by Platt, Sean
He spit a giant gob of bloody snot from his mouth. It landed on the Mesa floor a foot from Bear’s blood-crusted boot. Bear grunted, then turned black eyes from Jonah to the closed gate door as the zombies reached the cage and began to press against the door. Jonah wondered how long the gate would hold, with the inevitable thousands of pounds pushing their dead weight against it. Bear turned to the cage, screaming at the zombies on the other side, either trying to intimidate them, or perhaps rile them up and encourage them to push the cage door open.
Bear turned around, not looking altogether surprised to see that Jonah had made his way across the cage to retrieve Bear’s carelessly thrown axe.
Jonah held Bear’s axe with both hands, his muscles straining from the weight and bulging from his tired biceps. Bear laughed.
“You better swing true,” he said. “’Cause if you miss, I’m gonna get it. And I promise: I won’t miss.”
They stared at one another, each of them snarling. Jonah didn’t have the strength to charge. He barely had the strength to stand without dropping the axe.
And Bear knew it.
Both men were bleeding — and the zombies were pressing harder against the cage door, crowding the bars closest to the door, rotten arms reaching in, swinging wildly, spurred by a hunger for flesh.
Jonah stared through the layers of certain death and snarled. Compared to the zombies behind the bars, being torn to bitter memory by Bear would be a blessing.
Jonah had two children and a City to save, if not a world.
His time was now.
Jonah ran toward Bear, then swung his gait wide at the last minute, rounded past the startled behemoth as he charged toward the cage door. Jonah swung the axe, severing several ruined hands and covering himself with a gallon of blood, but he struck his target — the metal bar holding the gate closed. The lock broke and fell to the ground with a clank.
The cage exploded open, the door slamming Jonah back against the wall of iron bars, as a dozen zombies rushed in. They raced past Jonah, secured by the door, which trapped him against the wall of iron bars, and toward Bear, who was racing to the far corner of the cage, screaming.
Fortunately, the zombies who had been on the left side of the door weren’t still there, or Jonah would have been trapped and they would have torn him apart. They’d raced inside with the rest of the zombies, leaving the ramp to the cage clear. Jonah swung the cage door back open, and grabbed the axe, which had fallen from his hands when the door burst open. As he headed through the open door, he looked back to see that none of the zombies was paying any attention to him. They were all in the corner — surrounding Bear, who was pushing and fighting them as best he could.
Jonah wasn’t gonna wait to see who would win the battle. He began to descend the ramp, sneaking one last look back.
Bear screamed as if three men were dying inside him, then fell to his knees as a river of blood ran from beneath him. The zombies in the cage piled on top of him like flies to a dying cow’s asshole. Then came the sound of ripping, and Bear’s screams were choked in gurgling blood.
Jonah looked back down the ramp to see that he wasn’t alone. A female zombie, late to the party, was at the bottom of the sloped ramp and headed straight toward him.
Her white eyes locked on him as her mouth opened and teeth began to chomp in anticipation of a feast.
Jonah gripped the axe tight and headed toward her, cautious not to fall over the edge of the ramp and take a plunge that would kill him right after he won The Game.
As they drew closer, he realized that if he swung the axe and missed, his momentum, and the cool wind, could take him right off the ramp.
The zombie was closing in — 20 feet, and then 10.
Jonah readied the axe, and as the dead woman closed the gap between them, she shrieked.
He didn’t swing the axe, though. Instead, he shoved the blade right at her chest, thrusting it forward to knock her off the ramp.
As the axe struck, her arms reached out for his, and Jonah was forced to let go of the axe. The zombie stumbled back, slipped, and then sailed right off the ramp, screeching all the way down.
Jonah was about to run down the ramp to find somewhere safe to go until someone showed up to declare him a winner.
However, more zombies had gathered below, headed toward the ramp.
“Shit!”
He turned around and headed back up the ramp. The zombies were feasting on Bear’s ample corpse, but they wouldn’t be distracted for long.
He couldn’t go in the cage. And he couldn’t lock it.
He’d have to climb it and get on top. But to do that, he’d have to circle halfway around the ledge and hope to God that the zombies didn’t see him before he could flee their reach.
He glanced down to see at least six zombies heading up the ramp. They weren’t running, but it would be less than a couple of minutes before they reached him.
He began making his way around the lip of the Mesa platform, which extended just two feet around the cage in every direction.
The only crossbar within reach was around the corner, about 30 feet away.
Jonah forced himself to move faster, gripping the bars tight as he navigated the outside of the cage. Just as he rounded the corner, one of the zombies was pushed from the pack feasting on Bear. It looked up and saw Jonah standing on the other side of the bars.
It shrieked, drawing the attention of the others.
“Fuck!” Jonah screamed, as he was still 10 feet away from the crossbars and would have to pull himself up once there.
He raced, his heart pounding against his chest as he went bar to bar, and finally reached the crossbar. Just as he reached it, a zombie’s face and wide-open rotting mouth greeted him with a scream — just inches away and reaching for Jonah.
Jonah’s foot slipped and he fell, hitting his knee hard, as his hand slipped down the bar, and sent the bulk of his body over the ledge. Somehow he barely held onto the bar as the rest of his body slipped down, coming to a sudden wrenching stop as his shoulder exploded in fiery pain.
But he held on, the rest of his body dangling off the Mesa platform.
His relief was short-lived, however, as he felt the zombie clawing at his hand.
Jonah brought his left hand up, grabbed the edge of the Mesa platform, then let his right hand release the bar and fall to the edge of the platform, where he held on for dear life by the tips of his fingers. Six zombies gathered, shoving themselves at the bars just above, moaning, screeching, and reaching through the bars, swiping at him.
Jonah moved his hands repeatedly to avoid their swings as his fingers felt like they might fall off at any second.
He looked down. The ground beneath him was soft with snow, but the snow wasn’t that deep. And there were more zombies gathering beneath him.
He had nowhere to go.
Just when Jonah figured the drop’s instant death might be better than getting grabbed and pulled into the cage, two orbs flew into sight and hovered above him, displaying a screen filled with people in the studio audience at City 1, cheering.
“This might be the best finish on record, ladies and gentleman!” Kirkman proclaimed from the orb’s speakers. “WOW! We’ll be talking about this Darwin Final between Jonah Lovecraft and Dimitri “Bear” Aronofsky for years!”
One of the zombie’s hands grabbed ahold of Jonah’s right hand, and he yanked it back, nearly losing his grip with his left hand in the process.
He cried out, “Get me outta here!”
Suddenly Jonah felt a harness threading itself around his chest, then a tightening pressure as he was slowly pulled toward a silent hovercopter above.
Kirkman continued from both orbs on either side of Jonah as he floated up and away from the cage, looking down at the screaming zombies and the fleshy, bloody remains of Bear.
“Any last words for the final few seconds of the Finish, Jonah?”
The orb went silent, waiting.
Jonah was too tired to
say a word and had nothing to say even if he weren’t exhausted. He shook his head, trying to keep from passing out.
“Oh no,” Kirkman chimed. “Looks like Jonah needs a nap!”
The screen suddenly brightened and showed Jonah’s face in a live action shot. The words “WINNER” were written in bold blue beneath him.
“Jonah Lovecraft is our newest Darwin Games winner!” Kirkman shouted. “He will now be cleaned up and rubbed down, and will get a reminder of what it means to be a man as he’s prepared by The Darwin Games producers for his first-class trip to the rest of his life in SUNNY City 7!”
The screen suddenly lit with vibrant images of City 7, showing Jonah the same sight the crowds were seeing — in every bar, public square, dark alley, and private home in all the Cities.
Kirkman then spoke the mantra that was spoken before the end of every broadcast: “All hail the one true leader, Geralt.”
The audience said, “All hail!” and broke into a round of applause. Jonah was sure some of the applause was for Geralt, but he also knew at least some of the people — those who sought change in the system — were secretly applauding his win.
Jonah stared at the screen and hope swelled in his chest, so intense he thought he might cry.
Like every second of footage he had seen since he could remember, City 7 was gorgeous, so clean it shimmered, especially when compared to City 6’s all-too-lived-in streets and alleyways.
The pixels of City 7 were every one of them Paradise: people either relaxing, or stuffing their faces with heaping plates of piled pasta and lean meats — the opposite of the packaged synthetics found behind the walls of City 6. There were tall glasses filled with richly colored wine and spirits, and beaches swarming with beautiful men and women wearing nothing but their smiles.
Jonah’s body was lifted into the hovercopter.
Kirkman’s voice invaded the copter’s interior as the orb hovered an inch from his face and he asked if the first thing Jonah wanted to do in City 7 was take a nap.
Jonah opened his mouth to answer, then passed out instead.
CHAPTER 5 — Anastasia Lovecraft
Inside The Walls of City 6
Sunday
It took Ana a day’s worth of courage to finally visit the church. Then when she did, she spent the service sitting alone, wishing she hadn’t been so stupid.
It wasn’t easy getting to the church since Ana didn’t want Adam to know she wasn’t around. She got Michael to look after him while she was gone, which made her feel bad since he’d already spent the morning in jail defending her name.
Michael pulled Adam from Chimney Rock with a day pass. He was one of two authorized white-card friends who could sign her little brother out for a four-hour interval, twice per month. This particular day pass bought Adam a half-day in the Arcade — his favorite place in the world. Michael loved the Arcade, too. Of course, everyone did.
The Arcade was filled with every game, movie, and digital book in The City’s library. It was a digital paradise. Beyond the countless games and miscellaneous media, there were long aisles of simulators, though unlike everything else in the Arcade, simulator time had to be booked. It was the most popular part of the Arcade by far, so walk-ins were never available.
The Arcade offered everything from foods you could never eat otherwise to lovers real life would never allow you to taste. Adam hadn’t visited any of the adult delicacies, but Michael had, even though he wouldn’t while at the Arcade with Adam, and it had taken him a forever and a half to admit the truth to Ana the first time he did.
She imagined Michael at the Arcade with Adam, standing in line for the virtual coasters, eating fry bread dusted with sweetener, and maybe catching a movie — probably Interior Solace, the story of the Third Plague and Jonathan Clark’s midnight ride into the forests just outside City 2.
Interior Solace was one of Michael’s favorites, and Ana hoped he was able to share it with Adam, who had never seen it before. Michael was good to her, the best. No one else in her life would have ever risen to defend her like that, or gone to jail for the honor.
Michael had, and had done so without flinching.
Ana’s mind flashed to Liam, and she couldn't help but wonder if he’d made it out of jail. She hadn’t seen him since the incident at The Social, not that she ran in the same circles as he did, anyway. But Ana was worried and couldn’t help but feel responsible for Liam’s whereabouts, even though he had started the whole incident.
Ana asked Michael if he knew what happened to Liam, but he wouldn’t even look at her when he answered that he didn’t know, or particularly care, what happened to the “jerk.”
Ana turned her attention back to the pulpit. The pastor was the same black man — Duncan — she had met at The Social.
As Ana sat in a pew with her hands folded in her lap, looking up at the pulpit like everyone around her, she felt like a fraud among so many holy people. She wasn’t a believer, and the words flowing from Duncan’s mouth didn’t sound all that different from the fairy tales her parents had told her as a child.
Ana wondered why Red Beard had given her the message to come here. Had he merely been offering her a place of worship, or did Duncan want to see her? She assumed the latter, given their conversation at The Social. Perhaps Duncan was going to offer proof she was a “liar,” and that her dad hadn’t done what she had clearly seen him do, she figured.
Though it would have to be some damned impressive proof.
There was a small girl to Ana’s left, tiny really, and adorable enough to crease Ana’s unhappy face with a smile. Most of the children living in the lower floor apartments of The City looked malnourished. Their clothes were often threadbare and dirty, no different from their spirits.
This girl seemed different — scrubbed rosy, her body clean and almost glowing. Her clothes were thin but well mended and neatly pressed despite their wear. Her short blond hair was trimmed in a severe line just beneath her chin. She stared up at the pastor, lightly swinging her legs, fingers braided and resting in her lap, wearing a smile that seemed so big and happy.
Ana couldn’t ever remember a time being filled with that much joy.
The girl hung on the pastor’s every word, singing every song while swinging her feet beneath the pew in front of her. When Duncan finished speaking, Ana waited for the traffic to pass before climbing into the open aisle. Ana waited behind the girl, waiting to see where her parents were. But nobody came for the girl.
She just sat there, smiling, watching the pastor.
Ana leaned over the aisle, “Are you here alone?”
The girl turned to Ana and said, “Yes, Mommy and Daddy let me come to church whenever I want. They said it’s better than being at home and watching The Games.”
Ana swallowed, still confused about whether she should be celebrating or mourning her father’s win this morning, which she had seen just as she was leaving for church.
“I haven’t seen you before,” the girl said, looking sideways at Ana. “Was this your first time at church?”
Ana nodded.
The girl smiled. “It’s great to have you,” she said. “Father Duncan says we can never have too many people in church.” After a pause, barely long enough to draw a decent breath, she said, “My name’s Iris, what’s yours?”
She had “Ana” in her throat, then choked on it and said, “Rebecca” instead.
“Nice to meet you, Rebecca.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Ana said.
She was about to ask Iris where she lived when she felt a strong hand on her tightened shoulder. “Come with me,” Duncan’s soft, firm voice said from behind her. Ana turned and met Duncan’s eyes, larger than what she remembered from The Social, and infinitely sadder. “I have something to show you,” he said.
Ana said nothing, just nodded, turned to Iris, and waved goodbye, then followed Duncan through the church, past the pulpit, then down some stairs and into the basement where there was a handful of kids a
nd grownups sharing food and discussion.
Despite the good-bye, Iris followed them anyway, jumping from the second to the final step, then onto the basement floor just a beat behind them, practically skipping across the room to the table on the far wall, where she grabbed a piece of bread with a layer of sweetener crusted across the top, then started nibbling on the end, like she probably did every week.
Ana gave Iris a one-fingered wave, her curled pointer bouncing up and down from across the room. Iris looked up, smiled with her crumb-coated mouth, then waved back at Ana with her entire hand.
Ana turned to Duncan. “Mind if I sit?” she asked, then made her way across the room to a tattered fabric chair in the corner — the only unoccupied seat in the room — before Duncan could answer. Ana tried to swallow her rising tide of panic while slowly breathing through an obvious new truth: the church, and everyone in the basement, were clearly members of The Underground.
She couldn’t hear their words or be completely certain they were Underground Rebels, but the same father who had murdered her mother had also sharpened Ana’s instincts. She imagined Watchers bursting through the doors, arresting them all. If that happened, she was done for. And her brother would have nobody to look after him.
She had to get out of the basement.
But she also had to find out why she’d been summoned.
“You’re part of The Undergound?” she said, half-statement and half-question.
“Yes, I am.” Duncan nodded. “And so was your father.”
Ana was about as surprised to hear her father was part of The Underground as she would have been to hear a City Watch broadcast announcing early curfew. “Why did you ask me to come here?”
Duncan smiled, slowly rubbing his hands across his knees. He looked like he was about to say one thing, but then drew in his breath and said something else. “Before I start, Ana,” he narrowed his eyes. “I want to thank you for coming here today. I know it wasn’t easy, and that getting brought down into a basement by someone you don’t trust, well, that’s scary, and I admire you for swallowing your fear and listening to your gut long enough to get here and maybe listen. Your father would’ve been proud.” Duncan smiled.