by Jenkins, Seb
The guards took hold of the three contestants and led them through the compound. The streets were empty, presumably because everyone was already packed into the pit to watch the fight.
After a minute or two of walking, they came up to a huge, wooden wall. It was curved round, and too tall to see over. Max couldn’t tell how far round it went but he assumed it must be the pit.
Nev led them into a small outhouse attached to the side of the pit. The guards followed him in, still keeping a tight hold on the prisoners. Max, Lizzie, and Taylor were pushed through an open cell door which was then closed and locked behind them. The room looked similar to the pre-match holding cell, but instead of chairs and sofas, there were tables lined with a variety of weapons.
“You have but a few minutes to choose any weapons you desire, but any fighting or harming other contestants in this room will be met with…severe consequences,” Nev warned.
Max and Lizzie wasted no time scanning the tables, trying to find the best weapons they could use. Lizzie plucked up a selection of throwing knifes and a small blade. Max picked up a large machete, similar to the one he was used to. He swung it through the air, testing the weight. He liked it. He also tucked a smaller blade in his waistband.
“What about this?” Lizzie suggested, holding out an old, battered, wooden shield.
Max poked his arm through the straps on the back and tested it out. It could come in handy, he thought, still unsure of what they were even preparing for.
In the midst of all this, Taylor had picked up a pair of machetes, one in each hand, practising in the air. He was slicing away like a mad-man, screaming as he did so.
“Okay, great. On the first klaxon, Taylor will walk out the tunnel to your right, and stand on the far side of the arena. On the second klaxon, Max and Lizzie will walk out and stand on the near side. Good luck contestants,” Nev explained, before exiting the room to go and take his seat.
Max despised him. He spoke as if it was some kind of game show. They were playing with people’s lives. They were playing for the life of a teenage girl.
“Hey, get your head in the game, Max!” Lizzie said, shaking his arm.
“Did you hear that? They told us to walk out together! Sounds like we’re a team,” she grinned at him hopefully.
Maybe she was right; maybe they could still both scrape out of this.
Max’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud, drilling klaxon.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…” Taylor yelled, getting quieter and quieter as he waddled out into the arena.
The crowd roared as he emerged into the light.
“How many people are out there for fuck sake?” Lizzie shouted over the noise.
“Sounds like a couple hundred at least kid,” Max replied.
The second klaxon sounded, and Max looked down at Lizzie.
“Good luck kid. Look, just in case I don’t-”
“I know Max, me too,” Lizzie smiled.
Max touched her shoulder briefly, before walking forwards, Lizzie at his side.
He led them through the tunnel before bursting out into the sunlight. The wooden fence encircled them, and the crowd filled the spaces behind it. Max was right; there had to be at least a couple of hundred people living here. Taylor had taken his position on the opposite side of the pit. He was shaking, still mumbling under his breath. Another tunnel entrance gaped open on the side of the pit, directly in between where Taylor and Max and Lizzie stood.
Above this second, larger tunnel was an impressive podium. The whole thing looked like some kind of gladiator coliseum remake. On top of the podium, only three men stood watching. Otto was one of them, eyes locked on Max, grinning widely. Max could have sworn he could see him winking.
On the other side of the platform stood who Max assumed was the leader of this camp. He wasn’t dressed in camouflage like the Brotherhood Max and Lizzie had met; his clothes were far more casual. His black glasses somehow gave him an air of authority. Between this man and Otto stood someone in thick, brown hooded robes, not dissimilar to a monk. He looked to be some kind of servant for the other two.
“This whole place is so fucking weird,” Lizzie spat.
The man in glasses raised a hand and instantly the crowd hushed.
“Thank you for gathering so quickly!” he shouted to his followers.
“As you know, it is quite irregular for us to have two battles in one day, but I have decided to reward you!” he smiled, and the crowd responded in a chorus of cheers.
After the shouting had died down, he continued.
“As usual, I shall read the rules. Contestants must remain in the pit, all tunnels are sealed and there is no escape. Simply, if you try, you will be killed. Secondly, anything goes; there are no rules to this sport!”
The crowd once again roared.
“Sport?” Max growled under his breath.
“And finally! One new rule! As usual, it is a fight to the death, but today, two champions will walk out of here as survivors!” The man in glasses announced.
“Happy fighting,” he added simply before taking his seat, which looked more like a throne.
Max and Lizzie looked at each other. It was clear that this fight had been tailor made for them. They could both walk out of here alive. Max supposed that the crowd would get a sick kick out of a man and girl fighting team.
A third klaxon sounded and the crowd once again began to roar and chant.
It had started.
“Looks like this is it,” Max said.
“Happy fighting,” Lizzie replied.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Taylor immediately ran towards Max and Lizzie, but his weapons were down by his side, and he didn’t seem threatening at all. Max hadn’t expected this; he just assumed it would be every man for himself.
Taylor stopped about ten metres short of the pair.
“Hey Max! You heard them right?!” he shouted excitedly but also apprehensively.
Max was confused as to what Taylor was getting at, but decided to humour him.
“What’s that then Taylor?”
“They said there’s two champions today! We…we…why don’t we just slit her throat and walk out of here alive, you and me? What do you say?” Taylor asked, well, begged really.
Max didn’t know what to say; he was shocked into pure silence.
“Err how about no, fuck off?!” Lizzie spat back.
“Right Max?” she added nervously.
Max looked between her and Taylor before settling on her face.
“Well, his plan does have its up sides,” he winked.
Lizzie smacked him on the side before laughing and smiling back.
Taylor was still standing there, desperately pleading for a way out of this situation. He clearly knew that he was no match for Max in a one on one fight. This was his only way out.
So, what was Max supposed to do now? Was the whole crowd just waiting for him to chop Taylor down so they could go home?
Max still wasn’t sure he could do this, but he took a few tentative steps towards the shivering wreck that was Taylor. The more steps he took, the longer he could put off the inevitable.
Just as Max neared his terrified victim, the crowd’s roars entered a new level. Max’s turned his head, darting his eyes around the pit until he saw them. Clickers pouring out from the tunnel. Ten, twenty; thirty now, at least.
“Max!” Lizzie screamed.
Max ran back towards her; Taylor would have to wait. To be honest, Max thought he could even make himself useful and distract a few of the undead.
“Stay behind me kid!” Max ordered before running towards the tunnel.
He figured he could at least take out a few of the stragglers and faster clickers before the main bulk made it to them. Surprisingly Taylor followed suit, but Max constantly had one eye on him, wary of being stabbed in the back.
Max reached the first clicker, leaping forward and planting an arm round its neck before slamming it to the ground. He dr
ove his smaller blade through its skull with a sickening crunch.
Snapping his head back up towards the tunnel, he saw that two more clickers had reached him. Now on his knees, Max sliced powerfully in one arching motion, slicing through the legs of both clickers. The machete carved through their soft rotten flesh and weak bone like a knife through butter. Leaping back to his feet, he stamped his boot through each of their heads to make sure.
To his left Taylor was slashing away with his two machetes, not killing anything but definitely taking some of the focus off Max.
The main horde of clickers was slowly shuffling towards him now. He still had no idea how he was going to take them down; he needed to separate them somehow.
Another lonely clicker had wandered towards him, and Max swiftly knocked it down with one brutal smash to the face with the handle of his machete. The clicker thumped to the ground, desperately trying to climb back to its feet, like an upside down beetle. Max swooped in and chopped down with his blade, severing its head from its body. For a few seconds it kept clicking those dirty, yellow teeth before lying still.
All the stragglers were now lying motionless on the floor. The horde of twenty or so clickers was close now. They were so tightly packed, Max had no idea how to take them down one by one.
Taylor was still tussling with his own clicker to Max’s left. He left him to it. No way was Max helping him after what he’d proposed only minutes earlier.
Max could see no other way of getting out of this; he would have to tackle them head on. He took a deep breath to calm himself before jogging towards the group of clickers. A jog turned into a sprint, and the sprint was followed by a roar from Max. He plunged into the front of the horde, driving his smaller blade deep into the face of one clicker. The knife slid through the bridge of the undead’s nose, and jammed inside. Max left the knife and let the body fall back, knocking over a couple more clickers.
This had worked better than Max had thought. With a few of them flying like bowling pins, he was able to adopt an attacking stance and fight them two or three at a time for now.
He sliced away with his blade, clickers falling at his feet, blood spurting on his face and in his mouth. If he wasn’t immune, he would surely have the disease now, he thought.
As Max was fighting away in the midst of all the clickers, the crowd let out a loud and ominous gasp.
Max leapt back from the action and turned around to see Taylor running at him, wielding his two weapons. Max readied himself for the attack, lifting up his own weapon and shifting his weight forward.
However, at the last second Taylor veered off, bringing his swords down instead on the pack of clickers. Max could only watch on in horror; Taylor had clearly bitten off more than he could chew.
The clickers quickly became too much for him and enclosed around him. Max couldn’t see him after that, but he could definitely hear him. He could hear bloodcurdling screams and the distinct chilling sound of flesh being torn from bone. Max hated how he now recognised that noise, as if it was so normal and mundane.
He snapped back into action, taking Taylor’s place and jabbing away at the horde as best he could. There were only ten or fifteen left now, but they moved as one huge group. All Max could do was bide his time and throw a slice or a quick poke in here or there.
He was getting nowhere and decided to retreat to come up with a better plan, but as he moved his left leg back, a hand shot from the crowd, grabbing hold of Max’s boot. Max stumbled and fell heavily to the ground. The hand gripped tight, pulling itself forward until a hand turned into an arm, and eventually what was left of Taylor’s screaming face emerged.
“Help me!” he screamed.
“Please.” he whimpered.
Only one eye remained, the other empty socket looking like a volcano, erupting with his blood. Flesh hung from his face, completely exposing the bone and tissue around his jaw. Clickers wear ripping the meat from him in all directions, like tearing chicken from the bone. It was too late to save him, his face was a mesh of bite marks and blood. It was too late.
Max kicked and shook but he couldn’t get free of Taylor’s grasp; the clickers were now looking right down on him. The first reached out, trying to scratch at him, but Max threw up his shield, keeping them at bay as best he could. He felt the weight grow on the old shield, and the scratches of nail against wood were unbearable.
Just as Max’s arms began to shake and weaken, all the weight was lifted. He poked his head round the shield to see clickers tumbling backwards, one after another, throwing knives stuck between their eyes.
“Over here! Over here, you ugly bastards! That’s it! Fresh meat this way dickheads!” Lizzie shouted from behind Max.
She had a bunch of the clicker’s attention now, leading them off to the side.
Max hauled himself to his feet, breaking free of Taylor’s grasp which had loosened as the man now lay quiet and still.
“I said stay behind me kid!” Max yelled after her as she continued to lead a pack of five clickers on a merry dance.
“Because you were handling it all so well?” she joked back, but Max could see she was terrified.
How could she not be? Sometimes her tough girl act was so convincing, but this was anyone’s idea of hell.
Max quickly dispatched the last few clickers around him with clean drives to the temples. Before running to Lizzie’s aid he stabbed his blade down into Taylor’s head too. Maybe he was immune, maybe he wasn’t, but Max wasn’t taking the chance.
Lizzie was still leading around her small group, herding them like cattle. Max approached the clickers from behind, grabbing the first by its collar and slicing his sword across its throat, before dispatching it which the sole of his boot. He then sliced across the calves of two more clickers, bringing them down to the floor in a heap before pushing his machete through the soft tops of their heads.
Lizzie continued to lead the last two around after her, never letting them get too close but keeping all attention on her.
Max grabbed one of them by its shirt, simply throwing it to the ground and caving the side of its head in. He turned to the final clicker, but before he could even move towards it, it dropped at his feet.
He looked up to see Lizzie twirling the last of her throwing knives in her hand.
“Well I wasn’t letting you have the last kill,” she smiled.
Max laughed. He didn’t know what he would do without her; she had this way of turning depressing situations on their heads with jokes and sarcastic comments. He had grown so fond of her.
Max had almost filtered out the crowd, but his attention was grabbed once more as the man in glasses began to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Our champions!” he yelled, extending his arm towards Max and Lizzie.
The crowd cheered and screamed; they seemed to love them. It made Max feel sick.
“I think we’ll all be seeing a lot more of you.” The man added, before departing with Otto and servant in tow.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Max and Lizzie were escorted back down the tunnel and locked back in the cell by Nev and his guards.
The other prisoners briefly looked up, barely interested at who had survived the ordeal. Some eyes lingered longer as they realised two people had come back, but even they didn’t care enough to comment.
“You were fucking amazing out there Max!” Lizzie cheered as soon as Nev and his goons had left.
Max smiled; who knew the thing he would be best at in life would be killing clickers. He’s been waiting years to find something he could excel at. It was a pity it was something so depressing.
“Hang on; I thought last time was just a lucky shot with that knife, but what the fuck kid?! You were hitting them between the eyes every time! How did you do that?” Max asked, astonished at the skill and precision she had.
Lizzie’s smile instantly wiped from her face and she looked away from him.
She mumbled something completely inaudible.
“Wh
at was that kid?”
Lizzie shuffled her feet and mumbled slightly louder, embarrassment painted across her face.
“Yeah one more time, bit louder,” Max chuckled, easing the information out of her.
“Magic Camp,” she muttered.
Max collapsed into a heap on a nearby sofa, holding his stomach tightly as he loudly hooted.
“Magic Camp? Fucking Magic Camp?!” he cried.
“Shut up! My mum used to send me there every summer.” Lizzie defended.
“And out of everything you went for knife throwing?” Max asked, still laughing to himself.
“I was an angry kid; what can I say? I was good at it,” she smirked, now seeing the funny side.
She hopped onto the sofa next to him, jamming her elbow into his side.
“And to think you were impressed with my juggling,” Max chuckled.
“Well, everyone seems to be in a good mood over here,” Paulo said.
Max hadn’t even noticed him approach while he was laughing.
“Yeah, well, surviving feels good buddy,” Max replied.
“I think it’s your turn to repay the favour; I have some questions for you now,” Paulo whispered, perching himself on the arm of the sofa.
“Shoot,” Max said, lowering his voice too.
Something told him this wasn’t a conversation Paulo wanted people overhearing.
“Firstly, how are you both still alive?” he asked with interest.
“I don’t know man, for some reason that guy in charge, the guy with the glasses…”
“Patrick,” Paulo informed.
“Yeah, him. He decided that two out of the three of us could walk away. The crowd seemed to love the whole team thing; I think it was just some sick way of keeping them entertained,” Max explained.
“Interesting,” Paulo pondered.
“What about the guards? How many were there?” he asked after a few more seconds.
“Escorting us from here?” Max questioned.
Paulo nodded.
“Three,” Max answered.
Paulo smiled.
“One guard for each person? I was right!” he smirked.