Razor Girl (21 page)

“You guys have a new pit fighter,” Helga said. “Luke picked him up last night. His name’s Chase.”

Huggie nodded. “Yeah. He’s sharing a cell with Bowie. Did you see the Bowster last week? That was some kickass fight. I gotta say, he’s a killer. From now on, when he’s back in the ring, I’m putting my money on him every time.”

“Oh yeah, baby, he’s amazing,” Helga crooned. “But Chase. We’re talking about Chase. We’re hoping we can make a little deal for him. I brought you some real good shit—” She started to reach into her purse.

“Sorry, no can do,” Huggie said, stopping her.

She frowned, glossy lips puffed out in a pout. “Why not?” she asked. “I thought you said you’d do us a favor, Huggie Bear.”

“Baby, you know I’d do anything for you,” Huggie assured her, chucking her under the chin. “But the guy’s not here. They took him to the dome.”

“What?” Molly cried, unable to stop herself. “I thought you said they’d train him first!” Fear pounded in her heart as she digested what was happening. Chase had been thrown into a ring and was being forced to fight a zombie while they’d wasted time trying on clothes?

Huggie shrugged. “Their originally scheduled fighter, Rumble, went and offed himself last night, so they needed a last-minute replacement. Guess Rumble didn’t think too much of his odds and wanted to take the easy way out.” He laughed.

“What time’s the fight?” Helga asked, her face also white.

“Probably about now. If you hurry, you might catch it. Though it’s bound to be quick. I heard the odds are like 1,000-to-one on the new guy. They’re putting him in with Toro, after all.”

Molly and Helga were out the door in a heartbeat. “Come on!” Helga said. “We’ll get in the back door.”

They turned right from the station, went down an alley and came to a dead end with a battered wooden door. Helga pushed it open and they entered a large smoky kitchen where cooks were preparing some sort of meal. Molly didn’t even have much time to marvel at all the people still alive; she raced through, ignoring the protests, down a hall then up several flights of stairs. After one last door, she and Helga were suddenly in the Thunderdome.

Molly drew in a breath as she looked around. They were at the top of the stadium complex. But whereas many years ago this would have been full of screaming, sports-jersey-wearing fans, it was now populated by well-heeled matrons and gentlemen—Society members, Molly guessed, resplendent in ball gowns, tuxedos, and with jewels dripping from their arms, necks and fingers. There were probably a hundred of them, scattered through the stadium. More people than Molly had seen in six years.

It was as if she’d stepped into another world. One where things were still working. Where people were civilized.

Except there was nothing civilized about what was going on here at the Thunderdome: the cheering and wooting and staring down into a pit that had once been an innocent basketball court. Molly followed the crowd’s gaze to the center of the action. The first thing she saw was the biggest Other she’d ever seen. The second was Chase.

Without thinking or pro cessing, only knowing she had to save him, she bolted down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She’d jump the railing, kill the Other, rescue Chase.

“No!” Helga cried, running after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t go down there,” she hissed.

Molly whirled to face her. No one was going to stop her from this. “Why the hell not?” she demanded.

“Don’t you see all the guards?” Helga pointed to the sidelines. “They all have guns. They’ll shoot you in a heartbeat if you try to jump in.”

Molly released a frustrated breath. She didn’t think she could take on the Other, the guards and the whole society; there was a limit to what she could handle. “Why the hell would they do that?” she asked. “This is one fucked-up place. And what do you propose we do?”

“Pray?”

“Not funny.”

“Look, it’s not impossible for your friend to win,” Helga suggested. “I’ve seen humans beat Knights before. Like Huggie said, Bowie did last week. It’s not all about brute strength. The Knights are mean, but they’re not exactly the brightest bulbs in the shed…or whatever that saying is.”

Molly stared at the girl, unbelieving. This was what they were going to pin all their hopes on: that Chase was smarter than the Other? What about the zombie’s razor-sharp claws, bulging muscles and appetite for human flesh? Chase didn’t stand a chance against the monster. And what if he got bitten? This was a crazy and demented game to be playing with human lives!

She stared into the ring, watched as Chase approached the Other. Feeling so damn helpless. So close, yet so far. And Chase, well…

She tried to focus on positives, because while all her instincts told her she should dare the guards and leap frantically into the pit, she was also slightly more of a realist. If she died fighting impossible odds, who would take care of the children? Should she sacrifice herself for him when he’d put himself in this situation? She would, if it were only herself she was looking after. But with the kids…?

She remembered Chase berating her back at the Wal-Mart, berating her for assuming he was helpless and weak. He’d survived for six years amongst the Others; he’d talked about how
suited he was to survive. Just because he was totally human—without enhancement—didn’t mean he was automatically a goner. He’d asked her to trust him. To have faith in his abilities. And, she realized, now was the time for him to prove she could.

She had to let him fight. She had to believe he had a chance to win.

“You can do it, Chase!” she cried at the top of her lungs from the side of the ring, waving a fist in the air. “I believe in you!”

Chase’s legs trembled as he watched the Other approach, slowly, deliberately, as they tended to do, taking one shuffling step and then another. It was the biggest zombie Chase had ever come across, and he wondered what it’d been eating. Probably people just like him, which wasn’t exactly the most comforting thought.

“To night is a special night for you all,” came a man’s voice over a loudspeaker. “Our undefeated Knight Champion Toro will take on our brand-new gladiator, Chase.”

Cheers for Toro. Jeers for Chase. Evidently this guy was a crowd favorite. Jeez, weren’t humans supposed to be rooting for their own? Evidently not when bets were on the line.

Despite his boasts to Molly, truth be told, Chase had killed very few Others. Well, not by himself. He’d preferred the live and let live approach, and failing that, the “run lest you be eaten” one. But here he was surrounded by guards and bars, and there was nowhere for him to go. And as well-fed as the Other in front of him had to be in order to have obtained his current size, the drool at the corner of his mouth suggested he was still hungry.

Chase swallowed hard, trying to resign himself to his fate. This was it. This was how it was going to end. And it was his fault. He’d been a fool, and now he’d pay with his life. But it wasn’t his death that bothered him most. Again, it was that he’d failed the people he cared about. There was a time when he’d been a different person, a person to depend on.

No! He remembered the oath he’d just made to his brother’s ghost, remembered the adrenaline that had recently seemed to ooze out of him. Thinking about the duties in which he’d failed, something inside of him, some lost bit of courage, rallied. He’d promised Tank that he’d take care of those children. He’d promised Molly he’d get her to Disney World. And he’d be damned if some sick game made up by insane people was going to stop him from following through.

He gripped the small knife they’d given him—a pathetic weapon against the monster in the ring, but the only one he had—and wracked his brain for a strategy. He couldn’t best the Other in hand-to-hand combat; it had too much physical strength for that. But there had to be alternative ways of winning. He’d think of them.

He knew from experience that Others usually had poor eyesight and depended on movement to attract their attention. Picking up a rock, he threw it and struck the Other in the face. It recoiled, surprised, and closed its eyes with a roar. Chase used that moment to drop to the ground and freeze. He hoped staying still might confuse the beast, might buy him some time.

Sure enough, he soon heard rumblings from the crowd. The Other was sniffing the air, looking confused, wondering where his prey had gone. A few angry shouts of “He’s right in front of you, dumbass!” fell on the zombie’s uncomprehending ears. Thank God.

As the creature stood still, squinting, Chase was better able to analyze him, to size up potential weak spots. The creature wore leather armor over his chest and legs—these people had armored their zombies?—eliminating possible stab points. But his feet were bare and exposed. That was something at least.

The time he’d bought was up. The creature, clearly eager to fill its belly, was moving forward, sniffing. From his position on the ground, Chase waited until the last possible moment, then lunged forward, rolling and stabbing it in the foot. He’d chopped off a toe or two. The zombie bellowed in rage and staggered, losing its balance. Chase leapt to his feet
and kicked the beast’s chest, attempting to send Toro to the ground.

It very nearly worked. For a moment the Other tottered, and Chase thought maybe he’d gained an advantage. But then Toro recovered his balance and charged at him, arms outstretched. Chase had leapt backwards one second too late. The Other caught him by the neck, wrapping filthy fingers around his throat and squeezing. Chase could feel his eyes bulge out of his head.

As his air supply diminished, Chase fought the instinct to drop his knife and try to pry the hands off his neck, and instead he stabbed at the Other’s chest, also making sure the creature kept its mouth away from him. His small blade was no match for the tough leather armor, however, and the knife bounced uselessly off. Chase knew he had mere seconds before he would pass out. And he’d used up all his tricks. Was this it? Was he about to be eaten, about to die for others’—and Others’—sport? It seemed so wrong: to die like this, alone, jeered at by strangers. Never to be seen again by his friends and the people he’d failed.

“Chase! Don’t give up, Chase! I know you can do it!”

That voice caused him to perk up. It was Molly! He strained to look into the audience, to see if she was somehow actually there or if this was just an auditory hallucination. His eyes fell upon her, draped oddly in some sort of silk eveningwear. He
was
going crazy. But even so, the vision of her loveliness gave him strength for one more try.

He slammed his boot down on the zombie’s bare foot, aiming for the severed toes. The zombie screamed in pain and loosened its grip just for a millisecond—but that millisecond was all Chase needed. He swung viciously and knocked the zombie’s hands away, then followed up with a kick to the groin. The Other stumbled backwards again.

This time, Chase didn’t wait to see if his opponent would fall. He charged, throwing his full weight forward, tackling the beast where it stood and slamming it to the ground. He grabbed the creature’s collar and pulled that back with as much
strength as he could muster, exposing its bare neck. Then he jammed his knife deep into the throat. A fountain of blood spewed from the wound, and he rolled over quickly to avoid it. He jumped to his feet, still clutching his knife, put his boot on the creature’s neck and stepped. The zombie gurgled at him and died.

The crowd went insane. A fickle group; apparently he was their new hero. But he ignored them. He locked eyes with Molly, begging her forgiveness. She raised her hand in a salute of respect.

He knew then and there he would never be weak again.

Chris and Molly raced down the forest path, as fast they could, back toward town. Tears blinded Molly’s vision as she ran, and her heart pounded. The plague had been bad enough, but now there were some kind of monsters on top of it? And her dad had lied to her—either that, or he’d been misled or mistaken. But what was going on? Was it really somehow the End of Days in a biblical sense? If so, what hope could there be?

Through it all, Chris gripped her hand, a silent promise of solidarity. At least she wasn’t facing this alone. And at that moment she loved him more than ever. If the world was going to end, at least she had him by her side. She’d keep him there forever.

Suddenly something staggered from the trees, blocking their path. Molly screamed, startled. Chris yanked her back a few steps, putting distance between them and the creature. Because, sure enough, it was the vision of her nightmares: a yellowed, zombie-like mutation with pus-filled sores and no hair. It had blood all over its mouth, and had clearly been one of the things that had struck back at the rave.

The monster growled at them, arms outstretched, and it stepped slowly forward on wobbly legs, as if it wasn’t quite sure how to use them yet. Molly stared, trying to decide if she was really seeing what she thought. Or maybe it was all the “cure” she’d drunk. Because while this definitely looked like
the creature in the hospital Dumpster they’d come across weeks before, it also seemed weirdly familiar.

“Chris,” Molly whispered, then trailed off, not knowing how to explain.

He glanced over at her and then back. His mouth dropped open. “Oh my God,” he said. “Does this thing look familiar to you?”

Molly nodded, squinting at the creature. There was definitely something. It had no hair, and its eyes were blackened and unfocused, but beneath the tattered clothes were breasts, and the thing had obviously once been female…

“Erin?” she suddenly realized. “Is that you?”

The creature growled and stepped forward. But whether the growl was in any way an intended response, Molly didn’t need any further affirmation. Her stomach rolled and it took everything in her power not to be sick. The booze burning like fire through her veins wasn’t helping.

It was then that she realized Chris had pulled out a handgun. She didn’t know where he’d gotten it, as they were super-illegal and hard to find, but she was even more shocked by what he intended.

“No!” she shrieked, grabbing his arm. His shot went wild and the creature took another step, growling. “It’s Erin!” she cried. “It’s my best friend.”

Chris stared at her, his eyes wild. “Are you shitting me? Even if it is Erin, what are we going to do—talk her back into good health?” he asked. “Do you think she just came out to the party to dance? Do you think those ‘cures’ they were passing around helped?”

“But…look at her! It’s her! She even still has that birthmark.” Molly was shaking, and she pointed at Erin’s arm.

The monster that was once Erin lunged, teeth bared and eyes black. Molly dodged, screamed and turned, tripped over a root and fell flat on her face. She could hear Erin behind her, jaws snapping. Lunch with a friend? Hadn’t she just been wishing she and Erin could have that again? Wishes came true. Molly squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was a goner.

A gunshot rang out. Molly’s ear drums ached, and she turned to see Erin stagger backward, a bloody hole in her chest. For a brief second she thought she saw clarity come into her friend’s eyes, realization on her face. A human horror at a very inhuman end. And then Erin’s eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed on the forest floor. Chris shot her again.

Molly scrambled to her feet, screaming. Chris grabbed her and pulled her into a strong embrace, shushing her. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s dead.”

“You don’t understand! That was Erin. That was Erin!”

“You’re right. It was Erin,” he said. His eyes looked glassy. “But it wasn’t
just
Erin anymore. And you know that.”

“I don’t understand! How is this happening?” Molly babbled against his shoulder. It was too much. Just too much.

“I don’t know,” Chris muttered. “But it’s only going to get worse. I think we need to start putting our escape plan into action.” He released her from his hold and grabbed her hand. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll get you home to your father where at least it’s safe.”

Molly nodded stiffly, staring at the corpse of her former friend.

Safe? Ha. Nowhere was ever going to be safe again.