900 Miles: A Zombie Novel (19 page)

He then took us by the Communications studio, which he explained was connected to a one hundred foot tower on a hilltop five miles away.  The whole thing was designed to allow communication with what was left of the population after
a nuclear strike.

Funny thing about that, I thought. Who the hell would be left to communicate with, radioactive mutants?

I noticed that every hallway had a digital LED clock blinking the time in red.  Jarvis saw me glancing at it.

“They are to keep people oriented to night and day.  It gets confusing living underground.”

My thoughts momentarily carried me to the Morlocks from H.G. Wells, “Time Machine.”

As we began heading towards what Jarvis explained was the sleeping quarters, he said,

“The three of you can share a room.  There are three beds per an Elite Suite, which is the ticket you have. You should be a hell of a lot more cozy in there than with the general commoner population.”  He winked and smiled at Michael as he spoke. Michael nodded back.

Kyle and I were just taking it in.  Jarvis turned to face Michael directly, adding,

“Gordon sends his apologies, but he has urgent business at the moment.  He’ll meet all three of you for dinner in the great hall.”

“No problem,” Michael said
casually. “I know he’s a busy guy.  Tell him to take his time.”

I felt lost. I wanted to know just what the hell was going on.
Filled with questions, I finally asked, “What is with everybody knowing about this place?  It’s big, but you’re clearly not giving away tickets.”  I could hear the tension in my own voice, and made an effort to correct it with the gesture of a smile. If my life was to be trusted to these people, I needed to know what I was dealing with.

Jarvis paused, smiled, and stated that the organization needed skilled labor.  Most of the Elite clientele did not have the desire or skills to raise exterior walls, guard the city
, or keep the facility running.

“Besides,” he continued amiably
, “we all need a little pampering.  We’re working towards acquiring some of the more creature comfort services like massage therapists and personal assistants.”

“Gordon and the other private owners spread the word in the initial days of the outbreak via Youtube, twitter
, and a bunch of other social networks, that Avalon would provide safety, which we do, as long as you work and obey the rules.”

“Rules?” Kyle asked
cocking his head up.

“Yes, rules.  I almost forgot...” Jarvis became more serious. “We have three no-exception rules here at Avalon. One, no commoner will ever strike, hurt, maim or kill an Elite customer. Penalty is the Arena. Two, no commoner will ever be allowed a free ride. You must work to be able to stay. Penalty of non-compliance is the Arena. And three, inability to pay for Elite rates, makes you a commoner. Of course, the three of you know this already. You read the agreement before you signed and paid.
”

Michael smiled and
said, “Of course.”

With that, Jarvis stopped in front of a metal door. With a genial smile, he,
cheerfully said, “This is your new home.”

Michael thanked him,
and then the three of us stepped into the room.  Jarvis bid us good day, with the reminder that he’d be back shortly to escort us to dinner in the great hall.

Once the door closed, Kyle and I glared at Michael.  “Who is Gordon, and what the hell is the Arena?”

Has anybody explained the Arena to you?

Michael didn’t answer at first.  His gaze was drawn into the room that we would now be calling home, even if it was just for a short time.

I didn’t know what to expect.  I think we all would have been happy with a few bunk beds, and a closet
where we could hang our respective white jump suits.

This room was a palace, filled with three beds, a large TV stand, which held a much larger than needed TV, and a closet that I think probably could have held another two or three people.

All I owned at that moment was the silly white jump suit.

One of the walls contained a mirror; another had what looked like expensive wall art that featured various trees, oceans and lakes.

We looked around in uncertainty, wondering what our next move would be.

I walked over and hit the power button to the TV.  It flickered for a moment, and then the flat screen turned on.  The scene
was broadcast to look like a window, facing out towards a lake with birds flying by from time to time.  It was some sort of continuous loop made to make you feel like you could see out into the wild.  So much for the television.

Kyle walked over to the couch opposite the TV and flopped heavily
onto it.  Lifting his feet up on a mahogany coffee table, he exclaimed,

“This is livin’
.” A big smile lit up his face as he pulled his arms up and placed his hands on the back of his head.  Michael and I chuckled.

“What is that?” Kyle asked
, pointing past his raised feet.  Sitting on the table was a basket. It was filled with canned fruits and meats and had what looked like a letter sitting next to it.

Michael reached down and grabbed it.  Picking off a wax seal, which had the letter “A” pressed into it, he pulled a piece of paper from the envelope.  It read:

Hey, Bud, hope you like the new digs.  I know how much you like the outdoors.  We didn’t spare any expense in furnishing the place to help ease the assimilation.  The TV is the biggest in the place!  Our most loyal friends get the best of everything.  Don’t forget to look in the dresser.  Welcome to Avalon.  Let’s catch up at dinner.  - Gordon

Kyle stood up and went to the dresser.  Sitting in the first drawer were our once blood covered, filthy clothes. They had been completely cleaned and pressed.  Michael’s shirt, with the hole in it from the helicopter accident, had been thrown away and replaced by one that looked similar, only more expensive.

“The Troopers outside are assholes, but once you get in here, this place is quite nice,” Michael said as if apologizing for the intrusion.

“So, how do you know Gordon?” I asked, eyeing the television again.

“I’ve never actually met him.” Michael’s voice was quiet.

“How the hell does he know so much about you?” Kyle perked up.

“I have no idea.” Michael frowned worriedly. “I think he is the owner of the place.  I know that it’s his name on all the paperwork I had to fill out.  I just don’t know how he would know me.  I have never seen the guy.”

“What is the Arena?” I
demanded more strongly.

“I actually have no clue about that, either.  At the moment, you know as much as I do. I’ve just been paying into a “save my ass in case of emergency” fund for years. This is what I get out of it.  We’ll have to find out at dinner.”

“The Arena sounds like some medieval shit,” Kyle said. His voice, though guarded, held a touch of excitement. I couldn’t quite share the same feeling.

“Agreed, and what’s with the rules?  I like to pretend that I’m one of the “Elite” and all, but let’s face it, without your ticket, I’m might as well be out there working on the wall
.”

“
I’m learning as you are,” Michael soothed. It wasn’t helping.

“How long is the ticket good for?” Kyle added.

“I think it’s good forever,” Michael replied.

“Think?  Think?
Think
seems like you
don’t know
,” Kyle challenged.

“Listen, I’ll talk to Gordon, and figure everything out.”  Michael played a little defense.  “Remember: trust me.  I’ve gotten us this far. Could be a hell of a lot worse.” He pointed around the room.  “I’m going to bring up getting some resources to help you find your family and friends. Hang in there.”

We did.  We hung in there for a few hours.  There wasn’t much else to do. We changed out of the silly white outfits, and into our own clean clothes.

Sitting on the dresser were a number of books.  Not a library by any means, but around ten to fifteen different novels.
There were a few suspense stories, a love story or two, but the most ironic of all was a novel called, “Return of the Living Dead.” It was a novel based on the classic zombie movie from the 1980’s.

I was starting to get sick of the same little, brown bird flying across the TV screen when we heard a knock at the door.

Michael laid down the love story he was reading, got up from his bed, and walked to the door.  He looked back at the two of us with an unmistakable look of concern, which at the time I didn’t understand, and then turned to open the door, greeting Jarvis.

“Hello, gentlem
en.”

We all nodded towards him.

“It’s time for dinner.  Follow me, please.  Gordon is eager to meet the three of you.” We followed him into the long hallway.  The lights had a green tint, leaving everybody looking a shade sicker than they actually were.  In any other circumstance, I might have found that funny.

We continued around the corner, past the Communications room, and up to a large metal door. It had a large circle
doorknob.  You had to turn it with both hands to open, and Jarvis actually asked for assistance from Kyle. I would have laughed at that, too, but I was too on edge.

As the door cracked forward, we started to hear laughter and chatter.  When it was fully open, we could see roughly seventy people sitting at a table in a large open room.

The circular table was gigantic, catching my attention. There were servants bringing food to the people whom were already seated.

With all the food in the room, I expected to be overwhelmed by the smells.  However, canned foods don’t have the same kinds of smells as home cooked foods.  This whole place ran on canned or dried foods. I was already getting tired of it.

As soon as we were noticed, the room went quiet. Jarvis led us to three open spots on the far side of the table at the opposite side of the room.

I was reminded of a time when I was in college, before I met Jenn.  I left a girl
’s dorm room after a one night stand early one morning and had to pass about twenty girls eating breakfast.  They all stopped and looked at me the same way.  Accusing eyes.

Michael was playing it cool.  He nodded his head, acted like he belonged.  Little did we know what was about to unfold.

Jarvis motioned for us to step towards the chairs.  I couldn’t place it at the time, but I noticed that he didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of this group.  They didn’t make eye contact with him, or even acknowledge that he was there.

Each of us got to our chairs, pulled them out and stood there, feeling like idiots.  A taller guy
sitting next to where Michael was standing, who to my surprise was dressed in a turtleneck, jeans and a blazer, spoke.

“Have a seat, gentlem
en.”

As one, we sat down.

The man with the turtleneck, who appeared to be in his forties with prematurely grey hair and two to three day stubble, motioned with his hand.

“Welcome to Avalon.  This is the Round Table.”

Michael made eye contact, and replied, “Thank you. I’m assuming you’re, Gordon?”

“Why yes, of course, I’m Gordon.”  He paused.
“You must be, Michael.”

“Yes.  It’s great to finally meet
you,” Michael replied. He looked as if he should shake hands but was uncertain if that was proper. Gordon smiled, looking Michael up and down.

Kyle and I sat there watching.  There was something uncomfortable about the conversation.

“You’re late, one of the last to arrive.  We started to think the worst,” Gordon said.

“Yes, well, my helicopter went down.  These two pulled me from the wreckage and saved my life.” He nodded towards Kyle and
me. Gordon leaned forward, looking around Michael at us, and then sat back.

“Looks like you’re a lucky man, Michael,” he said
. “Not too many heroes out there these days.  Tough to find a man who will pull you out of trouble.”

“You’re telling me!  I had a hole the size of a quarter in my stomach.  These guys patched me up and helped me start to he
al,” Michael said in a sharp exhale.

The rest of the people in the room were silent, listening intently to the conversation.  For the first time, I noticed that the room was made up of all men. There was a guy a few people to my left with a smile on his face, like he was in on a joke that nobody else got.

“So glad you could get here. Has anybody explained the Arena to you?” Gordon asked.

“Nope,” Michael said.  Kyle and I shook our heads as if on the same puppeteer strings.

“Oh, I see. Well good.  You’re in for a treat.  We really have pulled something special together here at Avalon.” Gordon exclaimed, looking out at his friends around the table, as they all shared a small laugh.

“You see,” Gordon went on in a lively
, yet almost sinister tone, “we’ve created a unique world.  In just days, we’ve built a society that is being run as it always should have been.  A world focused on the Elite, with commoners who work for the privilege of life.  Gone are the days where poverty destroys this world.  Gone are the days of handouts and free rides.  The poor were the first to go in this reckoning.   The people who want to work to survive are the ones we will allow to co-exist here with us.”