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Skin Head doubled over bleeding, and the kid walked, he didn’t run he walked, into the cage and pressed the button. The cage was drawn up, and the finale horn sounded, signaling the end of the race, and drawing every zombie in earshot to where the two helpless men lay. Muscles was already bleeding out, so they tore into him quickly, but the preacher made it a solid day before the dead caught him trying to bandage his broken ankle. None of the other contestants even made it close to the exit gate, and all of their demises were caught in 1080P.

The prizes were simple at first. Freedom and amnesty for whatever you did to get into the race, but as the race evolved, so did the prizes. When people began to volunteer, we had to up the ante: A fully stocked and secure domicile for anyone who finished first. Those who didn’t finish generally joined the ranks of the antagonists in my little game. Also, anyone who didn’t finish didn’t complain, and were in some ways out of their misery.

Of course if we upped the ante, we had to up the game, so we added a few things. Traps mostly. Ingenious traps. After the second race, we had a small army of people in the secured Capitol Records Building working the show. These people had wonderful ideas, and I must say, I am glad I found them and hired them.

The traps couldn’t be ridiculous or unfair; no bouncing betties or claymores. No snipers on the roofs waiting to shoot a contestant either. Actually, the city and walls are abound with snipers, but if they fire on a contestant that isn’t breaking the rules, they would find themselves in the very next race. But bear traps in doorways? Sharp sticks or jagged metal smeared with zombie goo?  Pressure plates attached to battery powered sirens in a poorly defensible location? Yes these people were geniuses, and those traps were damned effective. One of the best traps ever was a simple zip line. This little guy was on a roof with a dozen of the flesh eaters stumbling after him. He had nowhere to go until he saw the cable. He grabbed the little wheel thing and tried to get to the roof of the building next to him forty feet away. Here’s where the clever part comes in: the line didn’t break like you’re thinking.  It stopped him half way. Just auto applied breaks that wouldn’t release. Now the poor guy is hanging fifty feet up, with twenty feet of space between him and either building, zombies where he came from, zombies below, and now they’re starting to come onto the roof in front of him. He’s screwed right? Wrong.  He climbs up on that wire and stays there for a solid ten hours. The camera feed was one of the longest watched in the history of the race. Just that guy hanging there, tied to the wire by his belt. Finally he shimmies down the line close enough that the zombies can almost reach him. Then he starts to goad them and damn if they don’t fall over the edge trying to get a taste. Four of the dead things just go over like lemmings, and this guy gets off of the line, puts his belt back on and gives the nearest camera the finger.

That guy won that race.

I spoke with the man who came up with that trap personally after the race, and he said he saw that whole scene play out in his head just as it had happened, sans the finger of course. I gave him a raise.

One of the best traps ever was a siren under a packet of food. That woman didn’t make it, and from then on, contestants were damn scared to pick up a Healthy, as they came to be known.

An integral and critical portion of the race, or more to the point of the contestants, is the Letter. The Letter is hand written by the contestant, and is read when that contestant falls, or when the race ends. The Letter can consist of anything the contestant wishes to convey, and I’ve seen everything from heartfelt good-byes to family members, to a crude drawing of a middle finger. Some contestants take hours to write their Letters, and some are handed in in ten seconds. The Letters are a requirement, and all contestants must fill one out. We only ever had one refusal, and he was thrown from the wall and broke both his legs. It ended badly for him, and that was a hell of a statement for us.

We initially had our host read the letters to the cameras, but research indicated that certain types of people should read certain types of letters to the public in order to bolster viewings from a particular demographic. Women read the sad Letters, kids read the Letters for kids, and men read the funny or angry ones.

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