A Midnight Duel

{written to commemorate a memeroble, real time duel between myself and the Malton Marshal known as Ghost Guard.}

I step outside onto the ledge. The walls around me drop down 15 feet to the alley below. But I do not want to go there. Eying the alley way I estimate the distance to the other window across from me. My Spartan pride does not allow me to coward in the dark club behind me, and I nimbly jump across to Ashcroft Library. Landing on the other side I wince in pain ad my ankle protests the jump. Bloody ruins, most days they are more dangerous then the zombies. Pausing for a second I listen to see if my jump attracted any attention. Zombies moan distantly, but they are not a concern to me. I listen for the bounty hunters tracking me. My activities recently have caused a bit of commotion, as have my fellow murders. Stansbury Village is thick with law enforcement tonight.

Ducking into the small window, I find myself standing ontop of a book shelf. Carefully dropping to the floor I pause and allow my eyes to adjust to the dim light. Moonlight pours through the glass windows of the ceiling. Through the center of the building are low study tables, flanked by rows upon rows of book shelves. Walking to the end of the row, I turn the book shelf. I freeze when I see him.

He is standing across the room, waiting for me. I don’t know how he tracked me, how he knew I would pass through here. But there he is. Ghost Guard. Malton does not have many competent bounty hunters, but he is one of the best. He smiles.

“Magnar, I have been expecting you. The blood of innocents stain your hands and you have sins to atone for.”

“You are wrong Slave. My hands are stained with the filth I have disposed of. Tell me Ghost, how many of them were your friends?”

We walk toward each other, carefully eying each other and the various weapons we are packing. His Marshal badge glimmers briefly in the moonlight.

We pause with half the building between us.

“Rest assured Spartan, they will rest easy tonight knowing that justice had been served.”

Out of the corner of my eye I spot movement. I quickly look, suspecting that Ghost Guard had brought company. However, it is not more law enforcement with pistols trained on me, but my King. Only known as Toothdecay, he is the only law I follow in Malton. For a moment our eyes lock and I know that he will not come to my aid. He has come to watch, and expects to see a good show. Turning back to look at Ghost Guard I take a deep breath and silently promise him I wont let him down.

“Well Spartan, shall we get this over with? When I am done with you I can deal with your King over there.”

Without realizing how moves first, we both start charging each other. With the first step I realize I had forgotten about my sprained ankle. Pain shoots up my leg, but I force it back down. There will be time for that later. Ghost Guard bring his hand up, a pistol in his hand. I dodge to the side, bringing my shotgun to bear on him. His shot tears through my side, the flak jacket I am wearing sparing me from some of the damage. My shot catches him squarely in the chest, and though I see him wince in pain he keeps coming. He steps to the side just as my next shot gets off, missing him cleanly. The bookcase behind him evaporates into a cloud of paper confetti and he is on me.

His jacket tangles with my gun and my next shot is wide again. I step to the side to dodge his shot, but I do not hear it. Rather, I feel his pistol comes across and snap me across the jaw. A pistol whip, I was not expecting that. Sharp pain runs through my head and I nearly drop down there. Surely a lesser warrior would have, which was surely his aim. Head still spinning, I roll off him and free my gun. Next shot hits him squarely in his chest and he discards his empty pistol. As I tack him with my next shot I wonder what happened to his other shots. Time slows down and I see him pull a shotgun out. Our shots are fired at the same time, and they are both direct hits. The blow knocks me back over a table.

My vision blocked by the table, I cant see him. Next shot goes wide, and he fires right through the table. I am showered with splinters and can feel the shot hit my back. The thought crosses my mind that I cant take too many more hits and my thoughts race to the lone med kit I had been carrying. Not enough time. Another shotgun is emptied into him as another shot hits my shoulder. Then I realize he is back to his second pistol. We both overturn tables for shelter and there is a brief pause in the battle.

I count my rounds as I hear a fresh pistol clip slide into place across the room.

We both come up at the same time. My round tears through his shoulder and I feel his bullet pass into my leg. I fear again and hear a empty click. Again, another click. Then I realize my shotgun is out of ammo. It has been a long time since I have fired so instinctively in battle, I was not even keeping track of my shots.

Dropping back behind my table I hear more rounds fly over my head. I take a deep breathe and calm myself down. Pulling out my pistol I smile to myself. Perhaps tonight I shall get a beautiful death. My foe was worthy and fights well.

Time slows again as I rise up. First thing I see is him dropping the remains of a med kit. Worthy foe indeed, he had taken the lull of the battle to heal himself. We both fire and I watch the shot slowly travel across the room. My shot lands, his misses. I calmly land shots in both shoulders, then his knees. His shots continue to wirr around me, passing close by but never touching. Finally I land the shot I was going for. The round passes cleanly through his head. Time resumes and he falls to the ground.

Limping across the wrecked library and a pool of somebodys blood, I realize how close it had been. If a few more shots of his hand landed, he could have very well landed the killing blow first. His pulse is silent, the honorable enemy lies in his own blood. I walk over to my King again and he slowly nods his approval. Then his eyes look back behind me and I turn.
Ghost Guard had stood up.

No longer human.

A zombie.

Twenty feet from me, no reason for the pistol. I pull out my knife which had not yet drank tonight. Let him come to me, zombies are far easier opponents then Marshals.

But he doesn’t come. His lifeless eyes look across to me, yet I see thought stirring behind them. He opens his mouth and I sense the groan coming. Not a feeding groan, his eyes till me that. A moan of submission and acceptance.

The syringe flies right on target into his neck. He blinks. His undead mind was not able to register me pulling it out and throwing it as a dart into his throat. Not fast enough.

He falls to his knees as the serum starts its work. I walk over to him and pull the syringe out.

“You are a worthy foe Ghost Guard. It would be a waste to have you stuck in such a pitiful form.”

His mouth slowly opens to mouth it, but I do not let him. I turn around and walk to the door. Stopping to look back I see he has collapsed to the ground. In a few hours he will rise up a human again, and just as deadly as before. Bracing my back against a bookshelf, my King nods his approval. Weakened from the fight, it takes all my strength to send the bookshelf crashing. When Ghost Guard rises a Marshal again, his first official task will be to dig out of a grave of books. I want time to heal and be ready to fight him again.