Authors: Sean Platt,David W. Wright
Z 2134
by Sean Platt and David
Wright
The
characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to
real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright
© 2012 Sean Platt & David Wright
Originally published as a Kindle Serial, October 2012
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be
reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without express written permission of the publisher.
Published
by 47North
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN: 9781611094107
THANK YOU TO ALL OF OUR GONERS, WHO HAVE BEEN WITH US FOR THE PAST YEAR, AND
MADE THIS ALL POSSIBLE.
Table of Contents
Outside The
Walls — The Barrens
J
onah focused through the rifle scope,
staring at the zombies swarming around the tunnel’s exit. He had one bullet,
with four undead blocking his only way out.
“Fuck,” he whispered to himself.
The Darwin Games announcer, Kirk Kirkman,
sounded practically orgasmic from the speakers in the floating orb behind
Jonah.
“Wow, Jonah’s really in a tight spot
here. Should he take his chances with just one bullet and a machete, and make
the mile-long trek back to the last exit? Tell us what you’re thinking as The
Darwin Games continue, with Jonah Lovecraft, our second to last contestant!”
Jonah turned, glaring into the orb’s main
camera, “Keep it down,” he whispered. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
He was aching, tired, and starving, not
in the mood to play dancing monkey for the asshole on the other side of the
camera nor the millions watching The Darwin Games from home. Jonah was still a
half-day from the Mesa and the Final Battle. Whoever reaches the Mesa first
gets dibs on the best equipment from the Bounty to use in the fight to the
death. The first player to make it to the Bounty usually wins. Going
head-to-head against Bear, assuming Bear was the other Darwin contestant still
alive, meant Jonah
had
to get there first. He would need every ounce of
help he could get — Bear was a walking tank of a man.
Bear was more than four hundred pounds
and seven feet; an absolute beast, pouring a countless number of his life’s
hours into working the City 6 Quarry for most of his 40 years breathing. He’d
been imprisoned for robbery, stealing a loaf of bread no less, to feed his wife
and child when their rations ran dry earlier than they’d scheduled. Though
Jonah hadn’t been a City Watch officer when Bear was jailed, Bear knew of
Jonah’s former occupation. Bear had a score to settle, and even if that score
wasn’t with Jonah personally, he’d serve as a fine proxy for the hardline
authority that had wrongly punished him.
When The Games first started, and there
were 12 of them — two prisoners from each city — let loose into the wild, Bear
made an immediate run for Jonah. Fortunately, Jonah managed to slip away when
someone else decided to take a whack at Bear. It would’ve been a decent
strategy — hitting the strongest guy, Bear, first — if it had worked. It
didn’t, though it did slow Bear down long enough for Jonah to successfully make
it into the woods, then over to one of the weapons caches. There, he managed to
claim a machete before acquiring the rifle he earned by bringing down a pair of
contestants who had wisely teamed together, then foolishly surrendered their
guard long enough for Jonah to strike.
There was one day of The Darwin Games
remaining, and Jonah had to reach the far side of the tunnel, then make his way
to the spot of the Final Battle before Bear, if he wanted a chance to win and
start his life over in City 7.
There were two boxes waiting at the Mesa.
One was called The Bounty, which was a winner’s box, with winner’s weapons
inside. The Bounty varied from game to game. Sometimes the TV network would
stock it with something useful, like a bat, an axe, or even a pistol with a
handful of bullets. The other box, however, was called the Joker’s Box, left
for whoever made it to the Mesa last, usually containing something far less
effective — a brick, a piece of wood, or on one occasion, a bag of children’s
toys. It was the game’s way of adding what Kirkman called “the wow factor” to
the show — a moment that would shock viewers and get discussed in City plazas.
Jonah needed all the help he could get if
he was going against Bear. Getting to the Bounty was non-negotiable.
He stared into the scope again, weighing
his options as the orb hummed and hovered behind him, turning simple focus into
heavy labor. Though Kirkman had momentarily shut up, or maybe muted himself so
his inane chatter was broadcast only to the audience at home, Jonah could still
hear the orb buzzing like a swarm of bees behind him, the awareness of it
enough to shatter his concentration.
The orbs, which served as floating
cameramen beyond The Wall, usually kept a decent distance behind or above their
targeted players. But if the game was on the line, the orbs always hovered
closer. The game was definitely on the line now. If Jonah died, then Bear, who
he now figured
had
to be the last person left, would automatically win.
Of course, most of the people at home were rooting for Jonah to make it to the
Final Battle. If he died now, it would be anticlimactic and deny the audience
the spectacle of a bloody duel.
The networks were no doubt pitching this
duel as Bear against the very law that had imprisoned him and destroyed his
family, despite the network being run by The City, which
was
the law of
the land. Of course, such subtleties were lost on the common viewer, who only
sought relief from the long days, not critical analysis.
Jonah tried to focus again as the orb
hovered closer, its static purr lifting his hair in the breeze. He turned back,
still glaring. The orb zipped several feet back, giving him additional space.
It wasn’t enough. Jonah wanted to bash the fucking thing to pieces but knew
better.
Sam Wallings had almost won The Darwin
Games two years before, but had smashed an orb a half-hour from reaching the
Mesa. He was a half-day from reaching The Bounty before his opponent and was
stronger in every way. No one doubted he would win. But after smashing the Orb,
Wallings was found by a hunter orb four minutes later and violently
exterminated, to many cheers and even more lost bets.
Jonah would have to tolerate the goddamn
orb.
He inched closer, deciding to take his
chances by eliminating the closest of the zombies.
Erupting through the relative silence,
Jonah heard an explosion of noise from behind — something galloping toward him,
fast.
Before he could register what it might
be, the sudden assault slammed him sideways, sending him hard to the ground.
Jonah’s rifle flew from his hand and skidded across the ground.
Unfortunately, the orb had swung from
danger just in time, clearing the area unscathed.
Jonah, on his hands and knees, looked up,
hoping like hell the zombies hadn’t noticed him when they heard the charging
deer. If they had, they no longer cared, every one of them too distracted by
the deer barreling toward them.
Jonah grabbed his rifle and aimed, then
waited.
The deer stopped short when it spotted
the zombies. Jonah stared through the scope as one of the zombies leaped at the
deer, savagely grabbing it around the neck, then sinking its teeth past the
deer’s fur and into its flesh and dragging it to the ground.
A second zombie joined the feast, and
hungry growls drowned the deer’s dying cries. Grunts from the zombies echoed
off the tunnel walls; a backbeat to the melody of ripping flesh below.
The zombies were fast and vicious, and
they worked together — something Jonah had not yet seen in his thirteen days
outside The Wall.
Jonah started moving as fast as he could
toward them — toward the exit — without surrendering stealth, wearing the
wall’s shadows for cover, and hoping to pass the zombies while they were
distracted with their kill. Zombies, in Jonah’s limited experience, rarely left
one meal in pursuit of another.
They were preoccupied, but not for long.
If one of the zombies finished, or was pushed from the pack for being too
greedy and infringing on the feast of another, it might very well turn its
hungry eyes to Jonah.
He was 20 yards away from them when he
finally got a better look at the small pack of walking corpses.
Careful, careful. Keep your eyes on them.
Be ready to fire and then grab the machete. Whatever you do, don’t trip,
stumble on a rock, or make a decibel of noise.
Jonah’s heart pounded so loudly he was
certain the zombies would hear him. The thumping in his chest felt as loud to
him as the zombies’ fevered grunts and the sound of ripping flesh, which grew
louder as he drew closer.
He was five yards away from the zombies
and another 10 yards from the tunnel’s exit when the sounds, wet like soaking
gravel, slapped him hard and turned his stomach.
Do NOT puke here. They will hear and kill
you.
Jonah tried to concentrate on the sound
of the orb, still humming relatively quietly behind him, allowing the purring
drone to squelch the horrible sounds of tearing, pulling, and crunching. For
once Jonah was thankful to have the orb so close, though he hoped the humming
wasn’t loud enough to invite the eyes of the zombies. He saw their fists filled
with guts and meat, and mouths painted with the sauce of their kill, and
figured it wasn’t.
The zombies had devoured about 60 percent
of the deer so far as Jonah could see, and were now starting to push at one
another. Fighting over food wasn’t unusual. Soon, things would get ugly, with
one of the zombies pulling at a leg or perhaps the head, trying to either drag
the whole corpse away or tear off a piece for itself, plunging the rest of them
into a battle. At least that’s what happened the many times Jonah had seen the
zombies fighting over humans, both on the show and, more horrifyingly, in
person.
He carefully stepped past the zombies. He
had just 10 yards to go until he finally reached daylight, where he could start
running, laying space between himself and the undead.
Jonah inched forward, not daring to turn
back, using his ears as his only warning, accepting on faith they couldn’t see
him at all.
Just keep walking.
Jonah was just 10 yards from the exit.
Ten yards from safety. Just 10 yards.
“Looks like he made it, folks,” Kirkman’s
voice suddenly crackled behind him.
Jonah’s heart fell to his feet and he
froze in his tracks, forcing himself to look behind him. Several of the zombies
looked up from their waning feast, then started screaming in unison, leaping
from the deer’s torn carcass and charging toward him.