The nearest one stumbled forward and swung his sword with something more than the clumsy brute force I’d been expecting. I parried, catching the blade on the axe handle. I shoved him away and swung the axe back to land another brain-dumping blow. “Ready to meet your maker, asshole?”
Tony caught up with me, grabbed my arm, and turned me around so I was facing another group of ghouls. “Stop monologuing,” he huffed. He pressed his back against mine, and I realized he’d been trying to shove me into something resembling a defensive position. “People die when they monologue!”
I had lost sight of Alyssa, but we had more pressing matters at hand.
“Keep your back against mine,” Tony said. “We’ll cover each other.”
That plan lasted about five seconds. One of them rushed me. I stepped away from Tony and caught the zombie on the chin with the tip of the axehead. I dragged it upward, shattering its face as it went. Emboldened, I thrust my weight against it, knocking it to the ground.
I split its head open for good measure.
I swung at another one and missed. Then dealt a flesh wound to another. I had to get to Alyssa before one of the other living fighters did.
They kept coming, I kept slicing. The axe was heavy, but I barely had to aim. So consumed was I in my task that I ignored everything else. I heard things—the heavy thudding of my heart. The groans of the undead. Tony attempting to issue orders—but they scarcely registered. Nor did the sudden heavy thumps that made the ground rumble, or sudden cracking noises that split the air. Sound effects most likely.
I came upon a ghoul that seemed distracted, its gaze directed somewhere in the stands. I lopped its head off, and then, as the body fell, I finally realized someone was shooting at something.
People screamed. I looked around, but the revenants seemed to have clustered near Tony and Lara. The cheering crowds in the bleachers had degraded into a writhing, terrified mass of humanity, all of them trying to move in different directions.
And there, up in the top, was Keller’s group, cowering beneath a hail of bullets. I counted two men very obviously not moving. Two others were covered in blood.
I saw no sign of Keller himself. Shit, had he run off already?
And there was Renati’s white coat flapping as his arm moved back and forth rapidly. I pictured him driving a scalpel into someone’s gut.
The steady rat-a-tat-tat of rifles quickly drowned out the single shots I assumed Logan was taking. A quick scan of the crowds revealed several soldiers aiming in the direction his shots had come from, but all they ended up doing was firing into civilians.
You’re shooting your own people, you fuckers!
I probably would have stood there gawking if Tony had not seized my arm. “We need to get to cover!”
Ah, yes. Cover. Very important during a firefight.
Lara dashed past us, several undead running after her. I might have tried to help, but forgot all about her when I spotted Alyssa again: she was loitering near the dugout, partially concealed by its overhanging roof. I glanced around, found myself briefly un-assaulted, and dashed toward her. Tony trailed after me, obscenity-laden complaints flying out of his mouth.
It took Alyssa a second to recognize me, but she nodded once in my direction.
“This is bullshit,” she said.
“I dunno.” I waved my axe around the way I imagined a triumphant gladiator might. “It’s kinda fun.”
“You have a strange idea of fun.” Her expression seemed more natural than it had this morning, more fluid. Maybe rigor mortis was wearing off.
There was another exchange of fire in the stands, followed by the ear-splitting shriek that tended to accompany a bite. The zombie who had been so intent on getting at those VIP seats had somehow squirmed his way up into them, and appeared to be munching on someone.
Tony grunted. “I must admit, this went better for us than I expected.”
“Can we get out through the dugout?” I asked Alyssa. “Or are there more revenants in there?”
She had to think about it for a precious few seconds.
“They were in cages,” she said. “Probably still are.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here.”
She turned slowly and began walking into the corridor.
Her head snapped back. I thought for a moment she had seen something shocking, and this was her dead brain’s effort at leaning away from it. But then the rest of her body followed it, tipping over backward and landing at my feet.
“Alyssa?”
She didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t answer; her face was a gaping hole. I could see her tongue, lying there amidst a few teeth.
Tony pulled me back out into the stadium. I barely felt his hand on my arm.
Keller came walking out of the dugout. He had a pistol clenched in his hand.
I stared at the gun, then at him.
Where the hell did he come from?
Had he abandoned his men in the bleachers just to come down here and torment us?
He barely glanced at Alyssa as he stepped over her. “You do like causing chaos, don’t you?”