RecruitZ (Afterworld Series) (5 page)

Feeling the adrenaline pumping a little too hard, I flipped my player to another song. One that was a little more soothing. In the distance I saw a large estate with a beautiful scrolled wrought-iron fence surrounding the pasture, but the closer I got, I realized it had also fallen victim to the world we now lived in.

The sprawling home’s front door was busted in, and all the windows were shattered on the lower floor. There was a ladder propped up against the side of the house, beneath a bedroom window, with only shreds of clothing hanging from the steps. A shiver ran up my spine as the blood soaked fabric blew in the breeze. Apparently the owners would never be coming back.

“Destination in 3 miles,” the woman’s electronic voice instructed. I silenced the GPS and kept alert for anything out of the ordinary. I doubted that they did the fights in the same area as the training, but one never knew.

I saw a line of cars parked on the side of the road, and my pulse quickened as I drove up to the club’s acreage. There was a long driveway to the right with more cars parked up and down it. Wanting to always have an escape plan, I drove past the driveway and down the road, probably a quarter-mile or more away. I clunked the transmission into park and stepped on the emergency brake, taking in a deep breath.

I flipped down my visor and adjusted the clip-on mirror that Gavin had bought just for me. I reached in my bag, grabbed the red lipstick and colored in my lips. I puckered my mouth around my index finger and pulled my finger out, allowing the excess red to bleed onto my finger. There! Now I’d avoid the dreaded lipstick on the teeth syndrome. One of the many reasons I wasn’t into wearing lots of makeup.

I reached under my seat and grabbed my Betty holster holding the Beretta Tomcat .32 that seemed perfect for the occasion. I clipped the holster inside my jeans’ waistband, securing it in place. I didn’t want to take a chance on giving anyone a glimpse of my Beretta, so even though this holster was a little more uncomfortable than some, at least it was easy access and almost invisible.

Remembering Preston’s words of wisdom, I wore tight black jeans and a black sweatshirt that I didn’t care about. My brown hair was slicked back in a bun, and I slid my sunglasses up on top my head.

I began walking down the road when a black sedan came driving up, slowly coming to a halt next to me. The passenger window rolled down, and the driver ducked his head so I could see him. The man had dark hair and was wearing a flashy gold Rolex and a suit. Must be his first time here too.

“Is this the place for the—”

“Think so. First time here,” I interrupted and kept walking.

I heard the car drive on behind me, and then the wheels hit the gravel as he parked. I sped up my stride to avoid having to chitchat with anyone who would actually enjoy being a spectator at an event like this.

I made it to the driveway and was shocked to see how large a turnout such an event brought. There had to have been at least three or four people to every car I’d seen. There was a large, newly constructed barn. It was painted brown with the decorative beams a nice shade of green. The lawn looked freshly mowed and sported a few large, white canopies where people congregated, holding their drinks tightly. This was in complete contrast to all the deserted homes I’d passed on the way here. There was life for starters.

I saw several buckets with beverages placed all over the yard, along with an assortment of finger foods. The surroundings here had such a different vibe than the bar I visited the night before. At the moment, it almost felt like I’d arrived at a nice fall wedding.

I made my way to the closest tent, which seemed to be filled mostly with men and grabbed a bottle of water from a bucket. I found a seat at one of the tables and began looking through the sheets of paperwork that were displayed. There was a cup full of pens in the center of the table, next to a beautiful floral arrangement.

“There you are,” Brenda’s voice rang out. I half turned in my chair to see Brenda trotting up behind me. She was dressed in a black halter this time and a pair of khakis. She was wearing a black cap and looked completely in her element.

I nodded. “Hey.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d really make it out.”

“Yup. Well, here I am,” I said, standing up, grabbing my water.

“I’ll give you the grand tour. We’ve got an hour before the first showdown.”

“Great,” I replied, my voice accidentally catching in the back of my throat.

She caught my gaze and narrowed her ice-blue eyes on me.

“There’s no need to be nervous. We’ve got enough armed guards around to take out any fighters who get out of control. It’s never happened though. Not with our trainers.”

I shook my head, trying to grasp what she implied, and followed her out of the tent across the lawn. As we walked by a large tent, I saw a chain-link ring in the center of it with a few bleachers scattered around the tent. It didn’t look like there was much seating at all.

“It turns into standing room only,” she said, as if reading my mind.

“I heard it gets a bit messy even for the crowd.”

“That it does,” she confirmed, stopping in front of a steel building.

“What’s this?” I asked, looking at the secured metal garage door.

“This is where we keep the fighters before the events.” Her eyes gleamed with an intensity I’d seen before, but it generally never led to good things. “I want you to meet one of our trainers.”

“Inside?” I arched a brow, pursing my lips together as I scanned the building noting the lack of exits.

“You’ll be fine.” She entered a pin onto the keypad, unlocking the door.

The clanking of the metal door retracting forced me to shove my fears deep inside. I stared at the ground and twisted slightly at the waist to get the Beretta to stop pinching my skin.

“Right this way,” she said, flipping on both the lights and a large industrial fan that began whirring. I heard her lock the door behind me and an uneasy feeling spread throughout my body.

Still refusing to look up, I saw that the floor was sawdust. The air was heavy and unpleasant to breathe. I moved my arm up to my nose and began breathing into the crook of my elbow before looking up. A sudden crashing of metal got my attention, and I looked up to see a horrifying sight.

There were rows and rows of chain-link kennels, completely enclosed. Each one contained a single zombie. The kennel directly in front of me was shaking violently as the zombie’s fingers wrapped around the links. It pressed its face against the fencing, etching brand new marks into its decomposing flesh.

I looked away but not fast enough. The creature’s tongue was hanging out of its mouth, and it was difficult not to vomit as the bile rose up in my throat. I was looking at someone’s father or husband who was now being exploited for profit.

“Let’s get going. I want you to meet Brad.” Brenda’s words brought me back to reality and into the role I needed to play.

I glanced behind me at the zombie who was still mesmerized by my presence and noticed its tattered suit and polished work shoes. We walked along the side of the building. A metal wall was on my right. The never-ending stock of zombies was to my left.

There was an office in the corner that we were walking toward. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly stay inside these walls with these creatures, but as I got closer I noticed the office had thick bulletproof glass, and a door leading directly to the outside. The blinds were closed on all the windows but one, and I at least understood that. I guess that made it better.

Wait! No! That didn’t make it better—ever! I wouldn’t want to look out to see a flock of the undead, staring back at me. Who did that?

Brenda rang a buzzer near the door and a guy hurriedly opened it up.

“Right on time,” he said, bringing her into his arms and letting go quickly once he saw me.

“Who do we have here?” he asked, quirking his lip slightly.

“I’m Rebekah,” I said, extending my hand.

“Nice to meet you. If Brenda didn’t tell you, I’m Brad.” He ushered us into his small office and closed the door, locking it. He took a seat behind his desk and joined his fingers together. He was wearing a sweater and jeans, and, if he held any other profession in the world, might be considered good looking with his brown eyes and shaggy, blonde hair.

“So, what brings you here to check out the goods?” he asked.

“Uh. Just new to everything,” I said, looking over at Brenda cautiously. “I’m not totally convinced that this is the hobby for me.”

The guy started laughing and leaned back in his chair. The entire wall behind him had an arsenal of automatic rifles, pistols, and shotguns.

“It can take some getting used to. That’s for sure.” He shook his head and put his weight on his elbows.

“It doesn’t look like you’re totally used to everything with that amount of weaponry behind you,” I said, pointing at the wall.

“I just stack the odds in my favor.” He smiled. “Now what can I help you with?”

“Who do we have tonight that you feel certain about letting her place her money on?” Brenda asked.

“What bracket’s she in?” he asked.

Brenda looked at me and raised her brows. “Well?”

“What are the options?” I asked. “What’s the least amount of money?”

“The entry fee is five-hundred, but I told you I’d knock it in half for you. The lowest wager is two-hundred and fifty, but the return just won’t be there,” Brenda said. “I don’t recommend it.”

“Of course you don’t.” Using Brenda’s technique, I reached into my bra and grabbed the cash and threw it on the desk. “I only brought seven hundred so that should cover my entry fee and then place the rest where it needs to be.”

“That puts you in the base bracket, but your return will be solid. I’ll make sure of it,” Brad said. “Wanna see the fighter you’ll be betting on?”

“Sure,” I said, standing up.

Not really!

“All right. Follow me.” He grabbed a sawed-off shotgun, and I followed him back out the door to the herd of undead.

We went on the far side of the building, and the creatures all around us were seething and twitching in distress from being confined. I hugged the wall until we stopped at a kennel where the infected creature glared at me with dull eyes, snapping his mouth at the vacant air. My palms began sweating, and I wiped them on my jeans. He would’ve been my age if the vaccine had only gotten to him in time.

“We call him Jared,” Brad said, jiggling on the door. I watched the zombie swipe at him, gashing his own fingers against the metal, causing gouges in his rotting flesh.

He wasn’t as fresh looking as some of the ones that attacked Gavin, but he certainly didn’t look that old, which made no sense at all.

“Why the name Jared?” I asked.

“Thought he kind of looked like the Subway guy from years ago,” Brad laughed.

“He’s certainly quicker than most,” I offered, backing up against the metal wall as Jared continued swiping at air.

“That’s why it’s in the bag for you.” Brenda winked at me, and Jared seemed to be getting more wound up the longer we stood in front of him.

“I think I’ve seen enough. I feel good placing my money on him.”

“Right this way then,” Brad said, walking back toward the main metal door that Brenda and I had walked through only minutes earlier.

I shuffled past several crates when my eyes caught one of the infected gripping the chain-link, licking the air. My heart stopped when I looked directly into the grey eyes of the zombie and realized it was Gavin’s older brother, staring right back at me.

I could barely catch my breath as I wandered outside of the building. Brenda left me alone so she could deal with the constant stream of guests and take any last minute bets, which was perfect because I needed time to get hold of myself.

How could Gavin’s brother, Peter, be here? This had to be a mistake. It couldn’t be him. He went missing almost a year ago during the apocalypse. We assumed he was bitten when the rest of Gavin’s family had been turned. And our suspicions were verified when we went over the burning lists. The thought of the lists made me cringe. The hurt and anguish those lists caused for millions of survivors was sickening. The lists were initially called the T9m lists but quickly became known as the burning lists because that’s what they did to the bodies. They burned them.