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All five of us advanced towards the two closest columns. Kyle stood with his back against one of them, while I hoisted the woman up onto his shoulders. She stood tall enough to grab a spear and a large wooden mallet from above her. Unable to hold the heavy wood, she pried it loose, letting it drop to the ground in front of me.

Reaching down, I placed both hands around the oversized handle. All I could think of was that this was a larger version of my hammer. It was meant for me. A feeling of comfort ran through my body, giving me a much needed sense of confidence.

The woman grabbed the spear, and dropped to the floor. Kyle pulled an eye level wooden club from the column.

At the same time, the Asian and Mr. Muscle were working on another pillar across from us. I watched in amazement as the Asian took a running start and ran towards Mr. Muscle, who was crouched over with his hands clasped in the shape of a stirrup. As he reached Mr. Muscle, the Asian strategically placed his foot in the clasped hands and took a leap, propelling upward. He grabbed a sword and a mace, before flipping back down to the ground with the grace of an acrobat.

I should have noticed it right away. They worked really well together. Too well for guys who just met. With a series of nods, and pointed expressions, they managed to pull down two of the most fierce weapons in the place and retreat toward us in record time. No time to think about it. I was just glad to have them in the fight.

The five of us, armed and regrouped, stood as a solid line facing the oncoming swarm. The crowd screamed for our blood. Amongst the madness, Kyle remained focused with the poise of a seasoned athlete competing in yet another game. It was as if time stood still. He looked out at the crowd and the approaching Zs, then back at each one of us.

“I’m not afraid to die today,” Kyle stated boldly. “If it’s my time, then it’s my time. I can tell you one thing, though. I’m not going to die without a fight.” He raised his voice now. Not in anger, not in distress. It was the voice of a man putting it all on the line, like a warrior rallying his fellow countrymen for the battle ahead.

“Let them throw everything they have at us. Let them throw us into this hellhole. I say, we put their little society to the test. I say, we bring this whole fucking thing down!” He ended in a bellow. As we acknowledged with our own wild cheers, the Asian broke from his trance, and made direct eye contact with Kyle, giving him one single nod. It was the most I ever saw him communicate with anybody. It spoke louder than any words I’d ever heard. Mr. Muscle was twisting his hands around the grip of his mace, the clinking of the chain barely heard. We were ready.

Kyle shouted for us to break into two parallel lines. The Zs were twenty feet away.

No matter what the odds, no matter how bad the cards are stacked against you; a well-played strategy can give you the edge.

I was in the front line along with the woman and Kyle. As the Zs approached, Kyle instructed us to knock the first ones back by hitting them in the chest. As they fell off balance, the Asian and Mr. Muscle brought their weapons down across their skulls. It was not unlike the tactic we had used back at the gas station; we pushed a Z back, and they brought it down.

After just minutes, there were ten lifeless bodies lying in front of us, the arena cleared of free-range zombies. This was easy… too easy. I was certain; this was just a preamble to the main event.

Gordon stood up, raising a glass of wine into the air along with his microphone. Bringing them both back to his waist, he motioned to the crowd to simmer down.

“Well done. Well done, indeed!” he mused as he looked down at the five of us.

“Not a single payment to Lady Justice… so far. That was an impressive display. We have some true gladiators in our arena tonight.” He looked across the crowd. They were hanging on his every word.

For the first time however, I noticed that not all was as it seemed. While the commoners who were cheering certainly made their fair share of noise, there were some who were not making a peep.

I watched Mr. Muscle looking out at a group of people on the southern part of the fence. He ever so slightly nodded to them. His gaze then moved over to the Asian. Kyle and I both saw it. He was planning something. But what, I couldn’t tell.

“Well, Lady Justice has yet another test for our gladiators. This one will surely call upon the greatest of skill, and be a true show of the direction towards guilt or freedom. I call upon you great Avalonians. Are you ready?” The crowd once again came to life.

Gordon looked down at the Troopers holding the Death Suit Zs. He nodded, and they responded by unhooking one of them. It wasn’t Michael, but I could feel my innards quake anyway. At the same time, another wave of Zs was released from the far gate.

The Death Suit Z charged us, making it to our line much quicker than the rest of the creatures. It plowed through our group with the ease of a bullet passing through butter, knocking each of us back. It was the Asian that it honed in on, advancing towards him with a speed and ferocity that was unmatched by any of the dead that I had ever seen.

With his sword drawn, the Asian held his ground barely glancing at the gash on his arm. When the creature tore through us, his faceplate of razors had ripped through the Asian’s flesh. It was unclear if he had been bitten.

As the creature charged him, the Asian pulled back, using his own weight to push the creature off to his right. He then brought his sword down along the Zs back. The creature, without hesitation or indication that it was injured, whipped around. Some coagulated blood fell to the ground like bits of rust.

The Asian pulled his sword shoulder level once again, ready for the next pass. The zombie spun around in a rage, and charged toward him as the man brought the sword down across its head. There was an audible metal on metal shriek, and a spark flew out as the sword bounced off the creature’s helmet throwing it off balance. It spun around wildly, falling back with a thud. Jumping up with the craze of a rabid dog, the beast swung its head from side to side, spitting a stream of dark mucus freely through the razor blades in the helmet.

The other Zs were closing in on our line. Kyle yelled for us to move as a group toward the Asian’s battle just feet away. With each step we took, the fight took three steps back. A roar from the armored Z screeched through the arena as it took a sharp stab to its metal chest plate on the next pass.

With the dead at arm’s length, we turned to the oncoming swarm. Kyle swung his club across the face of the first one to reach us, knocking it toward the floor. The woman brought her spear down through its skull before it had a chance to land. I twisted my mallet sideways, squeezed the handle, and arched my back as I brought it across the chest of the next creature to reach us. Throwing it against one of the pillars, its head split in two as it smashed against the corner; dropping it to the ground for good.

The woman was holding her own. She was tough, and I could tell she had a spirit that wouldn’t be broken, which was probably why she was in this hell with us.

She had one of the Zs coming at her, when she gracefully sidestepped it, and swung her spear across its back. The creature fell off balance, plummeting to the floor. Maintaining her composure, she confidently stepped above it, and with all the power she could muster, let out a primal scream as she shoved the spear into the back of its head, pinning it to the ground.

Kyle looked at her, and then back to me as if to say, “Holy Shit!”

Glancing toward the Asian, he was still locked in battle with the Death Suit Zombie. He was bleeding down his arm, spatters of red and black drops spinning into the air as he swung his sword around his head in a defensive position. The Z was horribly mutilated, with sword strikes and stabs through most parts of his body. The creature was missing an arm, and had been hit in its shoulder. One leg was even shredded to the bone. However, the Asian had not managed to land a blow through its helmet or its neck.