“Next up we have trapeze artists,” Kinslow said after a short break while the bodies were being cleared from the ring.
A dozen zombies in spandex costumes were led forward and lured up rope ladders on opposite sides of the big top by a pair of whistle-blowing mutants—the girl called Claudia, and a man.
“These were all skilled performers in life,” Kinslow explained to Cat. “It took us ages to track them down. We want to see how they fare in death, if they can do what they did when they were alive.”
“I doubt they can,” Cat said.
“Probably not,” Kinslow agreed. “But it’ll be fun to find out.”
When the undead trapezists were in place, the mutant to Cat’s left directed the first of them towards the trapeze and placed it in the zombie’s hand. The zombie did nothing, just stared at the trapeze cluelessly. At a grunt from Mr. Dowling, the mutant pushed the zombie forward.
The trapezist didn’t get very far before losing his grip and crashing to the ground, where he mewled with pain as bones snapped all over his body.
To Cat’s right, Claudia set the first of her performers in motion, and this one fared no better than the first.
The third actually held on for a while and swung gracefully back and forth. Then, as a dim memory kicked in, he let go and tried to do a somersault. He fell more heavily than the first two and landed on his head, which shattered like a melon, destroying his brain and ending his life. But he received a standing ovation from the mutants, who appreciated the effort.
After another abject failure, the mutants on the platforms set two of the trapezists off at the same time. They clashed midair and fell in a tangled heap. The next pair followed suit, but the last two performed more admirably. As they soared towards one another, the one to Cat’s right let go of its bar and reached out to the zombie on Cat’s left.
Since the second zombie was still clinging to his bar, he wasn’t able to catch the first zombie, who landed in a broken mess on the hard floor of the tent. But the remaining zombie kept swinging, and as he sailed from one side to the other, he pulled himself up, locked his legs around the bar, then hung down and stretched out his arms to catch a fellow performer who was no longer there.
The mutants fell silent as they watched the lone, lonely zombie swinging in the air, reaching out towards a forever absent partner.
“It’s sad,” Kinslow muttered.
“No it’s not,” Cat snorted. “It’s ridiculous.”
“You don’t feel any sympathy for him?” Kinslow scowled.
“He’s a brain-eating monstrosity,” Cat snarled. “Pity is wasted on the likes of him.”
“Maybe,” Kinslow shrugged as the mutant on the platform hauled in the zombie and helped him from the trapeze, before leading him back down the rope ladder to be set free. “But those who can’t find pity within themselves for the lost can hardly expect to be granted any when their own time of judgment comes.”
“What do you mean?” Cat snapped, frightened by the mutant’s cold tone.
“Hush,” Kinslow said in response. “Here comes the next act. And this one’s a doozy.”