A Woman of the Swamp 2-3

Previous Chapter

Apparently, I'm incapable of short chapters right now, so this one is again split, although I think it works well as a two-parter.

3. Undead Fight Club - Part 1

The long stone tunnel that led beneath Martin’s had originally been used for smuggling liquor during prohibition. At the end, there had been a small room with a makeshift wooden bar where people could drink without fear of prosecution. When prohibition lifted, the tunnel remained, and it wasn’t until an enterprising young necromancer came along that anything had been done with it. Walking through the bootleggers’ handiwork, Nick had to admire the dedication to getting a decent drink. He often reflected on prohibition, wondering how long he would have survived in the face of such oppression.

            The tunnel sloped steeply down, carrying them deep underground. It extended far longer than any of them had thought possible. Measuring distance in a uniform tunnel was difficult, but Nick got the sense that they were well out from underneath the bar. It was always prudent to keep undead far away from the living. Most fighting pits ended because of an infection getting loose and running wild through the crowd. Nick couldn’t be sure, but he suspected the tunnel would seal off in such an event, leaving everyone below to fend for themselves until the incident petered out.

            Normally, undead fighting rings were nothing more than a dark room with a chain link cage and a few stands for people to sit in. Nick expected Martin to have more flair, but when the tunnel widened and revealed the entrance, he was dumbstruck. The walls and roof of the passage fell away sharply until they emerged into a massive antechamber filled with a bustling crowd. Above, Crystal lights swayed in the slight breeze of an air conditioner, sending crystalline motes of light skittering throughout a busy marketplace. Elaborate stalls and full-fledged shops had been set up flanking the long room, leading up to a large archway. Above it, a flashing neon sign read: ‘The Pits’.

            “Of course, Martin wouldn’t be pleased with any old fighting pit.” Looking around at the extravagant furnishings, he wondered if the same attention and monetary investment had been made to security. Martin was a skittish man, always trying to save his own skin. If nothing else, the penthouses would have built in panic rooms to ride out a contamination breakout, but Nick suspected the fans wouldn’t fare so well. He made a mental check of the exits, wanting a quick way out in case things went south. With Martin, they usually did.  

            “Holy hell, Nick.” James looked around the room in wide-eyed excitement. “I haven’t seen anything like this since…”

            “Yes, the black market you got us kicked out of. My mood will do better if you don’t keep reminding me.” There was little venom in the words. Even Nick was having trouble mustering vitriol. The crowded stalls selling mixes of snacks, souvenirs and undoubtedly illegal goods brought warmth to his heart. Strange smokey aromas wafted through the air and a rabble of bargaining, insults, and betting made a fitting chorus to match. Nothing could match the feeling of illegal commerce on a massive scale, and Nick tried to savor every moment of it. While the seedy underbelly of the world was almost always out to kill him, he couldn’t imagine a life without it.

            “It’s beautiful,” murmured Lopsang.

            “It’s highly illegal,” replied Shirley, keeping her voice low.

            “It’s perfect.” Nick hated to admit that Martin had done something right, but couldn’t help it. Together, the four of them walked into the bustling crowd, joining the rabble. To their right, a man had several cages with skeletal creatures chittering and scampering around inside. There were undead birds, dogs, cats, all manner of pets that could ruin a day with a single bite. James wandered over to the stand, perhaps feeling some kinship for other creatures that had died and returned. When he was less than ten feet from the cages, all the animals began to chitter, hoot and shriek, driving him backward.

            The shopkeeper, a gangly man with a wizard-like beard shooed James away. “If they don’t like you, I don’t like you!” He spat on the ground. “You’re banned.”

            James’s face flushed and he backed away.  

            Nick sighed. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

            “The paperwork I’m going to have to do for all of this.” Shirley’s voice held no awe for the surroundings and was instead filled with exhaustion.

            “Ah, ah, ah, you promised you’d be cool, Shirley. That means not sending corporate goons down here to break up this beautiful abomination.” It likely was a health hazard, but Nick didn’t want to be the one to bring it down.

            “Think they sell Witch’s brew?” asked Lopsang, half joking.

            Nick bit back vomit. “In a place like this, I’m sure they do, and I can’t even imagine what else they’re willing to proffer.” He did his best to focus on the task at hand, but every time he tried, something new in the room caught his eye. Nearby, a massive corpse with four heads was spit roasted and turning slowly over an open flame. A burly man in a black apron brought out a plastic jug filled with brown liquid and poured it slowly over the cooking meat.  

            “Is he cooking Cerberus?” asked James.

            “You don’t see that every day. Looks a bit better than the one we roasted in the sewers, doesn’t it?” Nick could still remember the stench from that night. Pumping a hell hound full of thermite next to a gas main was not an experience one forgot easily.

            James wrinkled his nose. “I’ll be honest, still smells the same.”

            Nick nodded in agreement. “But we have to try it, right?” His stomach practically cartwheeled away from the stand, but he held his ground. Pushing Shirley’s buttons took precedence over protecting his gut biome.

            “We are here on a mission,” reminded Shirley, looking momentarily stern. “But, if you think your stomachs can handle it, we might as well.”

            Nick felt regret and joy in the same instant. Whatever was in the Cerberus roast was likely to end poorly for all of them but seeing Shirley’s playful side again was a delight. The Sixth Side had a bad habit of breaking operatives of their most interesting characteristics. Every opportunity to bring back the curious tabloid reporter he had met in Clearwater was worth taking, even if it led to severe illness.

            “What’s the matter, Nick? I thought you were game for anything?” Shirley’s eyes pierced him.

            “Well, if our commanding officer is going to allow it, I guess we have to.” The four of them made their way to the stand. A wooden board was tacked up next to the meat with crude prices painted on it. Nick gave the man a small handful of bills, and in exchange, he returned with four shish kababs of blackened meat. Well done would have been the understatement of the century. The object in his hand might have at one point been meat, but at the moment, it had more in common with a charcoal briquette.  

            Lopsang took the first bite, and when his teeth pierced the skin, they made an audible crunch. He chewed, trying to get a mouthful, but found it difficult. After several gnashing attempts, he ripped a ragged hunk from the bone and chewed noisily. Near immediate nausea brimmed on his face.

The rest of the group followed suit and shared a look of revulsion. 

            “Alright, maybe just because it’s exotic, doesn’t mean it’s worth the time and effort.” Nick had killed one Cerberus before, and it had nearly returned the favor.

            “Yeah, I guess that comes from them being so damned quick. This is practically all gristle.” James dropped his kebab in the nearest trash bin, trying to do so out of the vendor’s sight. “Some things are just better left for the imagination.”

            While the meat was tough, Nick realized he was starving and did his best to swallow a few mouthfuls before ditching his own. Any sort of buffer between his stomach lining and the whiskey he had just consumed was a smart move. He could already feel the bile rising again, reminding him that his habit was a nasty one and his body desperately wanted him to quit. “Alright, Shirley, I got you in, now what?”

            Shirley chucked her kebab in the garbage. “Now, we find Martin and ask him a few questions about our friend The Read Death.”

            “Right, should be easy enough. Knowing Martin, he’s got a box overlooking the action, and he can’t resist a chat with an old friend.”

            “I thought you weren’t friends?”

            Nick mulled it over. “Fine, bitter enemies, but that should make things easier.” He pointed to a security camera hanging just above the kebab shop. “Martin likely already knows we’re here. Just in case, we have backup, right?”

            Shirley checked her cellphone. “No service, so nope. Looks like we’re shit out of luck until we miss the designated rendezvous time.”

            “Great, well if I end up in a fighting pit for this, one of you is coming with me.” Nick walked off in the direction of the roaring crowd.

Next Chapter