THE WARRIOR by K. Jeffery Petersen -I’m just a boy.- Gripping sword, swinging up in a parry turned crosscut, he presses back against the aggressor, driving the form away. It stumbles, footing treacherous until it hits a wall to brace against. It snarls, black lips stretching wide against glistening, sickly yellow teeth. Its hand whips back, and it pulls a chunk of mortar from the wall. It looks like an easy backhand toss, but the small projectile leaves its hand in a straight arc pinging off his helmet and imbedding into the ceiling. He charges, but jumps up and rebounds off the wall above the form. Hitting the ground with legs pumping, he starts moving at a sprint on contact, bringing up his blade, point extended, intent on skewering the female. -Just a normal boy.- She leans down, her skeletal body quivering with anticipation of our meeting. I wonder why I’m doing this. The odds aren’t in my favor; four of them, one of me, and I know we have to meet at some point, so why not later, when I can hold the advantage? The sword point should skewer her in two. She does not move fast, but somehow she twists to the side at the last moment grabbing the blade with clapped hands and twisting me around. My ankle twists, spilling me over, and causing my grip to slip on my blade. She lets go just before I do, and the sword spins end over end past me, skittering across the floor. It stops at the big one’s feet. -A boy – blue jeans, t-shirt and baseball cap wearing boy.- He tucks, rolling into a crouch, then bouncing up and dashing towards his sword. The big one sticks a foot under the blade and flicks it up and back at him. Surprised, he misses the catch. As he reaches down to grab the sword, he loses the chance to dodge the big one’s charge. A clang of armor, and he’s flying away, a leaf hit by a gale. He hits the ground hard, not even attempting to brunt the force of the fall. He lies still, helpless as the big one drives a foot down into his abdomen. Armor dents under the blow, crinkling like wax paper. His eyes squint shut, and he balls up, grabbing at the bit one’s leg. The big one’s eyes go wide, shaking a leg to remove the bulky addition. Blinking clarity back, he grabs tighter, extends his legs, and twists his body, pulling the big one down. -Boys should run and play and go to school. Why can’t they understand that.- There is a crash beside me, I roll into it, keeping a hold on the big one’s leg. I tighten, drawing it back against me, trying to exert enough pressure to take him down and keep him there. I am stopped when something grazes across my back. It feels like a whisper, but armor peels back like set upon by a rabid can opener. Tendrils of fire explode across my back. I grit my teeth and try to stand. Never, ever, I remind myself, forget Death. I can not see it, but I can certainly smell it; rotting flesh, almost. I want my sword in hand, but against something incorporeal, it is useless. I have to out think it… The smell becomes stronger and I dive to the side. … Thankfully, Death isn’t that intelligent. I don’t see the impact, but the big one lurches, writhing against the ground. One down. -I’m just a boy.- He backpedals away from the seizing form, towards her. Leaps on his back, bony fingers raking across his chest. He grasps her wrists and tries to dislodge her from her perch. The stench hits his nose. He grits his teeth and heaves, leaning over to make her a shield for him. -Just…- Death slams full into her and she goes limp. I want to keep hold on her, use her body as a shield again, but Death is like lightning, never striking the same spot twice. Only the form remains, and I find where it is when teeth sink into my leg. -…a…- He grabs mangy, patchy fur and tries to tear the form away from him. Muscle skin are torn away from his calf, trailing red over the yellow teeth and lips. -…normal…- My leg buckles under me. The form twists in my arm, scrabbling at me with claws. I toss it away, grabbing at the wound – already going black with disease – trying to stop it from taking over my body. Death brushes up against my shoulder. Cold blackness encroaches on my vision and I collapse. My wounded leg goes numb first, then my arms. Eyelids flutter and vision goes blurry. Four figures rise before me, and I smile. -…boy!- Not today. I look across the battlefield. Carnage of the four horsemen in some areas, rallying defense in others. Armageddon. This is me, my war.