Backs Against the Wall

He stands so tall above me, I’m sure he has no trouble seeing inside the Arena. There are areas I can’t see that are blocked by people’s heads. By the shifting, writhing mass around me. I can see two of the three Risen and that third one being a mystery makes me anxious. I can’t imagine how Ryan feels not seeing any of them but knowing they’re there.

“He knows to stay away from the edges. He’s paced that Arena so many times that he has it mapped in his head. He’ll never let the living touch him.”

“It’s the non-living I’m worried about,” I grumble.

“It shouldn’t be.”

Two of the Risen descend on Ryan where he sits crouched, waiting. He must sense them or smell them because he reacts immediately. He lashes out to the right, deftly grabbing a Risen by the ankle and yanking its leg out from under it. It topples onto its back, cracking it’s head on the floor. But it doesn’t stop moving. Ryan stands quickly, still holding the ankle. He pushes his foot into the Risen’s groin, makes a sharp twisting motion and yanks up. The Risen’s leg snaps free at the kneecap.

“And he just got himself a weapon,” Trent muses proudly.

I don’t dare look at him because I’m pretty sure from his tone that he’s smiling and no part of me can handle that right now.

The second Risen is creeping up on Ryan’s back. I can see the third as well, coming around the far side of the Arena. It’s distracted by the people around the edges. It keeps grabbing at them, lunging to get through the barrier but the people are too quick for it.

Ryan takes firm hold of the ankle on the lower leg he’s holding, spins around and smacks the Risen behind him in the face. It stumbles but doesn’t go down. Reaching out with its gray hands, it grabs for Ryan. He feels its touch, jumps back a step, crouching low again. I watch in horror as he puts the leg on the ground beside him and waits, defenseless again.

The Risen comes at him, lumbering toward him with surprising speed. Ryan immediately tackles it at the knees, standing up and bringing it into the air. Then he spins, bringing the Risen back down to the ground. Hard. Its head bounces off the cement floor, then smacks down again. Ryan lands on top of it, quickly groping for the arms, then pi

One down.

Or actually, two down but one is coming toward him, dragging itself over the ground. A Crawler. I hate Crawlers. Ryan ignores it or doesn’t remember it’s there, something I don’t believe possible after what I’ve seen so far. Instead of attacking it, he feels around the ground until he finds the leg he dropped. He removes the shoe from the foot and slips it on his own.

I cringe thinking of what the inside of that thing feels or smells like.

With the new, disgusting shoe on his foot, Ryan feels for the Crawler on the ground. His hand gets dangerously close to its mouth, making me gasp.

Trent shoots me a warning look. I glare back.

“Sorry, cyborg. I’m a little worried, it slipped out.”

He puts his finger to his lips, silently signaling for me to be quiet.

“Like he could hear me,” I say defensively, looking away.

Ryan is now dragging the Crawler to a bench, moving with sure feet as though he can see where he’s going. He has the thing by the head and wastes no time putting its face on the edge of the bench. Then he rears back.

“Oh no,” I mutter.

“Shhh,”

Ryan stomps on the back of the Risen’s head. There’s a crack that can’t be heard but it’s definitely seen. The Risen goes down, lifeless.

One left.

The only problem is, Ryan obviously doesn’t know where it is. He tosses aside the Risen he’s just finished off, probably to get it’s scent away so he smell the next one coming, but it’s not working. It’s close to him and getting closer. He stays crouched down low beside the bench, using it for some cover and probably to orient himself, but it’s making him vulnerable. The Risen is coming up on the other side of the bench, getting ready to lean over it. To grab Ryan by the shoulder.

And he has no idea it’s coming.

A shrill whistle sounds beside my ear, making me drop to the ground to defend myself. My left ear, the one beside Trent, is ringing painfully. It sounds again, two short, sharp shrieks. I look up to find Trent watching Ryan closely, his hand over his mouth. I jump up to look for Ryan but nearly drop down again when Trent moves his hand slightly and there’s another whistle, this time more pronounced. The two shrieks are slightly longer, more emphatic.

My eyes shoot to the Arena just in time to see Ryan reacting to the Risen closing on his left. He’s too late. It gets ahold of his shoulder, it’s vice like hands digging its fingers into his flesh. I worry he’ll cry out or panic. That he’ll lose his bearings because of the pain and it will all be over. But he only slouches slightly, instinctively trying to escape the pain. The he grabs the hand, pulls it toward him and topples the Risen over the bench. He breaks the hold it has on him. With his body free, with his blood pouring bright red and angry down his body, he slides the Risen onto the bench, feeling behind its head until the surface disappears and it’s dangling off the edge. Then he lifts his shoed foot and steps down hard. The neck snaps. The Risen is dead.

And with the wound he’s taken, there’s every chance Ryan will be too.

Chapter Twelve

“Gentleman!” the a

There are scattered cheers, losers grudgingly accepting that their wi

“Time to move,” Trent tells me.

He takes my upper arm as he ushers me quickly through the crowd. We jump down off the risers into the dark and head for the exit. He leads me away from the stairs, this time taking me through a different door that leads down an industrial looking hallway with brick walls and exposed wiring in the ceiling.

“Hey, wait,” a voice calls quietly from behind us.

I turn to see Elise hurrying toward us, her eyes nervously sca

“Here, take this. You’ll need it for his shoulder.” She holds out a small bottle and a jar with white paste in it. “Get him out of here now.”

“We’re already going,” Trent tells her, pulling me forward again.

“Thank you,” I call over my shoulder, holding up the jar and bottle.

She’s turned to leave. If she hears my gratitude, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

We jog down the hall until a door slams open ahead of us. The heavy metal door swings noisily, flying out, banging against the brick wall and rebounding back. Trent halts, his body going stiff as he watches. As he waits.

Ryan stumbles out into the hall. He’s still in the shorts, no shirt, but luckily the shoe is gone and he’s carrying his own pair in his hand along with the rest of his clothes.

“Go, man,” a guy says gruffly from inside the door. “Get out before it gets nuts in here. Don’t come back for a while either. People will forget but not any time soon.”

Ryan leans back against the wall, his head falling forward as he nods. “Hopefully I’m never coming back.”