Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 104: Lucinda, The Harbinger of Death

Chapter 104: Lucinda, The Harbinger of Death

The moment the horn sounded, it was like a switch was flipped inside the guy in front of me.

He might have been begging me not to hurt him before, but now he was looking at me with a mindless rage that I had only seen on Père’s face a few times.

This man wanted to kill me, and he wouldn’t accept anything less.

Well, good for him.

He lunged forward like some sort of cartoon character, his right hand already cocked back in a fist. Not trying to disguise his attack, I scoffed at him. He was aiming at least three inches above my head. There was no way that fist was going to do any damage.

It turned out I was wrong.

With my new height, my opponent sent me flying back into the sands of the pit, the cartilage of my nose making a sickening, crunching sound. Blood poured free from my now broken nose as I shook my head.

Wiping my nose with my long sleeve shirt, I cocked my head to the side.

This was fucking bullshit.

I was going to have strong words with the doctor when I got out of the pit. Being tall was complete bullshit! That would teach me to try to change who I was, just to impress some guys that I might never see again.

But before I could correct my mistake, I was going to have to deal with the current situation.

Gripping my hands into a fist, I picked up two handfuls of sand. Coming to my feet, I waited until the man raced toward me for a second time, confident now that he had drawn first blood.

Ignoring the crowd around us, I narrowed my eyes. The man was like a bull, keeping his head down as he raced forward. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had never been in a fight before; his posture and tactics left a lot to be desired, but he had stupidity.

I would give him that.

His right fist was raised in the exact same way as it was for the first hit, and I understood that in his brain if it worked before, it would keep working.

However, I was going to have to show him the error in his ways.

Waiting until he was too far into the swing, I ducked under his arm, throwing the sand in my right hand into his eyes.

With a scream, the man dropped to the ground, clutching his eyes and rubbing them frantically.

I could speak from experience that that was the last thing he wanted to do, but I wasn’t about to offer any advice.

Seeing him on his knees, I raced toward his back, letting go of the second handful of sand. Instead, I climbed up his back, circling his waist with my legs. Reaching his neck, I quickly snaked my right forearm against his neck, locking it in with my left hand.

Rearing to his feet in panic, my opponent tried to fling me off of him. However, I was clinging to him like a baby monkey clung to his mother... and I wasn’t going anywhere.

Increasing the pressure against his neck, I watched with satisfaction as his face started to turn multiple shades of red and purple as I cut off his air. Of course, he continued to fight, but there was no point.

He was dead; we both knew it. It was just a matter of time.

Dropping to the ground once again, he rolled over on his back, trying to pin me under him. If he thought that his weight would be enough to make me think twice, he really didn’t understand how determined I was to live.

There was no way I was going to let myself die in this body, anyway.

Keeping my ankles locked together, I released my hold on his neck, letting him think that he might have a way out of this.

Taking his forehead and chin, I jerked my hands in opposite directions, breaking his neck in a single move.

The moment his neck was broken, his body relaxed completely. Pushing him off me, I rolled to my feet just as he defecated himself.

No one ever said that death was a pretty thing.

Wiping the last grain of sand off my hands, I looked up at the audience. They were silent. And I mean, so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Not a single person spoke as they stared at me.

"We..." started the announcer, clearly unsure as to what he was supposed to be doing. "We have a winner."

Rising my chin, I stared down the people who, just moments before, had been calling for my death.

"What is your name?" hissed my guard as he appeared in the pit beside me.

"Call me Luci," I smiled at him.

I hadn’t been called Luci in 13 years, not since the last time I had seen Maman. I much preferred to be called Hattie, but I wasn’t going to taint my memories with the guys. I wasn’t going to be all excited every time I heard that name called.

So, Luci, it was.

"Luci?" asked the guard, clearly confused. "Please tell me that it is short for something?!?"

"Lucinda," I sighed, rolling my eyes. How on earth would anyone ever consider Lucinda a good name for a child, I would never know. Then again, Hagatha wasn’t much better.

I think Maman was going through a phase when she had me.

"Your winner, Lucinda, the Harbinger of Death!" screamed my guard, holding up my hand.

As soon as he announced my name, the crowd burst into cheers. Coins were being thrown down at my feet as those who had bet on me to win raked in a landfall. Those that didn’t threw curses and threats instead.

"Collect the coins; they can pay for your meal. It’s two coins for a bun, three coins for a bit of meat, and four coins for some porridge. Eat up; your next round is going to be starting soon."

The man, whose name I still didn’t know, stared to me with dead, glassy eyes as I bent down to pick up the money his death had earned me.

"Don’t worry," murmured the guard, helping me pick up the coins. "The first death is always the hardest."

"I wouldn’t know," I shrugged. "I never found it overly hard myself."

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