Finishing off the last of the swarm, Kyle rushed to lend aid just as the creature was setting up to charge the Asian once more. Badly bleeding and clearly worn, he was holding his ground with the sword pointed directly at the oncoming beast.
I don’t know if it was because he couldn’t or wouldn’t, but he simply didn’t move out of the way. He was making his final stand. The Asian waited until he could see into the helmet, peering into those red eyes buried deep behind the metal shards. Then, with the grace of a surgeon, he shifted his body forward, driving his blade straight up through the razor teeth and into the skull of the crazed beast. The sword clanged as it pushed through the eye and out the back of its skull, striking the inside of the helmet.
He let it hang there on the tip of his sword for a moment, before kicking it off with his foot. A few of the razors broke off and fell to the linoleum floor as the creature joined the ranks of the lifeless dead.
Kyle rushed to the Asian, and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back on his feet. They stumbled back to our group. We were once again whole.
Taking in long pulls of oxygen, I glanced up at the Elites. I could see that they were drunk on the wine, and high on the violence. Chauffer had one of the slave women bent over his throne. He was holding a cigar in one hand and a mug of wine in another as he rocked rhythmically behind her. Another Elite walked up, gave him a high five, and then reached down and smacked her on the ass. The bastards were screaming and laughing at the death, sex, and horror that they had created.
My eyes were drawn to a man standing in the commoner area. He had noticed the anarchy up in the Elite section, too. I realized that it was Jarvis; his expression gave way to noticeable disgust.
Gordon looked back and forth between the gate and the Death Suit Zs. He held his hand out, his thumb straight up, pausing to get the crowd worked up. As his gaze landed on our small group of five, he slowly pointed his thumb directly at the floor. The entire room erupted in a thunderous explosion of excitement.
Time slowed for a moment. I watched as the chains were unlocked and fell with a thud to the ground. The remaining two Death Suit Zombies were unleashed at the same time. At first, they didn’t move, unaware of their newfound freedom. The Zs suddenly charged us in a frenzy of clinking armor and throaty snarls.
Time sped up… and very damn fast. The truest test of all had just begun.
Our weapons were up and pointed at the oncoming fury. I could see the madness in Michael’s eyes. All traces of humanity were gone. There was no one home.
The other Death Suit Z got to us first. I braced for impact, but watched as Mr. Muscle landed a direct shot to the thing’s skull with his chain-linked mace. The creature was knocked to its ass and it rolled past us across the linoleum floor.
Mr. Muscle, the woman and the Asian surrounded the creature, striking it while it lay briefly on the ground. The mace to the head just seemed to piss the thing off as it bucked up and plunged across Mr. Muscle’s legs, knocking him backward against the arena perimeter. The whole fence jarred back, and the crowd paused in fear as a title wave of metal echoed outward and around, reverberating through the links.
Mr. Muscle surged to his feet, bringing his elbow down on the beasts shoulder. One of the spikes on the chest armor stabbed through his biceps throwing blood across the woman’s red dress. The crowd howled at the sight of blood. Keeping the pain to himself, he tore his arm free, and pushed the Z across the floor toward the other end of the arena. The Asian and the woman were fast to get back in on the attack.
A split second later, my attention was jerked back to Zombie Michael as he slammed into Kyle and me. One of the spikes on his helmet jammed into my shoulder. I felt the sharp stabbing pain radiate through my body as blood welled up. I wasn’t sure how deep it was. I didn’t have time to check.
Kyle was wrestling with Michael on the floor, deflecting savage snaps of his teeth and the razor tooth helmet. I raised my mallet into the air, almost on instinct. There was a numbness shooting throughout my arm, causing my fingers to tingle. I had a savage anger coursing through my veins. Pushed to my limit, I felt the uncontrollable need to kill. All this shit, all the madness, all the horror. I was going to take it out on him. Michael was dead, and this thing wasn’t going to take us with him.
I brought the mallet down sideways, hitting Michael across the torso, knocking him five feet to the right. I grabbed Kyle’s arm helping him back on his feet. A thick trickle of blood oozed down my sleeve from the strain.
We watched as Michael leaned over on his hands and knees, and began to vomit violently. A stream of black blood and bile bounced off the floor. He looked up at us, with chunks of it hanging in the blades.
I glanced over at the Asian and Mr. Muscle. They had worked across the floor just under where Chauffer and Gordon were standing. The Elites were on the edge of their platform, looking over to get a better view of the fight.
Zombie Michael stood back up and charged at Kyle again. It was as if he was ignoring me, with some recognition that Kyle was the one always challenging him, never believing him.
Kyle was ready for Michael this time, and used his own momentum to heft the creature up over his head and throw it into the nearby column.
The crowd screamed with approval.
I watched as Zombie Michael’s back hit solidly on one of the edges. It would have paralyzed anything else, but this creature jumped right back up. Even with a broken spine, it still managed to viciously race at Kyle again. He drove its head into the fence with a clang as the faceplate smashed into the chain links. The commoners crowded closer watching intently as broken razors and teeth shot through the wire.They began cheering for Kyle. He was working the Z over with his bare hands, and they loved it.
“Kyle! Kyle! Kyle!” It was all anyone could hear as they rhythmically chanted. Kyle looked at me as he pushed Michael to the ground, causing him to slide through a bloody mess and into one of the dead creatures laying just feet away. The chant had him thrown off, and he was taken aback by it. I could see, if only for an instant, that he realized that he was fighting Michael, our friend Michael… and the world loved it.
He nodded toward the column where a wooden spiked staff was sticking out of it. I knew what he was thinking before he even turned back around to face Michael, who let out a primordial scream and made his final charge.
I twisted the point of the shaft up at a forty-five degree angle a split second before Kyle lifted Michael into it. There was a crunch of bone and sickening tearing sound as the spike ran directly through his unarmored lower torso. Blood spurted from the cavity, hitting the floor with a heavy pish! The wooden dowel managed to hold the weight of our one-time friend. Its legs kicked violently a full foot above the ground.
Kyle called for my mallet. I fumbled for a moment before tossing it to him. He turned towards the crowd. His name continued to ring out through the halls of Avalon. They wanted to see blood.
He raised the mallet high above his head but didn’t readily strike. He did something that I knew was taught in the military: he hesitated. His eyes flitted from Michael’s to my own, holding my gaze for what seemed eternity. I knew what needed to be done, for our sake, and for our friend’s. I gave a single nod of approval. He drove the mallet straight through the faceplate of the helmet, squeezing what was left of the skull and brains out of the bottom of the helmet like a popped zit. The body fell lifeless on the staff. Michael had been put out of his misery.