It covers as much distance as I knew it would. I pivot sideways, let its own weight carry it past me, and angle my dagger toward its heart. Its momentum does the rest. The blade slams home. A jolt up the hilt. Then it goes still.
Quickly, I shift my focus.
The one on the opposite side leaps at me. I know it will reach me, so I hop back a step, and it faceplants right in front of me.
It hits the ground inches from me. Before it can get cute, I pounce —Hand to nape, Knee to spine.
Even pinned down, it writhes. "Hold still," I mutter.
I jab my dagger in, feel around for its heart.
Once. Twice. Miss. Miss.
Third hit slides in like a key into a lock.
It shudders...then dies. Again.
I scan for the rest. They're frozen in place for a moment.
Seeing their rudimentary tactics fall to shit nudges them to throw away whatever plan they had in mind.
Isn't that funny? The undead having tactics?
Then they drop the act and charge at me with rabid fury.
I grin.
Now, that's more like it.
They rush me from all sides.
I move, but not fast enough. They trap me in the centre, and Teeth sink into my flesh.
Is what would happen in: Three. Two. One.
They rush me from all sides.
This time I'm ready. I time it right—just enough—
and leap.
I spring into the air as they collide beneath me in a glorious pile-up. One manages to stay on its feet. I land square on its head.
It reaches for me with its arms like we're long-lost lovers. Awwn.
I sever both arms at the elbow with my twin daggers.
One flips end-over-end. I catch it mid-spin and study it: The nails are long, dirt black and talon sharp.
One scratch—KevWeave suit or not—and you're gone. Dead. Dangerous.
Even without arms, it still tries to reach for me. I kinda feel bad, so I give it a hand.
Its own. "Bon appétit."
I shove the arm down the dead's throat. Halfway in it chomps down on it instinctively.
Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.
Ungrateful little shit.
The rest untangle themselves, and come charging.
I wonder how they're going to reach me from atop his head.
Why wonder?
I watch. The world slows.
They tear down the armless undead like scaffolding.
Before I can jump off its head, I feel fingers snake around my ankle, and slam me down into the ground, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
They pile on me, fast. I don't even get the chance to scream. They shred me.
Yeah, I'm not dying like that.
Just before they tear down the armless undead, I backflip out of reach.
They rip it apart in seconds.
Have they no sense of camaraderie? No undead code?
What's even the point to being alive then?
Oh right. They're not. My bad.
Their fellow undead torn to shreds, their attention is back to me.
Three are left.
I make light work of them.
It wasn't a noisy fight. But was loud enough to attract more.
I don't know what this new business of smart undead is or how many are out there but I really do not want to find out today. So, I hurriedly make my way to where the plants are growing and pick the required amount.
Then I run like hell back to the citadel.
***
"Strip." he says flatly, so I do, taking off my suit and inner clothing till I'm butt naked.
He looks me over meticulously. Then again and again and again.
I'm beginning to feel uncomfortable, so I crack a joke.
"If you keep looking at me like that...mmm...I don't know... Might make it hard to not get hard."
He snorts derisively. "You wish. Okay, you can put your clothes back on now."
While dressing I make conversation. "Is this new. This shit's longer now. Something happen?"
"Yeah," he sighs. "Missed a cut on a recently returned Mad Man some days back. He turned. We lost ten people before he was taken down. A kid was among. My cousin."
"That sucks man. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too. Reminded me of how dangerous outside is. That's why I don't get you people. The mad men, I mean. Don't get me wrong, you guys do a lot of good work, it's how we keep things running smoothly. But, do you guys not get scared? Like at all?"
I finish up my dressing.
"The fear is still there, I guess. They just do it scared."
I tap him on the shoulder twice and start to leave.
"They? It doesn't apply to you then? You don't get scared out there?"
I turn back to him and smile.
"No. Fear's for people who have something to lose."
"And you don't? Not even your own life?"
I shrug. "I've been chasing Death for a while now. Seems she's just not that into me."
There's a look of uncertainty on his face now, fear even.
Whatever concerns he had about Mad Men I don't think I've done anything to alleviate it—probably made it worse.
Oh well.
"See you later, Charlie." I say, not waiting to hear if he responds or not.
***
I take my leave and enter the inner gates. There's nothing here, at least that's what they want you to think. But I know the watchers are there, lurking in the dark.
I've always thought being a watcher must be boring work. You have to stay at a spot and watch with utmost focus for days.
Where's the fun? The thrill? I just can't do it.
I'm a few steps away from the inner gate when someone bursts out and bumps into me.
"Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry."
"It's fine."
"Sorry sorry sorry..."
"I said it's fine!" I snap.
She startles at my harsh tone, and I immediately feel bad.
"Sorry."
"It's fine,"
I observe her. She's pretty—round face, black long hair, big bright brown eyes behind even bigger glasses, small nose and coral-red lips.
She's dressed in typically aide clothing: White long sleeve shirt, and black knee-high skirts.
"So," I ask. "Do you need something or you just randomly bump into people?"
"Oh, no no no. I'm an aide of Lord Echen. He's asked for you to meet with him at your earliest convenience."
She leans in and whispers in a conspiratorial tone. "That typically means immediately."
Lord Echen, huh. Every time I hear people use that title—lord—I cringe a little.
Before the fall, humanity had since moved on from the use of such titles. And like nostalgia-sickened people they reverted back to those times first chance they got.
Well, some people still use the more recent terms depending on the citadel you're at.
"I'm," I sniff my armpit. "Not in the best hygiene state right now. It's been days since I took a bath."
"Oh, that's okay. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. I know I don't. Oh. "
She slaps her hand to her mouth, but it's already to late.
Her cheek burns bright red, and I watch her try, and fail to say something coherent.
I chuckle. I don't really blame her. Mad Men are super popular, and most tend to be very handsome.
I mean look at me, I'm a few inches shy of standing at seven feet tall. I'm disturbingly handsome, and I'm one of the most popular Mad Men alive. So, I'm not surprised I'm pretty desirable.
It's funny to watch her be embarrassed, but it's unkind to let it drag on.
"Say what...?"
"Ana."
"Ana," I nod. "Let me see what Lord Echen has to say, then after that, maybe we can go back to my place."
Her eyes widen. "Really?"
"Yeah. Only if you want, of course.
"Of course, I—" She stops and takes three deep breaths...
"I'd like that. Let's go now, shall we?"
"Lead the way."
I watch her struggle to keep the excitement out of her body. Her gait stuttering multiple times.
I smile. Women.
***
"I refuse to do a job for people like you. I belong to no guild for a reason. I have honor."
I stand and strut off.
"I'll give you a thousand credits."
I stop dead in my tracks. A thousand credits? Bloody hell!
I make my way back to my seat, and sit. "What's the job then?"
He grins at me. "What about your...honor?"
I snort, twist my neck, and spit on the ground.
"Fuck honor!"