Michael Ford - Z

“Yeah,” said Freya. “When Stash did his first run, he saw the z and just about burned my hair off.”

Stash spat a shell toward Freya. “My meatbag was way scarier than his,” he said sullenly.

The others laughed, and Josh saw Stash shoot him a look. I don’t think he and I are going to be best buds, he thought.

“So, Josh, do you want to join our merry band?” Clatter asked.

Josh nodded. “But I still don’t really get what you all do. This seems like a lot of work just to play the game.”

“Ah,” said Clatter. “That’s very perceptive of you. You’re quite right. But you see, this is more than just a game.”

“I don’t understand,” Josh said.

Clatter came closer. “Before I explain further, I require your promise that whatever is said here remains here.”

“Sure,” Josh said.

Clatter cocked his head. “I’m very serious,” he said. “Don’t answer lightly. Should you break your promise, the ramifications are very… unfortunate.”

“He means if you shoot your mouth off about this, we’ll make sure your reputation in the game community is dirt,” Seamus said.

Josh hesitated. They were taking everything really seriously for it being a game. He wondered if he’d gotten himself in over his head. But it didn’t seem like he could back out now. “It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t talk.”

“Excellent,” said Clatter. “Because Seamus is right. I’ve invested a great deal in this operation, and there are people who would dearly love to know how I’ve achieved what I have. It’s a business, and a very lucrative one.”

“A business,” Josh repeated. “You mean people pay to play it? To play against us?”

“Actually, they pay to watch you play it,” said Clatter. “And they make bets as to who will make the most kills in a game.”

“Gambling,” Josh said.

“I prefer to call it wagering,” said Clatter. “It’s more… civilized. We hold games, and people come to watch them. They place bets on the team as a whole or on individual players.”

“Or on the meatbags,” Stash added.

“Or on the zombies,” Clatter agreed.

Josh thought about this for a moment. “But if you make the zombies and you own the team, how do the gamblers know you haven’t rigged everything?”

“The wagerers ,” said Clatter, “have generally had other dealings with me. They know me to be a man in whom they can place the utmost trust.”

“And it’s all legal?” Josh asked. “I won’t get into any trouble?”

Clatter smiled. “I admit that not every aspect of my operation is, shall we say, completely approved by the authorities. As you know, the topic of zombies is a very touchy one. I’m afraid there are some people who—if they knew about this—would call for us to be shut down due to their own ignorance and fear. But I assure you that I take very good care of my team. You have no need to worry.” He paused for a moment. “And of course you will share in the rewards of our success.”

“You mean I’ll get paid?” said Josh, surprised.

Clatter nodded. “As a junior member of the team, you’ll receive base pay of two percent of the take. In addition, you will receive a bonus for each zombie you dispatch during a game. And occasionally a wagerer will take a liking to a particular player and tip handsomely.”

“Wow,” Josh said. “Getting paid to play the game. That’s pretty cool.”

“We generally play one or two times a week,” Clatter continued. “I arrange the games so they interfere with your outside life as little as possible.”

Josh shrugged. “I guess I don’t have any reason to say no,” he said. “I’m in.”

A smile spread across Clatter’s face. “I’m very pleased to hear it,” he said. “Welcome to the team.”

The others came and one by one shook his hand. When it was Stash’s turn he gripped Josh’s fingers tightly and gave them a painful squeeze, smiled stiffly, and said, “Good to have you.” Everyone else seemed genuinely glad to have him aboard.

After Josh had been given an electronic-reader card containing a handbook to study, he and Charlie left the building together. This time they exited through a door that led to the back of a warehouse filled with boxes marked TEA.

“There are a dozen or so ways in and out,” Charlie explained as they made their way to the street. “Some of them are in the handbook, but some you’ll only find out about when somebody shows you. By the way, make sure you memorize the handbook. You’ll have to give it back next time we meet.”

“Tell me how you started playing,” Josh said.

“Bess recruited me,” Charlie answered. “We played together in a hologame group.”

“How long have you been doing it?”

“About a year,” she said.

“And the others?” asked Josh. “Have they all been playing that long?”

Charlie shook her head. “They come and go,” she told him. “People burn out or move away. The only ones still here from when I joined are Scrawl and Bess.”

“Scrawl seems like an interesting guy,” said Josh.

“He used to be a tagger,” said Charlie. “A graffiti artist. That’s how he got his nickname. Clatter caught him tagging one of his buildings and trained him to be a Torcher. He’s nice like that. I know Clatter looks kind of weird, but he’s been great to me.”

“I don’t think Stash likes me much,” Josh admitted.

Charlie laughed. “Stash doesn’t like anybody. Or at least he pretends not to. I think really he just doesn’t know how to have friends. His family is kind of messed up. His dad is in prison for murder, and his mom is a drunk. He’s the youngest of six kids. The others all left, and he’s the one looking out for his mother. So don’t take it personally. He’s just not good at trusting people.”

“It sounds like there are a lot of stories on the team,” Josh said.

“There are,” said Charlie. “Finnegan and Seamus had a little trouble with setting things on fire and ended up in juvie. Clatter managed to get them out. They live with him, and he’s teaching them all about robotics. Freya’s dad is an ambassador. She got kicked out of three or four boarding schools, so now she lives with her dad, but he’s never around, and he has no idea whether she’s home or not.”

“And Black-Eyed Susan?”

“Bess?” Charlie said. “She’s kind of a mystery. No one really knows where she lives. Personally, I think she’s a runaway.”

“So what’s your story?”

Charlie grinned. “Mine’s pretty boring. Family I like. Good grades. No sociopathic tendencies. I’m just really good at playing the game.”

“Same here,” Josh said. “I guess we’re the token normals.”

They stopped in front of a subway entrance. “This is me,” she said. “Go home and read the manual. Com me if you have any questions. Clatter will let us know when the next game is.”

“Will do,” said Josh. “Oh, and thanks for inviting me to play. This is going to be fun.”

Charlie smiled. “It will be better than anything you could ever imagine,” she said.

Josh slipped the card into his reader and waited for it to load. Ever since he got home, he’d been dying to look at the manual, but first he’d had to sit through dinner with his family, and then he’d had to do his math homework. But now all that was done, and he could devote his attention to more interesting matters.

The first section was standard Torcher information, basically an outline of the Rules. Josh already knew these by heart, so he skipped ahead to the next section, which was a description of the various zones in the playing field. In addition to the underground area in the Docklands, Clatter had set up three or four smaller fields throughout the city. One of them used the maze of underground tunnels beneath the abandoned Central Station, another was laid out in the ruins of the Great Park at the northern tip of the city.