Author Games - Ghost Town

Task 7 - Clement Janwerd Jr

That night was the hardest for me. Clara curled up next to me as the anthem played, bawling her eyes out into my chest. I felt a physical pain from seeing her weakness; the death of Winter really struck her as a low blow. The night dragged on and on until the Head Gamemaker's announcement. The machines had long gone silent before the lights flickered low, his face appearing in the sky above. 

"Hmm… so you're the ones who survived Lockdown?" As if he didn't already know. The guy watches over us all day and all night. No way he could've missed the big Pre-finals massacre. "Congratulations. But I wouldn't celebrate quite just yet…" His face slowly melted back into the darkness, his blindingly white smile leaving a faded after-image imprinted behind my eyelids. What did he mean by that? Suddenly the huge steel doors blocking our exit began to groan in protest, slowly inching their way open into freedom, of sorts. I shook Clara awake excitedly, helping her stand before her eyes were fully open. Her leg had gotten worse, and I could tell. Blood no longer leaked from the wound; in its place was buckets of pus, oozing slowly through my makeshift bandage, a sure sign of infection. 

As we limped outside, the most shocking thing of all was the state of the arena. Tall building crumpled to dust in front of our eyes, skyscrapers reduced to rubble in mere seconds. All around us, the ground where you could see bare patches of soil began to churn slowly, an ominous rumbling of stones underfoot warning us to get moving. I know what this is, surely. With only four tributes left, this can only be the finale. Within a few hours, minutes, or maybe even seconds, all of us except one will be dead, lying cold under this unforgiving horizon of a dying city. Now was my chance, before one of them was me. 

I gently held one of Clara's small hands within mine, searching her tearstained face. "Clara, before the chaos starts, I need to tell you something. If we're not the final two, I won't have the time to-" I stuttered out, blinking my eyes to avoid crying. Clara placed a finger to my lips, promptly silencing me with surprise. Her spindly arms snaked behind my neck, softy pulling my face to hers. Our lips met in a clumsy bump, our noses getting in the way a bit, but it was sweet nonetheless. She was the first to pull away, gasping quietly for breath. She cleared her throat, looking past my shoulder pointedly. 

"Ah, Clem? Maybe we should tone down on the kissing and deal with that." Clara pointed her finger behind me, where a legion of the undead were crawling their way out of the ground, bits of flesh dangling in the air, some even missing full limbs. An undead woman, attired in evening wear, rises almost directly under Alex, cutting off his screams of agony and hatred off with a merciless snap of teeth at his neck, blood pumping out of the wound faster than a waterfall. As if they could smell the scarlet liquid, every zombie's head whipped around, their rotten eyes honing in on the dying boy in the woman's grasp. Their movements at first were slow, jerky, but as more of them picked up the smell of the blood, they swarmed Alex's body. His screams of pain were drowned out by the moans and howls of the undead, until all I could distinguish was a mound of gore being swarmed by tens, maybe hundreds of the zombies. Clara reached up on her tippy-toes, pecking my lips. "Now shut up and fight," she smirked, pulling out her spear. I swallowed nervously, clutching my sword. 

"Clara, whatever happens- to me or you- keep fighting. You have to just keep fighting," I stumbled across the words, tears blurring the edges of my vision. She nodded solemnly as the zombies gradually approached, her grip on her spear visually tightening. 

With our strength and Stone's determination combined, we were able to kill off the majority of the attackers. But just as I was about to grab Clara and make a run back into the factory, a ring of fire springs up in front of us, singing the skin on my bare front. I hissed in pain, quickly backing up and rubbing my burn. Clara fussed quickly over me, plainly ignoring the limp in her leg to rush and check if I was okay. Assuring my well-being, I glanced over her hunched shoulders to see if there was any way out. By the looks off it, this fire was meant to keep us locked up until the end. Stone was busy fighting back one of the last few zombies, a young girl, her raven black hair tumbling down her back in waves. Stone was sobbing as he retreated from her frail frame, dropping his sword in the process. "No. No! They can't have gotten you, they wouldn't-" he choked, dropping to his knees. The zombie girl's jaw opened and closed, the clacking sound sending shivers down my spine. She seemed to struggle, but finally a tiny voice came out of her mouth, tired and angry.