A Woman of the Swamp 2-3.5

They passed under the neon-emblazoned archway and into a wide concrete path, circling the outside of grandstands. Tilted passageways led up to higher seats, and through them, Nick caught a glimpse of blood-stained glass. Curiosity got the better of him, and he hurried up the ramp to get a better look. No matter how many undead fighting rings he had seen, they all managed to surprise him. Despite the niche nature of the business, each was unique, bringing its own, personal touch to blood sport.

The transparent barrier overlooked a sand arena where two zombies clad in metal armor were doing their best to chase a man wielding a flaming great sword. The living man wore nothing aside from sweat pants and a red headband to keep long locks of black hair out of his eyes. A mix of boos and cheers resonated from the stands as the man deftly avoided the two shambling corpses, clearly trying to keep some distance from them.

At least he knows what he’s doing. People always assumed killing the zombie was the tricky part. In fact, the real trick was getting close enough to do so without inadvertent exposure. Zombie blood was filled with all sorts of nastiness, and if even one drop got into the human bloodstream, it was game over. Unless of course, someone had a hatchet handy and didn’t mind losing a limb.

Nick looked up at the roaring crowd. The stands were simple bleachers running up in concentric circles to a vaulted ceiling. Boxes with small balconies were set against the back wall. The clientele in the bleachers was a mix of people that would ordinarily be found at a NASCAR race, or on trial for murder. Slurs and curse words that Nick had never heard before were being hurled toward the fighters, and the look in the fans’ eyes showed an uncomfortable amount of blood lust.

Conversely, the men and women sitting in the boxes looked reserved and well-dressed. Several of them had small binoculars that would have been more at home in the opera rather than an arena dedicated to blood sport. Martin’s benefactors. The man had always been a coward, but his silver tongue made it easy to find money where ordinarily there was none. It helped that rich people were always ready to watch poor people die for entertainment.

Shirley stepped up to his side. “So, this is what you wanted me to ‘be cool’ about?”

“It’s a tale as old as time, Shirley. Unlucky commoners competing for glory in the arena, hoping to elevate their status.” Or being forced into it by circumstance and desperate need. Nick knew the moral points against arena fighting, but didn’t feel like getting into a moral argument while surrounded by people who burned witches for less.

One of the two zombies got ahold of the living man’s arm and bit a chunk from it. Blood sprayed the sand and the man pulled away, grasping at the wound with sudden, horrible realization.

“It’s barbaric,” commented Shirley.

“So are some of the secret ops your employers carry out. At least the fighting pits are honest about it.”

The man in the arena fell to his knees, staring at his arm. “Ah, come on.” He seemed more resigned than anything as the veins leading from his wound quickly turned black and began to swell.

“That’s a fast infection,” noted Nick.

“What the Sixth Side does is protect--”

“That’s disgusting!” interrupted Lopsang, stepping up behind them.

James followed and grimaced. “Really feel like we might be on the wrong side here,”

The man in the ring frothed at the mouth and doubled over, puking a vile substance into the sand. Foam dripped in great bloody gobs from his mouth, landing in piles on the sand. His fingers gripped the earth with suicidal force, and then slackened. When he lifted his head, his eyes had gone completely white.

“And that’s the ballgame.” Nick made a silent note of the infection time – less than ten seconds. Jesus, that’s fast.

An announcer’s voice boomed through the crowd. “Oooh, and that’s another for our gruesome twosome tonight folks. Another score for the infected!” A boxing-style bell tolled in the arena and a scoreboard shifted reflecting the one-point change. The board read: Living 2 – Infected 15.

“That’s a busy night. Normally you don’t keep a place like this open with those odds. They must pay well.” Despite his better sense, Nick wondered how much he could make for going a few rounds.

The crowd roared with excitement.

“Let’s get this over with and get the hell out of here.” Shirley’s face darkened. “I have no desire to sit here and watch people die for any longer than we have to.”

Nick nodded and pointed toward the boxes. “Martin’s patrons are sitting up there. Knowing the little weasel, he’s with them, greasing their palms. You don’t get a place like this built without a bit of groveling.”

“Let’s get moving then.” Shirley started off, but Nick reached out a hand and pulled her back.

“Hold on. How are we expecting to get up there? There’s going to be guards, and if we get caught, then we’re going to be next on tonight's docket of entertainment.” Nick was surprised armed guards hadn’t found them already. Apparently, Martin had gotten soft in his later years.

Shirley laughed and tossed her hair to the side. “Clearly you’ve never traveled with a woman.”

Nick smirked. “It can’t be that easy.”

“Want to bet on it?”

“Fine, what are the stakes?” A honey pot wasn’t going to fool Martin. He was a creature built for survival and suspicion.

“I win, you let me shut this place down. You win, you can drink as much as you like on The Sixth Side’s tab for the rest of the operation.”

Nick’s head spun at the sheer amount of top shelf booze she was offering. Even if he hadn’t been sure of the outcome, he would have considered the bet. “Fine. James, Lopsang, you’re my witnesses.”

James nodded. “You better share that newfound wealth when you win.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Shirley turned on her heel and motioned for them to follow.

As expected, when they reached the entrance to the luxury suites, a pair of burly guards stood sentinel at the door. The implication of the two military grade shotguns they carried was not lost on the quartet as they approached. Nick said a silent prayer that Shirley knew what she was doing, even if it meant he would lose the bet.

If Shirley was nervous, she made no indication of it. Instead, she walked right up to the two guards and presented a series of four tickets. One picked up the papers and inspected them. The other continued to look out at the crowd menacingly. The first looked down at the tickets and then up to Shirley, double checking, and then pressed the call button on the elevator doors behind him. The doors slid open, revealing a lavish interior. “Have a good night, and thank you for choosing Martin’s for your undead fighting needs.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Shirley threw the guard a wink and stepped past.

Lopsang and James followed, but Nick stood momentarily rooted to the spot. Was it really that easy? He tried to understand how Shirley had managed. A heavy sadness settled in his gut as he realized what he had done. They had discovered a nice place, just like The Black Market, and he had ruined it almost as soon as they had stepped through the door. In a few days’ time, government agents would swarm the building and strip it bare. The beautiful monument to humanity’s baser instincts would be nothing more than a footnote in a post-mission report.

“Sir?” asked one of the guards, breaking Nick from his reverie.

“Yes, Nick, you coming?” asked Shirley. “I’m happy to leave you down here if you don’t want to join us.”

Nick directed all energy to moving his numb legs and stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut behind him with a dull thud.

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Nick,” chided James.

Nick wanted to throttle him, but immediately regretted the instinct. He knew how hard it was to get James back from the Land of the Dead, and the momentary joy of killing him wouldn’t be worth the effort.

Lopsang put a hand on his shoulder. “If it helps, I thought it was a good bet.”

“I’d call it cheating, but it was well played.”

“For future reference, I wouldn’t walk into a place like this without contingency plans to get to our target. You might not like The Sixth Side, but we are always prepared.”

As she said it, the elevator doors opened, revealing six armed guards pointing rifles at them. “No sudden moves!” yelled a severe looking woman at the front of the pack.

Nick put his hands up instinctively. “Prepared for everything?” he asked.

Shirley scowled at him and put her hands up. “Fucking necromancers.”

“Yup,” replied Nick.

The armed guards pulled them out of the elevator and searched them one by one. They needed an entire table for the weapons they found concealed on Shirley. Nick had to admire her efforts to hide them all.

The security team finished searching them, and the leader looked down a the sheer volume of items with awe. “Well, that’s not something you see every day. Lucky for you, I’ve got good news, and bad news.”

Nick gulped. “Let me guess—”

The leader lifted her rifle and pressed it to Nick’s lips faster than he could flinch. “You’d do well to keep quiet. Now, the good news, I don’t get to detain you all and sign you up for the pits.”

The other guards groaned.

“I know, I know. I was looking forward to it too, but there is bad news. Martin wants to speak to you all personally.”