“Who am I going to be fighting?”
“Not who, it’s what. People like to see zombies fight each other and bet on them.”
“Oh,” Orlando thought that was the craziest thing he had ever heard.
“Yeah, it’s totally awesome.” The sound of excitement in his voice was clear. “It’s how I met Maxwell; he showed up one day and asked me if I wanted to hunt these things down. Said I’d be good at it, because, you know, I kicked their asses in the ring.”
“Wait a minute; you went one on one with zombies?” That took Orlando by surprise.
With a grin on his face he said, “All the time, it was easy money.” Becoming serious he added, “Just don’t embarrass me man, these guys here, they know me.” With that said he led the way down the stairs and into a tunnel.
They could hear the noise from the fighting at the end of the tunnel. The sounds of bone hitting bone, the grunting and the shouts of the gamers placing bets on the fights, greeted them as they made the way down the tunnel.
“Yo!” Ruben shouted. “How’s it going man?” He asked the man at the entrance to a cavern. It looked like a basement. There were crates stacked up along one side of the wall. Several tunnels had been cut into the basement leading who knew where. There was no traditional looking ring in the basement. Just an area that was empty and it looked like there was dried blood on the ground.
“You in today?” the man asked. “We got some good ones.”
“Yeah? That’s awesome!” Ruben called Orlando over, “This here is my friend Orlando. My money’s on him.”
“For real?” the man asked uncertain. He looked Orlando over, not sure there was a fighter in him.
“Dude, you’re asking me? You do remember all the wins I have under my belt?” He took a few steps forward to assert his statement.
The man began to laugh uncomfortably, “Let’s put him in.”
Ruben turned back to Orlando a huge grin on his face as he asked, “You didn’t eat this morning did you?”
Chapter Five - The Fight
Within minutes Orlando was in the ring with an actual zombie. The zombie was taller than him, it was hunched over with broad shoulders that looked too big for its body and its head was grotesque. It had an electric collar around its neck; Ruben had briefly mentioned to him that it was a way for the handlers to keep the zombies in line.
The zombie growled at him, salivating at his lips, it looked hungry. Its collar lit up prompting the zombie to attack. It took a wide swing at Orlando.
Orlando easily sidestepped the attack ducking down, targeting its kidney area.
The zombie turned, growling and swinging both of its huge fists widely. One swing caught Orlando on his chin. He went down; it felt like a semi truck had hit him. The zombie growled in victory. It dropped down to its knees. Its hands eagerly stretching outward for Orlando’s head, it was hungry.
Quickly turning onto his side, Orlando kicked one leg outward, hitting the zombie in the midsection. It didn’t move the zombie back very much, but it did give Orlando room to jump to his feet.
They were nearly face to face now; the zombie had bent down to Orlando’s eye level. It reached across for Orlando’s shoulders; it wanted to rip his arms out of their sockets.
Orlando could see perfectly into its sunken lifeless eyes. Raising his hand he poked the zombie in the eye.
It stumbled backwards; Orlando was quick to follow him. The zombie ripped its wounded eye out of its socket and flung its eyeball at Orlando, causing him to pause for a moment in denial.
It was bleeding from where its eye used to be as it swung at Orlando missing him with each strike.
Orlando inched his way closer, with both hands he grabbed hold of the zombie’s head. Breaking its neck with a few twists; it fell to the ground lifeless.
“What the hell man! You killed my zombie!” An outrage man cried out.
“Yeah, dude,” Ruben said calmly to the outraged man, “that was the point.” Ruben tossed Orlando his sword and took out his own. His eyes firmly set on Orlando now as he said, “This outta be fun.”
“Ruben!” the man that Orlando had met earlier at the entrance charged forward, “What are you doing?”
Without sparing him a look Ruben answered, “Killing zombies.”
Chapter Six - Grandpa
Orlando had just been to an underground zombie fight club. Not only had he just been to an underground zombie fight club but he had been a participant. There had been three zombies.
Ruben and Orlando wasted no time destroying them. After it was finished Ruben took off. He said he had to be somewhere but he didn’t say where.
Orlando drove home on his Sportster. He had not enjoyed the killing. He pulled up to the house; it was too early in the day for his parents to be home from work, but his grandfather would be home. ‘What questions would his grandfather have for him?’ Orlando thought as he sat on the Sportster looking up at the house.
He heard the TV as he made his way inside; he found his grandfather watching it. Upon hearing Orlando, his grandfather turned it off.
“How did your day go?” he asked.
Orlando sat down on the sofa across from his grandfather. He didn’t answer. He just sat there staring at nothing in particular.
“That bad, huh?” his grandfather asked, a chuckle in his voice.
Orlando raised his head. He looked at his grandfather directly, “Maxwell came by my school, wanted to know what I was doing there.”
“Thought he might be by,” clearing his throat, his grandfather then added, “He has always been impatient. How did your training go?”
Orlando gave a half smile as he thought it over before saying, “It was hands on training.”
“What was Maxwell thinking? It’s far too early for you to be having direct contact with zombies.” His grandfather seemed a bit upset at hearing this.
“It wasn’t Maxwell; he turned my training over to some guy called Ruben.”
“It’s too early.”
The training didn’t bother Orlando nearly as much as the questions he had for his grandfather. “How did you become a zombie hunter? Who decided that this would be my thing?”
His grandfather coughed to clear his throat; he was not quite sure what he should say. He sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands, his fingers touching each other he finally said to his grandson, “I met Maxwell when I was young, about your age. I was coming home late from a friend’s party. I heard screaming like I had never heard before. At first I thought I would ignore it; it had nothing to do with me, but for some reason I stopped and didn’t walk inside the house. There was an alley that ran alongside of it. I started to hear groaning so I went around and saw a young man about my age. He was leaning up against the trash bins clutching his sides.
“What happened to you?” Orlando’s grandfather continued.
“Get away! It’s coming back!” the young man shouted out in warning. There was blood dripping down the side of his head and his clothes were badly torn. “It’s coming back.” He limped forward towards me.
“It’s okay. My name is Ethan. I’ll call the police for you,” I said as he stepped forward so that I could help him.
“No!” A look of fear crept onto the young man’s face as a shadow dropped down over Ethan.
Suddenly a sword whistled through the air as the young man swung it out from his side. Upon seeing the sword swoop out I dropped to the ground to avoid it and I heard the sickening sound as it sliced into something thick behind him. Blood splattered on me.
The sword that the young man held fell to the floor clanging. His eyes closed as he took several steps backwards to lean against the trash bins once more. He said to Ethan, “It was hunting.”
Looking it over I asked, “What was that?”
“Zombie,” he said. He was out of breath.
I doubted that. How could there be a zombie lying dead at his feet? “No,
it can’t be a zombie,” he said sure of it.
“Take a look. See for yourself.” He watched as I did just that. He went on to say, “Check out the skin. It’s grey, flaking off, and then there’s the smell.”
“Did you say it was hunting?”
“How did you not even smell it as it came up behind you?” the young man asked perplexed.
“We’re in an alley. I didn’t think much of it.” I said. Squinting my eyes at him I then asked, “What’s your name?”
“Maxwell, and for saving your life you now owe me.”
“Don’t think so,” I said. My eyes were back on the zombie.
“There are more of them, not just that one.”
“Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know.” Moving away from the trash bins towards me, he said, “I can show you how to kill them.”
“I don’t want to know,” I began to back away from Maxwell.
“Going home to your safe little house? Leave me half dead out here to fight the rest of them off…is that your plan?”
“How long have you been hunting zombies?”
Maxwell’s voice was flat as he answered, “Since my father became one.”
Orlando watched as his grandfather reached behind his back for his wallet. He pulled out a picture. Handing it to Orlando, he said, “This was us years and years ago.” He laughed as he remembered the training Maxwell had put him through.
“Why did you agree?” Orlando asked as he handed the picture back to his grandfather.
“I’m not quiet sure why. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”
Chapter Seven – Wizard or Ghost
The house grew quiet as everyone prepared for bed. Orlando was exhausted and fell asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow– until a noise in his bedroom jarred him awake.
He sat up looking for what had created the noise. At first he didn’t see anything. All appeared to be quiet and in its place. He laid back down closing his eyes to sleep and felt the mattress shift at the presence of someone else’s weight. Opening his eyes startled, he found a man standing beside his bed resting his foot on the mattress.
“What?” Orlando asked thinking he must have been dreaming.
An eerie yellow light surrounded the man who peered down upon him; a wicked smile upon his face. “Catching up on your beauty sleep?” the man asked.
Sitting up in his bed to create space between himself and the strange man, Orlando realized that he knew this man. He had been the one who had killed that guy in front of his house.
“What are you doing here?” Orlando asked worried.
“I saw you that day when I was taking care of some business in front of this house. It surprised me, considering I had spelled the neighborhood to keep away from the front street … how did you manage to bypass my spell?”
Orlando moved to the far corner of the bed, his back against the wall, “Did you come here to kill me?”
“No, I’m not going to kill you; I only wondered how a boy like you could manage to bypass my spell. What level of magik are you?”
“I don’t know. Why should that matter?”
“It matters because I have been tracking someone.” Noticing that Orlando was bracing himself against the wall the man took a step back from the bed. Introducing himself he said, “The name’s Fernie its short for Fernando. I’ve traced a friend of yours out here.”
“A friend of my mine?”
“Maxwell?”
When he spoke the name, Orlando moved off of his bed to switch on the light. As the light lit up the room Fernie disappeared.
A knock sounded at his bedroom door, it was Orlando’s mother, “Are you okay? I heard a noise.”
It took him a moment to answer his mother; he had looked around the room for Fernie. How could he disappear just as the light turned on?
“I’m fine.” He said. He had not opened the door. After a moment he heard his mother move down the hall.
Fernie reappeared as Orlando switched the light off.
“Are you a ghost?” Orlando asked. He switched the light back on, saw that he disappeared and reappeared as the light went off.
“No, I’m a wizard. There are not very many of us left. Which is why I’m hunting Maxwell, he is not who he says he is.”
“What do you mean? Maxwell is a friend of my grandfather. For all I know you’re some insane lunatic who is here to kill me. Why did you kill that guy on the street?”
“He was an informant. He gave me some bad information. He’s what you would call a 'rat'.”
“Maxwell is a wizard isn’t he?”
Laughing Fernie replied, “He is a mercurial, a high class one. He knows how to manipulate things and people. He is no friend of yours or your grandfather’s.”
“Why are you hunting Maxwell?”
“He’s the one who is creating all of this and you are going to help me to stop him,” Fernie announced.
“There is no way I would help a nut job like you. Now get out,” Orlando yelled.
The man then became enraged. The yellow which surrounded Fernie grew brighter as he advanced on Orlando.
Orlando’s radio went flying across the room striking Fernie on his head.
Fernie paused, “How did you manage to do that?”
Orlando had no idea. The radio had just acted on its own.
Fernie picked up the radio to examine it, “You made it hit me.”
“No, I don’t know how to do that.”
Looking at him questioningly, “You have no idea what you are, but I bet Maxwell does.” He dropped the radio back onto the floor and it broke. “He is hunting real wizards.”
“Why would he?”
Fernie didn’t respond. He slowly approached Orlando, his eyes fixed carefully on him.
Knocking resounded on his bedroom door, “Orlando what is going on? What broke?”
“If she comes in here she will die.” Fernie said. The sincerity of his threat was evident from the look in his eyes.
“Orlando?” his mother asked with concern in her voice. She tried the door knob; pushing it open and turning on the light. The room was empty, a broken radio on the floor.
Chapter Eight – Travel Town U.S.A
Orlando found himself in some sort of park. There were old trains lined up sitting on railroad tracks. Balloons were tied to a post near a caboose. There were several benches and tables scattered about the area in a random pattern. A building had a sign affixed above double doors. ‘Travel Town U.S.A.’
“Hey!” Orlando shouted. ‘Where did Fernie go? Why had he even brought him to this place?’
A dark shadow began to form before Orlando. The shadow bubbled, pushed outwards towards Orlando who carefully backed away not sure what to make of it. The shadow shot down towards the ground where it began to form a dark pool that slowly rose becoming Fernie.
“We can talk here. There is no one around for miles,” Fernie assured him.
“Why did you bring me here?” Orlando wanted nothing to do with Fernie. The more time he spent with him the more he thought the guy was some psycho.
“There were too many interruptions at your house, unless you wanted me to kill your mother?” Fernie questioned with a chuckle in his voice. “I wanted you to see who Maxwell really is. I wanted you to see him in action.”
Fernie spun on his heel, giving his back to Orlando. He seemed to be looking at something in the distance.
Orlando only saw hills and nothing else.
“He’s up there.” Fernie said.
“There is nothing here. No one is here. Take me home.” Orlando wasn’t even dressed. He was standing in his pajamas and he was barefoot. How was he going to make his way back home? He didn’t even know where he was.
Fernie turned back around with an irritated look on his face, “Didn’t you hear what I said? He’s up there!” Fernie strode over to where Orlando stood. “Come see for yourself.”
&
nbsp; “No.”
“No?” A strange look formed on Fernie’s face as he stared at Orlando. “No? He repeated.
“Look, I’m not sure what is wrong with you. Maybe you got into someone’s stash of magik fix. But you need help.”
“What I needs is for you to believe me.”
“Why do you care so much if I believe you or not? What’s it to you?”
“Take a look,” Fernie raised his hand to Orlando’s face. A yellow light emerged from his finger tips.
“What are you doing?” Orlando asked as a strange sensation overtook him.
“Just see.”
Orlando didn’t want to see. He wanted to return home. Get as far away from Fernie as possible. He pushed Fernie away from him and ran towards the hills.
He heard Fernie laughing behind him. He had not bothered to follow.
Orlando ran up the hill, there was a light in the distance. He ran towards it. He thought it would lead to someone who might be able to help him, someone who might at least have a cell phone on them.
He heard voices as he approached the light. It was a camp ground. A blue fire burned in a pit, in the center of the blue fire was a yellow light that dimmed as Orlando approached. He ducked down behind the bushes.
Maxwell stood at the far end of the camp near a tent. Orlando watched as Maxwell entered the tent he was talking to someone; Orlando could not see who he was talking to.
The light from the fire pit revealed shadows of the ones who were inside the tent. Orlando could make out two others in the tent with Maxwell.
He could not understand what they were saying. They were speaking a language that he didn’t recognize.
A loud shout of pain erupted from the tent.
“Hold him down!” Someone shouted in English.
Orlando watched the tent closely. Before he knew it, a large man ran from the tent. He stopped as he approached the blue fire. He held his head in his hands as he fell to his knees. The sounds he made were unlike anything Orlando had ever heard before.
The man began to change. His body stretched and grew. The color of his skin became ashy and taunt. He was becoming a zombie.
“Get the collar on him before his change is complete.”
Orlando did not recognize the other man with Maxwell. He watched as that man reached over the zombie to fix a collar on him.