Gods of Anthem (28 page)

His easy dismissal of Anthem, of us … it triggers something inside of me. “So you and your guns would leave the people here to fend for themselves? They don’t sponsor your entertainment anymore, so you’re no longer interested in a revolution, is that it?”

I’m surprised by my own vehemence, but not half as much as Kiniva.

He steps toward me. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“A coward!” I say, and then cover my mouth.

Kiniva rears back slightly. My voice is shaking, but so is my body. It trembles violently.

He regains his offense. “I’ll show you a coward!” And he charges forward.

But even before he reaches me, his eyes blossom with fear. Kiniva’s afraid, I realize. Something has changed his mind. What could a man such as he be so afraid of?

My words are soft and tinged with worry. “What is it,
Señor
Kiniva? Tell me.”

And for some reason, he does. “He wants to purge them all.”

“Who … all?”

Kiniva turns his back to me. “Everyone.”

“Reginald? He wants to purge all of the citizens? Why?”

He gives a sharp nod. Kiniva’s afraid of being drafted for the purge. That’s understandable—and then some.

“Then let Jeremy speak.”

“No.” He chops a hand in the air. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

I know I sound desperate, but the cause needs this. “At least hear what he has to say!”

Kiniva’s already dismissing me.

My measures go beyond rational. “Do you still have zombies?”

That makes Kiniva pause. “Yeah. So what?”

My hand has developed a mind of its own; it falls desperately onto his shoulder. “Another fight,” I say. “Something new to draw in the people. One final hurrah.”

He doesn’t pull away. “No one cares about the dogs anymore.”

“No, not the dogs. Between a zombie … and a Skull.”

Kiniva spins back and stares at me for so long without blinking, I’m fidgeting by the time he answers, “Done.” He grabs my hand in a shake. “Bring them at the end of the week. You give me a fight on Friday night, and on Saturday the arena is yours. Then everyone will remember that Kiniva left on a high note.”

The
warehouse is almost empty when I leave the room; Kiniva’s last few vendors are packing up.

I’d just made a bad-bad promise. What was I thinking?

Across the empty room is just the person I’m looking for: Crystal.

The man she’s with is facing away, yet somehow his familiarity tingles my memory. Together, they speak quickly and quietly. Then, she eyes me for a moment before saying something that seems to make the man leave. He glances over his shoulder and my heart stutters.

Pretend Man. I’m almost sure of it.

But he’s already gliding off.

“Hey, wait!”

Crystal steps in front of me when I get to that side of the warehouse. “What are you doing here?” she demands.

“Wait!” But she blocks me. “How do you know that doctor?” I ask after we do a two-step, back and forth.

Crystal watches me carefully. “What are you talking about? What doctor?”

“The man who was just
with
you. That man over—”

She moves to the side, and no one but the tattoo artist is there in his booth.

Crystal crosses her arms, arches a black eyebrow. “You strung out on something?”

“No. No. I just … I need to talk to you anyway. I told Kiniva a Skull would fight a zombie this Friday.”

“You what!” She laughs, grabbing my arm to steer me away from anyone who might listen. “That’s not going to happen,” she says under her breath.

“I don’t need an actual Skull to do it.”

Once we’re alone she says, “Explain.”

“I just need a mask and maybe some body armor. You guys have guard suits, right?”

Her eyebrows almost touch her hairline. “For who?”

“Me.”

She sniffs. “So you
are
strung out. Come on, let’s get you some help.”

I’m unfazed by her disbelief. In fact, I find it hard to believe, myself.

But I brace for the pain I self-inflict with my own statement. “It’ll help Jeremy.”

And like I’d hoped, Crystal is suddenly hanging on my every word.

The guard uniform
is too big and it stinks. But it covers every inch of my skin, which was why I’d wanted it. In my hand is a skull ski-mask to hide the rest of me.

“You ready?” Crystal asks, though at my look, she laughs. “Yeah, I get that. Who’s ever ready to fight a zombie, right?”

It was hard to convince the rebellion’s leader to agree to help me. But in the end, she saw there was no choice, and without her help, I’d die … faster.

Pulling the cap on, I tuck my hair in underneath. “How many people?” I ask.

Crystal sniffs. “Everyone.”

“That’s good.”

“They can’t wait to see a Skull get ripped apart. This is the biggest show on the planet. Literally.”

My shoulders fall.

Belatedly, she adds, “You know, you don’t have to do this. Kiniva would let you back out … probably.”

“He wouldn’t, and you know it. Besides, he doesn’t know it’s me, and you’d pay for my fall out.”

She eyes me shrewdly. “Nahhh. I’d tell him it was one skinny gal named Liza that he’s after for payback.”

“I called him a coward.”

Her lip curls in disbelief. “No way.”

Crystal pulls open the door and a roar of noise spills into the room. Just up the incline stands the doors to the arena, where the chosen zombie waits to fight me.

“What did you tell Jeremy?” I ask.

Crystal shrugs. “Nothing. He’s here. He thinks it’s just a volunteer. He doesn’t know a thing. I’m still unsure how I’ll break it to him if I have to. ‘Sorry I helped your new girlfriend kill herself’ just doesn’t sound good no matter what spin you put on it. But I’m not going to stop you from doing what you think you need to do.” Something like admiration brightens her dull eyes momentarily. “He’ll never guess it’s you; no one will.”

“Good.”

“Besides,” she continues, “you’ll be far away and moving around …”

Neither of us say “and dead.”

When the arena doors open to reveal the lush crowd, my insides try to crawl out of my mouth. The place is packed—twice as full as before. Yet every person quiets when they see me, whispering things like, “He’s so tiny!” and “Gonna die quick, that one,” and “Probably for the best.”

Inside the arena, the zombie rushes at the fence, rattling it as if on cue. The bright lights blind me to everything but the monster at the end of my dead man’s walk. I’m waiting for that zap of energy I’d felt twice before, but my strength feels perfectly average.

The ski-mask is scratchy, and we’d marked the skin around my eyes black, too. Even though I’m far off for anyone to get a good look at me, Crystal thought the extra precautions might be wise.

This body armor is a nice disguise; it’s bulked me up to twice my actual size. Still … my zombie is huge. Compared to me, he’s a giant. Already at the cage’s edge, his blue face is braced hard against the chain-link, tasting the metal.

Kiniva takes no prisoners, it seems.

“What do I do?” I whisper to my one and only accomplice.

Crystal squeezes my arm and talks into my ear. “Like I know…? I’ve never fought one of these things. Just back out, Liza. Back … out.”

My breath’s ragged, but I shake my head when we get close. “Just do it. Just open the gate—now-now-now.”

She does, and with a rough shove, I’m inside with the creature.

The gate slams shut behind me, and the crowd erupts into a deafening, blurry sound. Cacophonies of their pitches collide, bouncing up to the roof before pressing down on my head with the greatest pressure.

It makes me panic.

Luckily, the creature had been distracted by some brave handler too near to the cage’s fence on the far end, but then, as if the zombie’s extra-predatorial senses kick in, he turns to face me.

If I expect him to charge toward me at mock speeds … then I would be correct.

These pet zombies are obviously fed.

There hasn’t been a time in my life I’ve been more scared. I’m locked in with a zombie, and no one is going to come help me or let me out. He’s quick, and here I am, a statue of fear.

My image of tonight’s events had been more gruesome, slow, and bloody. Instead, I’m ready to pee myself one moment, and the next, I’m counting stars, having been struck at full force and leveled into the dirt, thrown onto the sand like a rag doll. Immediately, he’s teething my neck while I’m still reeling, having not even tried to defend myself.

The guard outfit has a protective neck layer that’s hard to chew through, but he’s working at it in a sawing motion. Saliva’s already finding its way under the collar in a disgusting slimy feeling.

Chants from the crowd cut through our nonsensical melee, defining to some understandable calls—half for me to get up, and half simply jeering for him to finish me off.

If my new strength wants to kick in … any time now … The zombie’s realized my trickery and scratches at my outfit in gurgles of disappointment, wanting to undress me in the most unpleasurable of ways.

Since I’m not supernaturally strong, and I’m now wondering if I ever had been, worming out from under his arms will have to do. When there’s a momentary lapse in the biting, I squeeze through his legs like toothpaste in a tube.

Free and now running to the fence, I find the gate I’d been pushed through, but Crystal isn’t there anymore. Banging on it only makes the two gun-toting men waiting there, grin.

“Got yourself into a pickle, haven’t you, boy?”

Scanning the crowd, I locate Crystal in the stands. Her gaze is anxious, yet there she stays, feet planted, sorry that I’ve made such a choice, but unable to help me now.

The zombie’s given chase again, and we run a mad circle along the perimeter before my feet stumble upon my seeing someone else in the stands: Jeremy.

He watches, curious gaze mixed with disbelief. But no, he doesn’t know it’s me. He’s sure it’s just another Skull. A small and stupid one, a young one, but not me.

Then, after another ring around the not-so-rosy, I’m running low on energy. This time, near the gate, standing right behind the two men is him: Pretend Man.