Surviving the End of the World

Chapter Four: What It Means

It means I get shoved in the back of a separate van. It means Ni and Milo and Cremson get pushed into the back of another. It means we get taken away when we were so close to the wall. It means I’m a fucking failure. This all means, we might all die. If the rumors are true, then this hell is about to get hotter. The back of the van is dark, and it smells like piss. The ride is bumpy, and we ride for hours. I don’t sleep, my body won’t allow me, besides, I rather not sleep and risk a needle in my neck. When Spiritus Mori men pull open the doors, blinding white light punches me in the face. I cover my eyes, and they drag me out. I see Ni and Cremson in handcuffs near their van. The men who hold me take me to them and make me get on my knees next to them.

“Where’s Milo?” I ask.

Ni shrugs. Cremson looks up at me, his left eye swollen and closed, dried blood coming from his lips. I feel the heat in my stomach rise. They’re just kids! Who the fuck…?

Applause rings out, and all the chattering amongst the men and women of this sick post-apocalyptic organization stills. I realize upon taking in my surroundings that we are not the only prisoners. There are at least twenty others, near other vehicles, heads down, on their knees, waiting for the end. The applause keeps coming, echoing throughout and up through the empty buildings of this city in which I can’t distinguish. We road for so long, and for all I know we could be in New York, or Philly, or Chicago. We’re definitely somewhere east that much I know.

“My beautiful partners, you must all be celebrated today as you have brought back plenty of subjects to help us rebuild this disheveled world. I want to commend you all an infinite number of times, your work cannot go unrewarded!” I follow the voice veiled in lies and deception and false praise.

A  handsome man stands at the top of the stairs leading to a skyscraper that’s in decent condition considering how most buildings have crumbled into nothing from the quakes and waters and wind. The man wears a dirty, white lab coat over a gray shirt and black pants with steel-toed boots. His jawline chiseled, almost perfect. He scans over his subject, his blue-gray eyes sparkling at them just under his brown hair that hangs down his face. He looks strong like he works out. He does not look anything like a scientist so that labcoat looks ridiculous on him. He’s a phony, one of Spiritus Mori’s leaders.

He speaks again. “To all the newcomers, my name is Jack Fangers, Spiritus Mori’s Fifth Chief. I welcome you all, and I promise that your hard work will help humanity…”

I tune him out. I don’t have time for his bullshit. I tell Ni and Cremson not to believe a word he says. I shudder, I can’t let Ni and Cremson become a rumor. We need to escape, or we become tools in some sadistic game.

Jack finishes his bullshit speech, and we all get moved inside, the bottom three floors have been converted into a prisoner holding area. They keep everyone chained to the walls, one arm and one leg free. There’s hundred of us down here. At least they allow Ni and Cremson to be right near me. I speak to some of the prisoners that have survived here, that have been here for a while. They say the rumors are true. They say these men and women make them fight the losers who they turn into walking, brainless, drugged up corpses. They say they have to win against the dead five times in a row to move up a level. Once you hit the third level, you fight five more times, and they offer you freedom or work. According to a man who’s up for his last fight on the bottom rung today, only a few take the freedom route because there’s a high chance that Spiritus Mori will capture you and make you fight through the levels all over again. It’s shitty deal either way. So a majority of these men and women that are now Spiritus Mori dogs have been in my position chained to a wall…

All of us prisoners, we talk. I ask of escape, and no one answers me. The man who is up for his last fight whispers to me to be quiet. Escape is impossible. The only way out is to fight. Ni and Cremson won’t make it through. Each level the dead are made stronger and stronger, the odds are stacked against you more and more. I ask the man how many dead they have, and the man who I’ve been talking to tells me they have five times the number of dead than living in this building. He tells me they keep them on the fourth level, and everyone that’s living and not a prisoner stays on level five and above. I stop talking and start thinking. Thinking of options. Eventually, some Spiritus Mori goons come and take the man I was speaking with away. I notice then that he has a severe limp. He can only walk with the help of the guards.

The man never comes back. Maybe he made it to the next level, but maybe he didn’t. Some guards come and unlock me, taking me away. Ni starts to protest, and I tell her I’ll be back. They blindfold me, and I get loaded onto an elevator, and they take me all the way up to the fourteenth floor. They push me off, and I’m grabbed by someone else and escorted down a hall. I hear a door being opened ahead of us, and soon I am pushed through that door and pushed down into a soft seat.

“I hope that seat feels nice. You should be honored,” Jack says to me.

“I’m not. Although my ass did need a rest.”

“No curse words, please.”

“Shit,” I smirk, wishing I could see the expression on Jack’s face.

“Very well, let’s get to the matter at hand—”

“You mean this zombie prison you’re running, calling these gladiator fights saving humanity when you’re just using all these people for entertainment!”

Jack is silent for a long moment. “Perhaps, I’ll let, what did you say…those zombies lose on the bottom level. Most of the ones down there look absolutely pathetic.”

I shut my trap. Why is everyone in this world so evil? Where are the good people at?

“Now, I suppose you’re ready to hear my proposal?”

I nod, and I hear Jack set a glass down.

“I don’t want you to fight. It’s obvious you’ll blast through my experiments, so I want to offer you the opportunity to work?”

“For you?”

“Of course, Mr. Jones. I’ve read your documents you had with you in your bag. You’ve achieved a lot at such a young age.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I know you must be very fond of your companions, but you must understand policy here, no one just gets to walk free, they must pay with work or blood,” Jack says this matter of factly, it makes me sick.

I shrug, and he sighs. “Meaning, Mr. Jones. Those two kids have to fight their way up.”

I keep myself calm even though the vision of me ripping this man’s tongue out is freshly painted in my mind. “What about my dog? Where is he?”

“I’ll give you your mutt if you agree to work for me, agree to let those kids fight. Three things for two.”

If I work for Jack, I’ll have more freedom to burn this place to the ground and free everyone that doesn’t want to be apart of this organization’s wretchedness. I’ll get my weapons and all my gear back if I ask.

“Alright, but I need all my stuff or the deal is off.”

Jack moves. I feel him near me. His touch makes me flinch. It’s icy. His blue-gray eyes are cutting into mine, slicing me to ribbons as he pulls off my blindfold. The smile on his face is broad and horrid. This tyrant wants something else.

When he speaks his breath reeks of coffee and smoke. “Since you just asked for all those things it should be fair of me to ask one more thing of you?”

I want to move away, he’s way too close to my face, but I don’t. I don’t want him to think I’m afraid of him.

I nod at him, and he just says two words. Two words that give me power. Two words that make me a monster. To words that put blood on my hands, blood I don’t want because it’ll be warm, and it’ll be familiar. I shake my head, and Jack repeats himself, grabbing the top of my head and pushing his face even closer to mine. Our lips are almost touching.

“Pick. One.”

I know what he means. I know what this means. It means I sentence an innocent boy to death. It means I make my niece a murderer. It means blood I don’t want will be on my hands.