Ulrich read the scrolling text while Krav ran around the arena looking for a weapon. The Horde was a performance they hadn’t put on in a while, but it was always a crowd favorite. He had to stop it.
“Call it off,” he huffed. His angry breath fogged the glass. “Get them out of there.”
“My hands are tied,” Jerod said. He shrugged his good shoulder.
Ulrich left the window and addressed the rest of his clan. “Who cares if your hands are tied? That prisoner wasn’t supposed to be in there!” he pointed at the boy, who seemed to be arguing with the skull on his hip. “We can just call it off, it’s our show!”
The others looked uncomfortable. Boris snatched a meaty leg from Mac’s plate and stuck it in his mouth to keep silent. Loken scooted closer to Hati. Mateo pretended to be asleep. Jerod had a smirk on his stubbled lips.
“I don’t think you understand, Brother Bear. It’s my call; and like I said, my hands are tied. The show must go on.”
“You aren’t the warlord. You don’t get to make those calls.”
“Actually, Ulrich, he is,” Shiela said. She had Devlin Domino next to her on the couch and one muscled arm was draped around him. The old man looked like he was in heaven. “We voted on it.”
“I didn’t vote.”
“None of the Executioners who were on missions did,” Hati said. He was giving Ulrich a glare like he was waiting for him to challenge their authority. “You’re never here most of the time anyways. Why do you care?”
“Because he is our warlord!” Ulrich roared and pointed at Talin. The skull of his machine form stared up at them in a cry that silently echoed Ulrich’s rage. He crossed the room and stood before Jerod. Both men were mighty towers in their own right, and their meeting had the potential of colliding atoms. “You are the farthest thing from what he would have wanted.”
“I’m making us richer than any other clan in the valley. You don't get results like mine looking backwards. Talin the Great is a relic.”
Anger knotted Ulrich’s hands into fists. Just as he was about to strike Jerod, the primal cries of the crowd reached the window. The gates of dread were opening again.
“What’s next? What’s next?” Mac cried. She wasn’t interested in the clan’s political conflict at all. Without Boris and Loken crowding her, she let her plate crash against the floor and ran to the window.
Douglas Grave stood beside her. His grinning teeth glimmered with saliva as it pooled and dripped from his lips. He didn’t take his eyes off the arena. “The Horde.”
Polka-dot had the head of Romul held high like a trophy. Suddenly, he got the idea to mount it on a spear and send it even higher. As he waved around the mounted head like a victory banner, he was showered in praises. “Yeah! You like that? I’m here all night!”
“Get a hold of yourself,” Colton said. His eyes were fixed on the dark. “Something killed him.”
“A horde of somethings,” Black-Eye Mary added.
“Who cares? Don’t you feel that rush! I can feel it! Bring it on!”
Krav was making a charge toward the gates, but Rufus stopped him. At least he was able to listen to reason. Instead, the boy stood huffing like an animal. Every gulp of air was a gust of wind in his sails. His skin pricked with anticipation. Had he not been dosed, he might have been afraid, but all he wanted right now was to swing his axe.
Something emerged from the dark. It was a single woman, her hair a tangled mess of fiery red hair. Her white jumpsuit was completely covered in Romul’s blood, and the crimson trail stretched all the way up to her mouth. Sandwiched between those features was the most terrible one of all. Her eyes had been completely covered in black crystals.
The woman dragged what remained of Romul behind her. A pale hand had his leg in its grasp. It was the only appendage left, the rest scattered within the dark. Something had chewed his corpse up, and the evidence was all over the woman. She giggled as she threw the body into the arena, then asked. “Who are you?”
“FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL THEY COME! THE PENULTIMATE ACT, FOLKS. IT’S THE HORDE!”
An army of witches emerged from the dark. Each had the blackened gaze of advanced stage wasting. Some ran on all fours, kicking up dust as they tracked their prey. Others were on their legs still, but they screamed and sprinted so fast that they managed to shock even Polka-dot.
The clown swung one spear at an approaching waster. It still had the bloody head of Romul on it, and it smashed into the waster’s face, cracking both like melons. He rammed the second spear into another man. It punctured his chest, and the waster was able to take a few steps forward, pulling himself forward with the spear. He died with a death grip on the weapon, and Polka-dot was forced to surrender it before three more overwhelmed him.
Colton was backing up as soon as the wave of black-eyed creatures emerged. He was able to swing the sword down onto one. The blade chopped a woman’s arm off, and then Colton’s arms went limp. All the strength was gone. There was a certainty blooming in his mind that he would die, and that seemed to numb the rest of his body.
The woman froze as soon as her arm was removed. Black blood oozed from her stump and dripped onto the sand. Her black crystals were locked on the far wall of the arena, and she groaned as if all she was dealing with was a light cramp. She stooped low and picked up her arm in no rush. The sight of her dumbly trying to plug her arm back on shook Colton to his core, and he found the strength to abandon his weapon and run for his life.
Black-Eye Mary fared much better for her part. The daggers seemed to be her own tool, just as the axe was Krav’s. The first waster to reach her was one that ran on all fours. As it pounced at her, she ran forward and slid, slashing both blades into its soft belly. The man fell to the floor, coating his dark wound with sand. He rolled over, spasmed on the floor, then arched his back to the sky before perishing. Mary didn’t have time to confirm the thing was dead. Two more rushed her, and she had to focus on weaving between their swiping claws while landing her own attacks.
Krav watched the creatures storming out of the gates of dread. Each one looked frighteningly similar to Rufus, and that fact alone kept him from charging. The zerker was coursing through his veins, pumping one maddening thought through his head, but that infernal weight on his hip kept him level and cautious. “What… what are they?”
“They’re going to kill you, that’s what!”
Rufus’s words snapped him out of it just in time. One was snorting as it charged, shredding its throat with angry squeals. Its jaws opened wide as it came close to chomping Krav’s leg. The boy kicked it hard in the mouth. While under the effects of zerker, the blow was more satisfying than any bite of food he had ever taken. It was more relieving than sleep after a day of travel. Dopamine flooded his brain, and he couldn’t control the grin that pulled on the corners of his mouth.
The scrabbling waster was trying to flip back onto its stomach when Krav brought the axe down. Every crash of blade into flesh and bone was more euphoric than the touch of a lover. Krav threw his head back and roared with laughter, then continued to smash the waster’s torso to a pulp.
“Behind you!”
Krav turned. Black blood dripped around his smile, and he locked on the black eyes of the fiery haired woman. She was screaming as she rushed him, her arms outstretched, her mouth agape in a strained oval. He wasn’t able to wind up a swing before she tackled him to the floor. Claws fingers were tearing at the boy, and he knew if he didn’t get up soon, he’d be overwhelmed by a tide of the monsters. That thought was small in the back of his mind, however. The zerker was controlling his mind and sending one message over and over again.
KILL! KILL! KILL!
Krav didn’t even bother blocking the scratching claws. He let them slash at his torso. The creature on top of him seemed to be trying to dig her way to his heart through his jumpsuit. The boy had lost the axe in the scuffle, and now he sent his fists upwards into the woman. They crashed into her face and cracked the bone beneath.
In a scene that would have caused the squeamish to faint, Krav and the woman tore into each other. Every scrape of her nails was like a tender caress. Each pummeling fist was a loving embrace. The woman was giggling through her swelling lips. Krav was laughing so loud he could hear himself over the raging music. Then all the fun stopped when a dagger flew out of nowhere and slammed directly into the woman’s heart like an arrow meeting its bullseye.
The woman offered Krav one last horrifying grin, as if to thank him for one last brawl. Her black blood darkened the red splatters on her jumpsuit, then she slumped backwards. Black-Eye Mary appeared through the swinging spotlight and planted one boot on the witch. She pulled her dagger free and kicked the woman off Krav in the same motion.
“Get up! Those cowards ran to the other side of the arena!” she yelled over the music. The zerker dosage she received was much smaller than Krav’s, but she fought with just as much tenacity. Perhaps the light dosage kept her mind working well enough to keep her head on during the fight. Not Krav, though. Krav had to fight the urge to throttle her. With some coaxing from Rufus, Krav snatched the axe from the sand and followed her.
“They’re right behind you!” Rufas called from Krav’s hip.
“Shut up! I know that!” the boy growled.
Mary looked over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised. She could see the horde coming for them just behind the boy. The wasters were each moving in their own unique way, looking like a mishmash of sprinting zombies. Some had their arms outstretched and reaching for the boy. Others had their hands trailing behind them, their chests and heads flexing backwards as they screamed into the air. Still more were galloping on all fours, and those seemed to be the fastest.
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“Who the hell are you talking to?” Mary called over her shoulder. It wasn’t something she would normally worry about, but then she remembered that she hadn’t seen Krav get his dose of zerker. The pretty little clipboard girl had administered his injection in private, and that made her worry. Too much of that stuff had to be bad for you. If the boy’s brain was melting, she would have to kill him now. Before he could turn that axe on her.
“You wouldn’t get it!” Krav answered. It sounded angry, but his smile couldn’t get any bigger.
They were reaching the end of the arena, and they saw Colton pulling Polka-dot up a boulder. The clown and the fraudster had packed an arsenal of discarded weapons into their sashes. Once Polka-dot was up onto the rock, he pulled a sword and a club from his waist and pointed them at his approaching allies. “Find a better rock! This one’s mine!”
“We have to stick together!” Mary yelled. She jumped as she closed in on the boulder and hugged it like a lizard. As she dragged herself up it, the club whizzed near her head and exploded into the stone, sending her falling backwards. Krav could have caught her, but he thought it was even funnier to let her hit the ground. She quickly rolled to her feet. The Horde was almost upon them, so she decided to continue running. They shared a look of disdain, then she was off.
Krav didn’t follow her this time. He brawled with the monsters, tearing off limbs and splitting open heads. Rufus did most of the work, guiding Krav so he never remained too long with a single opponent. The boy managed to take out five before the wave of them became too much, and Rufus urged him to continue fleeing.
“Keep running! You’ll die if you don’t!”
“I can take them! I’ll fucking kill them all!”
“Run, you idiot!”
Krav let out his frustration with an incoherent yell and then left the boulder. Polka-dot watched him with a pang of something in his chest. If he wasn’t so high, he’d call it shame. How did that whelp have more balls than he did? The zerker reknit his brain, forming thoughts of shame that churned into hatred, and he turned that hatred onto the tide of monsters.
“What do you say, friend? Fancy a dip in a pool of blood?” he asked Colton. He didn’t take his eyes off the Horde. Most had left to chase down the boy and the girl, but a large handful were clawing their way up the boulder.
“Fuck you. I’m not going down there.”
Polka-dot turned his grin at his fellow prisoner. “Oh, yes you are. Whether you like it or not!” there was a struggle on top of the rock. The clang of metal on metal was pinging over the music. As the claws of the wasters reached the top, Polka-dot managed to overpower Colton. With a powerful swing of his mace, he knocked aside Colton’s sword. The clown dropped both his weapons and snatched the fraudster by his clothes. He lifted him high above his head, and Colton rained down punches and kicks. The grin never left Polka-dot’s face as he launched Colton down to the sands.
Colton hit the ground with a crack. His back immediately seized up, and the back of his head slammed into the floor. Clawing hands leapt from the boulder and scrambled over him, but the fraudster was too dazed in order to die with his awareness. Instead, as the waster’s chewed and clawed at him, his mind was a million miles away. He was dreaming of how the water in Agua Fria tasted the first time he ever took a sip. As the monsters pulled out his liver and fought over who got to eat it, Colton died with a smile on his face. His eyes were looking up at Polka-dot as if to challenge him to make his death mean something, and boy did the clown accept his challenge.
Polka-dot fell from the boulder. It was a good ten feet off the ground, and as he came down, he landed on two wasters. He felt one’s spine shatter under his boot. Another’s leg cracked beneath the second. As the broken legged creature howled in pain, Polka-dot slammed a lead pipe down its gullet. The weapon jutted out the back of its neck, and the clown left it there.
There were six left for Polka-dot, and he was a whirlwind of weaponry. Each time a weapon got caught in the flesh of a waster, he simply switched to another from his sash. He left a sword buried in the chest of one, a dagger in another’s face, and an axe planted in the shoulders of a third. He took on the final three with a spear in one hand and a gladius in the other, hacking and stabbing until he was drenched in the black blood. With all of them dead, he let out a rumbling war cry and sprinted to catch up with the others.
Krav was chasing after Mary. They were in the center of the arena, passing over the grate that covered the lift. Mary was careful to avoid the square holes that threatened to impede them, but Krav got caught just as he was about to finish passing over it. He rolled, ignoring the flaring pain swelling in his ankle, and readied himself for another fight for his life. But he didn’t have to be so prepared.
The monsters who had followed them over the grate had fallen victim to the same pitfall Krav had. Mary was rushing past him, returning to the grate and slashing through wasters who had gotten stuck. Krav realized that was her plan all along, and it was so brilliant he forgot about his pained foot entirely. He drooled and joined in on the carnage.
Mary was moving through them like a bird through a canopy of trees. She cut through reaching wrists and stabbed at necks. Even dismembered, the creatures persisted. Krav came and offered backup, slamming his axe down like he was playing whack-a-mole.
It was easy. Too easy. Once they had dealt with the ones trapped in the grate, Mary looked up and her blood froze.
The Horde, those that didn’t chase them through the grate, were all standing in a circle around it. They had their arms at their sides and they simply watched. Some swayed side to side, others stood completely still. One on all fours hissed and barked from bleeding vocal cords.
“Why aren’t they moving?” Krav asked. Mary ignored him, but Rufus didn’t.
“They’re analyzing you. They have some kind of pack mentality. I bet you they’re trying to figure out a way around the grate.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“How do I know what?” Mary said. Maybe he really was losing his mind.
Rufus and Krav ignored her, and the skull continued. “In life, after I started wasting, I realized there was something more to it than black streaks in my eyes. It was like I had a new sense, and that sense was like a beacon. If we were ever near another waster, I could tell. That day Greenblatt found us, I felt him coming from a mile away, and I bet he knew I was wasting as well. That has to be what’s going on here. Whenever you get this far gone, you must surrender yourself to a pack.”
“Heavy,” Krav said. Then a sadistic grin spread across his lips. “Do you think they can feel it when another one dies?”
“I wouldn’t know. I sure as hell don’t feel it.”
The creature on all fours made a move, clawing its way onto the grate. It used its claws and feet to walk safely along the bars of the grate, and Krav smashed its head with a gleaming arc of the axe. Suddenly, every one of them closed in on Krav and Mary. The quadruped had shown them the error of their ways, and now each of them knew how to navigate the impediment.
“We have to get out of here, this is a bad place to fight,” Rufus told Krav. The boy considered ignoring his master’s words but decided to listen to reason. Rufus spotted the easiest route out of the melee, and Krav barreled towards it.
He left Mary behind to fight off the Horde. By the time she had noticed Krav had gone, it was too late. She saw him lead a good half of the wasters away from the grate, and he was battling them on even ground now. That was a relief at least. He might be mad, but he wasn’t a coward like the others. She fought for as long as she could, dancing along the bars and cutting through the snatching claws and gnashing teeth.
Lana was looking up at the grate. Black blood fell in sheets as Mary dueled them all by herself. A thick drop fell and splashed on her clipboard. Lana wiped it away with a shaking finger. Maybe she should have upped the dosage on Black-Eye Mary.
Finally, Mary lost her footing. One last waster remained to dance with her, and her foot slipped through the bars just in time for snapping jaws to fail at rending her face. The creature also fell, its arms and legs tangling in the grate as it thrashed. Mary planted a dagger in its back and pulled, heaving herself up and out of the grate. Another stab came down and jammed between its shoulders. She would survive this, she thought. As she stood and removed both daggers, a spear sailed through the air and passed right through her.
The kinetic force was like a needle through a garment. Mary stumbled, almost slipping through the grate again. It happened so fast, she didn’t realize she had been hit at all. She just looked down, her vision blurring. There was a gaping hole in her chest.
The spear landed on the far side of the arena. Mary’s eyes slowly trailed up to it. She realized she couldn’t pull in a full lung’s-worth of air. There was a bubbling noise as the music began to fade. Then she heard the bodies of the waster’s shifting behind her. A heavy hand caught her as she drifted backwards, and she looked up at the cold eyes of Polka-dot. He was grinning down at her.
“Sorry, pumpkin. I thought you were that kid. It’s hard to see when you’re having a good time.” He tried to drag his fingers over her eyes to close them, but they shot open each time. Mary’s eyes were defiant, and she held onto every inch of life to deny him the satisfaction of dying in his arms.
“Close your eyes and go to sleep, dammit!” he continued to hold her eyes shut, but she beat him with weak fists. Finally, he gave up. “Alright. Suit yourself, bitch!”
He pulled a rusty dagger from his sash and stabbed it up beneath her jaw. It punctured through her tongue, up into her palette, and ended its journey in her brain. She went limp instantly, and Polka-dot tossed her aside with the hilt of the dagger sticking out if her neck. He grumbled to himself as he moved to catch up to Krav.
The boy was finishing off the final members of the Horde with Rufus’s aid. There were only five now, and he was moving through them quickly. All he could hear was Rufus’s voice in his head and the beat of his heart in his throat. The music had died down, the cheers almost nonexistent to him. There was just the saw-tooth axe and his battle-lust. He carved his way through them until there were only two.
Polka-dot appeared, cleaving one in half like he was a trailblazer hacking away vines in a jungle. The second turned to him and moved to bite. He slammed a fist into it so hard that it sent the creature’s nose into its brain. It fell to the floor, and he stomped its chest in with a wet crack.
“Those were mine…” Krav growled.
“And now you’re all mine.”
“THE HORDE GOES DOWN WITH TWO SURVIVORS REMAINING! MAKE SURE TO GRAB A BITE AND A BEVERAGE BEFORE THE NEXT SHOW!”
The two moved to duel each other but were soon stopped. The gates of dread opened once more. A team of guards rushed into the arena with their sparking prods, now on long poles. They stabbed them into the two final combatants and held them in place. Krav reveled in the jolts that flared through his body. Polka-dot tried to claw his way towards the boy, even as two more tasers slammed into him. Another guard came forward and sprayed the hideous gas into both of their faces. As they sobered up, the energy forced onto them by the zerker slipped away as well. Krav and Polka-dot stared at each other as they slipped into unconsciousness.
In the VIP room, Douglas Grave finally left the window. He didn’t say a word as he left, not even when the cheery as ever Loken called for him to break a leg.
To Ulrich’s utter shock, Krav survived the Horde. Out of fifty-four prisoners, only two remained, and he was somehow one of them. While Mac cheered her head off, Ulrich returned to the couch and sat. He shook his head, then turned back to Jerod.
“There. Now let him out. You got your show and Douglas has a worthy opponent.”
Jerod rubbed his chin and leaned over the couch. Their faces were so close, Ulrich considered headbutting it. “I would love to, Brother Bear. It’s just that Douglas really needs this. Did you notice how out of it he was tonight?”
“There’s always been something wrong with him! Give him the other guy and give me my friend back, Jerod.”
He shook his head. “Douglas Grave was in support of my position as warlord. I owe him redemption. Did you know he failed his last execution? It was one of our own, a traitor to the clan. Douglas hasn’t been normal since, well as normal as he was before, at least.”
“That has nothing to do with me or my friends!” Ulrich stood with so much gusto that Jerod had to back up. They both squared their shoulders to each other. “You want to be warlord so bad, prove it. Fight me right now! If I win, you let us all leave in peace. If you win, I’ll call you my warlord.”
Jerod smiled. “I’d hate to ruin the VIP area, but I’d hate to ignore a challenge even more. Very well, Ulrich the Bear. I accept your terms.”
He fiddled with a switch on his large, augmented arm. There were some clicks, and then a chugging. Smoke plumed from a vent on his shoulder, and the arm raised. Jerod watched the heavy metal fingers as they curled into a fist, then his attention was all on Ulrich the Bear.
