CHAPTER 10: CONFRONTATION

  From the very moment the gate began grinding upward, just wide enough above the arena floor while the crowd’s roar still lingered, the grotesque, moaning bodies burst from their confinement—ignoring the jagged metal teeth at the bottom of the door that tore strips of flesh from their skin.

  Richard had miscalculated. Miscalculated badly. There weren’t two or three of them—there were five. And among them, a smaller, wiry figure with blazing blue eyes—unnervingly agile, unmistakably lethal.

  The monster.

  Something clicked. I had seen creatures like these before. And yet something was missing. Something important. An object… or perhaps a person… a blurred silhouette I couldn’t quite grasp.

  I don’t know what the people in the circular stands felt or thought. Down here, facing death—where a single wrong move could cost a life—the screams and cheers above us ceased to exist.

  We were completely caught off guard. Panicked, if we were honest. Richard’s plan collapsed instantly. There was only one command left to obey now.

  Instinct.

  The zombies charged. We scattered. I glimpsed someone tackled to the ground—then a scream ripped through the arena. I couldn’t bring myself to look as the others swarmed him, tearing him apart.

  But sometimes the misfortune of one becomes the opportunity of many. I’m not trying to sound profound—but while they fought over his flesh, fewer of them chased us.

  Two left. Just as the original plan.

  Without a word, we locked eyes and nodded. Two of the nine remaining sprinted across the zombies’ path, drawing them away. Richard signaled immediately. Leo and Benny rushed in after them.

  CRACK.

  Bone snapped. The crowd erupted—long gasps, then delighted whistles—as two corpses collapsed, necks twisted grotesquely.

  “Good! Four left!” Richard called. “Leo, Benny, you two—HEY!”

  They didn’t listen. Overcome with adrenaline, they charged straight at the feeding mass. A catastrophic mistake. Two more zombies fell with broken necks, but the blue-eyed creature seized them. It dragged them close. With blackened claws, it drove its hands straight through their chests.

  I nearly vomited. Seven of us remained. And two enemies. One of them the monster.

  “Feasting well, aren’t you?!” Sebastian shouted.

  “Kill them!” we roared.

  Richard threw his arms out to block us. “Calm down! We can’t lose more men to hot heads. You saw what that monster can do. We take the regular one first. Then the monster.”

  “RICHARD! DOWN!”

  I didn’t think. I moved. I tackled him just as the monster’s claws sliced through empty air above us. We rolled across the dirt, stopping near the bodies of our fallen companions. The monster abandoned us—choosing instead to attack the others.

  That left one zombie in front of us.

  If I could have, I would have apologized a thousand times. If I could have, I would have stopped. But there was no choice.

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  Richard and I forced it down, pinning its arms. I grabbed its brittle curls and slammed its head into the dirt, dodging its snapping jaws. Richard tore off his jacket, wrapping it around his fist. I turned away before I understood what he intended.

  THUD. THUD. THUD.

  The sound of brutality echoed through the arena—smothering whatever remained of our humanity. The zombie convulsed. Then went still.

  Silence spread through the stands. They were no longer afraid of the undead. They were afraid of us.

  I rose, blood splattered across my body, muscles trembling. A thought spiraled inside me: What was the difference between us and them? Both fighting to survive. Both acting on instinct, long past reason. What right did I have to judge them?

  No. The true monsters sat above us. We were all entertainment. Disposable pieces in a sick game.

  “Not giving up, are you?” Richard murmured.

  “No. We survive. We get out of here one day.”

  And we turned to face the monster. Three more had fallen while we dealt with the other zombie. Only four of us remained: Richard, Michael, Sebastian, and me.

  There was no room left for fear. Only choices. Act monstrously to live—or surrender and die. Even an ant writhes when stepped on. How could beings with a hundred billion neurons surrender so easily?

  I was about to ask Richard for a plan—but the hesitation in his eyes stopped me. Bare hands would never subdue that creature.

  THUNK.

  Something flashed from above and embedded itself into the dirt.

  “Even odds now, boys,” Vanstine called smugly.

  A golden machete. Decorative. Ornate. More display piece than weapon.

  “Why not drop a gun?” Michael muttered. “We won’t even get close before it rips us apart.”

  “Better than nothing,” Richard said. “You and Sebastian circle behind. If it chases one group, the other grabs the blade.”

  We nodded. Sebastian and I split off. But the monster didn’t chase. It stood there. Watching. Calculating. A chill crawled up my spine.

  It was thinking.

  No—it couldn’t be. A creature that strong, that vicious, was not supposed to think. If it could evolve—humanity’s extinction would only be a matter of time.

  GRAAAAH!

  It lunged—and deliberately knocked the machete upward into the iron cage separating arena and stands.

  “Damn it!” Sebastian cursed as we scattered again. We zigzagged across the arena, exhausting ourselves trying to disorient it. Sometimes it miscalculated and slammed into the cage, sending the audience scrambling back in terror.

  “Someone needs to climb up there!” I shouted.

  Richard moved instantly. He dove low—swept the monster’s legs. It crashed face-first into the dirt.

  “Red card!” Sebastian blurted.

  The crowd burst into laughter. Even I couldn’t suppress a breathless chuckle. Except Michael. He was already climbing.

  The monster rose slowly, fury radiating from its body. It ignored us. It chose Michael. It leapt—Michael dropped just in time as the creature smashed into the cage. Sebastian and I grabbed him, dragging him back.

  The machete fell. Right in front of me.

  The monster stood again. Those blue eyes locked onto me. A reckless idea detonated inside my skull. Ignoring the shouts behind me—I charged.

  I twisted past its swipe. Snatched the machete. Sliced across its hip—then slipped behind it—my arm locking across its throat.

  A strange certainty surged through me. I had done this before.

  SCHHK!

  The blade cut clean. The monster’s head separated from its body.

  Silence. They stared at me. Horrified. I stared at my own hands.

  “Who… who are you?” Sebastian whispered.

  Before I could answer—Vanstine leaned over the railing, face dark with fury. “Richard. Five consecutive wins.”

  “So?”

  “To keep the game interesting,” Vanstine said smoothly, “any team that wins five in a row must be eliminated. We can’t allow imbalance… now can we?”

  He laughed. Madly. Gun barrels snapped into view from all sides—aimed directly at the four of us.

  “Fire.”