Chapter 1 - A Fight To The Loss
“Alright remember, friendly back and forth in the first round. Then, right before the bell, take a hard jab, you know, spice up the crowd’s energy. Second round, alternate between close shaves and hard receives, get yourself looking run down. Third round, give him his victory lap, before going down in style. You got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it Eric. I get played so our boy can play with himself. Question is, what’s my cut?” I asked.
“A nice, generous, fifteen percen-”
“FIFT-” I exclaimed, before noticing the onlookers. “Fifteen percent? Are you shitting me?”
“Look Henry, you know as well as I do. Zom sightings past the wall have been down. Less Zoms, more watchers on their ass. More watchers on their ass, more likely one of them develops a hernia for some domestic issue. I’m just a simple man running a simple, small business.”
“A simple small business,” I repeated slowly, looking to the courtyard. Huddled around the ring were dozens and dozens of residents, packed together to escape the chilly Alaska air. In the buildings that surrounded them, every window, balcony, and rooftop was crowded with onlookers, each attempting to catch a peek.
“Right.”
With an exasperated sigh, I donned my grey-green mask and shoved my way past the impatient crowd.
“You’re my favorite Henry, you know that?” Eric called from behind.
I stopped just short of the ring. The heat radiating from the crowd was sweltering. Within seconds, I felt sweat develop along my arms, forehead, and midriff. Or maybe the sweat came from other people. I felt the urge to gag.
“Ladies and gentlemen, bets are now closed, I repeat, bets are now closed.” Eric said as he situated himself over a stack of crates. “Now, who’s ready to meet our finalists!”
The crowd exploded into a cacophony of cheers and jeers, each of them craving a spectacle full of blood and drama.
“Are you ready? Cause I can’t hear you.” chanted Eric.
The level of engagement rose each time, until it threatened to become a stampede. I pushed up against the swarm just to avoid becoming a doormat.
“Alright, alright you bloodthirsty fucks. Here comes our first contestant. He’s self-proclaimed. He’s unverified. He’s the champion of Alaska, BranDON BASHERRRRR!”
From the way he hopped over the fence and pumped his fists in the air, it was clear this 6’ 5” tub of lard called Brandon didn’t know what half those words meant. Neither did the crowd. At the sight of Brandon, courtyard spectators pushed hard against the ring, showering him with adulation.
“And now, for our second contestant. You’ve watched him in movies. You’ve read him in books. Pray you’ve never seen him in real life. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, the zoOOMBIE MANNNN!”
If the admiration was thunderous, the boos were deafening. Insults,taunts and a host of other colorful words struck me on my trek to the ring. But as I hopped over the rope, I could have sworn I heard a solitary “LET’S GO ZOMBIE MAN!” Nah, probably residue from the deep dark abyssal recess I used to call my self-esteem.
Face to face with my opponent, Brandon sized me up, clearly growing confident from our size disparity. “Hey,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought your intro was pretty great. From what I hear about settlement school, most people who graduate barely qualify as literate.”
“I never went to school,” Brandon said proudly, his wobbly chest puffed up. “Eric the one in charge of words and counting and talking. But you Brandon, Eric says, you bash skulls and make lots of green. So every day, I bash skulls and make green.”
Jesus, the people I’m paid to lose to. Seconds before the ref said “FIGHT!”, Brandon charged forward. Not that it mattered much. Don’t get me wrong, one decent punch from Brandon would turn the clear blue skies into a clear black void. But for that to happen, I’d have to be on my knees with my feet nailed to the ground, and only after one to two business days would I embrace the dark. That, or-
I can’t tell what about her drew me in. Over to my left, past the shrieking courtyard viewers and sandwiched between a dozen people, was a woman, leaning against the balcony railing. Was it her smile? It wasn’t cruel or twisted like so many around her. It was just pleasant, the kind you’d wear to view a beautiful sunset. Or maybe it was the eyes. A deep, rich mix of blue-green, it pulled you in like the sea. It’s like they said, “It’s ok, I see you.”
Before I could finish romanticizing the facial features of a complete stranger, I felt my own facial features bear the brunt of a devastating, slow, bash. I flew into the railing and then collapsed on my back. The beautiful blue skies quickly faded into darkness.
“Fuck,” I thought before I passed out, “fat chance in hell I’m getting that fifteen percent now.”
