“A ZOMBIE! OHHH FUUUUUCK!”
Stating the obvious, but it was the only thing that popped into mind when that snapping, foot-dragging eyeless piece of shit came around the bend.
“GAAAAAAAAA!”
Someone had recently fought with this zombie and lost. Between the missing eye and the freshly torn clothes, he was in really bad shape, cosmetically speaking. Energy-wise, though, he was ready to rumble. Ten out of ten on the enthusiasm scale.
And I was the one in front. First in line for a good ol’-fashioned zombie mauling.
I pleaded, “Kate? Could you hand me my stuff?”
Kate handed me a pouch, and I rummaged around in it. No stun gun. Where was my—
“Sorry, I left the backpack way back there,” Kate apologized. “You said food and water only!”
The only weapons at my disposal were Clif Bars, two Camelbak water bottles, and a Strawberry Kiwi Capri Sun.
“GAAAAAAAAA!” Cyclops zombie cried out again, lurching forward just enough to make me scuttle back. Feet sliding, I sent stones off the cliff.
My breathing shortened and turned into little pants. A wave of nausea hit, and my legs went rubbery. “Kate?” I wheezed. “Do you still have a stun gun?”
“Yes. But are you okay to handle it?”
Meaning, could I remain steady enough to blast Cyclops instead of electrifying myself by mistake, or losing my balance and falling to my death? Probably not. I rubbed my eyes, an attempt to clear the fear-onset blurriness.
We didn’t have much time. Cyclops took firm, confident steps toward us. Stomp, stomp. Gaaaaaah! Stomp, stomp. Gaaaaaaah! He was maybe thirty feet away, tops.
“Kate, do you have your pyro shit?”
“What do you mean, my pyro—”
“Your fire shit! The shit you use to make fires?” This was no time for eloquence. I needed her fire shit. NOW.
Behind me, she dug deep into her backpack. “Here.” She handed me matches and a lighter. My plan was to take off my shirt, set it on fire, and throw it at him. At best, that would give us more time to think. If he kept coming, I’d zap him. Who knew. I wasn’t exactly in a prime decision-making state.
I tore off my outer layer shirt and put a flame at the seam, but it wouldn’t light. Stupid REI poly-techno-ultra-moisture-wick-featherweight piece of unflammable garbage!
Kate threw me her Team Magenta shirt. One hundred percent cotton. Flammable. Disposable. And the ultimate symbol that our partnership was dead. My team shirt was buried at the bottom of my abandoned backpack. Was leaving it behind that much different than setting it ablaze? I turned my back to her so she couldn’t see the sadness in my eyes when I ignited her shirt.
I held it above me like the Olympic torch and tossed it over to the zombie. It landed by his feet, stopping his movement, but not catching him on fire.
Kate shoved a bottle in my hand. “Hand sanitizer!”
“For what? Germs?”
She unscrewed the top, and it clicked. Nate, you idiot. Accelerant. Of course! Like a shitty Molotov cocktail.
Slightly unsteady, I heaved it squarely at the zombie’s chest.
Or, at least, that’s where I aimed.
The bottle clinked against the zombie’s groin, splattering the disinfectant all over his lower extremities, then fell into the scorching shirt blaze. Instantly, his junk lit on fire, as did the bottom half of his body. In a cloud of black smoke, the zombie stumbled back three giant steps, then deactivated and crumpled to the ground. The inferno spread to his midsection, up the neck, and melted part of his face before it died down enough for me to stomp it out.
The putrid smell of burned plastic and electrical fire filled my nose. Tears pricked my burning eyes. Breathing deeply and steadily had already been difficult enough, and now acrid pollution filled the air. By sheer luck, the breeze changed course and blew the black smoke away from us. But the unforgettable smell was still there, in my nose, in my lungs. It would never leave me.
The zombie was too heavy to move, or more accurately, I was too weak to move it. When the zombie cooled down enough, I stepped over him. Kate took her turn, and at the exact moment she was on top of it, I scoffed, “So you could have crawled on me after all!”
She shook her head. “You’re way bigger than this guy. And please, no ‘that’s what she said’ jokes.”
Damn it.
Up past the zombie obstacle, the path widened. Kate cheered, “Hey, look! We have maybe fifty yards left to go on this trail!”
We’d come this far, and so much was at stake. Winning the money and fulfilling our dreams was still top of mind. The whole fear of heights setback was a minor blip in this competition. I had to make it. For Kate.
I turned to face her. “Yeah. Apparently, the zombie distraction technique works wonders.”
We approached a sizable gap between our cliff and the next cliff that lead to the end of the journey.
We needed to jump to the other ledge.
But one slip meant instant death.
Oh, hell no.
I backed up straight into Kate. The Clif Bar wrappers in my sling pouch crunched against her face.
“Owww!” she yelled, pinching her nose.
Not even a simple “sorry” came to mind. My entire body screamed for me to continue retreating. That’s all I had on my mind. Back, back, back. Go back times infinity.
Kate came around to my side. “Oh no,” she squeaked as she peered at the new obstacle.
“I know,” I managed to say. Take a deep breath, Nate. Calm down. Inhale. Exhale.
“At least the path’s wider over there?” she said, scrunching her shoulders.
BZZZZZ!
My eyes popped open. A new message.
THREE CONTESTANTS REMAINING. GOOD LUCK!
Behind us, the German came around the bend, taking microsteps with his back against the rocky wall. With grimace stamped all over his face, he was almost as scared of heights as me.
“Nate, we have to go. We can’t let that guy win,” Kate urged.
Oh yeah? Tell that to my hammering heart. My vomity stomach. My legs cemented to this spot.
“I can’t.” The mounting pressure was too much. Taking off the wristband would end everything. The rescue people would come get me. I’d still get some money. But I wouldn’t win. But…I would also not be hanging on to a precipice for dear life after misjudging my ability to long jump to another cliff.
“You can. You will. We can’t quit now.” She walked up to the gap, studied it a few moments, and came back. “It’s only like fifteen inches. You can do it, even with your eyes closed.”
I shook my head no.
The German inched closer. A booming voice behind us yelled, “Only you two are left?”
We turned to face him. He was still clinging to the cliff wall, refusing to look outward to the forest by facing his head toward us, but he was gaining speed. Color had returned to his grayish, sunken face as he shimmied our way, where the path was broader.
Each step he took showed confidence. Arrogance. Victory. With his left hand, he fished into his pocket and pulled out a stun gun. MY stun gun, from my backpack. On his belt, my small pocketknife hung from a large carabiner. My parents had given it to me when I’d earned my Eagle Scout Award.
Kate said, “We can do this.”
Anger flooded my body. Fuck this guy. “Okay. You lead.”
We walked to the crevice, and she yelled, “One! Two!” before I could warn her that she’d miscalculated her fifteen inches. It was almost two feet.
“THREE!”
Her hand in mine, I held my breath.
We jumped.
Kate’s dismount on the other side was graceful. Her feet landed nearly together. Barely kicked up any dirt. She smiled.
Me? I had to let go of her hand because my forward momentum cannoned me to the ground, and my knees skid like a plane landing with no wheels down a runway. If I’d held my arms out, it would’ve added the full effect.
Brushing my pants off, I assessed the damage. My knees and palms were skinned, but that was infinitely better than free-falling to my death.
“You okay?” I asked Kate.
“Yeah. Now you owe me for keeping you in the game,” she said.
“I also owe you an apology. For leaving you in the cave. I was such an idiot, to think I could do any of this alone. I’m…so sorry.”
My wristband buzzed. KATE CANNOT WIN. IF YOU STAY A TEAM AND YOU BOTH WIN, YOU WILL BOTH BE DISQUALIFIED.
That message had been for me, and only me. A reminder that he was watching me. And a reminder of what I needed to do.