Impact

by Chrissy Peebles

  Feigning that I had no clue what was going on, I act surprised and asked, “What happened?”

  “It seems Jim had some sort of tiff with Ned, and he beat him up badly. He’s been added to the lineup. You can fight whichever opponent you choose, so do you want to face Lightning or Quick Death?”

  I tried to swallow the sudden knot in my throat. “Quick Death?”

  “Jim’s stage name.”

  “Ah.” I pondered my choice for a moment. I knew I had no chance against an experienced fighter like Lightning, and volunteering to fight him would be like signing my own death warrant. I thought I might have a better chance against Jim, since I’d fought him before. “I guess I’ll take Jim then.”

  “Okay, boys,” Kirk said. “Load him up in the van. It’s almost show time.”

  I didn’t have to take time to dress in any kind of elaborate costume, with tights or a cape or anything like those ridiculous pro wrestlers I’d seen on TV. Much to my relief, Zombie Slayer’s attire consisted of just jeans, boots, a t-shirt, and a black leather coat. For some reason, Kirk found it necessary to sic fifteen guys on me to hustle me into the van. I thought about head-butting them as they handcuffed me, but I knew I couldn’t possibly take on that many armed men. I was so heavily guarded that there was no chance for escape. It was uncomfortable sitting between two big goons with my hands cuffed behind me and my feet shackled, but I really had no choice but to grin and bear it.

  I looked at the guard. “Is it really worth it to drive this far away just to watch a fight? You’re risking so many lives just to get here.”

  “The roads are clear,” he said. “And we leave prepared with lots of guns, ammo, and manpower. We’ve never had a problem. Everyone always comes back safe and sound.”

  “Except the loser of Blood Fest.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  I blew out a long breath, hoping it wasn’t me.

  “But going to a town that’s overrun with zombies is taking a huge risk,” I said.

  “We know a back way in. And the zombies don’t even come to the stage until we draw them there with loud sounds and music. And then when we leave, we put the loudspeakers on full blast and they just stay there like mindless idiots. We have no problem getting out.”

  “It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

  He smiled. “And that’s what makes it Blood Fest.”

  When the van finally stopped, I was led up several flights of stairs, to the top of a building. As I walked through the doors, people started to clap and cheer from bleachers on the left and right side, both sets facing the platform where we’d fight below. I was led up the aisle as people waved and cheered from both sides. Some of the guests were clearly intoxicated, guzzling homemade wine and moonshine. I couldn’t believe they found it so entertaining to watch two people beat each other bloody until one of them was devoured by zombies.

  “Welcome to Blood Fest, Zombie Slayer,” Kirk said, winking at me and pointing down at the hundreds of zombies that surrounded the circular stage.

  I froze in horror. No way did I want to go down on that stage.

  He shivered. “It’s a chilly fifty-nine today, but at least it’s not snowing. The stage got pretty slippery for the poor sots last time.”

  I nodded and looked down at the horrifying sight below, the place where I just might take my last breath.

  He clapped my shoulder. “I truly hope you win...and that you will learn your lesson.”

  I nodded again, but I could not think of a word to say to him that wouldn’t come out as a cuss or a threat. I was outraged that they were forcing me to fight to the death, but there was nothing I could do to get out of it.

  “You know the rules,” he said. “It’s a fight to the death. You can kill him any way you see fit, but if he dies onstage, he has to be tossed into the zombies. You can’t leave the ring till his body is gone. The crowd insists on it...and it’s a great way to earn some brownie points with me.”

  A few men laughed.

  I tried to remain cool, calm, and collected, but I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. “If I win, how do I get back up?”

  “We’ll throw you a rope from the second floor. I give you my word that you will be pulled up once you defeat him and feed him to the zombies.”

  “Your word, huh?” I said, arching a brow at him.

  “Absolutely. Now please kneel and take your Blood Fest oath.”

  Hesitantly, I knelt down. I then repeated some crazy oath some lunatic wrote up, then I was sworn in. I don’t care what words I repeated, I refused to sell my soul to the devil. This whole set up was completely insane. I would never want to be part of this Oxford family ever. All I knew was that the zombie apocalypse makes normal, rational people go mad. I had seen it time and time again.

  “The Zombie Slayer has been sworn in,” a woman said. “Let’s make it official.”

  Kirk nodded. “You’ve been blond bonded. If you win this fight, I will forget the grudge between us. You will be forgiven and brought back into our community.”

  A man in a tan coat walked over with a big bucket of red stuff. “You are sworn in by blood. Welcome to Blood Fest.” He then lifted the bucket and poured the stuff all over me, till I looked like Carrie after the prom. The crowd on the rooftop cheered, howled, whistled, and shouted.

  “What the...?” I asked. “Dude! What are you doing?” I shouted.

  “Calm down, Dean,” Kirk said. “It is Blood Fest after all.”

  There was something even more sickening about the blood because it was cold. It ran down my face in thick, almost coagulated rivers, spilling onto the rooftop in a crimson puddle beneath me.

  “The zombies will smell this and go crazy! Are you insane?” I yelled.

  “We must stick to our traditions,” Kirk said. “The crowd demands it.”

  I was growing a little sick of hearing about what the crowd wanted. “It’s crazy!” I shouted, wiping blood from my eyes.

  “We must put on a good show, son,” Kirk said.

  Before I could protest any further, a bald man with a bushy beard helped me into a harness. The carabineer was attached to a cable strung between two towering trees.

  “You ready?” Kirk asked.

  My toes hung off the platform, and I looked at the steep drop below. I couldn’t believe I was about to zip-line into a zombie-infested area. Horror and dread washed over me, and I wondered how secure that stage actually was. I tried to remind myself that it had held up for all the other fights, some with bigger fighters, but that fact did little to comfort me. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s just do this.”

  Kirk walked to address the spectators. “Gladiatorial combat will commence now as the first opponent makes his way on stage,” Kirk said to the small crowd who went absolutely wild.

  Gladiatorial combat? Kirk sure put a dramatic spin on it. It was nothing more than a street fight to the death with no weapons.

  “Blood Fest officially begins now,” Kirk said. “Zombie Slayer will get into position! And we’ll send him off with a grand farewell. Let’s hope he has what it takes to win and come back to us, to the family who loves him.”

  Clapping erupted and the crowd screamed with excitement.

  “Come back to us, Zombie Slayer,” some drunk guy yelled.

  “We love you, Zombie Slayer!” a woman chimed in.

  “You rock,” somebody else yelled.

  Somebody whistled followed by more cheers.

  Kirk came over and peered at me, emotion overwhelming him. He softly clapped my shoulder. “Do come back to us, Dean. Fight with every ounce of strength you possess. Because I can’t bear to see you get torn apart before my very eyes.”

  I just nodded. There was no sense in arguing with a crazy man. If he didn’t want to see me die, then he shouldn’t risk my life like this. Kirk wasn’t thinking straight. He had an altered perception of reality, interpreting reality abnormally. I actually thought he might think I was his dead so
n. I knew Oxford’s great leader was sick in the head. I just didn’t know why the others hadn’t figured it out yet.

  “I know you can do this,” Kirk said. “I believe in you. We all do.”

  Swoosh!

  With one push, I went flying off the building. Suddenly, I was treading air, but the stage and the zombies were getting ever closer. The stench was foul, the smell unbearable. I started to pick up speed, cruising downward.

  The relentless moans of the dead echoed in my ear. And I was close enough to stare into their cold, blank eyes. Fueled by hunger and the smell of blood, the growing zombie crowd inched closer. I fought to comprehend what I was seeing. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even close my eyes. I couldn’t even think.

  As soon as my feet landed onstage with a thud, I quickly unhooked myself. I gazed around, then cautiously walked the perimeter of the stage, surveying the scene. My breath hitched in my throat. I was terrified. I was literally surrounded by death. Fight or flight. It definitely wasn’t flight. I didn’t see any good escape routes. The only way I was getting out of here was if I fought Jim and killed him. I stared down at the sea of decaying faces and shuffling feet. Teeth-clacking zombies stumbled and moaned, anxiously waiting for the loser to be fed to them. A wave of terror shot up my spine at the sight of it.

  One nightmarish creature with frizzy, white hair bared its rotten teeth and growled right below me. Its festering skin was covered with open sores, its face dark and leathery. Half of its scalp was peeled back, a grotesque sight. As it reached up for me, I could see the hunger in its milky white eyes. It snarled, begging to be fed human flesh. I couldn’t imagine throwing any opponent off the stage to satisfy its insatiable hunger. I couldn’t put anyone through that torturous fate. How could Kirk make me do that? My hands were shaking once again.

  Stay focused, Dean.

  I glanced up and saw the crazed, drunk fans standing at the edge of the rooftop. Among them were snipers, with guns carefully trained on me in case I had the slightest inclination to make a run for it.

  As I stood there in front of that cheering crowd, surrounded by undead, horrible memories flooded me. I thought about Kingsville and the shooting of Earl; all of that still traumatized me. I relived the moment in slow motion, and my body began to tremble. The thought of having to murder a man didn’t sit well with me, and neither did being devoured by a thousand gnashing teeth.

  I stood in a tiny pool of blood as droplets dripped from my clothes. I tried to tune out the blood-chilling howls and moans all around me. I had to stay calm, had to keep my head in the game. I refused to let fear overtake me. When I glanced up again, I saw my contender. As Jim, aka Quick Death, came zipping down into the ring, his haphazard plan bounced back into my head: Manhole, faking death, sewer, and escape.

  “So you picked me after all, huh?” Jim said as he unfastened himself. He wiped blood from his face. “I forgot to warn ya about this blood-dumping part.”

  “They’re freakin’ nuts!” I spat.

  He winked. “Just a little.”

  “So...about this plan of yours...” I said, knowing full well they couldn’t hear us above all the moaning and cheering.

  “When the whistle blows, we gotta give ‘em a fight. We can’t end it too quick. If they don’t get a good show, they’ll suspect somethin’.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We entertain the rooftop masses. Got it.”

  “After a while, the zombies will get tired, and the folks up there will get a little bored and more drunk. That’ll be the best time to tumble off.”

  “What about the snipers?” I asked. “They aren’t drinking on duty.”

  “Wanna bet?” He laughed and pointed to one of the snipers who was guzzling something out of a big glass jug. “I took care of their scopes. They don’t realize it yet, but they can’t see crap.”

  “Zombie Slayer and Quick Death!” someone announced through a megaphone, urging the crowd to burst into an eruption of cheers and applause.

  The whistle blew, and we both nodded.

  “Well? Are you in or out?” he asked.

  “I’m still not sure I can trust you, but what choice do I have now?”

  He danced around like Muhammad Ali, trying to give the crowd a good show. “Do you really think I’d go this far to set you up? I promise you that Kirk will not be waiting for us in that sewer.”

  My boxing footwork was impeccable as I danced around. “We don’t even know if the man cover is loose.”

  “I know it’s a gamble, but what do we have to lose?” he asked, pointing at the rotters all around the stage. “We either try it, or at least one of us dies here.”

  “I just want the heck outta this place!”

  “Me too.”

  “Right. So let’s do it.”

  “Now that’s what I like to hear!”

  “First, though...” I said, then threw a single punch. “Showtime!”

  “Zombie Slayer! Zombie Slayer! Zombie Slayer!” the inebriated crowd cheered.

  Jim came back with a combination of punches.

  I stepped back, but he wasn’t done with me.

  “You’ve gotta put up a fight!” he shouted.

  My gaze drifted down to the undead surrounding the stage. Our fighting had clearly agitated the zombies. The moans, snarls, and wails surrounding us now grew steadily louder.

  “Pay attention to me,” Jim said. “Not them.”

  He then came at me hard. I blocked his jab with my right hand and threw a counter jab straight back into his face. He struck again, and again I blocked it. He threw several more punches in a row, but I countered every incoming attack. When he tried to nail me with a brutal uppercut, I swung to the side. He suddenly threw all his weight into the next punch, but I managed to duck it, throwing him off balance. As he stumbled, he was vulnerable to my violent kick, and he took the impact of it with a groan.

  “You’re good,” he said, “but you still ain’t better than me.”

  “Bring it on!” I shouted, enraged with the whole situation. A trickle of salty blood dripped into my mouth, and I only hoped it was my own and not the disgusting remains they’d dumped all over me.

  He came at me with a kick. I dodged, then attacked with a left roundhouse to his body.

  “Is that all you got, kid?” he asked, shooting me a cocky smile.

  When he threw his next punch, a left jab, I defended myself by using my right fist to brush his hand inward, parrying it from right to left. He threw another uppercut, and I jerked my body back. He came at me again, and I used my fist to slap his hands down, then countered by thrusting a hook into his gut.

  Round after round, we fought, delivering a real show to the crowd. They cheered and screamed for death, and a quick glance up at a smiling Kirk let me know that we had satisfied the onlookers and the cruel man who’d sent us down there to die.

  “It’s time,” I said to Jim. “Let’s do this.”

  “A little more,” he answered. “Keep going.”

  He threw another quick jab at me, but I ducked it, and the punch flew right over my head. Jim then moved forward to deliver an uppercut. I rose up and bent my arm to block, then straightened my body to launch a swing to his jawline. He took it like a man, and it hardly fazed him. Jim then threw a straight left, but I countered by thrusting another rough kick into his gut. He grunted but then threw a swing. I raised my arm to block it, then threw an uppercut against his chin with so much force that his head bounced back like his neck was made of rubber. He seemed daze for a few seconds but then came back swinging. My right hand found my way past Jim’s defenses, and I slammed into him with series of short, rapid, furious blows.

  “Harder!” Jim said. “You gotta make it look real.”

  I hammered my fists into his face, till he could barely breathe under the force of my constant blows. A moment later, we were rolling on the stage, furiously wrestling our way over to the blind spot at the northeast side. When Jim’s head hung over the stage, the zombies began to act like sh
arks in a feeding frenzy, swarming up on him in hordes and ripping and tearing at each other to get closer to their prey. They lifted their bony, greenish hands up toward us, moaned, and shuffled closer and closer, till their teeth were just inches from Jim’s ears, but we were just high enough that they couldn’t reach us.

  “Look!” Jim said, pointing down beneath the stage. “See it?”

  “I see a rack of bicycles,” I said.

  “Behind that. Look closely!”

  I peered closer. “Yeah! There’s a loose panel.”

  “Yep! We move that panel. Slip under the stage. Disappear into the manhole.”

  I hesitated, still worried that the plan was way too risky. “The zombies will shove their way in!”

  “We can move a whole lot faster than these dead-heads. Once we get into the sewer, we’re home free, man.”

  It was beyond ludicrous, beyond risky, and beyond dangerous.

  “Look!” he said. “The wire meshing and junk are still there. That proves my story is real!”

  Jim had a point. If we could fall into that tiny section, the herd couldn’t pounce on us, at least not as fast.

  He peered at me, anxiously awaiting an answer.

  “I don’t know,” I frantically said.

  “The way I see it, you either take this chance with me or stay here in Freakville with Kirk.”

  Trying to appease the crowd and make it all look real, we flipped over a few times, performing classic wrestling moves.

  “Well? Are you in or out?” he asked, his face beet red and his breath coming in labored gasps.

  I pondered it for a moment but had trouble coming up with an answer.

  “I take it you’re out,” he said. “If that’s the case, throw me off the stage, and I’ll go by myself. Just promise me you’ll keep your mouth shut. You’ll be their hero, Zombie Slayer.”

  “I’m not their hero!”

  “You will be for a while, till somebody better comes along. They’ll keep making you fight, upping the ante every time.”

  I thought about what he was saying, and while I hated to admit it, I knew Jim was right. “No, wait. You’re not leaving without me!”