Kyle passed the mallet back to me and reached down for his club. He raised it above his head, playing to the crowd. It was hard not to be inspired. The commoners and Elites joined in a wild cheer at the destructive end.
Still, there were some in the crowd that were not carrying on. Once I had noticed it earlier, I couldn’t stop spotting them. Jarvis was one of them, and he was watching the battle waging under Gordon’s platform very closely.
Mr. Muscle lifted the creature above his head and threw it at a support beam. It shook ever so slightly. The Elites looked at each other pausing for a moment, and then laughed out loud. They saluted with their wine glasses and continued to watch the fight.
The woman was standing just outside of the fight zone. She was holding up her spear, making sure the creature didn’t get away from the immediate area.
Mr. Muscle managed to run the creature directly into the same beam. The zombie’s head clanged against it, and the spikes pulled chunks out of the wood itself.
The creature staggered then turned, and gave the woman a feral look. Losing grip of the beast, Mr. Muscle reached back after it as it darted towards her. She tripped sideways, losing grip of her spear, which clanged across the ground out of her reach. Leaping toward her, midair, the creature was coming down on her when she let out a scream that turned the crowd’s cheers silent. Just as its arms were falling through her hair, Kyle came smashing into it sideways, knocking it back across the floor. He rolled a few feet, interlocked with the deadly abomination, before he landed on top, pinning the creature down. It bucked, and arched its back to no avail as Kyle slammed his club across its face, knocking the razors into it the back of its helmet.
Killing was always easy for Kyle. He knew death well.
The woman picked up her spear and stepped toward Kyle extending a hand. He reached up, as she pulled him to his feet. They didn’t exchange words, but there was a moment shared between them that I couldn’t quite discern.
Gordon glared down at the five of us. Some of the wine from his cup splatted at my feet. I could see it on his face; he had grown livid of that fact that all five of us were still standing.
Chapter 26
The horde was fully upon us. There was no stopping it.
The crowd was behind us now. We just stood there listening to the deafening chant of:
“All five are still alive!”
Gordon took a sip from his newly refreshed wine mug before looking around at the eagerly awaiting audience.
“This has been a truly amazing feat, and one like no other that we’ve seen in this arena so far. This group of five have managed to remain alive, thus passing this week’s battle.”
I looked at Jarvis. He was staring directly at Mr. Muscle and the Asian, who were nodding. Whatever it was, I could tell something was getting ready to go down.
“I’d like to give the crowd a choice,” Gordon continued. “You, my dear Avalonians, will decide the fate of these five.” Gordon held both hands out at an even distance to his sides with his palm up, creating the illusion of a scale with his arms.
Lifting his left hand up, Gordon said,
“In one hand, we have two fights left. Two battles like this one. If these five continue along to the end, they earn their freedom and the honor of becoming an Elite citizen. We can stop the battle now, to see each of these gladiators come back next week for the second fight.” He lowered his left and raised his right one into the air.
“On the other hand, we could keep them here now, and give them a shot at being Elites tonight!”
The crowd stopped suddenly; dark whispers arose like wind blowing through trees.
“That’s right; we make this fight overwhelming, but not impossible. We finish this epic battle tonight, instead of waiting for next week. We give this group a shot at freedom now, not two battles from now. Their fate is in your hands, Avalonians!” he cried, equaling his hands.
Holding out his left hand again, Gordon looked out among the crowd, asking for the battle to commence the following week. Some claps and cheers echoed in the room, but the room remained, for the most part, quiet.
“Who wants to finish this tonight?” His voice was high with fervor. The cheers were so loud I didn’t hear them as much as I felt them shaking through my core.
Exaggerating every movement, Gordon raised his right hand up high and nodded for the troopers down on the floor to open the gate. It opened with a grating screech. What started as a trickle, turned into an uncountable stream of Zs that began to emerge from the darkness.
Kyle quickly shouted out directions to split us into three teams spreading out to separate sections of the fence. As the horde stumbled toward us, I looked to each member of our group. Eyes wide, beaten down and bloody, nobody moved a muscle. The crowd was silent, watching in anticipation, waiting to see our next move. We knew the score; there was no escape from this one. It would be a blood bath that left none of us alive.
Mr. Muscle pulled the mace across his body, bits of flesh falling from the rusted spikes, and moved closer to Kyle and me. With a rushed voice, filled with determination, he said,
“Help with this post, ese? You had the right idea. We’re going take the whole fucking thing down, like you said.”
Kyle and I exchanged glances, then nods. If he had an idea, we were in on it. As one, we raced up to the column and started to hack at it with our weapons. Mr. Muscle, the Asian and the woman had a good start to their plan. They had already weakened the post leading up to Gordon and Chauffer, and between the sword, mace and mallet, it was only a matter of time before we crippled it.
Gordon didn’t have time to react; fortunately, the Zs took too long to reach us. Just as he was screaming for one of the guards to shoot us, the beam collapsed, and with it the fence and the floor beneath him. I kept one eye on the zombies and one eye on Gordon, as three chairs, along with multiple Elite citizens slid down into the arena in front of us. Mr. Muscle cupped his hand, and the Asian used it to bound up to the top balcony. Sword drawn, he started to hack and slash anything moving. Trying to flee the mayhem, many of the Elites leapt down into the arena, only to realize that they had jumped into certain death as the zombie horde approached them. When faced with death, people will do anything to escape.
Kyle was busy hoisting the woman up over the fence, when I realized that the group of the commoners, quiet and disengaged in watching the earlier battle, were now attacking the Elites. Even though the troopers tried to surround and defend them, the commoners simply overwhelmed them in numbers. They overran the guards, pulling them apart more savagely than any of the zombies behind us ever would have. There was pure anger in their eyes as they ripped the Elites’ togas off, beating them to death with their own wine mugs.
Mr. Muscle leaned down, and grabbed the broken post. Lifting with his legs, he bellowed standing straight up to dump the platform that Chauffer and Gordon were standing on backwards. They slid helplessly into the crowd. I watched them tumble just as the fence tore completely free. Hearing gunshots, I instinctively ducked my head only to realize it was not man shooting zombie, it was man shooting man.
Some of the Zs from the horde had fought their way to us. Kyle was batting them back with his club. I screamed to run through the downed fence. He looked back at Mr. Muscle, who had recovered, and was sprinting toward us.
We watched helplessly as four of the creatures caught up to him. He swung his thick arms, knocking them back, but not before one of them bit down on his calf. Mr. Muscle let out a startled cry as the creature tore backwards with a mouthful of his flesh. Spinning around, he swung the mace three very succinct times. The first smashed the Z’s face that had bitten him. The second came down on his leg just above the bite mark. I could hear the bone snap like a dry tree branch. The third hit did the job and tore through his leg, severing it from his thigh.