For the first time, I realized the axehead and handle were utterly covered in gore. The more I looked at myself, the more I realized the ichor wasn’t limited to my weapon. Every time I’d knocked down a ghoul, something had splattered on me. I must have smelled fabulous.
Hammond shook his head, then gazed over the contents of the arena, his eyes growing more troubled. People were still trying to get out, though the arrival of the tank and an apparent army had stilled some of them into inaction.
“Might want to make a speech,” Tony said. “They’re freaking out.”
“I can see that.” Hammond stepped away from us and trudged into the center of the stadium. “McKnight, you want to hang on to him? I don’t want them getting any ideas.”
Tony slung what appeared to be a companionable arm around Keller. Then he thrust the blade of his sword right beneath the captain’s throat. “He dies, you die,” he said in a conversational tone.
Keller rolled his eyes.
Hammond stood out in the middle for a moment, giving those left in the bleachers time to look at him. “I’m General Hammond of Camp Elderwood,” he called, loudly enough for the people in the bleachers to hear. “I must ask forgiveness for my tardiness. After we stopped hearing from your city, we thought the worst had happened. It took us some time to realize you were here, just…not feeling talkative.” He turned his head to rest his gaze squarely on Keller. “Captain, what the hell kind of ship are you running here?”
I’ll say this for Keller: For a man with a sword at his throat and a tank in front of him, he showed zero fear. He tilted his chin up and away from Tony’s blade. “How many men did you bring with you, General?” he asked. “Couldn’t hold your own city together, so you want to take mine?”
“Rescue it, more like.”
“They don’t need rescuing.”
“I crashed your zombie deathmatch,” Hammond said. “I’d say that indicates a need for rescuing.”
I counted at least two dozen soldiers in the stadium, not counting those in the tank. How many others would he have brought? They must have come on foot; most vehicles simply weren’t reliable anymore. Was this the advance squad? Were they all fanned out around the arena, ready to set things right?
“I’m afraid it’s you who need rescuing,” Keller said. “You, and the idiots you selected as your emissaries.”
Hey. I’m pretty sure that was a jab at us.
Keller raised his voice, addressing someone either in the stands or tucked away elsewhere. “Let them out!”
“Wait!”
Renati! I’d forgotten about him. I scanned the crowds, looking for him. He was waving frantically at me, his coat splattered with blood and—yep, I was pretty sure that was an intestine on his arm.
I didn’t have time to puzzle over it more, because the home team dugout door swung open.
“Were there ghouls in there with you?” I asked Tony.
“I didn’t see any…”
Then the unmistakable stench of the undead wafted out. The general and the rest of his men turned as one toward the dugout.
Out came the running dead, trampling any hope of an easy victory.
Keller’s elbows plowed backwards into Tony’s sides. Tony doubled over, the sword dropping out of his hand, and then the captain was off and running into the opposing team’s dugout and presumably a tunnel of some sort that connected it to the outside.
There was no time to chase after him. I helped Tony get to his feet and then turned back to face the oncoming swarm of the dead, axe at the ready. They were on the soldiers almost immediately. Hammond shouted an order, and I heard the guns firing, but they were swiftly drowned out by the ungodly wail of the undead as they came blazing toward us. I swung the axe around and nailed the one nearest me, slicing his head off and sending it flying across the arena in one vicious, blood-dripping arc.
The body continued wandering around for a few seconds.
The crowds in the bleachers decided they’d had quite enough of Keller, Hammond, and the running dead, and all the violence, and began a wild stampede for the handful of exits. I caught sight of Renati hustling Dax after a large group.
The soldiers swiftly made a dent in the undead assault. Tony pointed at the giant hole the tank had plowed through the infield wall. “Let’s let these guys do their thing,” he said.
We picked our way over shattered signage and pieces of metal, and suddenly we were back outside in the real world.
Now that I had a moment to breathe, I looked over the axe, sort of astonished that I had managed to hang onto it. “You know, this thing isn’t half-bad,” I said. “It’s kind of…fun.”
“Fun,” Tony repeated. “Fun?”
Fun. What the hell was I thinking? Chopping up anyone, even undead cannibals, shouldn’t be fun.
And yet I really liked this axe.
“Sure,” I said. “Fun.”
We tracked down Dax and Renati on the other side of the stadium trying to worm their way out of the seething, squeaking mass of humanity.
I briefly gave up on trying to seem like a hardass and flung my arms around both of them. Dax hugged me back, but Renati made a sniffing sound and tried to disengage. “Vibeke, Vibeke, you’re covered in…oh, I think that’s someone’s ear—”