The zerker was the worst drug Krav had ever had the displeasure of ingesting. The injection was the beginning of the torment. He had seen others use needles to take their drugs before, but it seemed too crass when compared to smoking them. Smoking left you red eyed and sleepy faced, but injections left behind aching holes and blown out veins.
A needle prick was easy to get over, but the zerker felt like molten lead going in. It invaded Krav’s veins like a gout of slag and spider-webbed through his arm. For a moment, he thought cutting it off would be preferable to suffering like this, then it abated. Strangely enough, it began to cool and calm. Then it was too cold. He found himself holding the injection site for warmth.
The lift was finally full. The other prisoners were mingling around, some staring up at the grate waiting for it to rapture them. Then it jolted, and the lift rose into the air. Lana gave one last anxious look from behind her clipboard and watched them disappear. The roaring music heralded their arrival, and the roaring crowd beckoned them out.
Krav had to cover his eyes from the spotlights as they swayed over them. As the lift came to a jittering halt, all eyes were on the clock. It was already ticking down, seeming to jump from five minutes to four with frightening speed.
“DINNER IS SERVED! THE MENAGERIE IS OFF THEIR LEASHES AND THE PADDOCK HAS BEEN LEFT UNLOCKED! GET READY FOR ROUND THREE FOLKS!”
A few of the prisoners ran off of the lift. Of them, some grabbed weapons while others tried to hide in the same hovels and high grounds that Shiela the Lioness had sniffed out. The rest of them were on the lift still, their zerker clearly not kicking in.
Krav was part of the group running around the arena searching for weapons. He passed up well crafted gear in order to find his own axe. There were swords, spears, and mauls that glimmered in the spotlights, but he only needed one weapon, and he found it in the hands of another prisoner.
“Hey, scab head, that’s mine!”
The prisoner holding it looked at him, confused. His lower jaw slid back and forth, and the look in his eyes said that his zerker was working already, and he was sizing Krav up. He fought whatever madness was clouding him, then said, “Get your own, there’s plenty of shit here.”
“That is my own!”
The timer was running out, and by now most of the prisoners had their zerker kick in. They were fanning out, sprinting in a daze. They tripped over weapons, yelled, and pulled them from the sandy floor. Some even fought each other. Krav thought they looked like idiots, but his focus was on getting his own weapon back, then his zerker finally hit.
It made his body feel light, like it was made out of aluminum. He didn’t realize his hands were opening and closing, or that his mouth was drooling. Krav stood motionless and locked onto the thief with his axe, his heart beating wildly in his chest. The corners of his eyes blurred, and he was focused solely on what was in front of him. When the buzzer finally rang, the other prisoner was momentarily distracted.
The music swelled and whatever was up next was making its way through the giant gate. There were violent cries of war from prisoners on that side of the arena. Krav grabbed a stone the size of his fist and charged the thief with a war cry of his own. The prisoner turned in time to watch as Krav slammed the rock into the side of his head. He had his weapon back, and on zerker, it felt like it thrummed in his hand. He felt Rufus’s skull rumble on his hip, but he couldn’t hear his voice. All he could hear was the violent music and the terrifying screams coming from the other side of the arena.
Before Krav could make his way over, the thief rose and challenged Krav to a rematch. His ear was mangled from Krav’s strike, and it must have affected his balance. He was swaying as he picked up the rock Krav had hit him with and hurled it, missing him by a lot. When the boy turned to finish the job, however, something pounced on the attacker. In the dizzying lights, Krav could barely see it, but something told him that wasn’t the only reason he had a hard time identifying it. He prepared his axe.
“What are those things?” Mac asked with a mouthful of food. She was getting along with the Executioners well, she’d say. Boris and Loken had been gracious hosts, refilling cups of alcohol and fetching whatever she desired from the table. Now she sat sandwiched between them.
“Some megafauna. Hati and I caught that one. He gave me this scar,” Loken said. He was pointing at a long-necked thing Mac had never seen. It looked a lot like a horse, only taller and with that odd appendage of a neck. The head was whipping back and forth, snapping at the combatants and rearing to kick at them with its front hooves. “We call it Mungo.”
She looked at him, the scar on his forearm looked like a bite wound that left behind a pink dent in his skin. When he noticed she was staring at it, he flexed and wiggled his eyebrow at her.
“Bah!” Boris interjected. “Mungo is a decent beast. But if you want to see a real challenge, look at that monstrosity there! It looks like our friend Ulrich, no?” He was pointing at something that looked like a skinless bear with sagging skin. Its mouth was filled with thick, sharp teeth. The creature lumbered forward, roaring at a group of three prisoners who looked like tiny cave men trying to take down a mammoth. One prisoner screamed and charged forward with a spear, another with a sword followed close behind. The beast swatted the spear away with its paw, then roared before snapping at the swordsman. In one bite, it bit him in half. With bloodied jowls, it watched the third prisoner.
“I call him Boris Jr., and he didn’t leave any marks when I captured him,” Boris raised his own eyebrow, but not at Mac. He was challenging Loken.
Mac was completely unaware of the fact that they were fighting over her. She simply nodded at their introductions of their respective beasts and kept on eating. She had never been welcome to so many kinds of foods and she was determined to eat them all before Ulrich came back. Besides, she was having fun.
“Whenever we stock the menagerie, we try to find some of the most dangerous beasts we can,” Jerod said. Mac still didn’t know how to feel about him. She could tell Ulrich didn’t like him, but he seemed to be just as polite as Loken and Boris, only he didn’t sit uncomfortably close to them. He did take her finished plates and offer her napkins, however, which she appreciated.
“Which one’s yours?” she asked him.
“Oh, I wasn’t able to hunt this week. Unfortunately, I was busy. Someone has to take over the work of warlord while ours is indisposed, you see. That one there was captured by Shiela,” he was pointing to a feline creature. It was waist height to the prisoner it was currently cornering. Ashen fur decorated it, and it crouched and wagged its tail. It wasn’t as imposing as the other beasts, but it was fast. Each time the prisoner tried to slip one way or another, it reacted by acting like it was about to pounce. Its tail swiped back and forth as if it was pleased to be doing this little dance. “She calls her Mishra.”
Mac could see something else in the area, but it was almost as if it didn’t want to be seen. It shimmered when the lights passed over it, but disappeared as soon as they left. The only thing she could tell about it was that it walked on all fours and was nearly chest height to the prisoner it was currently stalking. “What’s up with the other one?”
“Mine,” Mateo said. He didn’t bother looking up at the arena. Nuzzled in the couch like a baby, Mateo the Reaper buried himself in the cushions and held his scythe close like a precious stuffed animal. “I didn’t even have to catch that one. It followed me back here. Practically signed himself up.”
“What’s its name?”
“I didn’t bother naming it. If Douglas over there wants his redemption, the beast will have to die anyway. If any of those things survive it means they ate all the prisoners. Why don’t you knock yourself out, girl. Give him a name.”
At the mention of naming the creature, Mac’s excitement grew. She handed her cup and plate off to her two suitors and ran to the glass. With her hands cupped over her eyes for a better view, she watched the beast. It was so graceful on the battlefield, moving like a master duelist. She watched it move unimpeded as the lights offered it enough cover to be unseen even by those it was closing in on.
It glinted, and she got a better look at it. Thin, powerful legs and a heavy body. Its head was loping and teeth protruded from its lips like a crocodile, flashing on either side. Scaly armor provided the mirror images that refracted the light, possibly an evolution for confusing prey and warding off predators. Just as she saw it, it pounced and caught the prisoner it was stalking off guard. It dragged him down with powerful jaws and shook him on the floor back and forth until there was no fight left, and then it took its time to eat the prisoner.
As she watched it pull stringy chunks off of the man, Mac wondered what kind of name it would like. Plenty were going through her head, but each was just as bad as the last. Bitey? Toothy? Shimmer? She liked shimmer. She was just about to declare its new name, when she saw a short prisoner charge it with a familiar axe, and she cried out, “Krav?!”
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The boy saw it fade in and out of visibility. It was the drugs, he thought, they must be messing with him. The thing bit at the thief and pawed away strips of clothing to get to the tasty meat beneath. Krav made out its strange head, the scales now covered in blood and unable to glint in the light. When the lights passed over it, Krav thought it looked like a bloody head floating in the air. Now he could track it.
He charged, the axe raised over his head and a war cry rending his throat. The creature didn’t seem to mind him. It was still bent low, chewing in the abdomen of the dead prisoner. What Krav couldn’t see was its eyes. Even as it feasted, the shiny black eyes were watching him. It chose to ignore him, chose to eat. As Krav got close, he swung the axe down. Even though he aimed directly for its brain, it didn’t move. The axe came down and bit into flesh, but it wasn’t the beasts. The weapon was embedded in the corpse.
There was no time for confusion. Krav pulled the axe up in time to see its red blood face emerging from the shadows. He swung the axe as it bit down, and they tumbled to the floor, their weapons locked together. It was trying to pull his weapon away, and it slammed its clawed paws into him over and over again. Krav could feel the pounding appendages, but the zerker made them feel like he was being pelted by hacky sacks.
The creature pulled and whipped its head back and forth. The axe came loose from one hand, then the other. It flung the weapon away and opened its mouth wide to bite down on Krav’s skull. He punched it hard in the snout, and it wheeled off of him. Then the boy was up, and he kicked it in the jaw. Who needs a weapon when you have drugs?
The smart thing to do would be to get the weapon. It had already proved itself to be a great defensive option against the beast. But Krav wasn’t the one to make smart decisions. He waited for the thing to recover, and he raised his fists. The creature circled him, disappearing in and out of the light but leaving behind that crimson face. Above the music, Krav could swear he heard it making a noise. It was a guttural sound that almost sounded like it was trying to mimic human speech. He listened closer. The animal’s jaw was hinged open, and from the back of its throat, Krav could hear the word “Run,” over and over again. It was a deep, thrumming noise.
“Run… Run…” it said. It wasn’t a warning. Krav realized it was copying a noise it once heard a human make with the same mockery as a bird copying a monkey’s hooting. There was a noise like it was hiccupping, and Krav thought it sounded like, “Help… Help…”
“Run… Help… Run…” It disappeared again in the lights, then when it reappeared, it charged Krav with open jaws. It caught him off guard, and he barely caught it by the mouth. One hand held either jaw, and it took all his strength to hold it back. It was digging at him again with its paws. It made a noise like a woman’s piercing scream that raised Krav’s heart rate and weakened his arms. The jaws tightened, but he kept them open. When strength failed him, he rolled and allowed the jaws to clamp onto the sand. He elbowed it in the ribs and heard a wet crack within. It made a noise like a different animal roaring in pain.
The earsplitting scream returned, and for a moment, it was all the creature was able to replicate. Krav was still under it, and he thought quickly. If he had his axe now, he could cut its throat, but he didn’t know where it was. The beast was holding him down with one paw, but it wouldn’t bite. Something about the motion of bending over to close its jaws around Krav was too much for it. Then the boy realized the break in its chest must be causing it enough pain to keep it at bay. He could feel the paw pinning him down rattle with unease. The scream was pushing him over the edge, sending him into madness, and he grabbed the leg with both hands and wrenched.
Another wet snap. The leg cracked at the joint and went limp. The noise it made was nonhuman again as it tumbled to the sands. Krav was trying to crawl out from under it while avoiding its snapping jaws. It was in full panic mode, ignoring the pain as it simply tried to survive. Half of it intended to finish Krav off, the other to flee from him. The boy was all in on finishing the job.
Krav was able to get out from under it and watched as it attempted to limp back up to its full height. He knew he had to go get the axe, something at least to kill this thing, but the drug in his veins pushed him into a single objective. A mighty kick collided with its hindleg, the same side as the broken foreleg. It whipped around and made an airy hiss like a bird that ended as the pained moan of a man. He punched it in the head again, opening a few knuckles against its teeth.
It tried to limp away, and Krav caught it by the tail. It was a thin thing more akin to a lion than a reptile. He felt the vertebrae within pop as it threatened to come apart, and the animal turned to face him. It was a lumbering, inaccurate predator now. The grace and ferocity were replaced by desperation. Another bite closed over Krav, and he moved to dodge, but fell on his back.
Krav caught the jaws in a better position this time. He had both hands on its upper jaw and one foot on its lower. His free leg was kicking, trying to get himself free of the beast. The thing let out a terrible scream, like a woman wailing in agony. Again, Krav’s blood chilled. He realized that was its whole goal. The loud replications of fear caused its prey to lose its will to fight. It was all a trick, and he fell for it. Somewhere in the zerker haze, he could hear memories of Lenny and Rufus teasing him. Of course he’d fall for a stupid trick like that. And to an animal no less. Anger panged his heart. Anger at the loss of his family. Anger at the pain in his hands. Anger at the fat piece of shit Ulrich for putting him in this situation.
He roared back at into the beast’s throat and kicked. Muscles in its jaw tore. Another painful kick sent the entire lower mandible snapping downwards, the left half of its face mangled and hanging by wiry tendons. It shook free of Krav and dragged one foot behind it as it tried to run. But the boy was too far gone to let it get away now. He leapt on top of it and began his terrible task of strangling the beast. With its throat in the crook of his elbow, Krav squeezed. He could feel the last vestiges of the creature choke and spasm as it tried to survive, but it was too broken. The hanging jaw, broken leg, and popped tail were enough to be a death sentence. Krav was just putting on a show now.
“I know that guy!” Mac said. She was tapping the glass like an excited kindergartener banging on the glass of an aquarium. The Pit Lords were all watching him with shock. Even Mateo’s bored features had risen at the sight of his quarry in a headlock. “That’s my friend Krav!”
Boris clapped the Reaper on the back and howled with laughter. “Do you see that? Boris Junior wouldn’t get put in a choke hold by a kid!”
Mateo shook his head. There was just no way in hell. He hadn’t been completely honest when he said that the beast had followed him home. In reality, Mateo the Reaper had gotten lost for two days trying to find the creature. The Pit Lords called the beasts joker jackals on account of their mimicry. He had been led astray by this one, getting lost in a ravine and stalked by the beast. When he finally found it, he spent hours in combat with it trying to capture it.
As far as he was concerned, Mateo was very proud of his find. The joker jackals were incredibly hard to come by, on account of their camouflage and subterfuge. Now he watched his prize find get manhandled by a kid half his age. The only reason he would have been able to do that was that the beast was confused by all the lights and noise. That, and Krav only had to kill the beast, Mateo had to actually capture it. He continued to make excuses in his head as he feigned boredom and rolled back onto the couch. “Fine by me. Just means we get more show.
They watched the fight continue. Krav held onto the joker jackal's neck for the rest of the event. Meanwhile, Mungo the long necked beast was defeated when one combatant distracted it. Its jaws whipped around and snapped off his leg, but the prisoner held it down long enough for another prisoner to rush it and behead the creature.
Mishra went down much the same way, overpowered by multiple attackers. The feline’s fatal flaw was that it could easily defeat a prisoner in a one on one, but the more people that ganged up on it, the worse it got. It pounced and killed two prisoners before five rushed it. It hissed and roared at them as it backed away. When they finally charged, it swiped at one and was caught by the other four with spears through its torso.
Boris Junior was the last to go down, a source of pride for the handlebar mustache. After the others had gone down, the prisoners rallied together and moved to the hairless bear. They were ten strong, and Boris Junior mangled six more as it rampaged. Paws the length of a grown man’s thigh smacked and clawed at the attackers. At one point, the crowd went wild as it snapped its jaws around a prisoner, shook the fight out of him, then threw him into the bleachers. The monstrous beast was the clear winner for the evening, and Boris regretted not challenging them to a bet on whose beast would last the longest.
Boris Junior finally went down after a prolonged fight. When it collapsed, weapons stuck out of it like a pin cushion. The surviving prisoners just watched as it slowly wobbled away, laid down with a bassy groan, and went to sleep. There was no grand finale, just a quiet end under the cheering crowd, roaring music, and blazing spotlights. The prisoners gave each other a look of disbelief, then saw the merciless scoreboard. The timer was still sitting at zero from when the round began, but the marquis below it scrolled with text.
NEXT ROUND… THE HORDE…
They retreated to the lift, two of them coming to remove Krav from his stranglehold on the animal.
Ulrich stood in the shower with his back to Shiela. As the water poured over her, he felt was the warmth of the steam ghost against him. The scenario would have given the old man Devlin Domino a heart attack. So close to her, both of them exposed. But Ulrich was an Executioner, and they were defined by their determination and strength of will. He shifted anxiously. “Are you almost finished?”
“You have some new scars since I’ve seen you.” Her fingers grazed the healed wounds on his arms, a remnant of the brawl in Kiva Noon’s bar. Ulrich flinched under her touch.
“You promised we’d get a move on. Please, Shiela.”
“Fine,” she said with a squeeze to his arm. “Help me wash my back and we can go.”
Ulrich took a heavy breath and turned to face her. Now she was facing away from him. She handed him the bar of soap over one shoulder and pulled her long blonde hair to one side, parting it like a curtain to reveal her bare body. Ulrich swallowed hard at the tempting view. Shiela put both her hands on the wall. “I’m waiting.”
It took some temperament, but Ulrich managed to complete her challenge. The soap slicked across her back without issue, gliding from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back.
“Lower,” she said.
"No. You said your back. We had a deal.”
“Do you know how many men would conquer that arena to get this opportunity? If you want to leave me for months again, give me one parting gift.” Shiela turned and allowed the water to wash her back free of soap. Now she stood exposed to Ulrich, and he averted his gaze.
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Of course not. I just…”
Ulrich saw her moving to touch him again. She was reaching for areas not consented to, and instinctually, he went to stop her. He should have tried to grab her wrist and push her away, but his mind didn’t work that quickly. His hand wasn’t an open palm coming to snatch her; it was a fist barreling for her face. Shiela was a skilled fighter, easily on par or better than Ulrich. The fist was a meteor coming at her, and she grabbed it with a strong grip. Her eyes narrowed at him, and she covered herself with her free hand.
“Very well. It seems you’ve grown up a bit since I last saw you. I can take a hint. Get me a towel and let’s go see your friend before I change my mind.”
