and then the second zombie met the same fate as the first one. Dead. Finally.
Donaghy’s shoulders heaved as he stared down at the now motionless creatures, his icy blue eyes looking at them like he felt sorry for them. Like he wished he could have given them a more dignified death. It was a strange scene, watching this hulk of a man stare at the piles of rotting flesh at his feet as the crowd cheered and Dragon, still beaming, returned to the ring.
“Give this man a hand!” the bar owner called, grabbing Donaghy’s arm and lifting it above his head.
Once again, the fighter didn’t react to the praise, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was a robot.
The crowd was still cheering when he exited the ring.
The second he was gone, two men rushed in. One was carrying a shovel while the other had a bucket and a mop. I stood frozen in place, watching as the man with the shovel scooped up the remains. He tossed them into a wheelbarrow just outside the cage, then turned back for more. The man scooped up the head of the first zombie Donaghy had taken out, and the things’ mouth was still chomping away. The man laughed as he said something to his friend. They chuckled together, and I found myself wondering what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it struck me as irreverent. These may have been zombies, but they had been people at one time. People who’d had lives and loved ones. People who were missed. They deserved better than this. We all did.
I turned away when the man with the bucket started mopping up the ring.
All around the room, people exchanged handfuls of money, settling bets made before the fighter had taken the ring. On the other side of the room a man was shoved through the crowd. Curse words flew through the air when a second later a fight broke out. I watched as the two men tried to beat each other senseless, but got nowhere thanks to the thick mass of people packed around them. The two hulking men who had brought the zombies out of the back room pushed their way through the crowd, and seconds later the offenders were separated and dragged from the bar.
“What’d you think?” Jackson asked, and I turned my attention to his grinning face. Everything about his expression said that he wanted to please me.
On the other side of him, Charlie was in the middle of throwing herself at a guy nearly twice her age. Despite the buzzing in my brain from the alcohol, he looked vaguely familiar. I was fairly certain that he worked with her dad, which meant she was probably trying to charm her way into convincing him not to mention this whole thing to Uncle Al. It would work, of course. Charlie always got her way.
“Did you have fun?” Jackson asked when I didn’t respond to his first question.
“It was better than I thought,” I said, lifting myself up on the tips of my toes as I scanned the crowd for the waitress.
The top of her pink head was visible, and I raised myself up higher, hoping to get a better look. Like me she was short, making it hard to see anything she was doing. Then the crowd shifted, giving me a perfect view of the stack of credits in the waitress’s hand. Seeing all those tips cemented my decision. I needed to figure out how to get a job here. It was the only way.
“We can come more often, if you want.” Jackson grinned and nodded to the rope at my side. “VIP seats.”
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly. “Maybe.”
The last thing I wanted was for Jackson to come here more often, but I needed to be subtle about it. I couldn’t let him know what I was thinking or he’d do everything in his power to stop me.
I looked back to find the waitress grinning as she shoved her credits down her dress, somehow managing to find a place to hide them within the tiny strips of fabric.
I took one step toward the rope, ready to head over there, but stopped when Jackson got to his feet.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“Not yet.” Since I didn’t want him coming with me, I
Donaghy’s shoulders heaved as he stared down at the now motionless creatures, his icy blue eyes looking at them like he felt sorry for them. Like he wished he could have given them a more dignified death. It was a strange scene, watching this hulk of a man stare at the piles of rotting flesh at his feet as the crowd cheered and Dragon, still beaming, returned to the ring.
“Give this man a hand!” the bar owner called, grabbing Donaghy’s arm and lifting it above his head.
Once again, the fighter didn’t react to the praise, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was a robot.
The crowd was still cheering when he exited the ring.
The second he was gone, two men rushed in. One was carrying a shovel while the other had a bucket and a mop. I stood frozen in place, watching as the man with the shovel scooped up the remains. He tossed them into a wheelbarrow just outside the cage, then turned back for more. The man scooped up the head of the first zombie Donaghy had taken out, and the things’ mouth was still chomping away. The man laughed as he said something to his friend. They chuckled together, and I found myself wondering what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it struck me as irreverent. These may have been zombies, but they had been people at one time. People who’d had lives and loved ones. People who were missed. They deserved better than this. We all did.
I turned away when the man with the bucket started mopping up the ring.
All around the room, people exchanged handfuls of money, settling bets made before the fighter had taken the ring. On the other side of the room a man was shoved through the crowd. Curse words flew through the air when a second later a fight broke out. I watched as the two men tried to beat each other senseless, but got nowhere thanks to the thick mass of people packed around them. The two hulking men who had brought the zombies out of the back room pushed their way through the crowd, and seconds later the offenders were separated and dragged from the bar.
“What’d you think?” Jackson asked, and I turned my attention to his grinning face. Everything about his expression said that he wanted to please me.
On the other side of him, Charlie was in the middle of throwing herself at a guy nearly twice her age. Despite the buzzing in my brain from the alcohol, he looked vaguely familiar. I was fairly certain that he worked with her dad, which meant she was probably trying to charm her way into convincing him not to mention this whole thing to Uncle Al. It would work, of course. Charlie always got her way.
“Did you have fun?” Jackson asked when I didn’t respond to his first question.
“It was better than I thought,” I said, lifting myself up on the tips of my toes as I scanned the crowd for the waitress.
The top of her pink head was visible, and I raised myself up higher, hoping to get a better look. Like me she was short, making it hard to see anything she was doing. Then the crowd shifted, giving me a perfect view of the stack of credits in the waitress’s hand. Seeing all those tips cemented my decision. I needed to figure out how to get a job here. It was the only way.
“We can come more often, if you want.” Jackson grinned and nodded to the rope at my side. “VIP seats.”
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly. “Maybe.”
The last thing I wanted was for Jackson to come here more often, but I needed to be subtle about it. I couldn’t let him know what I was thinking or he’d do everything in his power to stop me.
I looked back to find the waitress grinning as she shoved her credits down her dress, somehow managing to find a place to hide them within the tiny strips of fabric.
I took one step toward the rope, ready to head over there, but stopped when Jackson got to his feet.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“Not yet.” Since I didn’t want him coming with me, I
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