Zombie Fight Night: Battles of the Dead (17 page)

Jack’s hands pulled out from his sides.

Mick’s body relaxed, as if in relief. Then suddenly he felt . . . lighter, as if his mid section was floating away. Something mushy and wet slipped along his sides.

He felt the grip of his bite beginning to loosen. He fought it and brought his hands up and pummelled them against Jack wherever there was an opening. Jack shook his head, tossing Mick with his mouth, forcing him to let go of his clamp on Jack’s face.

Mick hit the cold floor on his back, nothing but blood around him in his peripheral.

The crowd went silent.

Jack growled and rushed toward him.

Mick closed his eyes as the lights went out.

Epilogue

What Goes Around . . .

I
t was late. The crowds had gone home nearly an hour ago. Anna stood inside the cage, the house lights overhead casting a burning yellow glow on the cement. The parts where it hit the blood were a deep orange.

With arms crossed, she fought back the tears as she stared at the long bloodstain on the ground that was once her husband, bits of flesh and hair, teeth and bone spackling the cement like bad stucco. Though not all of the remains were Mick’s, she almost felt as if she could pick out his because she knew him so well.

Knew,
she reminded herself and her heart stung. Their marriage wasn’t supposed to end like this. ’Til death would they part, sure, but death wasn’t supposed to come as it did tonight.

“My fault,” she said.

At the time, when she snuck away that one night and cut a deal with Sterpanko, fiery hate for Mick for what he’d done drove every action and every word. Now—now she didn’t know if she was still angry or not. It seemed as if Mick’s death was the water that put that hating fire out.

She took a few steps back when hot red water splashed against her toes, soaking through the gaps in her high heels and burned her skin.

“Gah!” she said as her foot folded beneath her and her ankle was rubbed hard against a shard of bone, cutting her open.

The small Chinese man in the dusty blue jumpsuit didn’t seem to see her as he sprayed out the cage.

“Hey, watch it!” she said. “Ow.”

He merely looked up at her, nodded with a smile, then got back to spraying, the steam from the hot water beginning to fill the cage. There was a foot-square drain sloped off to the side, the grill wide enough where it needed to be to allow all the bits of gore and bone to fall through no problem.

Her foot throbbed. Probably sprained. She did her best to stand on it, swallowed the pain, and ignored the cut and burn. She deserved this. This was part of a self-imposed penance she planned to institute starting now.

She allowed her eyes to follow the flow of the water as this nameless stranger in the cage with her washed what was left of her husband away.

This was Zombie Fight Night. This was what Mick loved.

This was what killed him in the end.

Was it worth dying for?

Was it worth her killing for?

She bent down and checked her foot. From what she could see the blood flow was minimal. She still had a hard time standing on it. She stood, then closed her eyes when a pair of hands ran themselves around her shoulders from behind.

“Ready?” Tony Sterpanko said.

“Almost,” she replied. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

“Do you want to be left alone?”

Anna opened her eyes and settled them on the water flowing toward the drain. It was already beginning to run clear. It was also beginning to be difficult to see with all the steam. “No. Not anymore.”
Good bye, Mick.

She
turned
and
stepped
through
the
cage
door
with
Sterpanko.
He
didn’t
seem
to
notice
her
limping.As he walked with her with his arm tight around her waist she didn’t know what she’d do now that Mick was gone. Her sacrifice in teaming with Sterpanko was meant to save Mick’s life not end it. Even with how she treated Mick, she thought it’d be enough to show Sterpanko she was on his side and he’d let Mick go. Only the first part came true. If only he hadn’t fought.

Anna stumbled and knelt down and massaged her foot near the wound. Her skin was still moist from getting sprayed. The burn was bright red. A little more blood oozed out.

“What happened?” Sterpanko asked.

“Nothing. Just a little accident.”

“You okay?”

“I think so.” She re-examined the wound again.

She stood up, took Sterpanko’s arm and moved a couple of steps. Heat filled her foot and she collapsed, screaming.

“Anna! What’s wrong?” Sterpanko asked, immediately down by her side.

“I don’t know. I don’t—my foot. The water. I—” Man, did it hurt.

Her heart beat faster and faster, thundering in her chest in wild panic. Then, almost as quickly as it sped up, it calmed down.

She moved to wipe the blood forming over her eyes but no matter what she did, she couldn’t wipe the redness away.

Calm inside. Utter calm.

Then nothing.

She was neither hot nor cold.

Just pissed off . . . and hungry.

Bonus Battle

Mick’s First Fight

Ninja
vs
Zombie

Bet: $30

T
his wasn’t how it was supposed to work, Mick Chelsey knew. In the old days, you went out, got a job and gave it your best in the hopes of getting a raise so you could provide a better life for your family.

Nowadays, it was more about just getting back on your feet after the economic system collapsed during the Zombie War. During those dark times, money faded, currencies lost their value, and any that did survive were restructured into a new financial system. The computers had gone down and the backup data was destroyed in one bomb-ignited inferno after another. Everybody was at square one.

Except the elite, of course. Somehow, they managed to hang onto their fortunes and if any portion was lost, the amount was manageable compared to what remained.

Mick, unfortunately, lost everything. The only money he had left over was the little he and his wife, Anna, had kept on their person during the Zombie War—all four hundred-eighty-three dollars of it—and the fifty dollars he now had in his pocket.

They had a house, one of the few left standing after the Zombie War. It was in rough shape, but it did the trick. Since a lot of the records of who owned what had perished during the war—as did most of those who owned property—remaining houses were up for grabs. Humanity had taken on an all-for-one attitude during the war, but the moment the undead were captured and victory was declared, it was back to the old ways of every man for himself. The big houses left standing were the first to be occupied, then slowly the average-sized abodes then, finally, the small stuff. After that, the small stuff in the old bad parts of town. That’s where Mick got his house, he and Anna’s journey back into the city taking more than a week. By the time they got back, pretty much everything was taken.

Mick double checked the bills in his pocket. Fifty bucks.

Anna deserves better than what she’s getting,
he thought. She was a princess, pure and simple. Princesses deserved castles and right now the poor girl was living like a pauper. Mick wouldn’t have it; especially after all they’d gone through. The bloodshed, the terror, the running, the pain—they needed their life back and not just that, but a
normal
life, one where you didn’t have to worry about where your next meal came from or reaching into your pocket and pulling nothing out other than lint.

Blood Bay Arena’s parking lot was full tonight. Mick had heard a couple guys talking outside Stevie’s Pub that they’d made a nice chunk of change here, something to the tune of seven hundred bucks. Boy, he could use that kind of money. He wondered if he could turn this fifty he had into something more.

Anna wasn’t expecting him home for a while. Going in and placing a bet might be a good way to pass the time.

Mick slowly strolled over to the building, hoping he was making the right decision. When he entered the front doors he walked up a short flight of stairs then noticed a couple of burly security guards taking tickets. He glanced around the foyer and spotted the ticket counter on the left. He went over. The chubby lady with short black hair behind it spoke in between smacks of her gum.

“Welcome to Blood Bay Arena,” she said. “Here for the show?”

Mick cleared his throat. “Um, yeah.”

“How close you want it?”

“Um . . . to the fight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know, whatever’s cheapest. I really don’t care.”

“Okay.” She tapped her touch screen. “Twenty dollars even and you’re in.”

“Twenty?”

“Twenty.”

He fished out his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a wrinkly twenty-dollar bill. He slid it through the small opening at the bottom of the Plexiglas window. She grabbed it, checked its authenticity under a black light, then stuck it in the till and punched a few numbers on her register. A ticket spat out of a small slit in the brushed nickel countertop in front of her. She passed it to him.

“Enjoy the show,” she said.

“Yeah.” He wondered if he should inquire here about betting or just wait until he was past the guards. “Thanks.”

He went back in the direction he came, gave the guard his ticket and was let through no problem.

The next set of doors was set up almost like a toll booth except instead of passing cars, it was passing people. Mick waited in line and about five minutes later was speaking to a skinny bald man with a headset and a nametag that read nicky.

“I.D., please,” Nicky said.

Mick pulled out his wallet again and sifted out his I.D. card. He gave it to the man.

Nicky swiped it in a slot beside his computer monitor. “Pot?”

“Excuse me?”

“Pot.”

“Pot? I thought—”

“How much are you putting in your pot? You know, the thing you draw from when betting on the fights?”

“Oh. Um, here.” He handed the man the remaining thirty dollars.

The man took it, punched a few numbers on his touch screen, then re-swiped Mick’s I.D. He handed the card back to him.

“Look, obviously you’re new here,” Nicky said. He pointed to the door just outside his booth. “You’ll hear a buzzer. Go through there, find your seat, then take a Controller out of the seat in front of you.”

“A Controller?”

“Yeah, a little black box thing. You won’t miss it. It’s a small computer. It’ll tell you about who’s fighting. Slide your I.D. through the machine, pick your winner, and then wait for the fight to start. If you win, you come back here on the way out and we’ll swipe your card. You’ll get your money and you’ll go. If you lose and end up owing the House, then you’ll pay up. Got it, cowboy?”

Mick nodded.
Take a Controller and make a bet. Oh, and swipe my card in it, too.
“Sure. Um, thanks.”

Nicky nodded. “Go to the door. I’ll let you in.”

Mick did. A low drone sounded. He opened the door and entered.

Once inside the hallway beyond, he checked his ticket for his seat assignment and made his way there.

It was pretty far back, the nosebleeds. He didn’t care. It was the cheapest ticket.

“Twenty bucks for this?” he said and sat down. “Let’s just get screwed even more.”
Story of my life.

Below, past the sea of heads, there was a giant circle-shaped cage that looked to have a radius of some thirty feet. Its floor was cement. The walls and ceiling of it were made of what appeared to be a strong chain-link mesh of some kind. On opposite sides of the circle’s floor were two large iron rings.

Mick tapped his feet then grabbed the Controller out of the seat in front of him.

“Okay, let’s see here,” he said. The moment his finger tapped the screen, it flashed on.

Swipe I.D. card,
it read.

Mick got out his I.D. and swiped it along the side of the machine.

Thank you.

Processing . . .

Welcome to Zombie Fight Night, Mick Chelsey. Please review the information for the first bout.

Mick tapped the appropriate button on the screen and was treated to the details of the next fight. “Interesting. Who else is up tonight?” But he couldn’t find a next button or anything indicating such.
Can only see the info of one fight at a time?
“Hm.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Staring at the two fighters he wondered who he should pick. He’d seen both people and zombies prevail over each other during the Zombie War. Hard to say who’d win on this one.

“Well, let’s go with this guy,” he said. He was then prompted to place his bet. He had only thirty bucks in the pot and not a whole heck of a lot of time to waste here at Blood Bay Arena so he decided to lay it all down. Not only did he pick a winner, but he guessed the length of the bout and who of the two would be pulverized over the other. Ten-to-one shot at winning, but he figured it’d be a nice payout if he nailed it.

Thank you. Enjoy the fight,
the screen said.