mrmonster's works

New Mexico: Present Day

Not much usually happens in the town of Whitestone, New Mexico. We’re a highway town with just a little over 400 people. The town was so small and quiet that the gas station (yes, the one and only gas station) getting a coffee pot was all anyone could talk about for a month.

But whenever Raphael Navarro rode into town, in his white mustang, our entire town collectively held its breath.

_________

He was a cruel, cruel man. You either paid him what he felt you owed him, or you got a beating. He ruled our tiny little highway town with an iron fist. Even the local police officer (yes, our one local police officer) was too scared of him to do anything that might’ve gotten him hurt.

My dad owned a liquor store. Our usual “protection fee” to Raphael and his goons was $1,000 a month. Normally, this wasn’t a huge problem, just a cost of doing business. But we had three slow months in a row at the store, and we now couldn’t afford it.

“What do you mean you don’t have my $1,000?” Raphael asked.

“Um, I just, there’s been no passersby here in Whitestone, and I just had to replace my air conditioner.” Dad said. “Please, if you’ll just give me more…”

And then, Raphael hit him in the side of the head, knocking him straight to the floor.

“You like that? Well, I’ll be back in a week. Either give me my $1,000, or they’ll be a lot worse.” He said, as I stood there, frozen in place.

Raphael then grabbed a bottle of liquor off the shelf, popped it open, and took a drink. Right before knocking over the entire shelf.

“Boys, drinks are on him.” He said to his posse, a trio of idiots who followed him around and did what he told them to. Each of them grabbed a bottle of whatever they wanted before getting back in their car and leaving the store a mess. 

After they left, dad picked himself up, spat out a mouthful of blood into his bucket, grabbed a mop, and started cleaning up the spilled booze.

“Kid, mind grabbing the broom and brushing up the glass shards?” Dad asked.

“Dad, how can you let them do this?” I asked. 

“It’s just a cost of doing business. Dealing with bad guys is just a part of life in these little one stoplight towns, always has been.” He said. “Although I don’t know how they’ll expect me to get their $1,000 if they knock over my merchandise.” He joked. Dad always used humor to cope with the horrible situation.

“But seriously, don’t worry, I’ll get the grand, even if I have to borrow it.”

“But dad, we’re already in enough debt…”

“I said don’t worry.” My dad said.

_________

But I was done letting Raphael boss us around. I would rather die than have to deal with anymore of him humiliating my father and stealing our hard earned money. So I went to buy a gun. Unfortunately, the nearest gun shop was all the way over in the next county.

I walked in, with an envelope carrying $200. I had to completely empty my bank account from our ATM (yes, our town’s only ATM) in order to do it. I was just hoping it would be enough.

“Howdy son. What can I help you with?” The shopkeeper asked.

“I want a gun.” I said.

“Alright then, you sure enough came to the right place.” He replied, as he pointed to a rack of used firearms behind him.

“What can I get for under $200?” I asked.

“Ugh, not much.” He replied. He opened the case and showed me a pocket revolver.  “This is $199, the cheapest gun for sale here.”

While that sounded good, that meant I’d have no money leftover for ammo.

“How about $179.” I said, desperately hoping the shop keeper would allow a bit of haggling.

“Fine, you seem like a good kid and this gun has been sitting here collecting dust, so I’ll settle for $179.” He said. “Now, you just need to fill out these forms and come back after a two week waiting period…”

“Hold on, I can’t do that.” I said. “I can’t wait two weeks, I need it sooner.”

“Sorry, state law says you have to.” He said.

“Well, what if this never happened?” I asked. “What if I just gave you this $179, as either a late or an early birthday present, and you just happened to lose this gun?”

He thought for a moment and said “You know, I like the sound of that, especially since that means I don’t have to charge you a tax or pay one myself.” He said. He then accepted my cash and left the gun on the counter. “Thank you for this gift. Please don’t steal anything on your way out.”

_______

I had never fired a gun before (I even had to Google which type of ammo this model took) but I figured it couldn’t be so hard. I mean, you just point and shoot the thing, right?

So, for the next couple days, I kept doing my duties around the shop, until one day, when I saw the white Mustang pull into our parking lot.

“They’re early.” My dad said. He was correct; Dad was told he had a week, but Raphael returned just five days later.

Raphael stormed in and said “Hey man. Got my money?”

“Yes, I have your money.” Dad said as he handed him an envelope from the bank. He had to add to his already huge mountain of debt to pay just for the month.

“Thank you. See what happens when you…” He began to say, before he heard the unmistakable clink of a revolver’s hammer being pulled back.

“Put the money down, and get out of here.” I said.

He and his men then laughed at me. “Or what? Are you actually going to shoot me?” Raphael mocked.

I said nothing, I just stared at him and kept the gun pointed right at him.

“Well, I’m waiting.” Raphael said, but still, I did nothing. I wanted to pull the trigger so bad, but I just couldn’t. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He said. 

He then pulled a knife from a sheath, and threw it at me. I ducked just in time; if I hadn’t, his knife would’ve gone right into my forehead.

He then dashed over to me, and ripped the gun out of my hands. He then tossed it aside, and pulled one of his own out of a concealed holster.

“I could kill you, right now.” He said, as he aimed his pistol at my forehead. “But not yet. We need to have a little fun first. Tradd, what time is it?”

“11:36.”

“Perfect. Just 24 minutes to high noon.” He said. “Sorry kid, but I’m gonna have to make an example out of you, prevent others from being this stupid. So, we’re gonna have a draw at high noon, just like in the movies.” 

“Raphael, please, I’ll give you…” my dad pleaded.

Only for Raphael to point the gun at him and yell “Shut up!”

________

I felt so stupid and weak. I had him right in my sights, at a range so close I couldn’t possibly miss. I could’ve ended him and his hold over my town right there. But no, I chickened out, and now I had to pay the price at noon.

We stood one hundred paces apart, on the town’s main road. Once the clock struck high noon, an alarm would blare through his mustang’s speakers, and we’d fire. Except he was a hardened gangster and I’d never fired a gun before in my life.

I was so nervous as I stood there, in the street, waiting for high noon, that I felt like I was going to pass out. But I couldn’t, I knew if I did I’d be dead. I had to at least try.

Pretty much every worker and shopkeeper on the street had gathered around (the goons made sure to make a spectacle out of this) and were looking at him with a mixture of fear, depression, and anger.

When the clock struck high noon, I fired. So did he. My shot missed wildly, didn’t even come close and hit a nearby building. His shot got me right in the arm. The pain was intense and searing; it was as if a knife made of fire had gone right through me.

“SEE! DO YOU ALL SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY TO BEAT ME!” He shouted, to the rest of the town. 

Then, he stepped forward. My dad pulled a shotgun I didn’t even know he had, and said “No. You already won. He learned his lesson, just take your blood money and get out of here.”

“Well well, look who finally grew a pair.” Raphael joked. Before pointing his gun right at my dad’s head. “Now put it down or I’ll blow your brains out.”

“No, you put yours down.” Mr. Wallace, the gas station owner, said, as he pulled a hunting rifle.

Raphael’s goons had pulled their guns, as other people from around the town pulled theirs. Some didn’t even pull guns; the local pharmacist pulled a crossbow; the local sandwich chef grabbed two of his butcher knives. 

Despite Raphael trying to scare us, it appeared to have the opposite effect; everyone had finally grown the courage to stand up to him.

I had thought Raphael would take the cowards way out. But no, he and his goons were in the mood for blood that day.

Raphael fired at my dad, killing him with a headshot before he could pull the trigger on his shotgun. I then ran off and took cover behind a car, as gun shots filled the street.

“GET BACK HERE!” Raphael said as he began chasing me. 

With my arm still in a mess of pain, I could barely even focus on running straight. But I had to. I had to make a mad dash for the dumpster behind the gas station.

As I ran, I turned and fired two more shots at Raphael. They missed, but at least they forced him to cause and take over.

I had one more round in my pocket. I had to quickly load it. And when Raphael, thinking I was tapped out, got cocky and approached me, I shot him dead in the forehead.

__________

Things looked up for our town after what happened. I inherited dad’s liquor store. It was weird, I was only 18 (too young to even buy my own product) but old enough to own and operate the store. 

Later that year, I was elected mayor for my bravery. There wasn’t much to do as mayor of a town this small, but the first major choice I made was to fire our cowardly police officer (the one who did all of jack shit during the shootout) and start searching for a lawman who actually had a spine.

I grew up in Atlanta, but my Uncle Joey? He lived on a secluded farm way down south, right on the edge of Ogeechee Lake. He had his own strawberry farm way outside any of the small towns on the lakeside.

Growing up, he’d always tell me stories of the “lost wild family” he swore lived out there. According to his stories, the whole area was once owned by a wealthy plantationaire back in the 1800s. When his tobacco plantation failed, he apparently took his wife and five kids into the woods, where his descendants have lived ever since, as wild people, hidden from the world. He claimed they survived in secret, living off the land like wild animals. He also said they kill anyone who sees them, to make sure their secret way of life stays safe. Uncle Joey insisted he only barely survived encountering one while duck hunting; he was adamant the scar on his forehead came from one of them biting him.

I always thought his stories were just scary campfire stories he told just to frighten me. But that changed last summer.

_________

Uncle Joey had just passed away, at the ripe age of just forty-nine. His body was never found, but his boat was found adrift in the lake with a small pool of blood on the edge. He had a bad habit of drinking while fishing, we had all figured he had just fallen off his boat and drowned.

After the estate process had been handled, my mom (Uncle Joey’s only living relative) sold the farm to a developer wanting to build a lakefront hotel. But, the deal wasn’t going to be finalized for 90 days, giving mom the perfect opportunity for a cheap summer vacation.

“Come on Greg, it’ll be fun.” She told me. “Besides, we need to get you out of the city at some point, it’s time we showed you some real nature for a change.”

So, that was how I ended up “vacationing” at my dead Uncle’s old farmhouse.

________

We reached St. Martin, a small town. Despite being over an hour away from the farm, our GPS told us this was the closest town to the house. We detoured there to stop at a “grocery store” (one smaller and dingier than most gas stations, but it was our only option) to get a couple basics we’d need while there.

“What brings you to St. Martin?” the clerk asked as he scanned a carton of eggs.

“Well, we just inherited a farmhouse over by the lake.” Dad said. “We’re spending some time there.”

“Oh my.” He said. “Well, you folks be careful. Lots of strange things happen over by the lake. Locals insist there’s something haunting those woods.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to keep our eyes peeled.” Dad said. “And one pack of cigarettes, please.”

“What kind?”

“Surprise me.” Dad said. 

I didn’t think too much about what the cashier said. I’d been in enough tourist traps to know that men like him love giving gullible tourists a scare. What else is there to do for fun in a sleepy little rural town?

_______

It was around sunset when we arrived at his house. The first thing we saw was a vulture eating what appeared to be a dead armadillo. The bird didn’t even seem to mind us; it gave us a glare as we pulled into the driveway, but once it realized we weren’t there to steal its dinner, it ignored us and went right back to munching on its half rotted armadillo.

Thankfully, things were still in okay shape inside the house. All we had to do was dust a little and it was more than good enough for our stay there. Some of the food in his pantry was even still good; mom made his last box of mac & cheese to go with the eggs we bought from the store. I know that sounds like a strange combo, but when the nearest grocery store is an hour away, you learn to get creative in the kitchen. 

Everything was starting off alright. There was just one problem; our first morning there, I woke up super early. It’s a little curse of mine: I don't sleep well outside my own room back home, never have and probably never will. 

So, around 6 AM, I decided to go for a walk. Maybe see if this “nature” was everything mom made it out to be. 

For the first twenty minutes or so, everything was peaceful. I was even starting to understand why mom likes it so much. Around half an hour in the woods, I heard something coming. I got nervous (who’s to say that it was) so I crouched down and hid behind a tree. I then looked over, and it was a deer.

It was beautiful. I had seen deer in zoos before, but I had never seen one in the wild before. Up in Atlanta, the most wild thing you can see at the parks is a squirrel. 

Moments later, while the deer stopped to eat a plot of grass, it collapsed. When it fell over, I saw an arrow sticking out of its back. This was odd; I knew people out there in the country liked to hunt, but most used guns, not arrows.

I then saw a man, dressed in animal skins and with a thick layer of dirt covering his face, come grab the deer by the antlers and drag it away. Once he had a nice little spot under a fallen tree, he began tearing up the deer with his bare hands and eating it raw.

It was disgusting and horrifying. Hearing him loudly chew the raw meat and slurp it down made me want to throw up. I tried to sneak away unseen; but then, I stepped on a twig, and made a slight crackle sound that alerted the wildman to my presence. He then looked up and saw me.

He then yanked his arrow out of the deer, and I took off running. The arrow whooshed past my face, missing me by only a few inches and hitting a tree so hard it caused bark to bounce off and graze the side of my head.

I continued running, and didn’t stop until I made it back to the farmhouse. Once I did, I ran inside and locked the door behind me. I looked through the window, to see if the wild man was following me. He wasn’t, I didn’t see him anywhere.

___________

As the day went on, I had convinced myself that what had happened that morning was just a daydream, or a bad vision. It had to be, right? Like, there’s no way my crazy Uncle was right about a bunch of wild people living in the woods, right? Surely someone other than my weird Uncle would’ve seen them by now, right? Right? 

That thought carried me the rest of the day, and for the rest of that day, there were no issues. We spent the morning going through Uncle Joey’s things, deciding what to keep and what to throw away. Dad in particular had a big interest in his fishing gear, even though I had never known him to go fishing before. He insisted he was going to start once we got back home.

After lunch, we got on our bathing suits and went swimming in the lake. I had never been swimming in a lake before (only in pools) so it was a whole new sensation to be in lake water. At least, it was once I got over my fear of being in the green, murky water. Once I got over my fear of something dangerous being under the surface, things were nice. The water was a perfect swimming temperature, and the lake was calm & peaceful. I had dismissed what had happened early that morning as just a nightmare. 

______

That evening, as my dad fired up the barbecue grill to roast some hot dogs, I saw one again. My dad went inside to get a beer, and as he did, I looked out from the window to see someone approaching.

It was a wild woman. She was wearing what looked like deer skin, even had antlers tied to her forehead. Like the wild man I saw earlier, her face was covered in mud. She stole a hotdog right off the grill, and took a bite. It clearly disgusted her; maybe the wild people are so used to raw meat that processed meat tastes like shit to them. She spit it out and threw the rest down on the ground. She even dry heaved a couple times. 

This woman was horribly disfigured. Her lower jaw protruded so much that it was a wonder she was even able to close her mouth. The entire left side of her face looked like it was smushed together, as if it were made of wax that had been melting in the hot sun. 

When she saw me, gawking at her through the window, she  growled at me. Yes, growled, like a wild animal. She then ran into the woods, and disappeared in the dense brush.

“Greg, do you want fries or chips with your…” my dad said to me, before he saw my shocked expression.

“Everything alright?” he then asked.

“Um, yeah, everything’s good.” I said. “Fries, please.”

________

That night, around 4 AM, I heard something. It sounded like glass breaking. 

Normally, I may not have paid much attention, and just gone back to sleep. But after everything that happened that day, I was far too frightened. First, I froze for a minute or two, too afraid to get out of bed and go see what it was.

But, I had to, I knew I did. So I got up, turned on my cellphone’s flashlight, and went to check out what made the noise.

A rock had broken through the sliding glass backdoor. I then heard what sounded like breathing coming from the living room. I then shined my flashlight there, and saw a wildman, right there in the dining room.

“MOM! DAD!” I shouted, before the wild man then growled at me.

I took off running, and it chased me. I went to the bathroom, and locked the door. But the wildman was persistent, he kept banging on the door. I could tell the door hinges couldn’t handle much more of the wild man throwing himself at it.

“Greg, what is…” my dad said, before he left his room and saw the wild man in the hallway.

“WHAT THE F…” he started to say before the wild man howled like a wolf. 

From inside the bathroom, I could hear a struggle. It sounded like they were in a fight with the wildman. I looked around for anything I could use as a weapon. The best thing I found was a metal toilet paper holder. 

I left the room, and found my dad wrestling on the ground with the wildman. The wildman was clearly winning, until I hit him over the head with the holder. Once he was out cold my dad pushed him aside and began kicking him.

“Well shit.” Dad said. “Crazy Joey was right.”

We then heard a noise, a sound that sounded like another howl, coming from outside.

Dad then turned to Mom and asked “Did Joey have any weapons?”

“Um, I know he has a shotgun in his garage.”

“Take me to it.” Dad said.

As they went to find the gun, I stayed put, frozen in place. I could hear other noises around us; it was hard to tell where more were coming from, but I knew there were more wild people hunting us.

“Damn, he only had birdshot.” He said as he took a look at the shells. “Better than nothing.” 

I then heard a howl coming from the other side of the house. “Greg, stay there.” dad said as he began loading the shotgun with shells.

Mom rushed over, and she and I hid in a closet, while dad went to go see what caused the noise. A few moments later, I heard him shout “STOP!” before firing the shotgun, twice.

We thought we were safe, but only moments later, we heard something walking towards us. This thing then sniffed the air for a bit, and then opened the closet door.

It was a wild woman, the same one who stole the hot dog earlier. And she looked angry.

She tried to grab me, but mom punched her. The wild woman then pushed her aside, dropping mom to the floor. She then began pulling me. 

I kicked her shins, but all it did was slow her down, it didn’t stop her. Mom sprinted to the kitchen, and grabbed a steak knife. She shouted “Let him go!” as she stabbed the wild woman in the shoulder.

Dad ran back to us, and shouted “DUCK!” as mom and I both hit the ground. Dad then fired a shot at her, at close range. It dropped her, but it was only birdshot, it didn’t kill her. What did kill her was mom stabbing her one more time, in the neck.

“Anymore of them?” Dad asked.

We stopped to listen for a minute or so. We didn’t hear anymore footsteps or grunts headed our way.

“Come on, we’re leaving. Now.” Dad said. I tried going back to my room just to grab some of my things, but dad said “No, no packing. We’re leaving, NOW.”

_________

We got in the car, still in our pajamas, and dad drove off while mom was on the phone with 911.

“Hello, 911, we’re out at Ogeechee Lake, we were just attacked by a group of…”

Then, we heard a loud thud from the left side of the car, and suddenly the car wasn’t handling very well. Dad pulled over to check it out.

“No!” he said as he looked at the tire. “One of them hit it with an arrow. Honey, hand me the gun.”

But before mom could give him the shotgun, dad shouted in pain and collapsed. One of the wild people had shot him in the leg, before then firing at the other left tire, to make sure we couldn’t escape.

When it emerged from the brush, I could see who it was even in the faint glow radiating from the headlights. It was the same wild man who caught the deer earlier. He was back to finish what he started.

He opened the car door and tried to grab me, but mom threw herself against him. It was a worthwhile attempt, but he just pushed her aside, and she landed on the asphalt road, headfirst. He then shifted his focus back to me.

I grabbed the shotgun, but before I had even a moment to aim and fire it, he pulled me out of the car and threw me to the ground. I dropped her shotgun in the struggle, and he then began stomping on my chest.

“STOP!” My dad said as he punched the wildman in the back of his head. The wildman simply shrugged it off, turned around, and punched my father right in the center of his stomach, knocking the wind right out of him.

As dad struggled just to breathe (let alone fight), the wild man finally turned back to me, only to see that I had the shotgun in hand. He tried to run back into the woods, but I fired, hitting him square in the back, and he collapsed.

“Greg, thank you.” My dad mumbled, still trying to recover from getting hit square in the throat.

He then felt my mom’s face. “Good, she’s still breathing. She’s out cold, but she’ll be fine, we just have to get her to a…”

And then, just as we thought we were safe, the wild man then got back up. He was clearly in a lot of pain from the gunshot, but he wasn’t dead yet.

“No.” Dad said. “Greg, run. I’ll hold him off, you just…”

But I didn’t listen. I pulled an arrow right out of the tire, and stabbed him with it, right in the chest. I then pulled it out, and stabbed him again. I kept going, until he finally dropped dead.

__________

We all spent the night in the hospital. I was mostly fine, but mom and dad needed to stay for a few days to recover. Mom may never be able to walk straight again after landing on her head the way she did, but she’ll be fine otherwise.

We became media sensations overnight. Before we were even out of the hospital, every major news station in the country was calling us to ask for interviews. By the end of the week, three different streaming services were offering us contracts for the rights to make a true crime documentary based on what happened.

We thought the deal was going to be off with the land developers, but to our shock, they were more excited about the parcel than ever. Turns out a good true crime story brings in tourists like vultures to a dead armadillo. Their hotel hadn’t even been built yet and people were already putting deposits down on rooms, hoping to be the first true crime vlogger/podcaster to stay in “The Murder Woods” as the internet had dubbed it..

The National Guard did a sweep of the area, to try to find out if there were any more out there. They didn’t find any (not one other wild person or even any evidence of more out there), despite an exhaustive two week search of the lake and the woods around it. As far as we knew, the ones we killed that night were the last of the old plantationaire’s legacy. Truth be told, I don’t know what they’d have even done if they found any more of them. I mean, is it illegal to just live in the woods? Can someone actually be arrested just for being a wild person? How do you even charge a person who legally doesn't even exist? I honestly don’t know. 

We went back out to the lake a few months later to shoot some b-roll for a documentary being made about us. While I didn’t really want to, the director insisted that some shots of us by the lake would really sell the “atmosphere” of the production.

While I was out there, taking a break in between shots,  I heard something scurry away through the brush. I couldn’t see what it was, but my curiosity compelled me to look further.

I saw a wild turkey, or at least half of one. The bird had clearly been half eaten. Most people would’ve probably just assumed a coyote or a bobcat got to it, but something about the way it was torn apart looked a little too familiar.

I found a stick jutting out of its chest. I pulled it out, and it was exactly what I thought it was; a crudely made arrow, just like the ones the wild man had tried to kill me with.

_________

The Wild West…

I road into the town of Loganville. I heard there were seasonal jobs out there, on the cattle ranches. Ever since I moved to the United States, my life was just a series of seasonal farm jobs wherever I may roam. That was just about all I could do as a man with very little English.

So I went up to Loganville. As I road in, a man stopped me and my horse at the town’s main road.

“That’ll be ten cents.” he said.

“Pardon me?” I asked.

“Ten cents is the toll to pay for entering our town.” He said. “Don’t worry; if you don’t have the change on you right now, we’ll give you a day or two.” 

“And what if I don’t pay at all?” I asked.

He then raised his shirt, and revealed that he had a concealed revolver. “Then we might have a problem here.”

I thought for a second, and then gave him a dime I had in my pocket. That was supposed to cover a meal at the saloon, but oh well.

“Good boy.” he said. 

__________

I immediately noticed that this town was different than most. The people here seemed to live in fear. They all kept their heads down, as if always afraid to say the wrong thing or stir trouble with the wrong people.

So, finally, a few days into my stay there, I asked a bartender what was up.

“It’s the Jason Gill gang.” she told me. “Their founder, Jason Gill, he’s a tycoon who owns half the land in this town. He and his five sons all run this terrible gang. Anytime someone tries to complain about how unfair we have it here, they either get beaten up or killed. And the police won’t do anything about it; they’re all on his payroll.”

“Please don’t tell anyone I told you all this. I’m only telling you so you know to stay away from those awful men.”

“Don’t worry, your secret safe.” I told her, as I went back to my motel room to start planning for the night.

___________

I didn’t have much. I had a set of shuriken, and a pair of sai. They were going to have to do. I rarely raised my weapons anymore; ever since I was banished from my ninja clan and forced to leave Japan, I was too ashamed. But the people of this town needed me.

There was a saloon on the edge of the town that I knew they spent most of their evenings drinking at. Once I had them all in one place, it was going to be easy to make short work of them.

When I arrived, under the cover of darkness, one of them was outside puking into the horse trough. It was easy to get rid of him; all I had to do was throw a well placed shuriken into his neck. 

“Hel…help.” he muttered before he dropped dead, but the others were too loud and too drunk to hear him.

As I went back to grab the star (I only had four of them, I couldn’t afford to just leave one behind), one of the other brothers walked outside and said “Hey man, you done yet, we’re about to start the poker tourna…”

That was when he saw me. I noticed he was the same bully who made me pay a toll just to enter the town. He then pulled out a knife and shouted “GUYS, WE GOT SOMEONE OUT THERE!” as he charged at me.

He tried to stab me, but I used my sai to block and parry the knife away. I then stabbed him in the chest.

The others were rushing out. I couldn’t take them all on at once, especially not if they had guns. I had to hide. I noticed an open window in the back of the saloon; I leapt inside it, and found a place to take cover.

“Where is he?” one of the brothers said from outside.

“I don’t know, he may have…oh shit.” He said, as he headed towards the window. “He’s inside. Let’s get him.”

The interior of the place was lit with two lanterns. With just two quick flicks of my shuriken, both of their wicks were out.

The three brothers then stormed the saloon, only to find it in complete darkness. I had a short chance to strike. I ran up to them, stabbed one of them, and kicked another. The last tried to shoot me, but couldn’t aim for crap in the dark. But I’m trained to fight in the darkness; I was able to launch a shuriken directly into this throat. The one I kicked tried to get up; I simply stabbed him in the neck.

I then saw a light coming from the staircase. It was Jason Gill, the leader of his nefarious gang. He had a lantern in one hand, and a shotgun in the other. 

He then aimed at me. I ducked under a table just in time; he fired less than a second later. If I wasn’t under the cover of a table, I’d be full of holes.

“I don’t know who you are, but you are sure as Hell going to regret coming here.” He said. He set down the lantern and reloaded his shotgun.

“You think you freed this shit down just by getting rid of my little shit sons.” He said. “I still own this city, I can just hire more thugs to replace them.”

He then fired. This time, the shot grazed my left arm.

“Gotcha!” he exclaimed as he tried to reload again. I realized I had a chance; I rushed him, and tried to take control of the gun. While we fought for it, the gun went off, firing into the floorboards. He then threw a hook punch into my side, one that knocked the wind right out of me.

“What, they don’t teach boxing in ninja school?” He sarcastically asked as he then struck me in the side of the head with the butt of his gun.

“I guess not.” He said as he reached for his ammo box. I had to stop him; if he reloaded, I was going to be dead. So I used my last shuriken, and threw it into his hand. He screamed in pain, and dropped his remaining shells. I then got up, and stabbed him in the back with my sai.

“This town will be better off without you in it.” I said as he died.

_________

The town’s folk never knew it was me who freed them from the rule of the gang, and that’s the way I prefer it. I just stayed there the rest of the season, and when I was no longer needed, I packed up and moved to the next town.

I have pretty bad insomnia. Always have. Even as a kid, I was lucky to get even four hours of sleep a night. Some nights, I won’t sleep at all, not even a wink.

So, I like to go for walks. There wasn’t much to do in my sleepy suburban town once it got dark; even the bars around here close by 10:00 PM. My options at night were either go for a walk, or watch TV, and I’m too much of a cheapass to get Netflix, so walking it is.

Normally, I wouldn’t see much out on my walks. The weirdest thing I’d usually see on a given night was hobos fighting over a cigarette or whatever else they’d find in the trash.

One night, out behind the town’s Walmart, I stopped by the retention pond. In a mess of otherwise junky, industrial suburban sprawl, the retention pond behind the Walmart was one of the few places around that I could stop for a little bit and pretend that I was staring at actual nature. Sometimes there’d even be a deer out there.

But one night, everything changed, when I saw The Monster.

________

I’d never have believed it existed if I wasn’t staring right at it. Imagine a six foot tall lobster that walked on two large, powerful hind legs. To make things even more horrifying, it was carrying what looked like a dead raccoon in its mouth. I wouldn’t have believed something like this could exist if I wasn’t staring right at it.

For a brief moment, we just stared at each other. Then, I reached into my pocket to grab my phone, hoping I could snap a picture, but it jumped (yes, jumped) into the retention pond before I could.

I ran up to the fence, with my phone flashlight shining, hoping I could see it again. But I couldn’t. 

_______

The next day, I tried to put the monster past me, but I couldn’t. I was so distracted by the monster that I called in sick the next day. I even gave it a nickname, Red. I couldn’t let this rest, not until I had proof that this monster was living right in the middle of my town.

So, the next night, long after the Walmart closed and everyone went home, I went back out there, this time with a flashlight and a fully charged cell phone. I was determined to get proof of the monster. I even wore my old camouflage Army uniform, hoping I’d blend into the brush.

For the first two hours, I saw nothing. This didn’t deter me, not on such an important job. Then, a little after 1:00 AM, I saw it. The monster came out, and dashed into the woods. I tried to get a photo, but all I got was a blurry, out-of-focus shot of its tail. Nothing that would be proof of the monster.

I jumped the fence and tried to get closer, my cell phone in hand, hoping I’d get a better picture. But then, I felt a claw grab my leg and pull me down.

“Damn!” I shouted in fear. I then kicked it away from me and took off running. It chased me until I jumped over the fence. Then, it turned and retreated back into the filthy pond that it loved so much.

Now it was time for war.

________

The next day, I went out to a sporting goods store. I bought a hunting rifle. The clerk told me it was good enough to take down a bear, so I hoped it would be enough to take down Red. I was in the army when I was younger (before the doctors found out I had insomnia and got me discharged), so I knew how to work it.

So, the next night, I waited by the water, until it arrived. By now, it was crafty; it ran straight from the pond into the woods. But I was ready, and I took a shot at it.

I missed, but I ran towards it. I fired again; this time, I grazed its tail, and the beast kept running. I wasn’t going to let it escape, not when I was so close.

I followed it across through a small thicket of woods, to a drainage ditch with a large pipe sticking out of it. I was about to fire again, before I heard what sounded like some sort of crying.

I shined my flashlight down. I saw a much smaller humanoid lobster, this one only a foot tall or so. The way it approached me, it almost looked like it wanted to play with me. But Red then grabbed it, and pulled it back to the drainage pipe. I then saw there were three others, all surrounded by a little nest. 

From there, Red and I had a short standoff that ended with me doing the one thing I wouldn’t have expected; holstering my gun, and leaving her alone.

“Goodbye, Red.” I said, and I think she understood.

________

To this day, I sometimes still visit her and her hatchlings. I’ll even throw them some expired meat I have laying around, just so Red can take the night off from hunting.

Time Period: 14,000 Years Ago (The Ice Age)

The first time my dad took me hunting, I was just thirteen years old.

My mom pleaded with him; she insisted I was too young, that I wasn’t strong enough to help anyway. But dad said it was time to either become a man, or die trying. In our tribe, boys and their mothers don’t get a vote; until you prove you’re a man, your father’s word is final. So I had no choice but to grab a spear, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. It was time for my first mammoth hunt.

___________

There were twenty-two men in our hunting party, and eight trained dire wolves. The problem is, there are usually forty or fifty mammoths in a typical herd, so we were going to need a good plan if we were going to take one down (and all live to go home).

It took us a couple hours of tracking footprints to find the herd. At first, I was worried we’d lose daylight and have to turn back, but the other hunters stayed firm, and I trusted them. Finally, after tracking for most of the afternoon, we found them. The herd was gathered at the base of a waterfall, drinking and bathing in the river. Some of the young ones even looked like they were playing in the mud.

I won’t lie, the first time I saw them, I was amazed. It was my first time seeing live mammoths, and it was an absolutely beautiful sight. Each one a unique, majestic, and powerful creature.

But we weren’t there to admire, we were there to hunt. I won’t lie, I was terrified; both of the mammoths, and of failure. The only things I’d ever hunted before were deer, and that’s easy. Mammoths are obviously a totally different, and very dangerous, beast. If I proved a coward during the mammoth hunt, that reputation would haunt me, it may have even gotten me kicked out of the tribe (effectively a death sentence). I had to prove I was capable of helping the hunt.

My father aimed an arrow at a calf; not because it was our target (a little calf wouldn’t be worth our time, except maybe as dog food), but because we knew what it would do. 

Dad hit the young mammoth right in the center of its back, and as expected, it yelled in fear. Some of the adult females rushed to encircle and protect it, while the rest began a stampede. We had them right where we wanted them, scattered and scared.

There was one, an older male, that struggled to keep up with the rest of the herd, and after getting left behind, went up the hill for safety. This was perfect; we knew he was going to be our target.

But we had to act quickly; the herd would regroup eventually, so we didn’t have a lot of time if we wanted to make our kill.

__________

The solitary mammoth thought he was safe on top of the hill. He was wrong; we surrounded him on three sides, using trees and bushes as cover. While he began gorging himself on leaves, we were preparing his demise. The moment all the men and dogs were all in position, dad blew his attack horn, and we sprang into action.

First, we threw our spears at it. Each one hit the beast, except for mine; my spear fell short and landed in front of it. Father hit me in the back of the head as punishment.

Now that we had it injured, it was time for step two; wearing it out with wolves. My uncle, the village wolf trainer, gave the dogs their call to action, and they began attacking the mammoth’s legs.

It was dangerous, but the dire wolves knew what they were doing; they took turns biting and clawing at its legs, for only a few seconds at a time, and then quickly backing away. The mammoth was constantly too distracted to isolate against any one wolf. Within minutes, its legs were badly scratched up.

Now, it was time for phase three; arrows. We aimed high, so we wouldn’t hit the dogs. Thankfully, my first arrow hit it in the shoulder. I hoped my father noticed. My second was even better; it hit the mammoth right above the eye. It was nothing short of a miracle shot, one that could make the entire hunt much easier.

It was all going according to plan, so well that I could practically taste that roasted mammoth flesh. But then, I heard something moving through the dense brush behind us. I took a break from firing at the mammoth to see what it was, hoping I could stop whatever was coming. But by the time I saw it, it was too late.

A massive sabertooth was sprinting toward my dad. By the time I shouted, the cat tackled him from behind, and had its powerful jaws around his neck. Dad tried to fight it off with a knife, but it was useless against such a large cat.

I shot an arrow at its face. The wounded sabertooth turned its attention to me, but thankfully, three of the wolves rushed over to help us. One of them pounced on the cat and began clawing at its back, while the other two took turns attacking its sides. With the sabertooth too distracted to focus on me, I was free to shoot it two more times, right in the neck. That put it down.

I went to go check on my father; he was still breathing, but barely. I wanted to help him, but there was just one problem with that; with everyone (both hunters and dogs) distracted, the mammoth had the time to get its bearings. Once it did, it charged us, trampling seven men and four dogs to death before they even had time to flee down the hill.

Everyone was ready to give up and retreat. But not me; this was my first hunt, I couldn’t let it end in failure. 

_______

I had an idea; it was a risk, sure, but with one eye now dead and the other covered in blood, I was confident it could pay off. I stood at the cliffside, and began shouting at the beast to make sure I caught its attention. Then, I continued firing arrows at its head. I aimed above its other eye, hoping to get both of them trickling with blood.

Of course, it charged me. I got out of the way just at the right time, and the half-blind beast fell right off the waterfall, onto the jagged rocks below.

But it was still alive. It was groaning in pain, but it was still alive, and it started standing. I decided it wouldn’t for much longer.

I grabbed a spear and ran around the waterfall, so quickly I almost lost my footing. But I didn’t care; I was this close, and I wasn’t going to lose. I called the dogs to come with me; I was going to need help to finish it off.

Once I was in range of the mammoth, I threw my spear at his big, fat neck. The mammoth collapsed from its wounds, and the dogs leapt on it to start attacking it. They tore into it with their claws and teeth. Some of the hungrier ones even began stripping off its flesh to devour.

I pulled my spear out of the helpless, dying mammoth’s skin, only to thrust it back in. I kept doing it, until the mammoth finally stopped breathing.

__________

“Alright ladies, now we’re going to enter our cooldown.” I said. “We’re gonna do front kick-lunges. Starting with the right leg; kick, now lunge. Left leg; kick, lunge.” 

This was my last class of the day; a bullshit cardio kickboxing class I was teaching to stay-at-home-moms at the Forever Fitness in the city. It wasn’t much, but it’s apparently all a forty-three year old with nothing but “former amateur boxer” on his resume can get hired to do.

“Alright, and time. Now, before we call it an evening, let’s do a quick cool down stretch.” I said, glad I was so close to being done with them (until the following Monday).

______

I got back to my apartment around 6 PM, with only an hour or so to spare before going to my other job.

“Hey honey.” My wife said, from the kitchen. “Dinner is almost done. You know, I heard that new movie you were talking about just hit Netflix, wanna watch it with me and Mikayla?”

“Jeanine, you know I have to go to…”

Her heart looked like it was about to stop. Before she could say anything, our ten year old daughter ran to greet me.

“Daddy!” she shouted.

“Princess.” I said as I picked her up. “Um, daddy has to get ready for his night shift, but mommy has a great dinner almost ready. Have fun and watch a movie with her, okay.”

“Um, okay.” My daughter said as she sat down at the table. 

I went to the bedroom to get ready, and my wife came by (after turning on a cartoon for Mikayla, so she wouldn’t hear).

“Honey, we talked about this yesterday.” Jeanine said.

“Really, did we?” I asked. “Seemed more like you did most of the talking.”

“These fights, you’re too old and they’re too much for you.” My wife said. “Last month, you came home after The Bloodbath with a mild concussion. The winnings you got only barely covered your urgent care bill.”

“That was just bad luck. There was a really fast taekwondo guy, he got me with some crazy tornado kick I’d never seen before.”

“Well, what if you have more ‘bad luck?’” She asked using air quotes. “What if next time it’s your neck or your back that gets broken? How are we gonna pay for rent or groceries if that happens?”

“Honey, please, don’t worry. I’ve been training pretty hard. I know I have a real chance of winning first prize this time. I can feel it.”

“You said that last time.” She said.

“How about a deal?” I asked. “If I don’t win tonight, it’s over. If I don’t come back with the top prize tonight, my days of competing in The Bloodbath are over.”

“Deal.” She said, reluctantly.

______

The Bloodbath is the city’s top underground fighting tournament. It’s very difficult to even get a spot. They don’t just let in any idiot who calls himself a “street fighter,” it requires at least some amateur or pro fighting  experience, as well as a pretty mean reputation on the streets, to even get a tryout (much less a callback).

The tournament was held in the last place anyone would expect or care to search; a high school gym. Whoever organized these fights (the identity of whoever organizes the tournament is a closely guarded secret) paid off the principal to let us use the gym, and any passersby noticing the cars in the parking lot would just assume that there was a basketball game or a volleyball game going on at the school that day.

I went straight to the training room, in the back. During normal school hours, it was the high school’s weight room, but on the night of The Bloodbath, it was the training gym for the fighters to warm up. They even brought in punching bags so we could get some reps before the tournament started.

“How’s it going?” Richie, my cornerman, said to me. Richie was my boxing coach back in the day, and still runs his old gym. Every Bloodbath, he’s my cornerman. He takes 10% of whatever I win, but it’s well worth it having him around to give me pointers. Not only is he a great coach, but he’s my eyes and ears on the streets; if a street fight happens anywhere in his corner of the city, he knows about it. He knows most of the regular fighters in The Bloodbath, and more importantly, knows their strengths & weaknesses.

“Have they put out the schedule yet?” I asked Richie, before I started warming up on the speed bag.

“Yep. First up, they’ve got you up against Tom. He’s a…”

“Yeah, I know Tom.” I said. Tom was a local self defense instructor, a master of krav maga and kali. He was infamous on the streets for challenging anyone who doubted his self defense to come to his school and try their luck (and so far, all ended up walking back their criticisms).

“He’ll be on the defensive.” Richie said. “He’s going to want you to go in recklessly, slip up, and end up in one of his traps. Do not let him. He has no offense, so this can be an easy fight for you, if you play it smart.”

“Understood.” I said as I stepped into the ring.

“Touch gloves.” The ref said, and we touched fists.

“FIGHT!” 

Tom began circling around me, hoping for an opening. But I kept steady and focused. After he did a couple laps around me, with nothing to show for it, he stepped in a little closer. He was trying to egg me on; he wanted to tempt me to make a lazy, half assed strike that he could easily defend against.

But no, I wasn’t going to fall for his ploy. I began to feel him out by throwing jabs; he tried to block & trap me, but my hands were too quick. He then tried to go for a low front kick, right for my groin; but I checked his kick with my shin, stepped in, and knocked him out with an uppercut.

“WINNER!” The ref said as he came to certify my win (and help Tom off the mat).

As I walked back to my corner, Richie said “Do not let that victory go to your head. You got lucky having him as your warmup fight, Tom only barely qualified for this tournament to begin with. Things will be harder starting next round, I promise you that.”

 _____

I had just ten minutes to rest and drink water before my next fight.

Next up was John, a Brazilian jiu-jitsu fighter, and a gold medalist in several regional tournaments. 

“Don’t let him go for your legs.” Richie told me. “The second he gets a  solid hold on your legs, he’s taking you to the ground, and it’s game over for you. Avoid that at all costs.”

“Got it.” I said as I stepped onto the mat.

“Fighters touch gloves.” The ref said, and right after we taped fists, the match began.

It was immediately clear he was playing defense; he stepped back, and kept his hands close to his head, ready to defend on a moment's notice if I went on the offensive.

He thought he was being smart, but I was going to be just a little bit smarter. I faked a jab to the body; as expected, he moved his arms down to his torso to block it, and then realized just a half second too late that it was only a feint.

I then got him with a fast cross, smack in the center of his nose. It hurt him, but before I could pull back my arm, he grabbed onto my wrist. From there, he put me in an armbar. I resisted as hard as I could, but his grip was like a vice, and the pain was excruciating. I seriously thought he was going to break my arm.

I realized I couldn’t force my way out of the armbar, so the best I could do was to just return the favor and dole out a little pain of my own. I  used my free arm to hit him right in the stomach; it hurt him, but he still held on tight. So I aimed a little higher, and hit him in the ribcage; that one made him let go. 

He dove in to try to grab my legs and take me down, but I stepped back, and threw a powerful right hook that knocked him out.

“WINNER!” the ref exclaimed before I walked back to my corner.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Richie said as he high fived me. “Your arm okay?”

“It’ll be fine.” I said. “Just give me an ice pack.”

______

Next, it was time for the semifinals. Luckily, I didn’t get hurt last round (just a bit tired and sore), so I walked onto the mat ready for a good, hard fight.

I was now up against Patrick; he’s a taekwondo fighter, the winner of several regional tournaments. And he was also the fighter that knocked me out last time. His kick sent me to the urgent care with a mild concussion.

“Any advice?” I asked Richie before stepping onto the mat.

“Be on the defensive.” He told me. “You’re stronger than him, but you’re not faster. Last time, you tried to go on the offensive only for him to dance around you. Do not let that happen again; keep your distance, and let him waste his energy until you have a good chance to strike.”

“Thanks.” I said.

I stepped into the ring, and the ref started the match. Just like last time, Patrick was fast; less than a second into the fight, he lifted up his leg and twisted his hips over for a repeat roundhouse kick. I blocked his first kick, but his second grazed the side of my head.

I backed up, and he followed up with a spinning side kick that nailed me right in the solar plexus 

For a moment, I was really thinking I was about to lose; after all, what could I do against the flurry of feet he kept throwing at me? But he got cocky. He threw out a sloppy crescent kick that I easily blocked; before he could reset, I stepped in close and threw a powerful left hook that got him square in the jaw.

He tried to put some distance from us, so he could throw out more kicks, but I wasn’t letting him. I stepped in again, and tried to get him in the face, but he blocked it, and threw out a quick body punch. It landed, but only grazed me; it didn’t have the power to do any serious damage, only distract me.

He threw out a front kick, right to my chest. It not only hurt like Hell, but it put some distance between us, distance he used to setup a tornado kick. If it had landed, it would’ve knocked me out cold.

But it didn’t, because I stepped back just in time, and before he could land & reset, I dove back in forward for a jab-cross combo that was powerful enough to end the fight.

“YES!” Richie exclaimed from my corner.

“WINNER!” the ref said, and I went back for a much needed rest.

____

I wasn’t feeling well after my fight against Patrick. Every spot that Patrick hit me, especially my head, was in pain. And worse, my final match would be against Paul, a former professional kickboxer, and winner of the last two Bloodbaths. I’d fought him once before; his punches felt like getting hit by a truck.

I made it far enough to have already guaranteed myself $2,000, and I 

was tempted to just throw the next fight and take it. It would be so easy; I’d just take a jab, pretend it was a lot harder than it was, and no one would be the wiser. I could walk out of there with a nice payday and no injuries.

But no, I couldn’t; as much as I was tempted to, I knew I had to see this through to the end, no matter the cost.

_________

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the grand finale.” An announcer said, although who he was talking to was anyone’s guess. Maybe a digital audience watching the matches on hidden cameras; maybe no one at all. I don’t know, and I’ll probably never know.

To say I was nervous walking onto the mat, was a tremendous understatement. Finally, after several failed Bloodbaths, I had a real chance of going home with the grand prize. But I also had a real chance of going home with broken bones or a concussion.

“Touch gloves.” The referee said, as Paul and I tapped knuckles. We then stepped back, and the ref said “FIGHT!”

As expected, Paul immediately went on the offensive; he threw out a low roundhouse kick to try and knock my leg out from under me. If I hadn’t stepped back just in time, it would have been a fight ending move, maybe even a leg break.

The one bad part about those kinds of powerful low kicks, is that if you miss, it takes a second to regain your balance. And during that brief second in time where you reset yourself, it’s the perfect time for your opponent to land a quick shot; like say, a left hook that nailed him right in the side of his jaw.

My punch made him stumble back, but I wasn’t going to get cocky; if I dove in this soon, I’d be done for. He was much more powerful than me, I couldn’t make this a battle of strength. Instead, I had to play it smart, wait for him to give me opportunities.

He clearly got angry after my last hook, and wanted to return the favor. He began throwing out a barrage of punches, but I kept my hands & arms tight around my face & body, to absorb all the blows without getting hurt. After blocking the last of his strikes, I shot in real quick and got him with a jab, right in the center of his stomach. It wouldn’t do much, but I had to do anything I could to wear him down. 

Paul teep kicked me; I tried to block it, but it still grazed my leg, and even that was enough to cause a lot of pain. Then, he stepped in for a devastating elbow strike that tore open my forehead.

In a normal boxing or MMA bout, a tear like that would’ve at minimum caused the ref to pause the fight for medical attention, if not just made him call the fight altogether. But this was The Bloodbath; nothing short of a knockout, a submission, or death would pause this bout. 

My only saving grace was that the blood was only trickling into my left eye; my right eye (my dominant eye) could still see well enough. When he wound back his leg and launched a sidekick at me, I saw it coming and stepped to the side moments before his foot was about to knock my torso inside out.

Paul got frustrated, and threw more power punches at me, only for me to slip out of the way, and make his teeth clatter with a quick uppercut.

After my punch, he was disoriented, I could tell that just by the way he was standing; I had a short, but priceless opportunity to finally go on the offensive.

I threw a jab to the head, which I knew would make him put his hands up to protect, and when he did, I went low and got him right in the liver with a powerful body shot. After that, it just took one more hook to the side of his face to knock him out cold.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I PRESENT THIS MONTH’S WINNER OF THE BLOODBATH!” the announcer exclaimed.

________

After that night, I quit The Bloodbath. My wife is right, I was getting too old for it anyway. With the $10,00 I won, we were able to open our own boxing gym. It’s not easy (I greatly overestimated how much time I’d be in the training ring and underestimated how much time I’d be at my desk filling out Excel sheets), but at least it pays a lot better than my old job at Forever Fitness. Plus, it gives me something to do with Mikayla (not to brag, but she’s the best student in my kids class).

It was almost 2 AM, and let me tell you, I was freezing cold and exhausted. I desperately needed a cup of coffee and a hot meal. Keep in mind this was back before smartphones and GPS, back when if you wanted something while on the open road, you actually had to read a billboard and then follow its directions. So, when I saw a big, illuminated billboard, with a picture of a big stack of pancakes, reading “The Midnight Diner: Open 10 PM thru 5 AM, Seven Days a Week” I couldn’t help but take the next exit and find it.

At first, I thought it was closed; there wasn’t a single car in the parking lot. Even if there were no customers, I’d have thought for sure there’d be employees parked; this place was way too far from any nearby town for anyone to walk to. But then, I saw a waitress through the window, so I parked and went inside.

“Hi there.” I said, as I entered. There were three other people in the diner; the waitress, the cook, and a solo customer reading a newspaper.  “Table for one, please.”

And then, the waitress walked over to me. For being so young (I’d have estimated mid 30’s), she was exceptionally pale, with hair so white I thought it must’ve been bleached. “Yes sir, right this way. Can I get you started with anything to drink?”

“Coffee; cream and sugar, please.” I said.

“Coming right up.” She said.

After getting me my coffee, she said “So, what brings you out on this stretch of the highway, at this hour?”

“Been driving all day. I’m going to surprise my girlfriend tomorrow.” I said. 

“Oh, so she doesn’t know you’re coming.” The waitress said, in an unexpected and creepy way.

I then made something up. “Well, yeah, she doesn’t, but um, my friends back in the city, they’re expecting me. I called them, so that they’d, um, have a couch ready for me to crash on.”

“How nice of them.” she replied, but I could tell she knew I was lying.

“I’d like a grilled cheese sandwich.” I said.

“Fries or potato chips for your side?” She asked.

“Fries.” I answered.

“Coming up, sweetie.” She said to me. And shen turned to the cook and shouted “ONE GRILLED CHEESE!”

While I was sipping my coffee, the man in the newspaper took a look at me. Turns out he was even more deathly pale than the waitress; I smiled and waved at him, hoping he’d just go back to minding his own business. But then, he bared fangs at me, and growled like an angry cat.

By then, I didn’t even care about my food, I just wanted to be out of there. I left behind a $5 bill for the coffee and tip, and made my way towards the door, only for the waitress to stand in front of it and tell me, “Where you going, sweetie? I haven’t even gotten you your sandwich yet.”

I thought for sure she or someone else was about to hurt me. But then, she said “I’m only kidding. Go on, if you must.” and left the entryway.

I ran to my car, and drove out of that parking lot as fast as possible. I thought I could make it back to the highway, and leave that nightmarish diner behind.

But then, as I was taking the road back to the interstate entrance, I saw someone standing smack dab in the center of the street. My headlights weren’t too good, so I couldn’t see him in detail, but it was definitely a person. I slammed on the brakes, honked my horn a couple times, and shouted “HEY ASSHOLE, CAN YOU…” before I realized this was the newspaper reader from back at the diner.

“Damn.” I said to myself, as he approached the car. I had a gun in my glove box; I never went this far from the city without it. I fired at him, and got lucky. I hit him right in the head with my first shot. His body hit the ground, and I kept driving.

“Yes.” I shouted to myself, right before a bat flew towards my car. And then, midair, the bat transformed into the diner’s cook, and he dropped right onto the hood.

He then smashed through the window, and I fired. I missed the first time, but then hit him twice in the chest. He fell off the hood, and I tried to continue driving, but my car would no longer start. He must’ve damaged something when he landed on it.

“Well shit.” I muttered to myself.

I got out of the car, and continued on foot. My plan was to make it to the highway on foot, then hitchhike my way back to town, and use a payphone to . But then, I heard the waitress say “Where are you going?” behind me.

I turned and fired. I missed. I then fired again, only to hear the clink of an empty gun being dry fired.

She then ran up to me, grabbed me with near superhuman strength, and then bit me, in the neck. She then began sucking out my blood; I tried to fight back, but this frail looking woman was as strong as a wrestler. By the time she stopped, I felt so drained of blood that I was only barely clinging to life.

“You know, I was going to just kill you, like I do with most of my customers.” She said, as I was lying on the ground, helpless listening to her as my life was slipping away. “But as of tonight, it looks like I could use some more help back at the diner. So, what’s it going to be; should I drain your veins dry and finish you off now, or want to come back to the diner and work with me?”

I then made my decision.

________

My new “life” isn't all bad. Sure, I miss the people I used to know (I never even got to see my girlfriend one last time), but at least my new job isn’t terrible. It’s just diner food, nothing too hard to prepare.

“And we’re here.” My coworker Tyson said, as he stopped his truck in a flat, grassy area near the marsh.

We had a three day weekend thanks to Memorial Day, and I was spending it hunting with a pair of coworkers, Mike and Tyson. Truth be told, I didn’t like these guys very much, never did. But, they invited me out with them, and I figured it would be better than a normal three day weekend at home, just streaming TV with my girlfriend.

She almost didn’t let me go. I love her, but she is crazy (or at least back then, I thought she was); she believed some local news story she saw on TV about some rednecks who said that this huge, apelike monster, one  that smelled as rancid as a dumpster, killed their dog. Personally, I thought it was just a bunch of bullshit. There’s no way a monster was really out there, less than an hour outside the city, right?

________

We planned to camp out in an area that technically wasn’t a legal hunting ground, but Tyson had been hunting hogs in this area for years, he knew this was the spot to get started. Besides, legal or not, feral hogs are a nuisance; I figured we were doing the land a favor by getting rid of one, (or a few, if we were lucky).

“Alright guys, we’re already a little behind thanks to last minute stop for drinks, so let’s hurry up,  we gotta get this tent pitched while it’s still daylight before we start hunting”

“Start hunting?” I asked. “Aren’t we going to wait until the morning?”

Mike and Tyson both laughed. “Sorry, I just forget you’re a newbie sometimes. Best time to hunt hogs is at night; the little bastards are virtually nocturnal. So come on, let’s stop wasting time and get this tent setup, otherwise we’ll be doing it in the dark.”

As we were getting our tent and our firepit setup, I heard a strange howl coming from the marsh. Sounds like a bizarre mix between a chimpanzee screech and a lion’s roar.

“What do you think that was?” I asked.

“I don’t know, probably a horny buck.” Mike said, although it was obvious he was only guessing.

____

By the time the sun went down, our tent was pitched, and our firepit was assembled. We then loaded our rifles, and went hunting for wild pork chops.

About an hour or so into our hunt, I began to smell something foul; imagine raw sewage mixed with rotting meat, that’s how overpoweringly awful the smell was. I thought for sure it must have been a rotting carcass somewhere, but the smell almost seemed to follow us, as we were walking through the marshland.

I then heard a noise; it sounded like something rustling through the nearby bushes. I turned my flashlight in its direction, only to see nothing. I then heard a similar sound, this time coming from behind us. Immediately after, Mike screamed “HELP!”

He was dragged behind a tree. I ran over to try to help, and then, I saw the monster that I was warned about. Standing right in front of me, and right on top of Mike, was a monstrous ape. It stood at least seven feet tall, and had layers of brown, matted hair. Its odor was so abhorrent that it made my eyes water just standing within like, ten feet of it.

I looked down, hoping Mike was alive. But no, his head was bleeding profusely, and he wasn’t moving. Once the monster was sure he finished him off, he then started staring me dead in the eye.

I was sure I was about to be its next victim, before Tyson took a shot at the beast. The beast then retreated into the marsh, and we lost it as it entered the brush.

“MIKE! MIKE, SPEAK TO ME!” Tyson said, but it was too late. 

“Come on.” he then said to me. “We have to get back to camp.”

_____

We walked back to our campsite in a hurry. I was hoping that the monster was dead, but had no way to know for sure. We kept our heads on a swivel, aiming our guns in the direction of every sound we heard, hoping it wouldn’t be the beast again.

I remember getting closer to the campsite, thinking Tyson’s bullet had either killed or scared off the ape. But then, I smelled something; a smell so awful, I instantly knew what it had to be.

“Tyson, it’s…” I began to say, before the beast rushed out from the the brush, and before either of us could aim and shoot, he plowed into Tyson like a football player. He knocked him down, and then pounded on his face with his ungodly large fists before finishing off by biting him in the neck. I  turned and started running. I had to get away, but the beast wasn’t letting me go so easily.

  I could hear it running after me, and quickly. After a long sprint, I decided to take my last stand. If I was about to die, I was at least going to try to take the monster with me. So I stood still, took a deep breath, aimed in the direction of the monster’s noise, and fired one shot. 

I didn’t think it would work. I expected to miss, and for the skunk ape to then jump out and kill me. I went over to look for its body; I didn’t find it, but I found a trail of blood leading away. After a minute or so, I couldn’t smell its awful stench anymore.

_________

“Well damn, if I’d known this would last so long, I’d have bought more Pop Tarts.” My boyfriend said as he got back to reading Alex Rider, a 20 year old copy of a teenage spy novel he found in the closet. “I don’t know about you, but I’d kill for one right now.”

Allow me to set the scene for you; this was our fifth day of being stuck at home due to our neighborhood experiencing a flood. Most of our neighbors had evacuated. We only stayed because we really didn’t have anywhere to go; we were new to the area and had no friends or family we could go stay with. So, instead of getting a hotel, we just put sandbags outside our doors, and we roughed it.

We still had electricity, thankfully, but no internet. That meant our only time killers were whatever books and magazines we had lying around. Which wasn’t terrible; he wasn’t a big reader, but I was.

And then, we heard the strangest sound on the back door. It had a clear pattern, as if someone was knocking, but not with their hands. It was more like they were using a piece of wood or something.

“What the Hell?” My husband asked. The last thing were we expecting during our confinement was a visitor; especially one at the backdoor. Just getting back there would require trudging through some pretty thick marsh water.

“Could it be a neighbor? Maybe someone needs help.” I said.

“I’ll see.” He said as he walked over and opened the back door.

And then, standing right on our back porch, was the most freakish thing I’ve ever seen. It was at least seven feet tall, and appeared to be made entirely of mushrooms, with one massive mushroom (I’m talking at least the size of a basketball) as its head.

Before my husband could slam the door, it stuck one of its massive arms in the doorway, stopping the door from closing. And then, he reached out with his massive hand, and grabbed him by the neck.

The Mushroom Man pulled him out and threw him in the water. When my husband stood back up, the monster than pushed him down and stepped on him, forcing him under the floodwaters. I wanted to help, but was too shocked and frozen in fear to do anything.

  Once he stopped fighting back, the mushroom man then opened his mouth wide, and began devouring him. He took a HUGE bite out of his shoulder,

I stood there, motionless, unable to even scream. There was a literal monster, right outside my house, one that was able to effortlessly kill and eat my husband. And after it took a few good bites out of him, he then turned and seemed to focus on me.

I ran up to the door, slammed it shut, locked it, deadbolted it, and even moved the dining room table in front of it. I then grabbed my cell phone and ran back to our bedroom.

“Hello, 911, what is your emergency?” I was asked.

“Hello, 911. I’m on Carter Street. My husband, something came by our house, it took him, and he’s dead.”

“Carter Street? I’ll see what I can do, but that area’s evacuation was two days ago, most of our officers are busy with evacuations over in…”

I didn’t even hear when she said next, because then, the beast started banging on the door. After just a couple strikes, it threw open the door, and then made its way inside.

“No.” I muttered to myself before then quieting myself, hoping that the monster wouldn’t hear me; that it would just move on, and leave me alone. I then heard it lumbering over to my room. Every step it made thundered throughout the hallway. I stayed dead silent, praying it would just go away. Then, I heard it slam against the door. With just one strike, it almost snapped the lock in two. I knew one more would burst it right through.

I then had to flee. I opened my window, kicked the bug screen out, and then jumped out; I landed hip high in murky, disgusting flood water. I didn’t even have a pair of shoes.

I then began wading through the water, as the beast continued after me. Once my feet no longer felt the mush of mud and wet grass and could feel the cold asphalt, I knew I had made it to the street. But the monster could move through the water much faster than me, I was sure it was going to catch up. I shouted “HELP!” but no one heard; who would hear me, I was all alone in the neighborhood.

But then, I was saved, at just moments before I thought it was going to catch me. I saw a flashlight beam, looked over, and saw a boat. I then continued to shout “HELP, HELP!”

They began motoring in my direction, as I continued moving towards them. I even cut my foot on something (not sure what; maybe a sharp stick or a sharp rock, maybe a piece of litter, I truly didn’t care in that moment) but I didn’t let it stop me, I didn’t stop until the johnboat caught up with me.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” one of the two men aboard asked.

“Help me, that monster, it’s…” I turned around, but there was no beast. It had simply vanished, lost in the floodwaters.

“Come on aboard. We’re working at the makeshift evacuation center, at the church down the street, we’ll take you there.”

“Oh my god, thank you.” I said as I climbed on.

“Do you need to get any of your belongings. We can swing by your place and…”

“No.” I said.

“Ma’am, you don’t even have a pair of…”

“I said I’m good. Please, it’s an emergency just take me somewhere safe.” I said. “And let me talk to the police.”

______

I ended up telling the police that it was an alligator that killed my husband. What else was I supposed to say; that a monster man made of fungus killed him?

But the police weren’t buying it, at least not at first. They gave me a long “questioning” about what happened that felt more like an interrogation. They even asked if I thought he was cheating, or if we were having money troubles; questions that clearly asked if I had a motive.

I was afraid they were going to change me with his murder, but they ended up finding his body three days after the flooding ended; his bones had washed up in a nearby drainage ditch. Even with his skin decaying and full of maggots, there were still visible bite marks. After it had become clear that something had eaten him, the police suddenly left me alone.

MrMonster was helping ReySkwalker comb through the ruins of his former workplace, hoping they could find it before anyone from The Avenging League discovered them. They had drones all over The City, knowing one day either of them (or both) would eventually come out of hiding and return home, they knew that much. But they didn’t know how much time they’d have before he was spotted & reported.

“Good times, good times.” MrMonster said somberly as he found an old framed photo of him taking a selfie with The Child Abnormal Black Belt Frogs. They were good kids; unfortunately, they were also some of the first to get killed on Day Zero, the day the world’s “heroes” took over the planet.

Many years ago, some of the strongest superheroes on Earth formed a team, led by SuperManx. Or as they knew him, TigerT20, a mild mannered Medieval scholar. No one knows exactly where he came from. Most at first assumed he was from The United Kingdom, but he claims he grew up in some place called The Isle of Man. However, the existence of The Isle of Man remains unproven.

The team was unstoppable, and everyone knew it. It had everything from street vigilantes, to super spies, to gods from places once thought mythical.

But then, one day, about one year ago, the team’s core members decided to rule the world. The SuperManx decided that he could run the world better than the world’s people, and convinced the most powerful members of the team that he was right. First, they forced all the world’s countries to surrender. The only global power that resisted was Kawanda. The scientifically advanced African nation put up a brave resistance led by their king, Black Leopard, or as MrMonster knew him, his old friend AC. AC gave his life trying to keep his kingdom safe, but his suit of armor & his country’s elite guards all proved useless once Green Goliath was flown in to smash the entire country down to dust.

Then, they killed every superhero in the world who didn’t see their way, every member of The Avenging League that didn’t cooperate with their plan.  

All except the two that escaped: Night Bat aka MrMonster, and  Tarantula-Man aka ReySkywalker.

“Bingo.” Rey said as he found what could very well be the last sample of Manxtonite in the world; the scraps of remaining radioactive rocks from The SuperManx’s extinct home planet is his only known weakness. But after taking over the world, he made sure it was all destroyed. That is, except the one secret little piece that Tarantula-Man had kept for himself, in his old employee locker in the basement of his old job site as The Daily Trumpet, where even The Avenging League never thought to look.

And then, the ground began to shake.

“Oh no.” The Night Bat said as it became obvious that his former co-workers had found him.

______

He turned to see two supers approaching. Green Goliath, a monster who grew stronger with rage, and Dr. Jayskier Weird, a surgeon turned sorcerer, were there to bring him in.

“Green Goliath, it’s been a while.” MrMonster said as he regained his footing. “How’s it going, Comics?”

“SHUT UP, YOU ABSOLUTE DIPSHIT FUCKTARD CUNT!” he shouted, as the Earth shook underneath him. 

“What are you so mad about?” MrMonster taunted. “That I’m Batman in this story and not you?”

Comics was clearly confused by the fourth wall break, which gave Tarantula-Man the perfect opportunity to shoot webs directly into his eyes. He knew it would take only a minute or two for him to pull it out, but that was time they could isolate Dr. Weird.

“You two were really the best they could send after us?” MrMonster taunted.

“SuperManx sent the core team off-world a few hours ago to preemptively stop The Yellow Flashlights from attacking the planet.” Dr. Weird commented. “See, isn’t this better? Now, we don’t have to work with the approval of useless old politicians. Now, we stop the threats & save the world BEFORE any damage is done, not after.”

“At this point, what kind of world are you even saving?” Reyskywalker asked. “The people live in fear. No one’s creating art or making music or celebrating anything. When’s the last time you saw anyone watching a movie or listening to music? The people you’re so proud of saving just wander through life as hollow shells, hoping that SuperManx doesn’t do to them what he did to New York City after the riots began.”

“Come on Tarantula-Man, you don’t have to do this.” Dr. Weird said, clearly wanting to change the subject. “You can just come in peacefully, and accept whatever punishment is deemed just for your betrayal?”

“OUR BETRAYAL!” MrMonster said as he began to lose control. “You’re the ones you turned your backs on the oath we swore.”

“We swore an oath to keep this planet safe.” Dr. Weird retorted. “And I intend to fulfill it by eliminating two rogue vigilantes from the equation.”

Dr. Weird then opened a portal right underneath Tarantula-Man, one that went straight to the mirror world prison. He would have fallen in, if he didn’t shoot a web at the ceiling just in time & pull himself out of the portal.

“Nice try.” Tarantula-Man said as he then leapt towards Dr. Weird and knocked him out cold with a kick right to the face. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to celebrate his victory once Green Goliath finally got the web out of his eyes. Then, he came charging after Tarantula-Man.

Night Bat distracted him with concussion bombs. Then, Tarantula-Man jump kicked himself right into his chest, hitting with enough force to knock Green Goliath down to the floor. Once he was down, Night Bat shot a tranquilizer into his mouth. Once it went down his throat, he’d be out of the picture for long enough for the two of them to make an escape.

______

They knew that the core team would make short work of whatever Yellow Flashlights were hanging around in the solar system, so if they were going to strike, they were going to have to do so immediately.

So they got in The Tarantula Plane, and flew to their former 

headquarters. They knew the tower’s radar would alert SuperManx and whatever other heroes were there, but it was a risk he’d have to take if they were going to make it in time.

Once missiles were launched at the plane, they ejected and hit the ground. They thought they had at least a few minutes before there was another threat, but were proven wrong when a red blur rapidly approached them. They then rushed to hide in an abandoned building.

“Stuntman, do you hear anything?” The Runner (Nuke) asked Blind Stuntman (CJ).

The Blind Stuntman paused and listened carefully. The heroes; there was no hiding from their blind former friend’s impeccable hearing.

“Over there, I hear two heartbeats.” He said.

Night Bat then threw a sonic bomb their way. Even a normal person would find the noise unbearable at such a close range; for Blind Stuntman, it must have been excruciating.

The Runner then dashed towards his location. “Shit, shit, shit.” Tarantula-Man muttered to himself as he desperately searched for one of his ice weapons; it would be his only hope of stopping Nuke.

“MrMonster, Rey, where are you guys?” Nuke taunted. “Come out now, and I’ll kill you quickly, get it over with.”

“But if I have to find you, I’m gonna force you to watch every single episode of Agents of SHIELD with me first.”

“Alright, over here.” MrMonster said.

“Gotcha!” Nuke shouted as he dashed over, and speed punched him right in the solar plexus. With him distracted, Rey then threw down his ice weapon; it froze his feet to the floor, and prevented him from moving any faster.

“You okay?” Rey asked.

“I’ll be fine.” MrMonster said. 

From there, it was a straight shot to the tower.

______

“Hello, old friends.” TigerT20 said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since Day Zero.”

“Yeah, you haven’t.” Tarantula-Man said. “You know, you never really told me; why’d you do it?”

“Because the world had become sick. We’re living in a world, where people would rather visit a theme park than go frolicking through glens. And don’t even get me started on the public attitudes about medieval times. So many talk about Medieval times as if they were primitive. Primitive! In my glorious utopia, everyone will know how smart people were back then.” He then fired at them with his laser vision.

Tarantula-Man leapt and stuck to a wall. As SuperManx kept firing, he kept swinging around the room, only sticking to one spot for a moment or two to avoid being a sitting duck for SuperManx’s beams.

When SuperManx got tired of missing, he took a deep inhale, and then began blowing freezing breath around the room. Some of it inevitably got MrMonster’s leg, and froze him to a wall. Rey evaded a little longer, but ultimately, SuperManx froze his hand to the ceiling.

“Finally!” Tiger said as he had his old friends right where he wanted them. “The last rogue heroes, stupid enough to attack me in my own tower. I think first I’ll…”

And then, Tarantula-Man unleashed the Manxtonite. SuperManx immediately recoiled in pain.

“What’s the problem?” Tarantula-Man taunted before throwing a roundhouse kick at his head.

SuperManx spat out a mouthful of his own blood; probably the first time he’d done so in years. MrMonster then punched him right in the gut, sending him at least four feet backwards.

It looked like they were about to win; until a star-spangled shield flew into the room and hit Night Bat square in the head.

“Lieutenant USA!” he shouted, in a panic.

“Yes.” Swag said.

“Wait, time out?” Reyskywalker interjected, as the fighting paused. “You made her the Captain America stand-in of this story?”

“I just thought it would be funny.” MrMonster replied.

“Okay, fair enough.” Rey replied.

“Can we restart fighting?” SuperManx asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Rey said, as the battle resumed.

_____

Night Bat focused on finishing off SuperManx, while Rey focused on stopping Swag. 

Swag threw her shield at her, but Rey then leapt to the ceiling. He then dropped down, landed right on the head. He then punched her unconscious.

SuperManx grabbed MrMonster, and threw him into a wall. He hit so hard that he created a dent in the plaster. The push knocked the Manxtonite right out of his hand.

Supermanx then wrapped his hand around MrMonster’s neck, and started squeezing. “After everything that’s happened, you really thought you could win.” he taunted as he tightened his grip.

“UP TOP!” Tarantula-Man shouted as he webbed the Manxtonite, and flicked it over to Night Bat.

“NO!” SuperManx shouted as Night-Bat smacked him right in the face with it, flooring him and ending the fight.

____

“Are you going to kill me?” SuperManx said.

“Yes!” The Night Bat said as he got ready to finish him off.

“No, we won’t.” Tarantula-Man interrupted, and Night Bat calmed down. “You’re going to prison. But don’t think I’m letting you off this easy; I’ll make sure you never get to play with Medieval replicas ever again!””

He and I were locked in combat, eyes staring at each other like two wolves fighting for dominance of the pack. He threw a round kick at me, hoping it would land and knock me down, but I stepped backwards in time to evade it. I then threw two punches at him, a jab and a cross. He raised his arms to block both, but I was expecting that. I then threw another jab, which once again caused him to raise his arms to block, but I then quickly used the momentum from my punch to turn all the way into a spinning side kick, one that landed right in the center of his stomach. The impact folded him like a cheap beach chair.

About two seconds later, the bell rang, and our sensei shouted “TIME!” The match was over, and even though there were officially no winners and losers in classroom free sparring, it was clear that I had come out on top in the match.

“Sparring gear, off!” Our sensei ordered.

As we went to the dojo’s shelves to put away our protective gear, my opponent, Patrick, came up to me and said “Wow, you’ve got one Hell of a turning side kick?”

“Thank you.” I said. “That’s my signature combo, the jab-cross followed up by a jab-turning side kick. No one ever sees it coming.”

“Is that so?” He asked. “You know, do you wanna get a drink sometime? First rounds on me.”

I said “You know, that sounds great.”

_____

The next day we went to a local bar to get a beer. Patrick was a fairly new student at our school, but one who’d already gotten a black belt at a different location, so he was placed immediately in the advanced class.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what got you into taekwondo?” He asked.

“Just needed something to keep me in shape after the Army.” I answered. “To be honest, my life lost a lot of purpose after I left. I went from doing something that felt fulfilling, to sitting at a desk processing Amazon orders. But the dojo helped me regain that warrior spirit, you know?”

“Oh, I fully understand.” Patrick said. “You’re very good, it’s no wonder they made you the assistant instructor.”

“Thank you.” I said as I took another sip of beer.

“So, tell me a little bit about yourself.” Patrick said, and it was the start of a long conversation.

_____

I didn’t think much of our conversation at the bar, just figured I’d made a new friend. But a few nights later, while I was fast asleep, I heard Patrick say “Good morning.” as I found him staring at me over my bed, fully dressed in a business suit. Beside him were two men in thick padded armor, each having weapons strapped to their utility belt.

Of course, I tried to fight back. I punched one and kicked the other, but against their armor, my strikes just bounced off. They quickly overpowered and subdued me. They gagged me, hooded me, cuffed me, then stuck a syringe in my arm that made me feel very tired all of a sudden. They then dragged me to my garage, where I was loaded into the back of a van they had parked there.

“Don’t worry, we’ll explain later.” Patrick said as I drifted off to sleep.

______

When the hood and gag were taken off, I was in some sort of gym. Patrick was standing there, still in his suit.

“Good morning.” He said.

I then grabbed him by his shirt collar and said “Dude, you have about two seconds to tell me where I am before I…”

“Ugh ugh, I wouldn’t be so feisty if I were you.” He said as he pointed to one of the windows in the gym. Behind it were four guards, dressed the same as the armed, armored thugs who kidnapped me. “They’re under orders to control you nonlethally, but they’re free to make things very painful for you.”

I let go of him.

“But, since it is important you know, the truth is that I’m not who I say I am. You see, I’m a bit of a talent scout for my boss. I won’t give you his name, but we normally refer to him simply as The Berserker, I suggest the two of us do the same. The Berserker is a very, very wealthy man with a very, very particular hobby.”

“What hobby?” I asked.

“Fighting, to the death.” He answered. “He gave boxing and MMA a try in his younger years, and even made amateur leagues in both, but having to stop at knockout just never satisfied him. So, he has scouts such as myself, who find gifted fighters & martial artists like you, drawn from gyms and dojos all over the country. We bring them here, and hope to give him a real challenge.”

“Here, if you’ll turn your attention to the monitor, you’ll see what you’re up against.”

He used a remote to play a video on a TV in a corner of the gym. A video showed two men stepping into the ring. One was wearing nothing but athletic shorts, and a dark mask that concealed his face. The other wore only sweatpants & boxing gloves.

“The one in the mask is The Berserker.” He explained. “The man you see him up against, was a two time Golden Gloves boxer.”

The boxer began throwing punches, but nothing landed. The Berserker moved with the speed and finesse of a cat, never staying in one spot for more than a moment or two. After the boxer began wearing himself out, The Berserker threw a roundhouse kick that took out his leg, forcing the boxer to then start hobbling in pain as he tried to continue the fight.

The Berserker then dashed behind him and threw another round kick, this one that landed right at the base of his spine. The boxer’s scream of pain was nothing short of blood curdling.

The Berserker then wrapped his arm around his neck, and put him in stranglehold, and did not stop until the boxer finally just lost life.

“This can’t be real.” I said. “There’s no way you can actually get away with this.”

“That’s why we’re careful.” Patrick continued. “That’s why we have scouts all over the country. His last fight was against a college wrestler we picked up at a college campus in Mississippi. Before then, a Brazilian jiu-jitsu prodigy from a gym in Idaho. I can go on, but I think you get the point.”

“He’s won all of his past 118 fights.” Patrick explained. “And in three days, you will most likely be his 119th.”

“Between now and then, you have free reign of this gym, and the living quarters in the room behind that door. If you want food, any food, our 24 hour kitchen staff can whip up anything you want. The Berserker wants you to be fully prepared for your duel.”

_______

I ordered lobster tail just to see if Patrick was serious. To my shock, it was delivered to the gym in about twenty minutes. It even came with a glass of white wine (that I hadn’t even asked for), along with a note signed by the chef that read “I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I served this lobster tail without this perfect wine pairing.” Patrick wasn’t kidding when he said they’d bring me whatever food I wanted, although it felt less of a kindness and more of them just trying to fatten up the pig they were about to slaughter. I wouldn’t be much of a show for the crowd if I was weak when I entered the cage.

But I intended to be at full strength during my fight. I knew I was playing into what they wanted, but I also didn’t care. If I was gonna die, I was going to die fighting. So I spent those three days working out just hard enough to not injure myself. I would pound the heavy bags, lift weights, and run on the treadmill for as much as I could take, for hours on end, for all three of my training days. It was all I had to do; the only things I could get to play on the gym’s TV were exercise videos. I didn’t have any books, any magazines, and the only people I had to talk to were the guards (and to put it mildly, they weren’t very conversational).

By the end of it, I was in the best shape of my life. Even when I was in the Army, I was never in such great shape. I felt ready to take on the world. But was I ready to take on him?

_______

“Are you ready?” Patrick asked me, as it was time to step out and faced why lay ahead of me.

“Yeah.” I said, coldly.

“I do hope you know that this isn’t personal. If anything I kind of liked you. But we all have a place in this world, I’m sure an ex soldier of all people understands that.”

I wanted to kill him right then and there, for having the gall to compare his crimes to my service. But there were two guards hovering over me, both with their palms resting on the handles of his firearms, ready to draw & fire the moment I stepped out of line. So I held my anger, and walked to the arena like a man.

“Ladies and gentlemen” a disembodied voice boomed over the intercoms, as the crowd went wild. I have no idea how or why The Berserker got an audience for these fights, or what kind of sociopath would actually pay to be there, but whatever the reason, the stands had dozens of people there to see me die.

I stepped into the ring, and the announcer said “Today’s challenger stands 6’3, weighing in at 185 pounds. He has eleven years of taekwondo under his belt, but will that be enough? He’s about to find out.”

And then, The Berserker entered the ring. He was at least two inches taller and much more jacked than I ever was, I could tell that this alone was gonna make it a difficult fight.

“On three!” The announcer shouted. “1…2…3!”

The Berserker then came at me with a flying round kick that would have shattered my rib cage if it had landed. Thankfully, I evaded just in time, and his foot flew through the air.

But before I could even counter, he continued the turn and threw a spinning elbow strike that landed right on the side of my face. I then spit out one of my own teeth.

He followed up a flurry of punches, but I stepped backwards to keep his fists away from me, until I felt the cold metal of the cage.

He thought he had me cornered and helpless, and he went on the offensive, hoping to land a knockout punch. This was a mistake; as he came charging in, I lifted my front leg and shot a lightning fast sidekick directly to his liver.

He stumbled backwards in pain & shock. For the first time in the fight, I had a moment of advantage, and I didn’t intend to waste it. I followed up with a spinning wheel kick that made his jawline meet my heel.

Before he could recover, I threw a body punch that landed right in his stomach. I then tried to throw another, but he blocked it in time. And then, before I could throw anything else, he stepped in close, grabbed my arm, and threw me to the ground, judo style.

He then began making it rain hammerfists all over me. I tried to cover myself as best as I could, but he was constantly moving over me, finding new spots to slam his hands into.

If I didn’t stop this, I’d be a goner. So I crawled out from underneath him, and then used bicycle kicks to create some distance. Once I put a few feet between us, I hopped back on my feet.

I then went on the offensive. I stepped forward and threw a punch, but he stepped back. This gave me an idea; my signature combo had never failed me before, why wouldn’t it help me now?

I threw two punches at him, a rapid jab-cross combo. He raised his hands to block, and stepped back. After resetting, I threw another jab; he once again put his hands up to his face to block, but this time, I twisted my hips, and nailed him right in his exposed, unprotected stomach.

He collapsed in pain, and spat out a mouthful of blood. Back in the dojo, my kicks were usually softened by foot pads, chest protectors, and my inclination to not hurt my friends. But in this arena, none of those things were there to stop my sidekick from devastating him. All I had to do was decide how to finish him off, and I figured stomping on his neck would be a

I had never killed anyone before, not even during my time in the Army. I wasn’t sure if I could even follow through with it; but I won’t lie, I enjoyed the feeling of crushing his windpipe a lot more than I thought I would. Watching him try to breathe only to suffocate was the icing on the cake.

______

After the fight, the guards escorted me out.

“PATRICK!” I shouted as my former opponent’s lackey came out.

“Yes, sir.” He said.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t do to you what I just did to your boss.” I said.

“Sir, please calm down.” Patrick said.

“I could’ve died in there. I…”

“Sir, please, sit.” Patrick said.

I took a deep breath, and then took a seat. I decided to at least hear him out before killing him.

“Don’t lie, I saw the look on your face. You enjoyed the feeling of taking the life out of him, didn’t you?”

I did not care about Patrick enough to bother lying to him. “Yes, I did.” I answered, bluntly.

“Sir, these fights make more money than you’ve ever dreamed of. Tickets to be in the audience cost $50,000 each. Our dark web live streams cost $2,000 per view.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Completely. The only other places on Earth that provide an experience even close to this are in third world shitholes where you’d take him a deadly disease as a souvenir. For those wanting a bit of luxury with their show of blood, this is truly a one of a kind experience.”

“And our headliner, the one they all come to see, is now dead. Do you get what I’m saying?”

_____

A month later…

“Are you ready, sir?” Patrick asked me.

“100%.” I said as I finished my stretch kicks.

Patrick then turned to a guard and said “Let the announcer know it’s time to open the fight.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please introduce our returning champion!” the announcer boomed as I entered the ring.

“And in this corner, we have the challenger. A Muay Thai fighter, handpicked from one of the toughest gyms in Louisiana.”

I’ll never forget that day: the day a strange man in an even stranger suit came up to me while I was at work.

“Good afternoon officer.” He greeted.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Well yes, I was thinking you could.” He said. “I heard you used to work on the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.”

“Yeah, I did.” I said. “Now can I help you with a law enforcement matter?”

“No, you seem to have law enforcement around here covered.” He said.

“Then please be on your way.” I said.

“You sure?” He asked before tossing a gold nugget at my feet.

“Sir, if you are attempting to bribe…”

“Oh no, no bribes.” He said. “Just a gift. And there’s more where that came from if you meet me for a drink after your shift ends.”

_________

Not many people still talked about the Big Thunder Mountain.

The Big Thunder Mountain used to be the heart of our town’s economy. At one point, half the men here, including myself, worked up there. Given that I was a half-deaf veteran of the Civil War (and the losing side no less), mining was just about the best thing I could do for myself, and for a while, it was pretty good living. But overtime, the mine just stopped producing gold. About ten years ago, the final nail of the mine’s coffin was planted when a flash flood destroyed most of the track and killed a good portion of the miners. The owners simply decided to cut their losses and close the mine completely, and the whole town suffered as a result. Ten years later, and I’m one of the mine’s few workers in town who didn’t leave.

I wanted to just forget that part of my life; but still, I was too curious not to meet the fellow at the saloon.

When I saw him sitting at a table, drinking beer and smoking a pipe, I walked up to him and bluntly asked “What do you want?”

“My name’s Jonathan Cole.” He said. “And you’re Abraham Schneider, I take it.”

“Yes.” I answered. “Now, what do you want?”

“I believe there’s still treasure in the Big Thunder Mountain.” He said. “And I want you to help me find it.”

“What makes you so confident?” I asked.

“Oh, I have my sources.” He said. “Listen, help me find what I’m looking for, and I’ll give you rewards beyond what you’d ever make in this craphole of a town.”

He could tell I was hesitant.

“Look, it’s a completely victimless crime.” He continued. “The land owners have long abandoned the mine, they don’t even know what’s down there. And even if they did, they wouldn’t know where to look for it. You have literally nothing to lose and everything to gain. So, what’s it gonna be?”

_________

The next day, we left. I had a Deputy cover for me, and I went to join Jonathan at the entrance to the mine.

“Who’s all these folks?” I asked as I pointed to three men who were there to join us.

“Oh, they’re just here for protection.” He explained. “Never know what can happen in these old mines.”

“Very well.” I said. I also had a handgun concealed under my coat. “Do you have the map?”

He then handed me an old, faded, and crumbled up map. But still, I could tell exactly where their treasure was.

“Follow me.” I said as I lit a lantern.

______

Even though it had been years, I still remembered those catacombs by heart.

“Alright, here’s where the map is leading to.” I said, as we entered an empty, dead end chamber.

“You sure?” Cole asked.

“Positive.”

“Alrighty then.” Cole said before pulling a bottle out of his jacket.

“You really gonna get a drink right now?”

“Oh, this is no drink.” He said. “This here is nitroglycerin.”

“You serious?” I asked. “You telling me that you’ve been carrying nitroglycerin this entire time? You could’ve blown us sky high.”

“Calm down, I know what I’m doing.” He said. “Now everyone get out of this room, unless you wanna die.”

_______

He set the bottle down near one of the cave walls, and once everyone had cleared out, he pulled his gun and shot the bottle. It caused an explosion that revealed that one part of the cave wall was actually hiding something behind it.

“Gentlemen, we have our riches.” Cole said as he entered a room filled with Native American artifacts.

“Wait, I thought you said this had gold.”

“I said it had treasure.” He explained. “And it does. The lost treasure of Chief Mankiller, a Native American war chief who stashed his treasure in this mountain right before his last battle with settlers. And we get to split it four ways.”

“I’m sorry, four ways?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, that’s the best part. We’re done with you.” Cole said before drawing his gun and firing at me.

_______

Thankfully, the bullet only grazed me. Another inch or so, and I’d have been a goner, but all I got in that cave was a flesh wound.

But still, I had to play dead. It was one versus four, there’s no way I could've won in a fair fight. Luckily, it only took them a minute or so to grab the treasure and be on their way.

Once they were gone, I knew I needed to make a plan. I couldn’t beat them all at once. But then, I remembered that just around the corner, there was something I could use.

I even checked the railroad tracks; they were all in good enough shape. And then, I found her, the train I used to operate back when the mine was open. There was even charcoal left behind in the engine.

“Perfect.” I said to myself as I pulled a match out of my coat and tossed it in the engine. From there, all I had to do was wait for her to start back up and ride her again.

________

I caught up to them just moments before they were going to exit the mountain.

At first, they were stunned; they heard the train coming, but were dumbfounded as to who was riding it or how it even got started at all.

I stopped the train right at the mouth of the cave. If they wanted to leave, they were gonna have to go through me, and I wasn’t gonna let them.

One of them fired at me. He missed and hit the side of the train. I returned fire and hit him right in the forehead.

Cole began running away while his friends opened fire. It would’ve been difficult to outshoot both at once with just a handgun, but then I remembered the shotgun I always kept hidden underneath the train car’s floor.

I then fired through a gap in the train's outer metal lining, and killed both of them.

Then, I turned to Cole. Only bad part about trains is that they can’t go backwards, so I had no choice but to pursue on foot.

I lost him when he turned a corner and went down one of a handful of tunnels. And then, from wherever he was hiding, he fired at me, and I was forced to take cover against one of the cave walls.

“Thanks for doing me a favor back there.” Cole said. “Now I don’t have to split the treasure four ways.”

He fired at me again, and this time, I saw the flash of his gun; I knew where he was hiding.

After he took his next shot, I immediately jumped out of cover, turned, and fired. Killed him with one shot.

_________

Country of Origin: Indonesia

History: Silat's true origins are hard to come by. It is by far the oldest martial art we've visited so far, maybe one of the oldest in the world.

The earliest recorded history of Pencak Silat begins in the 6th century, when warriors known as hulubalang trained to defend their regional monarchs. Penchak Silat’s first true test was during the Mongol invasion of Java, where Silat trained warriors successfully repelled the Mongol army.

Silat gained rapid popularity during Indonesia's brutal colonial occupation by The Netherlands. Dutch colonists had a lot of advantages, but the Silatists on the islands were known to fight like Hell.

After the end of Dutch rule, modern Silat began to take shape with the formation of the IPSF, an organization created to unite all of Indonesia’s martial arts styles under one roof. The martial art is now the standard martial art of the Indonesian military, an extracurricular in Indonesian schools, and a sport in the Southeast Asian games.

Techniques

Silat has many varied substyles. Some are more sport oriented, and take on a very karate-like system of striking. Others are more military/self defense oriented. Regardless of which focus it takes, most substyles of Pencak Silat have the same basic techniques including…

Kicks

Blocks and Traps

Knife Fighting

Knife Defense

Sweeps

Famous practitioners

The United States of America

February 1942

We were living in a small, rural farming village out in the desert. For the most part, things were quiet, and uninteresting. We went about our days, in peace, and went home.

But then, the Sheriff came with the bad news. He went to our part of town, the neighborhood of farm houses owned almost exclusively by the 5 or 6 Japanese families of the town, to tell us the news we had been told to expect but hoped wouldn’t.

“ATTENTION ALL JAPANESE!” Sheriff Jones shouted. “I’m here to inform you that you have 72 hours to settle all your affairs. After that, you will report to Casa Azul Relocation Camp.”

“What?” My grandfather asked. “This is an outrage. We have done nothing wrong. We had nothing to do with the attack on Pearl Harbor.”

Not many men in the county had what it took to stand up to the Sheriff. Sheriff Jones was a man you did not want to mess with. He may not have looked it, being at least 40 years old & quite overweight, but he was a skilled fighter. His weekend hobbies were boxing and wrestling. He was known to settle his disputes by challenging his enemies to fights (and he’d rarely if ever lose).

“Doesn’t matter.” The Sheriff said. “I have my orders, and you will either comply, or I will make you.”

He got back in his car and drove away. My grandfather, the community’s unofficial leader, turned and said “You heard the man, time to get ready.”

_______

My grandfather and I drove into the city to sell the last of our crop for the season. We truly had no idea what would become of our family farm while we were gone, but at least we could get one last batch of our pistachio crop to the market.

After dropping them off, a group of local young men approached us. Those three assholes were known for starting trouble, but generally stayed out of our way. But today, probably emboldened by the Sheriff’s news, they were even worse than normal.

“Hey, aren’t you guys supposed to be getting ready to get out of here?” One of them, I believe his name was Dwight, asked as he laughed to himself.

“What, you think this is funny?” My grandfather asked. “That we’re being separated from our homes, our whole lives being upended.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dwight replied. “I’m sure once you’re gone, your homes are gonna sell for dirt, and then, we can piss all over your…”

My grandfather then punched him, square in the face. Dwight then said “Looks like grandpa here wants to get hurt. Let’s give him what he wants.”

Dwight then came at him with a haymaker punch. My grandfather evaded it, dove in close, grabbed him by the arm, twisted around, and picked Dwight up only to slam him onto the ground.

Dwight’s friends came running over to help, but neither lasted long. My grandfather kicked one of them in the stomach, and punched the other in the face, knocking out both in just a few moments.

“What, that all you assholes got?” My grandfather sarcastically asked as he put Dwight in an armbar. “What, just a few seconds ago you were talking about pissing in my house, what happened?”

“Grandpa, I think they’ve had enough.” I said, as I started to get scared.

He let Dwight go and we went home.

____

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“I was waiting for the right time to tell you.” My grandfather said. “But I guess it’s now. When I was younger, I was the head sensei of a dojo, in Japan. Taught karate and judo. But one day, the Imperial Army attempted to buy me out, force me to train their army, forced me to get them ready for war. I took your mother, and we left Japan. Ended up here in America, where I put martial arts behind me.”

“Behind you? You need to stop the Sheriff?”

“Excuse me?” He asked.

“If any of us can beat him, you can.”

“Sorry honey, that’s not happening.” He said. “I’m sorry you had to see me fight today, but that’s not something I want to make a habit of.”

“But, you can do something. You can fight him, and you can win.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” He said.

And then, I lost my temper. “Fine, but when we lose everything, just know that you could have helped, but you chose not to.”

_____

On the day the bus came, my grandfather left early to talk to the Sheriff.

“Sheriff Jones, I have a challenge for you.” He announced. “I think you’ll find it interesting.”

The Sheriff’s face perked up like a kid given money to go to a candy store. “What kind of challenge?”

“A fight. Just you and me. No weapons, hand to hand only. I win, that bus turns around and you forget about your orders. You win, we all go peacefully.”

The Sheriff handed the deputy his weapons belt and said “You’re on. Deputy, start our match.”

_______

“In three…two…FIGHT!” The Deputy shouted, and just like that, they were at it.

The Sheriff began the fight by throwing a jab-jab-cross combo to my grandfather’s face. He blocked all the Sheriff’s punches, but then, the Sheriff dove in low and grabbed his leg. He then took him to the ground, and started pounding on him with his fists.

When the Sheriff thought my father was knocked out, he got up and said “Well, glad this was settled. Now, everyone get onto the bus or I’ll…”

However, the Sheriff was wrong. My grandfather picked himself up off the ground. The Sheriff turned and saw him, but it was too little too late; my grandfather had already begun his back leg sidekick, and came flying towards the Sheriff.

The Sheriff practically bent over in pain, giving my grandfather the perfect opportunity to knock him down with a hook kick. He then kicked him while on the ground, but the Sheriff got up, and began throwing a flurry of punches. My grandfather blocked most, but some of them landed, each one being a powerful blow. I could tell my grandfather couldn’t take much more of this.

“Did you really think you could win?” The Sheriff taunted as he continued throwing punches. “I respect your bravery, but just know that all of this will only make it even sweeter to finally evict all of you.”

Just as it looked like my grandfather had no strength left, he grabbed the Sheriff’s arms, and did a miraculous hip throw. Considering the Sheriff had at least 50 pounds on my grandfather, it was a sight that surprised us all.

While on the ground, my grandfather put the Sheriff that dislocated his arm. He then started kicking him, but the Sheriff blocked his foot, raised himself up, and threw a powerful hook that I would later find out broke my grandfather’s ribs.

I thought it was all over. But then, my grandfather summoned all his strength, and threw a roundhouse kick that knocked out Sheriff Jones. I almost felt bad for the Sheriff, I’m sure his jaw took a long time to recover.

“And there you have it.” My grandfather said to the now unconscious Sheriff.

Country of Origin: China

History: Sanda (sometimes referred to as Wushu, Wushu Sanda, Sanda Kung Fu, Sanshou, or even simply Chinese Kickboxing) has roots in Chinese Lei tai fights, a brutal, 1000+ year old Chinese tradition of bare knuckle fights that often proved lethal.

When the Republic of China (1912-1949) wanted to develop a hand to hand combat system for their military in the 1920’s, they turned to lei tai to have a basis. However, there is one major problem inherent to any lethal martial art; it’s lethal. Studies show soldiers are significantly less useful if they die in basic training. So, they had to make it something safe enough to train, as well as add elements from imported martial arts like Western boxing and wrestling. Following the Chinese Communist Revolution, it not only became the PLA’s main system of martial arts training, but it has expanded beyond military use into becoming a sport with tournaments all over the world. While Communist regimes may not be good for much, as we’ve learned both here and in our previous entry (Sambo), they’ve undoubtedly given the world some unique and powerful martial arts.

Techniques

Sanda is both a striking and a grappling martial art, a fighter can win by either a knockout or a submission. Because of this, it has a wide variety of techniques. Some of the main ones include…

Hip throws

Double leg takedowns

Punches

Roundhouse kicks

Front kicks

Famous practitioners

MMA fighter Zhang Welli

MMA fighter Muslim Salikhov

Location: the city formerly known as Austin, Texas

Time: 2024, one year post outbreak

Back when the outbreak began, Austin was ordered to evacuate, as all major cities were. Almost everyone complied, and those who weren’t were rounded up and forced to by the military. Everyone the government had on record was accounted for and pushed out of the city, whether they wanted to or not; but no one stopped to check to make sure that I, the blind homeless man living in an alley between a hotel and a convenience store, ever complied with the evacuation orders.

_____

I woke up in my shelter (a former hotel room), and my first feeling was the same one I felt every morning; hunger. So I put my braille copy of To Kill a Mockingbird back on my shelf (I had a bad habit of reading myself to sleep), and decided to go check on my traps, hoping I’d caught something to eat. If I was lucky I’d get a racoon or a possum, but if nothing else I was sure there’d be a rat or a pigeon.

I grabbed my mobility cane, strapped on my utility belt, and carefully opened the door to my room. I poked my head out, carefully listening to anything that might have been an infected. I hadn’t heard or smelled an infected in weeks, but you could never be too careful.

I didn’t hear anything, so I continued walking. Even though I had muscle memorized my way out of the building, I still held onto my wire just in case. I had long set up a series of wires in the building to always lead me back to my room if I got lost.

I unlocked the building’s front door, and once again listened for the infected. I heard nothing, so I pressed on. I could tell just by the feeling of heat on my skin that it was daytime, so I knew there’d be less infected wandering the streets. The infected preferred to be out at night, they only wandered during the day if they were really hungry.

I learned early on that if I stuck with the same buildings each time, animals would stop falling my traps after like, a week or so. But after a month or so, the wildlife would forget, and I’d be free to set up traps there again. So, I tried to change my locations at least every 3 or 4 days, and not use the same buildings for at least four weeks. Today the start of a new set up.

As I was approaching the building (I memorized how many steps it took to get there), I heard the one sound I wanted to hear the least; the low pitched snarl of an infected. And even if I couldn’t hear him, I could definitely smell him approaching. Most infected start to smell after a while, but this one was particularly rancid.

From the sound of it, it was alone. I waited for it to get closer, and could still only hear one footstep at a time, so I felt a bit lucky that it was a loner.

I drew my revolver, and waited for the infected to get closer. As he did, I isolated the sound of his growling; once I had a lock on his head, I aimed, and pulled the trigger.

I then checked to make sure I didn’t miss. I put away my gun and drew my machete, ready to fight it off if it was still alive. It wasn’t; I felt it’s lifeless body with my mobility cane, I knew it was dead.

I then continued towards the building where I laid my traps. Once inside, I ran my cane along the wall, checking the snares I laid out.

My first three snares were nothing. This was expected, not every single one could be a winner. But as I approached my fourth snare, I smelled something, so I knew I must have caught something. I felt it to take sure it had died; it did. So I put my plastic gloves on, and bent down to feel what it was; it was a racoon. I then put it in a plastic bag, tied it to my belt, and then moved on.

While I continued searching, I heard something else walk into the building. Then, I heard the growls, and knew it must have been infected. But it wasn’t just one this time, I could hear at least three growling mouths. And they were getting closer.

I couldn’t fight all three at once; there was no way I could isolate their sounds quickly enough to shoot with accuracy, and trying to fight them off with my machete would’ve been hopeless. So instead, I ran.

I found a door. I opened it. I then closed it behind me. But this wasn’t going to help me for long; the infected weren’t very smart, but they usually remembered enough of their old lives to do basic tasks like flipping light switches and opening doors.

While they stumbled towards the door, I wandered the room more. I found a staircase; this must have been the emergency stairwell. I started walking up, hoping I could lose the infected on another floor.

But then, as I was approaching the top floor, I could hear a loud pounding coming from above. Something was stumbling down the steps.

I drew my gun, and waited. I could only hear one snarl, so it must have been another loner. Once I isolated his sound, I fired, and could tell just by the sudden thud on the ground that I landed another shot.

But I didn’t have time to even catch my breath, because the other three infected were coming. I dashed up the steps, hoping to escape them.

I got to the next floor, and felt the walls until I found the door. I opened it, dashed past, and slammed it behind me. I then started feeling for a piece of furniture I could use to barricade the door.

I didn’t find anything, and I could hear the infected approaching. One of them opened the door, but before any could enter, I threw my entire body weight against it. I could tell something was caught in the door, probably an arm or a leg. While still pressed against the door, I pulled my machete, and started flailing. I must have hit something, because one of them screamed in pain and recoiled.

I quickly realized how futile it would be to try to hold them back much longer, so I sheathed my machete, drew my gun, and took a few steps backward. The moment I heard the door swing open, I opened fire. It would have been pointless to try to shoot them back in the lobby, but in a tight doorway where all three would be stumbling over themselves to push past, I knew I’d have to hit something.

I fired my four remaining shots as best I could, and then took off running. I had no idea how many I killed, and had no intent of waiting to find out the hard way.

The explosive sounds of the gunshots gave me temporary tinnitus. When it wore off, I could hear one set of footsteps and one snarling mouth stumbling after me.

I didn’t have time to reload my gun, and could tell by my cane that I reached the end of the hallway and had no idea where else to run. So I drew my machete and got ready for a fight.

As the infected got closer, I started flailing my machete. Most infected are smart enough to not run face first into a blade. It would instead circle me, hoping to catch me off guard.

I swung at it, but missed, and it grabbed my arm. This was bad, but not the end; it would be if it bit me, but a scratch wouldn’t infect me.

It then tried to pull me in close, probably to land a bite, but I quickly slashed it with my machete, and cut its arm clean off. It then howled in pain; that was good, it’s howl let me know exactly what it was. I then raised my machete and threw out one last slash, one that buried my blade in its skull.

I then paused and listened for any more infected. I heard none. I reloaded my gun, just to be safe, but still, I heard nothing.

With all that madness out of the way, I breathed a sigh of relief, checked to make sure my racoon was still where I left it, and started making my way back out. This was the hardest part of my new life; anytime I lost track of where I am, it’s a struggle to get back to a landmark. But thankfully, all I had to do was follow the hallway to the end and go back down the stairs to end up back in the lobby where I started.