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

any extra won be moot? A part of him thought he might make a big stink about it if he ended up coming out ahead. Another part thought he’d just pretend he never got in the black and would hopefully go home with a blank slate. And even if he did win huge and could have pocketed, say, fifty grand or something, he couldn’t tell Anna. She’d either be mad at him for not trying to keep it if he forfeited it—after all, every dollar counted as they tried to re-set up their lives after the Zombie War—or she’d scold him for taking it because that kind of surplus would be too much of a temptation for him to come back to Blood Bay Arena and blow it on more fights. Mick hated to admit it, but Anna would be right about that last part. He had the bug. He loved the thrill, the “what if?” and the amazing gratification that came from scoring big on a fight you thought you’d lose.
Jack cleared his throat. “You listening?”
“Huh?” Mick said.
“Seems they’re changing things up a bit.”
“What do you mean?”
“Last one had more than one zombie.”
    “Yeah. Maybe they’re trying to make it more fair. I don’t remember seeing a robot take on more than one at a time.” Fair. Yeah right.
“Either that or that bucket of bolts had a few upgrades so they had to compensate.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“What?”
“About making it more fair.”
Jack arced an eyebrow. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No, you—look, point is, things are changing up a bit. Got it?”
“Don’t give me lip, man.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Jack huffed and crossed his arms.
Mick grinned to himself. Tonight might be the last night he could act like a kid. He figured he might as well.
    He pulled out his Controller and checked to see what was going down for the next bout. When he found the screen, he took a long hard look at it. Some of these fighters—he couldn’t help but wonder if they were set-ups of some kind, actors on Sterpanko’s payroll. The Space-Time Continuum truly held no meaning anymore, at least not in the way it used to.
    Regardless, here he was, in Blood Bay Arena, life as the world used to know it totally screwed up, puked out and messed up.
    He thought about his bet. It’d be great if he could drop what he owed by at least half.
    His fingers had a hard time committing to the Controller’s buttons. Once a bet was placed, there was no do-overs, not even if you made an honest mistake and mistyped something. What was done was done. Game over, win, lose or draw.
    Mick forced his fingers to comply with his thoughts.
    He put the Controller back and waited for the lights to go out.
     
     
    20
    Viking vs ZombieS
    Bet: $225,000
    Owing: $569,000
     
     
    A bel Meginbjörn stood strong, the weight of his chain mail shirt nothing he wasn’t used to. Neither was he clenching the handle of his sword. At least, not yet. Not until the dead rose. He’d battled many times before, first against men of lesser standing, most not knowing how to wield a sword or axe to save their life. Stealing from them had been easy, whether it was precious metals, food, women or drink. But those days were behind him now. He didn’t quite know what happened to his comrades. One moment they were sailing the sea, laughing, drinking and scouting the horizon for land. Some of his friends were known for ritually sharpening their blades before an attack, whereas others preferred their fists and hadn’t used their knives and swords the last time they made landfall and took what they wanted. So there, on the sea, he gazed off into the darkening sky, sharpening his blade, the mist of black rain hitting the water somewhere off in the distance.
    A bolt of lightning cracked overhead. Thunder followed. Then another bolt struck the ship, right where he was standing, striking his sword. A shock raged through him and all went bright blue, then white,