kara sobbed, she had been gagged with what looked like a bandana. Jessi kept her eyes glued on her, with a look that promised everything would be okay.
“Oh, he’s sorry.” The man in the chair began to laugh, and the people in the audience did the same. “He’s sorry he trespassed into our territory. I’m sure he’d be sorry for taking our food and weapons, too!”
The crowd sneered.
“I don’t want your food or weapons,” Layne said. “We’re just trying to get by!”
The man descended from his chair and walked to Layne. The crowd grew quiet again. “So, I guess that makes you the leader, yeah?”
“Yeah. Do whatever you want with me, but please, let my friends go. They aren’t even supposed to be here, I made them follow me.” He was beginning to choke up. He couldn’t believe what he had done.
“I’ll do whatever I want with whomever I want.”
“Just fucking let us go!” Dex said. The crowd booed.
“Dex, shut up,” Layne said, but the man had already turned his attention to Dex. He walked calmly over to him.
“What’s your name?”
“Dexter. Fucking pleased to meet you.”
“You have poor manners.” He offered his hand, as if to shake. “I’m Jones.” Dex looked at Jones’s hand as though he were inspecting a dangerous animal. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging, bro!” Jones smiled.
Dex lifted his hands, still cuffed, half expecting to be released. Jones grabbed Dex’s hand in both of his, and shook.
“See?” Jones said, “it isn’t that hard to be polite!” As he shouted, he broke Dex’s index finger. Dex screamed.
“Leave him alone!” Layne said. Jones turned his attention back to Layne. Dex dropped to his knees, holding his hands as steady as he could. His contorted finger stuck out in an obviously wrong direction, and Dex rocked back and forth.
“Let me tell you something,” Jones said. He lifted Layne’s head, looked into his eyes. “I am the only one here who gives orders. Understand?”
“You assholes are pathetic!” Dex said. Jones turned back to him, no longer amused.
“Dex, just stop it,” Layne said.
Jones walked toward Dex, lifted him from the ground, and patted him on the back.
“You’ve got balls, kid. I like that.” He laughed. He turned to his crowd, and they laughed, too. Then, Jones spun around and punched Dex in the face. Dex fell to the ground, blood poured from his mouth. “Does anyone else have anything on their mind?”
“Please,” Layne said. “Please just let them go.”
“Oh, but I can’t do that,” Jones said, rushing back to Layne. “You see, no one who isn’t one of us leaves our city alive. It’s far too risky, these days.”
“Please.” Layne looked around, but he couldn’t see a way out of this.
“Let’s offer our new friends a demonstration!” Jones said. The crowd cheered. Jones turned to the man from the alley. “Walt! Bring me some examples.”
The man who had brought them in hurried off with a few others. Layne looked around at his friends. He was ashamed, he wished he’d never told them of his idea, that he’d never had it to begin with. And yet, something inside of him was still calling him to a prison cell, telling him it would be okay, that he needed to get there, no matter what. He pushed it aside.
“Hey,” Layne said to the nearest person. It was the woman from the alley. “Please, at least let the women go. We have a little girl with us, we have an old man.”
The woman looked at him. Her eyes said she understood, but she did nothing. “I can’t. Even if I wanted to. Nothing personal. This is how we get by.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Shut the fuck up, okay?” She moved away from him.
“You can’t do this to us,” Kyle said. Layne wished they’d leave the talking to him, so any further torment would be restricted to him, since it was his fault they were here.
“Oh, we can’t?” Jones said.
“We’re human beings, just like you. Maybe you haven’t looked around outside this street, but we’re pretty rare, these days.”
Jones laughed. “We don’t need you. We get along just fine. Our walls are impenetrable, our numbers are strong. We rule Los Angeles!”
The crowd cheered. Kyle fell silent.
“Here you go!” Walt said. In tow were several zombies, chained together. “It’s really hard to get these bastards to walk in a straight line.”
“Fuckin’ cry about it,” Jones replied.
The zombies were lined up before the survivors, and then the chains were pulled taut. A few of them thrashed, but the men holding the chains outnumbered them, and held steady.
Layne almost felt sorry for the creatures.
“You guys are fucked up,” Garrett said. His voice barely penetrated the shouts and cries from the bleachers.
Jones walked back and forth behind the row of zombies. “Duck,” he said, pointing to one. He moved on. “Duck.” He made his way down the row. “Duck… Duck… Goose!” He pulled out a pistol and shot a zombie in the back of the head. Brain bits splattered the ground, its body slumped, but due to the chains, it didn’t fall. Blood poured from the body onto the pavement a few yards before Keely. She fought the urge to throw up, and looked away.
“Unchain this one,” Jones said. He pointed to the zombie in front of Kyle. It was a girl who didn’t look much older than him. Kyle was staring intently at her. While the other zombies thrashed about, moaned, yanked at their chains, this one just stood there, looking around, vacant.
Jones’s men unchained her from the other zombies, but held on to the chains still connected to her, one to each limb.
“My good fellow,” Jones said, “What was your name again?”
“Layne.” He didn’t know why he bothered to answer. He wished Jones would kill him and be done with it.
“Layne, I think you’ll find that we are a good people. We don’t discriminate between zombies and humans. We treat you just the same.”
Jones shot at the ground beneath Warren’s feet. Warren gave out a cry and jumped, and Layne snapped out of his daze. The crowd laughed.
“Undress her!” Jones said. The group held the female zombie tightly as one of the men approached her from behind, quietly. He slipped a muzzle over her mouth, and for the first time, she began to thrash. It was of no use; the muzzle kept her from biting, and the chains kept her from moving. Jones climbed back into his chair and sat down to preside over the night’s events.
“You people are fucking sick!” Kyle said. Layne saw that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of the zombie. “You can’t fucking do this!”
Jessi was now pleading with the woman from before. “Cover her eyes. Just cover Kara’s eyes, please!”
; The woman looked away.
“Feeling a bit sorry, Annie?” Walt said.
Annie scowled at him. “Fuck yourself, Walt.”
“No need to. We have plenty of lovely candidates tonight.” Some of his friends gave out a collective “Ooh!”
“And tomorrow night you go back to the hand,” Annie said. Walt’s face turned red and his friends laughed at him.
“Fuckin’ sympathizer.” Walt walked over to the female zombie and started to undo his belt.
“She’s too good for you,” Kyle said. “Don’t you think?”
“Fuck you.”
“You would.”
Walt stopped what he was doing and approached Kyle. “You’re starting to piss me off.”
Kyle spat in his face. Walt froze for a moment, then took out his gun and hit Kyle in the face. Kyle dropped to the ground. Walt hit him again and again, beat him repeatedly on the head and neck and shoulders.
“Stop it!” Ralph said. “Leave him alone!”
Walt stopped, blood dripped from his gun. Kyle was hunched over, dazed, barely able to lift his head. Walt looked around. Then, he spotted Layne.
“You,” he said. He approached Layne, grabbed him by his hair, and ripped him from the grasp of the men holding him. He dragged Layne over to Kyle. “You’re going to kill him.”
“Fuck you,” Layne said. He could see Katie. She was looking at Keely, both had tears in their eyes. He saw that a few of his friends hadn’t been cuffed, but were instead bound with cloth, held by the men behind them. He hoped somehow, some way, a few of them would be able to escape.
“Oh, you’re going to do it,” Walt said. “And then you’re gonna fuck that zombie over there. And you’re gonna fuckin’ like it.”
He handed Layne a gun, but kept his hands tight around Layne’s, to keep him from using it against them.
“I won’t do it.” Layne relaxed, he refused to even grip the gun.
“All right, then.” Walt turned to some of the other men. “Spread him.”
Layne was uncuffed, and men put chains on his hands and pulled from either end, spreading his arms wide.
“Someone get me a buzz-saw!” Walt shouted. The crowd erupted into cheers.
“Kyle,” Ralph said from a few feet away, “it’ll be okay. Don’t worry. We’re going to be saved.”
“No one can save us,” Kyle said through the blood dripping from his mouth. “Not anymore.”
Layne stared up at the night sky. He felt ashamed now that he would be the first to die, that he’d be spared the torment of seeing his friends suffer.
Then, things moved so quickly, Layne’s brain stopped trying to sort them out.
Garrett, who hadn’t been cuffed, broke free. He punched one of the men in the face, and a few grabbed him. In the initial shock, one of the men holding Layne had let his grip loosen. Layne yanked his arm as hard as he could, and the chain ripped from the man’s hand. Layne threw his arm back again, as hard as he could, and the chain whipped the man across the face. He screamed and fell to the ground.
The other man holding him raised his gun. Layne ducked, and the oncoming bullets tore into the crowd, whose screams turned from excitement to horror. Many scattered. Layne grabbed his remaining chain in both hands and pulled. The man fell forward, onto the ground.
Layne turned and locked eyes with Jones.
“Kill them! Kill his fucking friends, kill them now!”
But Layne was already moving. He ran as fast as he could, and didn’t have far to go. He heard bullets, and the fear that rushed over him only fueled him more. He ran right into the lifeguard chair, as hard as he could.
The chair tipped over, knocking down one of the large torches as it went. The chair exploded as it hit the ground, and Jones went sprawling across the pavement. The torch also exploded, and a fiery basket went rolling into the bleachers. People parted to escape the small burning heap as it dove into the crowd.
Jones had gotten to his hands and knees when Layne reached him. Without stopping, Layne kicked as hard as he could into Jones’s stomach. Jones let out a pant as the wind was knocked from him, and he fell back down.
“Kill the fuckers!” Walt said. He threw a grenade in Layne’s direction. Layne saw Jones’s eyes widen, and if he could get any air, Layne knew he’d be screaming.
Layne moved, still unsure of what he was doing, his body acting before his mind could deliver a message. He grabbed the grenade, spun, and let it fly into the stands. It exploded, and bits of bleacher and people blasted in all directions. The force knocked Layne down. He heard more screams, more gunfire. All hell broke loose. People were running everywhere. One man ran through the gaping hole in the bleachers and down the street, toward the barrier, where a motorcycle was waiting. He got on and tried to start it, but the engine stalled.
Layne got back up. Walt, now horrified, was reaching for a machine gun. Kyle grabbed him from behind, wrapped the chain of his handcuffs around Walt’s neck, and pulled. He couldn’t get a tight enough grip to choke Walt, but he was able to keep Walt from moving.
One of the men holding Garrett gave up, and Garrett tore away from the other two. He dove for Walt’s rifle and picked it up. One of Walt’s friends took aim at Garrett, and Garrett took aim in return. Both fired. A stream of little bursts of skin and blood worked their way up the man’s body and toward his head, a large chunk of which exploded off of him. His remaining eye was wide with terror as his body dropped like a rock. A bullet grazed Garrett’s side, and he dropped to one knee, but kept firing, trying to pinpoint anyone with a gun.
“Nobody move!” a man said, though few heard him. He had a pistol, and he grabbed Lacie by the hair and yanked her to her feet. He put his arm around her, held the gun to her head.
“Let her go!” Dex said. He was still being held tightly, but the man holding him didn’t have a gun.
Layne turned his attention back to Jones, who was drawing his pistol. Layne kicked it out of his hand, and then kicked Jones in the head. Layne ran for the gun and picked it up. Jones looked at him, put a hand up. He gasped for air to beg with. Layne pulled the trigger, and Jones fell to the ground.
“Don’t use that, you dumb fuck!” someone said. He was too late. One of the men had picked up an RPG and fired. Layne ran.
There was a loud explosion. Layne’s ears rang, his vision was blurred. When the fog from his head cleared, he realized he was lying on a pile of rubble.
Around him, many of the torches had fallen. Fires were breaking out in several places. He heard more gunfire, and he heard a motorcycle start up. Then, Layne saw movement. He realized he was looking at Kara. No longer bound, she was walking very slowly, a few yards away from him.
“Mommy?” she said.
The motorcycle went rushing by, the driver paying little attention to anything. It ran straight into Kara. Her little body launched forward with the bike as it turned upward, the driver flung from it. The bike crunched into the ground, twisted and contorted as it slid across the pavement, trailing sparks and metal behind. Kara’s body did the same, but left a trail of a different kind.
A relentless noise filled Layne’s ears, and only when his hearing started to clear up did he realize that the noise was coming from him, that he was screaming at the top of his lungs. He stumbled to his feet. His side and leg hurt, he found it difficult to walk.
Layne saw Kyle. He was getting up, and approaching him was the female zombie from before. Kyle noticed her, stared at her. She walked toward him, mouth open, arms outstretched. The image would be burned into Layne’s mind for the rest of his life. Kyle had saved this monster, and all she wanted was to eat him. Kyle looked at the ground. He reached forward, took the pistol from where Walt lay, and aimed at the approaching zombie, but she didn’t stop. Kyle closed his eyes and fired. She stopped.
Lacie was lying on the ground, the man who had been holding her hostage trampled by his own companions. She didn’t move. Dex rushed to her side and tried to shake her, hardly able to move h
is hands.
“Layne,” Garrett said. “Layne, are you okay?”
Layne didn’t say anything. He continued walking.
Walt stirred. He looked up and saw Annie. She was pointing a pistol at him.
“We never should’ve done it,” she said. Walt looked confused. “We never should’ve followed them.” She pulled the trigger, splattering Walt’s head. Then she put the gun to her own.
“Don’t—” Layne heard Warren from somewhere, but it didn’t matter. Annie’s lifeless body hit the ground, like so many others.
“Where’s Kara?” Jessi said. She was looking around. She spotted Layne, ran to him, nearly knocked him over as she grabbed his shoulders. “Where is she?”
Layne couldn’t look at her.
“Don’t… Don’t say…” Jessi started to cry. She fell to her knees.
“Lacie, wake up,” Dex said. Lacie’s eyes opened. Dex’s widened, full of tears, and he hugged her.
“Help,” a weak voice said. Ralph was reaching out from beneath a pile of broken bleachers. Kyle and Dex hurried over and started lifting the junk off of him.
“Jessi,” Layne said. “I… I’m sorry.”
Jessi fell to her knees, crying. Layne looked around for the others. He saw Katie helping Keely stand up. A few of their captors were left, but they were fleeing. Their focus had shifted to their own survival. While a part of Layne that didn’t often come out wanted to hunt them down and kill every one of them, the better part wished them the best as they scrambled down the streets and out of their makeshift mini-city.
Garrett had collected the key to the cuffs from the man who had been holding him, and started uncuffing the others.
Layne knelt down. He put his hand on Jessi’s shoulder. She slapped him in the face, and then turned away. She pulled her knees to her face and cried, rocking back and forth.
