Free Zombies! (Episode 6): Barriers Collapse by Ivan Turner Page B

ages. Of course, that was just the kind of place you'd want for your zombie fights. After studying the area thoroughly, he printed out subway and walking directions and stuffed them into the pocket of his coat. By 7:30 he was out the door and on his way to a little excitement.
     
    ***
     
    THOUGH the satellite pictures had shown the area in the daytime, Arrick was able to get his bearings pretty quickly. There were a lot of people on the train when he boarded but they slowly trickled out as the stops went by. By the time he reached his destination, there were only a few men with him and they all got off. For a moment, he was afraid. The men didn't look dangerous, but something had raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He might be invincible against the zombies, but that didn't mean he'd be any good in a fight with other people. Pretending to search for something in the pockets of his coat, he halted just outside the door of the car. The men paid him no attention and went off toward the station's exit. Forcing regular breaths in and out of his chest, Arrick tried to get control of his apprehension. After several moments, he found his body calmed and moved out into the street.
     
    It was a twelve block walk from the train station to the warehouse. He took it casually, knowing he had more than enough time before the fights began. There were some residential buildings by the station, but they dwindled and disappeared within four blocks. After that he saw a corner gas station, long since abandoned, a dilapidated park, a junkyard, and lots and lots of old warehouses. He wondered how he would be able to pick out the one he was looking for.
     
    Within two blocks, he heard the noise. It was the sound of people talking. Lots and lots of people. As he turned the corner, he spied a well lit lot with one of the warehouses dead center. Outside the building, people stood around talking and laughing and smoking. There were a few men, boys really, patrolling the perimeter. They looked tough and they looked mean, kids who grew up and became rappers. It was a side of society that John Arrick read about or watched on television. Now, like a grand explorer, he was about to enter and become a part of it.
     
    Moving through the throng, he searched for an entrance to the warehouse. It was getting close to nine and he didn't really know what it was that he had to do to register for the fights. When it didn't seem that he would find the entrance in time, he approached one of the patrolling boys.
     
    "Do you work here, mate?"
     
    The boy laughed at him. He wasn't sure if it was because of his accent, because he was asking as if he was in a store, or because he'd used the word mate . Either way, he wasn't inclined to challenge the insult and so waited for the boy to finish.
     
    When the boy looked back at him, he seemed to sober up quickly. "Oh. You serious."
     
    Arrick nodded.
     
    "Whatchoo need?"
     
    "How do I sign up to fight?"
     
    The boy looked confused for a minute, then looked around. When he finally looked back at Arrick, there was a doubtful look in his eye. "You want to fight?"
     
    "That's right." Arrick tried his very best to sound confident.
     
    The boy looked him up and down and then finally shrugged. "Follow me."
     
    So Arrick followed him. As they walked through the crowd, the boy began to shout, raising his voice above the din. "Make way!" he cried. "We got us a warrior, here! Make way!"
     
    Arrick wanted to shrink inside of himself. Of all of the horrors he had imagined associated with his choice, this was not one of them. As they walked, all eyes turned toward the shouting, looked about for a moment, and then found him. He could hear their dubious whispers as he passed. Let them bet against me , he thought. It'll serve them right.
     
    Past the crowd was the entrance to the warehouse. People were already moving inside, a line forming along the side of the building. There was somebody taking money at the door. Cash