Free Zombie Fight Night: Battles of the Dead by A P Fuchs Page A

in the chest, sending the robot crashing backward against the pavement. The Sprinter dove into the other side of its neck and began working its way through the metallic casing on that side.
    Recall.
    Priority: Sprinter x 2
    Objective failed.
    Maneuver: Rotating claw.
    Target: Head. Nearest dead life form.
    R-1 drew up its still-rotating wrist and shoved it into the back of the Shambler’s skull. Within seconds it stirred up the head and brain, leaving nothing but a mass of chewed up bone, stringy flesh and oodles of black blood. The Shambler’s body stopped moving.
    The rotating hand went for the Sprinter. The Sprinter swatted the mechanical arm away. R-1 went in again. The Sprinter pulled away from its neck, grabbed the rotating arm and tore the spinning pincers from it. Like a wild man, the Sprinter struck R-1 until its visual sensors blacked out. Only the left sensor came back on when the backup optical sensor kicked in. Disabled, R-1 activated the arm-blade; machete-like blades protruded from its arm from shoulder to wrist on its right side.
    Internal sensor 1a: Power failing.
    The Sprinter worked hard on R-1’s neck, devouring the flesh coating it as well as the wires beneath.
    R-1 swooped its bladed-arm in from the side, connecting hard with the Sprinter, cleaving it nearly down the middle of the length of its body. Its skull split in two and toppled to the side like a sliced watermelon.
    Objective: Complete.
     
     
    19
    Being a Kid Again
     
     
    M ick put a hand over his mouth in an effort to stifle his heavy breathing.
    “That’s so unfair,” he said quietly. What about those who just won on their original bet? Is there a payout? Hard to have “let it ride” otherwise. Sterpanko’s cheating.
“Shhh . . .” Jack said.
“What?”
“I heard you.”
“Which part?” Had he said it aloud instead of thought it?
“What part?”
“Yeah, what part?”
“The unfair part.”
Mick was relieved. “But it is.”
“I know.”
    Mick bit his tongue and was convinced this was Sterpanko’s move against him and the whole place was now paying for it.
    Whatever. As if you expected this to be easy. Just roll with it. Okay, fine. So now we’re getting somewhere. Won that last one. Good. Movement. Progress. Yeah, good stuff. Onward and upward and all that. Stop rambling. But if I had put down more . . . . No, can’t think like that.
    Amidst the booing during the last fight thanks to that surprise announcement, he was going to bet even more. But if he lost he’d be in way worse and recovery would have been nigh impossible so he kept his bet as was. During that last bout, though, he didn’t know if the robot would make it. Machines were capable of so much, but that was the problem: so much. Once the limit was reached, that would be it. This was one of the reasons he had a hard time buying all those end-of-the-world movies—especially now since he’d gone through an apocalypse firsthand—you know, the ones with robots taking over the globe with mankind at their mercy. In the end, machines were still machines, each with limits, each with a power source. All someone had to do was pull the plug and one person usually did with those Electro-magnetic Pulse things. Why they never pulled the EMP out at the beginning of the movie and just won never made sense. But then there wouldn’t have been a movie, now, right?
    Mick’s breathing slowed. He pulled his hand away from his mouth.
    Jack sat slouched beside him, hands on his gut, twiddling his thumbs. The man merely sat there, staring ahead, subtly tapping his top and bottom teeth together.
    Bad round, Mick thought, yet Jack also seemed the kind of guy who could keep a pretty mean poker face if he wanted to.
    Mick glanced down at his shoes and, while tapping one foot, did a quick calculation as to where he was at with Sterpanko. Not where I’d like to be.
    He wondered what would happen if he ended up winning big today and came out on top. Would Sterpanko pay him or would