The Death Wish Game

by Chateau, Jonathan

  “You guys good?” I ask in a whisper loud enough for them to hear.

  “Yeah,” Kylie answers with an exasperated huff.

  “Chase?”

  “I’m fantastic.”

  “You see anything back there?” I ask him.

  “Just a bunch of flying night lights.”

  “Great. Keep up this pace,” I say as we continue forward. “We’re almost there, guys.” With our tight little formation, we’ll catch sight of them no matter which direction they come from.

  “Good. My leg’s starting to cramp,” Chase complains just above a whisper. “Walking backward is a pain in the ass.”

  “At least we’re still walking,” Kylie snaps.

  “True.” With a bit of a laugh, Chase says, “Remind me to join a gym when I get to Miami—”

  Chase screams out in pain.

  I hear fumbling noises behind me. Kylie lets go of my shoulder, and I spin around to find her rushing to his aid.

  “Something’s got me! Something’s got my leg!” Chase struggles with some invisible force hidden within the grass.

  Kylie reaches over and tries to pull Chase up—when she goes down, too.

  “Kylie!” I reach out, grab her by the arm and pull, but she doesn’t budge. Feels like she’s anchored to the ground.

  “What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK?!” Chase screams as he stabs downward with the butter knife. “Get off me!”

  Kylie slips out of my grip as something yanks her away from me, dragging her into the grass, where she disappears.

  “Rodney!” Kylie cries out, and then the next time she shouts my name, it’s somewhat muffled. I drop to my knees and cut a path in the grass with my hands. I catch Kylie’s shoes kicking and scraping against the ground. Something has got her pinned.

  “Kylie!” I nearly dive on top of her. Indeed, she’s stuck. Two rotten arms with skin that is blackened and peeling like overcooked meat hold her against the ground. It’s as if the earth suddenly grew a pair of arms and reached out for the closest thing it could for a hug. One of the rotten arms is wrapped around Kylie’s torso, hand clenched around her face, practically suffocating her. The other is wrapped around her waist, fingers digging into her skin.

  I try to pry the arms off her, but they’re holding on to her as if she’s a treasure that they’re not willing to part with. I jump to my feet, take the butt of the shotgun and whack at the arm around her waist. It recoils, and the other arm loosens, allowing me to grab Kylie’s hand, pull her free and bring her back to her feet.

  “You OK?” I ask, breathlessly.

  Before she can answer, the owner of those decayed arms emerges from the ground, rising like a snake, lumps of earth sloughing off its body. Its head is a dirt-caked skull with glowing teeth. It lets out a guttural howl as it reaches for her—but not before I knock her aside and ram the butt of the shotgun into its chin, breaking it off as though it were a chunk of ice. It responds with a screech, then charges at me, but doesn’t get far as I jam the shotgun butt so hard against its skull, I knock it clean off its torso.

  “RODNEY! KYLIE!” Chase screams out. “SOMEBODY HELLLLLP!”

  Both Kylie and I spin in circles, looking for any sign of Chase in this sea of grass. He’s nowhere to be found, but he’s got to be close. Got to be right next to us.

  “Chase!” I shout. “CHASE!”

  “OVER HERE, DAMMIT!”

  We scan the field, but still no sign of him.

  “Where?” I shout.

  Then I see Chase kick a foot up in the air. The tip of his shoe sailing up above the grass just long enough for us to see where exactly he’s at. Whatever grabbed him dragged him a good thirty feet from us. Both Kylie and I break into a sprint, moving as fast as we can through the thick grass.

  “HURRY THE HELL UP!”

  It’s the one time I’m glad to hear Chase’s voice. We finally stumble upon him, and he’s in a worse situation than Kylie. One of those zombie things is on top of him, snapping its jaws at his face. The clacking sound of its jagged, rotten teeth trying to snap off a chunk of his face sends a shiver through my core. Before it gets another chance to bite, I whack the thing’s skull with the shotgun, knocking it off Chase and onto the ground.

  The thing recovers, hisses at me. Its empty eye sockets bore into me with malevolence. It springs to its feet with surprising speed and is about to pounce on me when the blast from my shotgun splits its head open. Dust and bone explode in all directions. The odor is horrible. The stench of steam, sulfur, and rot nearly chokes me.

  Kylie gets Chase to his feet. He’s clutching the side of his neck. Blood seeping down his shirt.

  “Oh God,” she says under her breath. “You’re bleeding.”

  “That thing scratched me.”

  “That’s more than a scratch,” I say as I try to move his hand away from the wound, but he swats it.

  “OK . . . it bit me, all right? Bit the shit out of me then dragged me halfway across the world. Like, fast. Super-fucking fast.” Chase clutches the side of his neck even tighter. “I think it was planning on chomping me to death.”

  “You OK though?” Kylie asks.

  Chase nods. “I’m a little woozy, and this hurts like a bitch, but other than that, I’ll be okay. Especially once my happy ass gets to a hospital in Miami.”

  I shoot him a look. Something doesn’t feel right.

  “What?” Chase asks. “Am I not allowed to get injured?”

  Before I can answer that, moans echo through the field. Dark shadows emerge from all directions behind us, floating up from the depths of the ocean of grass like icebergs appearing in the night.

  “Rodney?” Kylie tugs at my shirt.

  The entire field of the dead has just shown up to welcome us.

  “Hmm . . . I think that’s our sign,” Chase says with a nod. “We should run.”

  “Right. Let’s move.” I turn and start for the eastern edge of the field. “Come on!”

  And we’re running. I glance over my shoulder. At least a hundred of those things are marching after us. The thought of them munching on us for dinner sends shivers through me.

  Mental note: don’t look back anymore.

  Kylie and Chase’s ragged breathing tells me they’re just as tired as I am.

  “Keep going!” I say between breaths. “We’re almost there.”

  The groan of the swarm of dead behind us draws closer, evolving into more of a roar. I want to look back, to see how close they are, but I resist. We’re almost there. Feels like the edge of the field is miles away, but it’s only a few more feet.

  I’m hoping that once we make it off the field and into the forest ahead, we either lose them or by some magical power, they stop chasing us. Maybe they’re limited to the confines of that field. That would only make sense since it is called the field of the dead. Then again, seems we’ve been chased by the dead all night.

  Difficult to tell what to believe anymore.

  The moans behind us are so close I swear I can feel their breath on the back of my neck. But that’s just my nerves and an anticipation of being bitten that’s getting the best of me.

  “Keep going!” I shout that more for myself than them this time.

  Almost . . .

  There . . .

  All at once we burst through the eastern edge of the grass wall, bolt across a small clearing, and make it into the forest.

  My legs burn. Can’t help but come to a stop. I keel over, heaving. “Guys . . . let’s . . .” Talking is beyond difficult right now. “Take a second . . .” Even though there’s no guarantee that the undead army is taking a breather themselves, I just can’t run anymore.

  I draw in as much air as my lungs can handle and I’m met with the eerie silence of crickets . . .

  And nothing else.

  I spin around.

  The zombie army has vanished, seemingly disappearing back down into the tall grass from which they came.

  But not only have they vanished.


  So have Chase and Kylie.

  Oh God, no!

  Did they get them? Or did I just outrun them?

  I make my way back toward the field and stop short of where the tall grass begins again. I’m about to call out for them, when I hear Kylie scream, “RODNEEEEEEY!”

  Her cries come, not from out there on the field but behind me.

  Deep within the forest. I whirl around and hear her cry out from the belly of the woods again.

  “Kylie!”

  I make a dash in the direction of her voice.

  She screams for me once more.

  I cut between the trees, driven by a fire in my blood that pushes me through the exhaustion and burning of my muscles. I run so fast I nearly trip over my own feet, but after a few minutes, I find Kylie sprawled out on the ground. A gash on her forehead. She’s bleeding like crazy.

  “Please, God, no!” I drop to my knees, and I’m about to lift her up when a voice behind me says:

  “Chek-taaaaaaah!”

  I turn in time to see Chase standing above me. His eyes aglow, teeth pulsing like rows of tea lights. That nasty wound in his neck, that ugly bite, now fully exposed. It was more than just a scratch.

  A third of his neck is missing.

  And he’s holding a sturdy tree branch. “Chek-tah!”

  Before I can get to my feet, he swings.

  The last thing I feel before everything goes dark is the crunching of wood against my jaw.

  Chapter 19—Joining the Ranks

  I awaken to treetops and a starlit sky sparkling like a million tiny diamonds. Welcome back to the night that just never seems to end.

  The treetops start to slide past my view. Leaves crackling all around me.

  I’m being dragged.

  I lift up my head. Chase pulls me by my feet with one hand, carries my shotgun in the other. My feet are bound with a rudimentary rope; thin twigs snaked around each other. Surprisingly it’s sturdy enough to bind my feet.

  Up ahead, one of the hunters drags Kylie by her ankles.

  “Chase, what are you doing?” I ask.

  Chase glances over his shoulder. That unnerving glow coming to life in his eye as he says, “Taking you to Damien.”

  “What? Why?”

  “So he can scalp you . . . himself.”

  Chase runs me over a rock that carves a path up my spine and clips the base of my skull. I wince, white-hot pain radiating throughout my head.

  “Sorry.” Chase laughs. “Not sorry.”

  “Why?” I ask as the pain subsides. “Are you helping them?”

  Chase and the hunter stop abruptly. He turns to face me, still clutching my feet in an unnaturally strong grip. The river of blood cascading down Chase’s torso gleams in the moonlight like some bizarre, bloody necktie. His newfound physique outlined by the red haze. Seems after death, or whatever this transition is, he’s become more fit, brandishing the body of an athlete and not a cubicle-bound stockbroker.

  “Because I’m one of the Kenneh’wah now.” Chase’s eyes flicker a yellowish-red. “And this is the best thing that could’ve happened to me.” He inhales deeply as if breathing in oxygen for the first time. “I mean, look at me.” He flexes his free arm. Bicep bulging. “I’m ripped as a beast and didn’t have to sling around weights to get this way.”

  “They did something to you.”

  “Yeah, they did. They made me stronger through death.” His eyes pulse. “Their death. Their transformation. I’m becoming one of them. I feel their hate pumping through my veins.”

  “Is that what you want, Chase?”

  “Fuck yeah, it is.” He bares his teeth, and they spark to life. “To no longer feel lost, depressed, or unworthy. I’ve got a sense of purpose now. A mission.”

  “Really? What’s that?”

  “To kill chek-tah like you.” And with a hard yank, he continues, dragging me toward wherever we’re headed. The hunter does the same. “I feel sorry for Liza and the others. They didn’t transition quite so well into a Kenneh’wah warrior. Weak souls. Mindless ghouls best suited for the field of the dead. Not me. I’m a fighter.”

  “A fighter? I distinctly remember you running off at one point.”

  “Just looking out for myself, as I always have.”

  Chase may have taken my shotgun, but he didn’t get all my weapons. He also made a mistake not tying up my hands. I reach into my pocket, retrieving what I hope is my pocket knife and not one of the shotgun shells. It’s the knife. I pop it open, hoist myself up in one desperate movement, and jam the blade in-between his knuckles. He lets out a wild howl and drops my feet.

  Chase yanks the pocket knife from his hand. Eyes it with contempt. “What the fuck?”

  I make quick work of breaking the twig ropes off my feet. The other hunter drops Kylie and moves toward me, but I drive my heel right into his shin. He cries out and tumbles to the ground.

  “Oh no you don’t!” Chase fumbles with the shotgun.

  Too late.

  I’m already at his side.

  I wrap my arms over Chase’s firing arm, directing the barrel of the shotgun at the other hunter just as he pulls the trigger.

  The hunter takes the brunt of the blast. His gray flesh exploding as the round tears open his midsection. He goes down quick.

  Before Chase can react, I elbow him in the nose. He stumbles backward, releasing his grip on the shotgun. I yank it away, spin on my heels, and pull the trigger just as Chase charges into me. He knocks the barrel aside as the shotgun roars. The shot completely misses. He takes me down the ground, landing on top of me with the force of a falling boulder. He weighs more than I expect, but then again, he isn't exactly Chase.

  He’s something else.

  Chase straddles me and pins me down. With one hand, he grips my throat so tight I see spots. With the other, he holds up my pocket knife. Glares at it with a sneer. “You think this little toy was going to stop me? Are you kidding? A fucking spork is sharper than this!” He leans forward, his body weight cutting off circulation to my head. “How about I carve out both of your eyes with it?”

  I try desperately to pry him off, but can’t. It’s as if he’s made of concrete.

  “I think I’ll start with your left eye.” He brings the slender blade up to my eyelashes. I flinch and try to turn away—but now he slides the hand he was choking me with up to my face. His thumb digs just under my cheekbone, locking me painfully in place. Fingernails cutting into skin. His grimy palm completely covers my nose and mouth. It’s nearly impossible to breathe, and that’s made even worse by the stench of his skin. He smells like sewage.

  “The last thing you’re going to see before I dig out your eyes is my smiling face,” Chase says, teeth aglow.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Mentally preparing myself for the pain. But instead of experiencing the horrific sensation of a sliver of metal being shoved into my eye socket, I feel Chase loosen his grip around my face. Followed by the sounds of gagging.

  I open my eyes.

  Kylie!

  She’s standing behind Chase. A bone knife protrudes from his neck. Mouth open, tongue dangling out like some crazed canine. His face is frozen in a moment of surprise. The light in his teeth and eyes fades to black.

  Kylie retrieves the bone knife and kicks Chase’s lifeless body aside.

  “Where’d you get that?” I ask, eyeing the weapon.

  She extends her hand and pulls me to my feet. “From Chase’s buddy over there.” She nods toward the dead hunter.

  “Well, you’re a resourceful one.”

  She smiles in a way that says, I know. The wound at her temple is still bleeding.

  “Your head. It looks—” I move to touch it, and she shrinks back.

  “I'm all right.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I say as I eye Chase’s body.

  “Don’t worry, Rodney. Nothing bit me. That asshole simply clubbed me good with a branch back there.”

  The dull ache in my skull reminds m
e of a similar encounter.

  “Well…”

  Her eyes meet mine. “Well, what?”

  “Thanks.”

  “For?” Kylie wipes the blood off on her shirt and then stuffs the knife through her belt.

  “For saving my ass.” I pick up the shotgun.

  She laughs.

  “What so funny?” I ask.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

  I wince at the cliché, then grin.

  “Sorry, I had to,” she says with a smile herself.

  “So . . .” The words that follow seem to come out of my mouth on their own. “If we make it out of this alive, can I take you out sometime?”

  Kylie hesitates. It’s almost as if she hadn’t heard me correctly.

  I feel the color drain from my entire body.

  Why did I just ask that?

  Could it be the shock of the situation? Adrenaline? Testosterone? Stupidity?

  Kylie approaches me, comes very close to my body, and I lock up. I nearly jump when she gently places both hands on my shoulders. Her touch feels electric. I swear I can feel the energy jumping off her skin as if she’s some sort of cosmic generator creating an attraction greater than the forces that keep our planets in orbit.

  I wonder if she feels it, too.

  “We will make it out of this alive. Count on that.” Her words are like gold to my ears. I hope what will follow will be a yes to my question. “And as far as you taking me out—”

  A flare shoots up in the air.

  It’s close.

  “Look!” she says, pointing toward it. “Just beyond those trees.” She squints. “Check out the lights up ahead.”

  War cries stir behind us.

  “Come on,” I say, pulling her in the direction of the flare. “It’s time to finish this.”

  Chapter 20—The Struggle and the Game

  Gathering up every bit of energy in our bodies, we sprint through the last stretch of woods. Behind us, a stampede of undead hatred pursues us. Their war cries and footfalls sound as though they’re literally right behind us. This time, I dare not look back. Instead, I keep my eyes on the lights up ahead.

  We break through the woods and find ourselves in an RV park that’s smaller than the one where we encountered Mac. There are only two RVs here. And just like Mac’s park, these are encircled by a ring of light poles. Must be another “safe zone.”