Skin Game

by Tonia Brown

  “There he is,” Dillon said. “A fine specimen of nature. A natural immunity to the very virus that plagues all of us.”

  A rumble of agreement rolled over the gathered men. It was as if they forgot the man speaking was also immune to the virus.

  “We all know Theo is immune,” Dillon said, “so watching him fight alone, while thrilling, is a bit unfulfilling. There’s no real sense of danger is there?”

  The men mumbled but didn’t seem to care about this little fact. They just wanted to watch someone get ripped apart in the ring. Well, they wouldn’t get the chance with Mr. Theo. I knew him better than these drunken criminals. Mr. Theo would never let a rev get the best of him. He would fight and he would win. I knew that fact as well as I knew my own name.

  I never could’ve guessed what Dillon said next.

  * * *

  Theo

  I stood in the middle of the ring, rubbing my raw wrists and trying to ignore the hooting of the gathered crowd. The pervasive smell of pig shit lingered in the air, as did the undeniable scent of the undead, yet something else was layered in tonight. Whiskey. And the good stuff too. I glanced about, seeing every man jack of the lot had either a bottle, cup, or bowl in their hands. Casks to the left and right of me told an interesting tale. Dillon was giving the stuff away, getting the crowd as drunk as they were excited.

  This was going to be a long night. I sighed and slumped my shoulders as Dillon went on and on about my immunity and how boring it was to watch me fight. It wasn’t the speech I expected. I didn’t understand his logic, until he reached the part about Stretch.

  “That’s why I have recruited a partner for our Theo,” Dillon said.

  The gathered men looked to one another as they shared a series of questioning gasps and mumbles.

  “That’s right, friends,” Dillon said. “Theo won’t just be fighting for his own life. He will also fight for his new partner, Stretch Williams!”

  The gate to my left swung open and Stretch was pushed onto the field. He stumbled a bit at first, much to the crowd’s laughter and teasing, then he got his feet under him and jogged up to me. Waving. The bastard was waving at the crowd.

  “Quit that,” I said.

  “Why?” Stretch said. “They are here to see us fight. Why not give them a show.”

  I eyed him with clear contempt, which finally made him stop waving like a damned fool.

  The crowd settled down, quieting as they seemed to press even closer to the fence. Every eye in the place was on Stretch and me.

  “Are you ready, Theo?” Dillon said. He grinned that lopsided monstrous smile and actually gave me the floor.

  I didn’t hesitate to take it. It was time to say my peace.

  “I might die here tonight,” I said. “Stretch here probably will too.”

  “Hey now,” Stretch said.

  I continued talking over him. “But as the revs are tearing me apart I want you all to remember one thing. You’re next.”

  The crowd protested but I talked over them too.

  I raised a hand to the platform, pointing a finger at Dillon. “That man is not your friend. He is not your leader. He is a monster. The only thing he wants is see the whole world suffer like he suffers.”

  “Make the nigger and his buddy fight each other!” someone shouted.

  The crowd took up the chant of fight, fight, fight!

  I glanced up at Dillon again. He nodded to me, signaling the start of the battle.

  “Stretch,” I said. “Are you ready?”

  “No, sir,” he said. “But we all gotta go sometime.”

  “Today is not your day. I promise.”

  The gate to the barn opened, and a handful of revenants stumbled into the ring. Six in all. This was a bit of a shock to both of us. I figured Dillon would start slow and build up the fight. Nope. Six of them, right off. They were all older revs, falling apart from rot with barely a shred of clothing between them on their crumbling corpses. If I had found any one of them in a trap, I’d have put them out of our mutual misery, burned the body, and moved along to the next trap.

  “Holy shit,” Stretch said in a slow drawl.

  “Keep your head,” I warned.

  “I’ll try,” he said. “But I think those things are gonna want it.”

  The revs glanced around the stadium, distracted by the sounds of so many people. This was good. The more distracted they were, the easier it would be to get rid of them.

  “Listen,” I said. “These are all older revs. That means they are nearly rotten to the core. They should be easy to kill. Draw them to you and I will come up from behind. Just like we talked about.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Yeah. You too.” Stretch started to jump up and down, hollering and acting a fool, which he was particularly good at.

  The six revs immediately swung their attention in his direction.

  “Crap, crap, crap,” Stretch began to chant as he took off in a run for the other end of the pen.

  I backed up, making room for the six beasts lumbering across the field. Three of them had some speed, picking up a pretty good speed in their efforts to catch the wily man. Two stumbled along, while the third dragged a broken ankle behind him in a jolting stagger. I made for the lame one first, nearly tearing its head off of its shoulders to the roar of the crowd. The second and third were just as easy to destroy. I ran up to the pair and with a quick punch at one and a swipe at the other, I knocked both of their heads off. I realized then that Dillon was building it up after all. Instead of sending us one strong rev, then two, then three, he had sent us a handful of weaker ones. The crowd ate it all up like Sunday dinner after a long morning at church.

  Stretch caught onto the way of things, turning in his retreat to kick and punch at the rotten corpses. Each one fell at his feet with ease. He gave me a thumb up and I returned the gesture. The crowd whooped it up, shouting for more. We didn’t have long to celebrate before another round of six tumbled from the barn. This time five of them were of the old make while one was a recent turn. Dillon was upping the stakes. I supposed, within a few rounds, all of the revs would be fresh. Which mean they would be harder to kill, and more ferocious than their older, rotting counterparts. Fresh turns were hungrier than the older revs, as well as quicker. Their brains weren’t as rotten which meant they still had some smarts. This was bad news for Stretch. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep him alive if all of the revs were freshly turned.

  I rushed the fresher rev, pulling him to me as the others staggered after Stretch. It took a few more minutes this time, and I nearly lost a finger to one of the bastards, yet we managed to put them all down. And once more to the cheering of the crowd.

  I noticed Stretch was not waving at them anymore. He was gasping for breath as he clutch his knobby knees. The man wasn’t going to last much longer.

  The third round continued the trend, with two fresh revs and four rotting ones. I had to act fast, running into the crowd of revs as Stretch struggled to catch his breath. They turned on e at once, biting and grabbing at my tender flesh. I might’ve been immune but that didn’t mean I wanted to get bitten again. Stretch came to my rescue and began hollering again, raising his arms and dancing like a maniac across the field. This drew a few of the revs off of me, which let me push and shove the remainder away from me. I grabbed one by the arm and slung him toward another, the two almost comically knocking heads while I launched myself at another rev. I pulled the beast to the ground, reaching up past its gnashing jaws to grab it by the neck. I twisted, hard, until I felt that telltale pop. Pushing the beast off of me, I ran to the closest and most rotten of the six. It was flailing on its back. I stomped on the thing’s head, my foot going right through its rotten brain. The third was a fresher turn, and put up more of a fight.

  It circled me, growling and biting
the air between us. I bounced from foot to barefoot, waiting for just the right time to pounce. That time came just as the rev stumbled over the body of a fallen comrade. No surprise there. The place was littered with twice dead corpses. Thankfully the beast didn’t see the one at his feet. It was just a little stutter in his stride, but it was enough for me to attack. As the undead lurched, I leapt. I grappled it by the shoulders, twisting it to the ground and mounting the monster’s chest. It took a moment to grab it on either side of its face, thank to its snarling snapping teeth, yet I managed somehow. I gave a quick clean jerk on its head, and once again that wonderful pop filled my ears. The thing shuddered once, then went still.

  Three down, three to go.

  I heard a terrified shriek and glanced across the field to find Stretch on his back. Two of the fourth wave lay to his right and left, one missing its head and the other with a huge hole where its desiccated face used to be. The last of them, fresh and mean as a snake, had pinned Stretch to the ground and was just about ready to land a bite.

  “No!” I shouted.

  I climbed off of the rev and got to my feet. I ran as fast as I could across the field. Even as I quickly placed one foot in front of the other, I could see it was pointless. There was no way I could make it to him before it was too late. This was it. Stretch was going to die. I was going to fail him after all.

  I was halfway across the field when the back of the rev’s head burst wide like a flower opening to the morning sun.

  * * *

  Sam

  The sound of the gunshot rang out over the crowd, silencing everything and everyone. The attacking rev collapsed to one side, allowing Stretch to scramble safely away. Mr. Theo never faltered. He continued his sprint across the field, until he reached Stretch, helping the man to his feet. I stood watching all of this with horror. It was bad enough to see Mr. Theo fighting for his life, but to witness Stretch nearly die took it out of me. The gunshot was like a tiny jolt to my already seizing heart.

  “That’s enough!” Mab yelled from the opposite side of the fence.

  I gazed out over the dead filled field to find her straddling the fence with one smoking pistol aimed at Dillon. Of course it was her that fired. She saw her friend in danger and reacted in the only sensible manner. I flushed with embarrassment at my inaction. I had guns. I could’ve done the same thing. Yet I just stood and watched in mute shock. Once more, Mab proved herself to be an incredible woman.

  Unfortunately, Dillon’s entire personal guard had also drawn their weapons and had them trained on her. It was the standoff to end all standoffs.

  “You ruined the fight!” one of the men nearest her yelled.

  Some of the others began to concur.

  “Shut up!” Mab hollered. Her aim at Dillon never wavered. “These men are under my custody. I demand you release them to me. Immediately.”

  Dillon slowly got to his feet and went to the edge of the platform. When one of his men tried to place themselves between Dillon and Mab, Dillon pushed the guard aside with a whisper. The guard motioned to the other men, and they lowered their weapons hesitantly.

  “Miss Deacon,” Dillon said.

  “Dillon Thomas,” she said.

  “You’re looking well.”

  “I’d say the same about you but we both know that’d be a lie.”

  He touched the scar on his face, but showed no other reaction. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Not long enough. Now, quit your stalling.” She nodded over her shoulder to Mr. Theo and Stretch. “You gonna release my men or not?”

  Dillon eyed her up and down. “If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Deacon, on whose authority are you making this request?”

  She reached into her bodice, feeling somewhere about her bosom, and pulled free a black leather wallet. Mab flicked it open with one hand and tossed the thing into the field of bodies. The badge inside gleamed under the torchlight. “On the authority of the United States Government.”

  This made the mad man laugh. “I don’t know if you noticed this, Miss Deacon, but the US Government has no authority out here. We are the authority. We are the government.”

  A hoot of assent went up across the crowd. Oh dear, this could get real ugly real quick. I began to push aside the men, making my way back to Mab’s side of the fence.

  Dillon signaled for his men to quiet down.

  “I might not have authority,” Mab said, “but I do have a promise for you. If you don’t release those men to me, then more folks will come out here and make you wished you had. We can do this the easy way, or a regiment of men can come out here and make you do it the hard way.”

  “Why, Miss Deacon,” Dillon said, “that sounds like a threat.”

  “I reckon it is,” she said. Mab drew her other pistol and cocked the hammer on both of them. “Imagine that.”

  Dillon stared down his long nose at her for a silent, frightening moment. To my surprise and the disappointment of the crowd, he waved at Stretch and Mr. Theo. “Take those two to Chambers and get them patched up. Miss Deacon, you can follow me. We need to discuss the terms of your request.”

  The gathered men booed and hissed at his decision.

  Raising his arms again, Dillon shouted. “Please, don’t let this little bump in the road ruin your trip to a wonderful evening. We still have so much fun ahead of us. Drink up and I will be back with you shortly. I still have one more surprise in store for you gentlemen.”

  A pair of men rushed onto the field and jostled Mr. Theo and Stretch toward the south end of the field. They slipped through the fence and disappeared into the cellar door. I was able to make my way back to Mab just as Dillon’s men were escorting her to the same door. The moment she laid eyes on me she called out.

  “Jack, get over here!” she yelled.

  It took me more than a moment to realize she meant me. One of the men pulled her by the arm, yanking her away from me.

  “That’s my assistant,” she said, pushing the man aside to get to me. When she got close enough she grabbed me by the arm and whispered, “Keep your trap shut, Jack.”

  I nodded. That much I could do.

  At least I thought I could.

  Dillon met us at the cellar door. I froze beside Mab, certain the man that tried to have me killed would recognize me. He didn’t. He was so focused on Mab, so angry with her, he didn’t even give me a second glance.

  “Miss Deacon,” he said. “I wished I could offer you better hospitality, but I am afraid my situation won’t afford it. Truth isn’t the best place to host such a meeting.”

  “Then why are you holding your little gathering here?” she said.

  He ignored the question. “I would love to talk terms of release with you. Later. First I have important business I must attend to. If you and your assistant will surrender your weapons, you can follow my men they will make you most comfortable.”

  “And if we don’t surrender our weapons?” Mab said, placing her hands on her guns.

  That thin veneer of politeness cracked, showing an ugly sneer beneath. “Then you will be dragging corpses out of here instead of walking your men out. You want to negotiate, Miss Deacon, let’s try to pretend we are civil. Give up your pistols or go home.”

  With some grumbling, Mab unbuckled her gun belt and handed it over to Dillon. She poked me in the side, jolting me into unbuckling my belt as well. Dillon pointed out the obvious places where a blade would be on each of us, taking them as we disarmed ourselves. I was certain the longer we stood there the more of a chance he would know who I was. Yet, no. Dillon dumped his armful of blades and guns onto the ground just outside the cellar door with no care or grace, or any idea of who he had just disarmed.

  He then pointed at the men on either side of us. “Put them in the guest room and remain at her door until I return.” He didn’t give anyone a chance to answer. He turned
away and stormed off for the pen once more, barking orders at his men. “Get the barn ready. Set the pull pins on the fences. It’s time to give these men what they came for.”

  What they came for was immunity. What they were going to get was never ending death. There was nothing we could do to stop it. A thousand men were about to be sacrificed on Dillon’s altar of greed, while I could only watch and hope the few men we were here to rescue could make it out alive.

  The guards hustled Mab and me into the cellar, down a dark and dank hallway, and dumped us into a nearly black room without ceremony. They left us alone with a single flickering lantern and closed the door behind them. With a frustrated huff, Mab collapsed into a corner, hanging her head between her bent knees.

  I took in the shadowy room, which I decided had once been a bedroom. Or maybe a sickroom. An antiseptic smell lingered in the air. I raised the lantern to the bed and almost shouted at the bloodstained mattress. A wash of red tainted the lower half of the mattress on the left side. The side of Bowden’s recently lost leg. This must’ve been his room. I wanted to cry aloud in frustration. How many men would Dillon have to hurt before someone would be done with him once and for all?

  In the dark of the room I heard the echo of Doc Bowden. Don’t let him win, Sam. That’s what the doc said. He thumped his own ruined stumps and demanded that I do better. Don’t let him win.

  I went to the door and tried it. Locked of course. This was a fine predicament. Locked in the basement of Dillon’s house. The single place in the universe I’d rather not be.

  “What do we do now?” I said as I eased myself onto the bed.

  “We wait,” Mab said from the gloom of her corner.

  “For what?”

  “For them to leave us alone.”

  I made to speak again when Mab held up a hand. Sure enough, there rose some arguing from the hallway. I pressed my ear to the door and listened.